Jan 23, 2021 15:28:30 GMT -6
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 | FORCED FIGHTER FIGHTING TO LIVE EVERYWHERE ARE THE WOLVES. THEY WATCH YOU AS YOU ROUND CORNERS, FANGS DRIPPING WITH DROOL IN PREPARATION FOR THE HUNT. YOU BETTER BE PREPARED TO FIGHT OR THEY'LL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE. |
715 WORDS @nuka TAGGED n/a NOTES | [attr="class","rileytalk"]Beyond the warm embrace of the heated apartment, snow fell in heaping buckets. The wind whistled and hummed, whipping around fragile flakes and stinging cheeks of each quiet passersby. Outside Lorsette grew cold and desolate as a blizzard began settling into the area. Citizens settled amidst the warm embrace of covers, prepared should the power go out or dreaded terror attacks ensued during the evening hours; lest they forget prior years. Basking in the fortune of work choices, Riley's eyes fixated on the outer world. The green hues observed the spiralling flakes as howls of extreme winds broke through the apartment walls. Streetlights were faintly outlined between the rapidly blowing snow. The blurs of moving vehicles being stalled and hidden beneath the ever-shifting blanket. Despite his fancying of TRS goals and ideals, despicable colds ceased the torrent of determination. As an unktehi, the frigid, damp Newfoundland winters stung his fingers and reddened his cheeks in meagre seconds. His species never gained proficiency in surviving colder temperatures without regulated charms or thick clothes; the latter rarely boding well for his quick-berserker styled combat. Though, his thoughts were muted compared to an hour or two prior. Before the blizzards settling, Riley made plans for a coworker to visit for drinks and general fun. Alas, the arrival of nastily blowing snow, frigid temperatures and unsafe roads suggested the possibility of a spontaneous sleepover. Liquor in hand, Riley pulled away from the living room window, lightly buzzed and not entirely intoxicated. The unktehi's green eyes glazed over the well-maintained apartment he moved into upon his return to Lorsette. Slowly, his eyes returned to the living room couch. A chuckle rumbled from the crocodile's throat as he grinned broadly at his companion for the evening. The subject was not humourous, alas, the unktehi regularly struggled to refrain from laughter in circumstances of minor inconvenience; especially when coupled with a little alcohol. "Dude, I don't think you'll be heading home. It's snowing cats and dogs. It's fucking nuts, the traffic is horrible," Riley informed his comrade. "Think it's best you stay the night. Cause fuck, it looks crazy out there." Stationed on the couch was a man capably becoming closer and closer to the TRS hunter. A brown-haired angel knew in the medical ward as Nuka Nylund. After consistent visits to the medical wards on account of his occupation and fighting style, the pair kicked off a pleasant friendship. The connection manifested between them brought a sense of comradery the unktehi desperately required. A well-meaning connection that lifted his spirits and distracted him from the unfortunate negatives plaguing his mind. The brunette was somebody he could ease around and discover comfort around. The restless man turned, eyes fixating at the opened kitchen connected to the living room. Thoughts churned quick, the unktehi's eyes widening and his smile shortly following to light his countenance in glee. His waist leaned against the couch with a single steadying hand firmly placed on the backrest. From that position, he peered over at the angel. "Hey, we should make hot chocolate bombs. I have all the stuff for it and I can sneak a smidge of Baileys into it too. You game, Nuka?" He happily asked the angel. Before the answer's arrival, Riley pushed away from the couch. His feet carried him through the kitchen threshold and towards the main island. The can of beer was placed onto the island while his eyes wandered the endless drawers and double-doored fridge. "At least I think I have Baileys. I don't drink it that much," the unktehi mumbled out. His hand grasped one of the handles, pulling it open with a single, sharp tug. Once opened, his green eyes wandered through the interior of the refrigerator. First, they checked the inner shelved before retreating back to the door lined with a thinner set of shelves. There, his eyes spied the black bottle with the amber label. A gentle aha escaped his lips as Riley's hand grasped the bottle's neck, lifting it high. Once plucked from the shelf, he pushed the fridge door closed, his eyes returning to the island where he settled the Baileys. Baileys was shortly becoming a positive caveat for future evening events. Two friends and a little liquor, it was a recipe for absolute enjoyment. |
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