Post by Alexandros Skouriá on Feb 1, 2020 5:23:10 GMT -5
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STEP ASIDE, RELOAD, TIME TO GO[break]
I CAN'T SEEM TO CONTROL ALL THIS RAGE THAT'S INSIDE ME
[break]
STEP ASIDE, RELOAD, TIME TO GO[break]
I CAN'T SEEM TO CONTROL ALL THIS RAGE THAT'S INSIDE ME
[attr="class","lovemad2"]
It was something of an agreed upon fact that the greatest weapon of a fully-fledged hunter was planning. A well-thought-out plan could be the difference between life and death when the going got tough enough, and it went without saying that a clear mind thinking cleanly and cohesively was the one true counter to the chaos of Remnant. It was, perhaps, less agreed-upon, that scheduling what was little more than a playdate to learn how to cook was a 'plan' at all. Indeed, it was a plan in the sense that it had happened by explicit and focused desire and not by random chance, but... well, to call it a plan would be offensive to plans.[break]
An impromptu pseudo-lesson, perhaps?[break]
Ah, no, that wasn't right either.[break]
It was planned.[break][break]
The young man's morning had started like every other, with a quick breakfast, then light exercise and a swim, and a shower to finally pull him into the waking world -- mornings were an inevitability which Alexandros never cared for, and his continuing transition to a proper, rigid routine had not done much to change this -- and get the day started. Where today differed, of course, was in its intent: most of the time, the weekend was an opportunity to relax and to reflect on the week that had gone by, but this time it was to be spent developing some much-needed life skills. It was a perfect storm of delightful coincidence, the Skouriá boy had thought to himself, that the son of 'Pops' over at that little restaurant had gotten into Haven, and that the two were vaguely aware of one another's existence for it; to say that Alex and Jack Dawson were friends would be a stretch, but they were almost certainly acquaintances -- maybe even colleagues! -- on rather good terms with zero animosity or ill-will running between them. Jack was much too polite and reserved and considerate, just as the would-be hero was kind and mild-mannered, and perhaps just a touch dim.[break][break]
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts just as much to gather his supplies for the day, Alexandros plucked the scroll from his pocket and thumbed away into his messaging application, giving a quick scan over the exchange from a few days ago. The whole thing transpired at a lightning-fast pace, settling on a good time and date in only a handful of texts. Efficient, I guess, he briefly mused, before promptly shoving the device back whence it came. With all well and good, Alex gave an affirmative nod to nobody, and scooped up...
It, well, was an apron -- nobody was going to say otherwise. The problem was that it was a truly hideous thing, and this made all the worse by him having to wear the absolute abomination of cloth. Pink and yellow weren't exactly a brilliant match at the best of times, and there was no chance whatsoever that it'd look good over the remaining two layers of his usual outfit: indeed, Alex opted to forgo his usual white coat and was left with only a dark undershirt and an open black button-up atop it, and, well, the apron.[break][break]
But that thing could wait. He had a journey to undertake. Invigorated and maybe even a little excited, the boy made haste and soon found himself before the dormitory of his fellow student (and soon to be teacher).[break][break]
Alexandros knocked at the door with a few brisk taps, then paced back a step and waited for it to open -- there was little more he could do, of course, than wait, and quickly adjust himself to seem ever-so-slightly more presentable. Appearances were important, after all, and it was no secret that the young brawler still held a distinctly almost-unkempt and almost-childish air about him; the absence of his usual white coat would probably help, but any good will it could build would damn-near certainly be shattered the second that ugly apron unfolded.[break]
Oh well, that much couldn't be helped; it wasn't his fault the only one he could find was some nightmarishly garish lavender-and-custard-coloured affront to all that was good and decent -- and it most certainly wasn't made any better by sporting a checkerboard pattern, no sir. Alex flicked his attention down to the bundle of fabric bunched up under his arm and felt himself scream on the inside, fighting an urge to walk off, and to reschedule, and to try and make this play out in any other way. But that was hardly in-character, and there was always the chance that a swift and tactical retreat after knocking wouldn't do wonders for his public image.[break][break]
So, with no other option, the Skouriá boy simply stood and waited for the door to open.[break]
"Hey; thanks, again, for offering to do this so soon," Alex said at the first suggestion of a crack in the almighty wooden barrier between he and his culinary future, then nothing more.
