Quinn Cardone :: District One :: Wip

He fell in love with the way the wind whispered to his ears from the edge of a roof's crown. Nestled into some notch of stones and steel, the world radiated within a realm of wonder. Such a sense of surreal satisfaction existed only within the boundaries of that building's edge. It was a slanted tower trying to touch the swirling spirals of the stars. In its embrace, the experience of escape expanded beyond more than merely the measures of his mind. His body waning in the waves of hunger's weakness, was nothing more than a shell when he stood on the rooftop's edge of exhilaration. Oh, how in those moments he wished to be able to reach those solar spheres and climb into an alternate reality.

He has dared the dragon of danger to obtain the element of euphoria since he was a child. Dancing along the unstable edges of rooftops, running rampant into the forests at night without a wonder of which way directions should dictate, and inciting altercations all along his adventures have been the wings of his flight. Stemming from the spirit of Icarus he has always sought to soar higher into the skies in search of anything beyond the boundaries of earth. He carries countless scars as the sacred symbols to the evidence that despite everything, he has lived.

His twin troubles himself with the turbulent thoughts of where such impulses for experience arise from. However, they have always been the core of his character. Where worried wisdom and calculative contemplation have been the skin of his twin, He has always found himself akin to the flame of the flickering fire of adventure. He faced fear when their parents perished in illness when they were six. He heavily harbored horror when their only living relative turned them away out of fright from the phantom faces that haunted their existence. He resulted to rage when the orphanages failed them eventually leading them to the streets for survival. Yet to spite it all, he grew eternally more determined to drink his rightful share from the Cup of life.

Imagination become his ideology. He has searched for the seeds of survival while growing a garden of dreams for eternity. Even though he has been uprooted, his soul is grounded in the whimsical ideas of his mind. It was his imaginative activity of hunting like a warrior for finches fluttering through the brambled branches when he came across the cemetery. From the sodden soil of the dead, he stared at what would become the foundation of his future. The halls of the home his dreams had always been drawing him towards.

He was a boy running wild lost in the mists of his mind with a twin in toe trying to keep them safe before they each were finally found that day.