Daniel in Distress (Arctic) Blitz
Jun 8, 2016 1:44:56 GMT -5
Post by Tom on Jun 8, 2016 1:44:56 GMT -5
M I N O S
Training wasn’t exactly tiring for the druggie known as Minos Vallanso. Training seemed to be rather simple for him, at least in that moment, any other time he would have complained about learning things that he didn’t think were useful, but in the situation he was in, anything was useful. Sleep would be the most useful thing for him, unfortunately for him, sleep never made it to the druggie. His addictions kept his eyes pierced open, wanting to ease the discomfort that he felt throughout his entire body. Everything was breaking down inside, but outside, his walls kept strong, holding in the discomfort he was feeling.
The lunch area held lots of food that his body had never consumed. Living on the streets did that to a guy, never knowing exactly if you’ll get a meal or not. The idea of never knowing who you’ll have to fight off for money or food. It was basically a Hunger Games in itself. All the homeless needed their own source of food and living essentials, and so did Minos at the time, but now he was being pampered before all of it would be taken away again. A corpse just being dazzled before being shoved into a coffin never to be seen again; rotting six feet under. That’s what Minos was, a corpse being made into a shining gem and almost lifelike for the people around him. A walking corpse whose eyes wanted to close and sleep for the rest of the day, but that wasn’t likely.
The seats at the tables were rather empty for the place. Minos’ drooping eyes closed and then open again as he notices a tribute with a glorious beard. Minos slowly makes his way over to the table, sets the plate of food that his tired hands had grabbed. Eyes droop again, his body slowly leans over into the tribute’s personal space. Minos wanted to push away, but sleep was taking over and soon enough, his eyes closed, body in the other guy’s lap. Comfortable warmth spreading throughout his tired body. Minos Vallanso had passed out in the beard guy’s lap, eyes closed and the smell of wood soothing him in his slumber.Made by Frankel