Post by hypothalamus on Nov 19, 2011 2:44:51 GMT -5
SORRY I'LL MAKE HIS BIO SOON. Oh man I'm gonna suck at this RP.
By the way... Cloudeh here. SOMEHOW I HAVE TIME. Or I should be doing math homework lulz
A black sky rendered moonless by a murky bed of clouds above it, the city of Des Soma took no notice. Below the dreariness lay a canvas of colorful life, painted by the limitless buildings and neon signs, the cold beams of streetlights, and the rowdy crowd beneath. Many homeless individuals lined the curb, swaying cups roughly at passerby, creating a chorus from what little change sat inside. Always the same jingling, the same people talking and walking by without a hint of interest or spare time. What spare time could there be for these people, given the abundance of brothels and small casinos set about? Dressed in their nearly nonexistent outfits, girls trotted around stilted-shoes and wooed the drab men on the corner. Numbers of sharp men in cheap suits would meander out of a casino, a girl of (perhaps, in his own opinion) a "cleaner" standing slung lovingly into the nook of his arm. Drunk, or looking to get drunk. Looking to get laid.
Coins.
Women and men.
Colors.
Had Des Soma not been a palette of colorful activity, he probably would never had noticed the large metropolis.
A man, ageless and destroyed, curled up in a dirty sleeping bag. He buried his head in what could only bring him the cold in his lonely little alley, lining two rather bustling brothels.
"What a perfect, perfect pillow," he thought.
A common red fox gingerly placed one paw in front of the other, creeping toward the still figure. His fur was that of a brilliant red-orange, adorned with a creamy white belly and mouth. His paws, colored a curious faded black, faded into the shadows cast from the buildings. A rough tongue slid from his maw and licked his black nose and the shadowy stripes that wrapped around his muzzle. Had he been of a normal fox's size, he surely would have looked more graceful; being the chubster he was, he simply looked comical as his tummy jiggled and wiggled with every cautious movement.
To add to the fox's incredulous appearance, he donned what seemed to be a crossbreed of a gas mask and a pilot's hat. A thick sheet of worn brown leather molded to the contour of his face rather well, though strands of his fiery fur jutted out from several areas. The leather stopped at the corners of his mouth, allowing for the flexibility of his jaw. Where his eyes sat, large purple lens that appeared opaque from the outside protected his sight, giving him the look of perhaps a fly. Near the google-like features began the straps and buckles holding his mask to his face, buckled rather clumsily behind his head. More leather was attached to his body as a thinly-strapped harness, causing his flab to be slightly more noticeable. Fattened with unknown contents, several brown button-down patches were attached to each side of his body by small golden clips.
A smug grin stretching his face, the fox clambered onto the bum and (after patting him down gently for maximum comfort) plopped his rump down firmly, sighing contently.
By the way... Cloudeh here. SOMEHOW I HAVE TIME. Or I should be doing math homework lulz
---
A black sky rendered moonless by a murky bed of clouds above it, the city of Des Soma took no notice. Below the dreariness lay a canvas of colorful life, painted by the limitless buildings and neon signs, the cold beams of streetlights, and the rowdy crowd beneath. Many homeless individuals lined the curb, swaying cups roughly at passerby, creating a chorus from what little change sat inside. Always the same jingling, the same people talking and walking by without a hint of interest or spare time. What spare time could there be for these people, given the abundance of brothels and small casinos set about? Dressed in their nearly nonexistent outfits, girls trotted around stilted-shoes and wooed the drab men on the corner. Numbers of sharp men in cheap suits would meander out of a casino, a girl of (perhaps, in his own opinion) a "cleaner" standing slung lovingly into the nook of his arm. Drunk, or looking to get drunk. Looking to get laid.
Coins.
Women and men.
Colors.
Had Des Soma not been a palette of colorful activity, he probably would never had noticed the large metropolis.
A man, ageless and destroyed, curled up in a dirty sleeping bag. He buried his head in what could only bring him the cold in his lonely little alley, lining two rather bustling brothels.
"What a perfect, perfect pillow," he thought.
A common red fox gingerly placed one paw in front of the other, creeping toward the still figure. His fur was that of a brilliant red-orange, adorned with a creamy white belly and mouth. His paws, colored a curious faded black, faded into the shadows cast from the buildings. A rough tongue slid from his maw and licked his black nose and the shadowy stripes that wrapped around his muzzle. Had he been of a normal fox's size, he surely would have looked more graceful; being the chubster he was, he simply looked comical as his tummy jiggled and wiggled with every cautious movement.
To add to the fox's incredulous appearance, he donned what seemed to be a crossbreed of a gas mask and a pilot's hat. A thick sheet of worn brown leather molded to the contour of his face rather well, though strands of his fiery fur jutted out from several areas. The leather stopped at the corners of his mouth, allowing for the flexibility of his jaw. Where his eyes sat, large purple lens that appeared opaque from the outside protected his sight, giving him the look of perhaps a fly. Near the google-like features began the straps and buckles holding his mask to his face, buckled rather clumsily behind his head. More leather was attached to his body as a thinly-strapped harness, causing his flab to be slightly more noticeable. Fattened with unknown contents, several brown button-down patches were attached to each side of his body by small golden clips.
A smug grin stretching his face, the fox clambered onto the bum and (after patting him down gently for maximum comfort) plopped his rump down firmly, sighing contently.