[break]
It was something of an agreed upon fact that the greatest weapon of a fully-fledged hunter was planning. A well-thought-out plan could be the difference between life and death when the going got tough enough, and it went without saying that a clear mind thinking cleanly and cohesively was the one true counter to the chaos of Remnant. It was, perhaps, less agreed-upon, that scheduling what was little more than a playdate to learn how to cook was a 'plan' at all. Indeed, it was a plan in the sense that it had happened by explicit and focused desire and not by random chance, but... well, to call it a plan would be offensive to plans.[break]
An impromptu pseudo-lesson, perhaps?[break]
Ah, no, that wasn't right either.[break]
It was planned.[break][break]
The young man's morning had started like every other, with a quick breakfast, then light exercise and a swim, and a shower to finally pull him into the waking world -- mornings were an inevitability which Alexandros never cared for, and his continuing transition to a proper, rigid routine had not done much to change this -- and get the day started. Where today differed, of course, was in its intent: most of the time, the weekend was an opportunity to relax and to reflect on the week that had gone by, but this time it was to be spent developing some much-needed life skills. It was a perfect storm of delightful coincidence, the Skouriá boy had thought to himself, that the son of 'Pops' over at that little restaurant had gotten into Haven, and that the two were vaguely aware of one another's existence for it; to say that Alex and Jack Dawson were friends would be a stretch, but they were almost certainly acquaintances -- maybe even colleagues! -- on rather good terms with zero animosity or ill-will running between them. Jack was much too polite and reserved and considerate, just as the would-be hero was kind and mild-mannered, and perhaps just a touch dim.[break][break]
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts just as much to gather his supplies for the day, Alexandros plucked the scroll from his pocket and thumbed away into his messaging application, giving a quick scan over the exchange from a few days ago. The whole thing transpired at a lightning-fast pace, settling on a good time and date in only a handful of texts. Efficient, I guess, he briefly mused, before promptly shoving the device back whence it came. With all well and good, Alex gave an affirmative nod to nobody, and scooped up...
It, well, was an apron -- nobody was going to say otherwise. The problem was that it was a truly hideous thing, and this made all the worse by him having to wear the absolute abomination of cloth. Pink and yellow weren't exactly a brilliant match at the best of times, and there was no chance whatsoever that it'd look good over the remaining two layers of his usual outfit: indeed, Alex opted to forgo his usual white coat and was left with only a dark undershirt and an open black button-up atop it, and, well, the apron.[break][break]
But that thing could wait. He had a journey to undertake. Invigorated and maybe even a little excited, the boy made haste and soon found himself before the dormitory of his fellow student (and soon to be teacher).[break][break]
Alexandros knocked at the door with a few brisk taps, then paced back a step and waited for it to open -- there was little more he could do, of course, than wait, and quickly adjust himself to seem ever-so-slightly more presentable. Appearances were important, after all, and it was no secret that the young brawler still held a distinctly almost-unkempt and almost-childish air about him; the absence of his usual white coat would probably help, but any good will it could build would damn-near certainly be shattered the second that ugly apron unfolded.[break]
Oh well, that much couldn't be helped; it wasn't his fault the only one he could find was some nightmarishly garish lavender-and-custard-coloured affront to all that was good and decent -- and it most certainly wasn't made any better by sporting a checkerboard pattern, no sir. Alex flicked his attention down to the bundle of fabric bunched up under his arm and felt himself scream on the inside, fighting an urge to walk off, and to reschedule, and to try and make this play out in any other way. But that was hardly in-character, and there was always the chance that a swift and tactical retreat after knocking wouldn't do wonders for his public image.[break][break]
So, with no other option, the Skouriá boy simply stood and waited for the door to open.[break]
"Hey; thanks, again, for offering to do this so soon," Alex said at the first suggestion of a crack in the almighty wooden barrier between he and his culinary future, then nothing more.
PHARAOH LEAP CREATES
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