Forever a wanderer of darkness and echo. The fell constant click of his shoes against weathered concrete, as if dancing a tango against the walls, only to return the gesture and bless the ear once more. Large hands buried so deeply within the tightness of his pockets, pressed to his upper thighs with slender fingers delicately flexing an unknown melody against the clothed skin. It was almost a custom, on nights as quiet as this. Under a sky almost ink blackened, sheltered from his eyes by a gritty ceiling, as if masking beauty to explore the grunge of its forebear.
A familiar figure caught the chocolatey doe eye of the Leader, then. Corners of his lips lifted so slightly, it could be mistaken for a grimace. Or perhaps a smirk, depending on perspective. Approaching with a confidence that oozed regality, or a false form of as much; he’d cocked his head to the side, so calmly. “I know these places can sometimes be called our ‘hangouts’, but I didn’t think some people would take it completely seriously,” he’d started, voice dripping a sweet venom, as if practised words were all he spoke. “And to think I was just about to go on the prowl, perhaps you’ll be my swanky new love affair, huh?” @omniaxkijung
