08-04-2018, 06:45 AM
[size=9pt]Earphones were a must. No fucking way could you make Moon dig his fingers through literal dirt, mud, underground in search of fucking herbs and seeds and shit unless he had some really good song blasting through his ears and into his brain to distract him from the fact that, yeah, that might just be worm flesh under his fingernails. Nasty and disgusting, but somehow he couldn't get himself away from it all. Obviously this was his job; he was required to spend a lot of time in search of these things to replenish the stocks, but it went further than that. Deeper into his system to the point where it got mushy.
But that was for another time. Now, he had pot after pot of plants stacked up on top of one another, as well as several files of the patients currently under their care, and he was carrying them from point A to B. He hummed, loud, as he walked, but despite how good the Album in question was, Moon wasn't at his most graceful or aware today, and he failed to realize just how unstable his mountain of pots and stuff was. It obscured his vision, and though he mostly didn't notice, if he had, he would have just hoped that his aimless feet would at least bring him to a cliff that lead to a sudden endless drop where he would fall to his death and finally meet Cerberus. He liked dogs.
But, instead, they led him to Hazel. Just as mythological. A small bump is all it took for his luggage to come crumbling down, like the twins towers except the triplet pots. They clambered to the ground noisily, and, feeling vaguely detached with Up's soundtrack floating through his head, he watched it all happened and barely reacted. The classical music almost made the spinning of the pot poetic, the fluttering of the file's pages through the air like some... stray angel feathers, or whatever the fuck.
He looked to Hazel and, slowly, removed one earbud. It took him a moment. "Nuts?" Clearly Moon wasn't such a well-oiled machine today. He frowned at first, thinking of how much work he'd have to redo and all the patients who'd be without their files. But then he remembered just how overworked he was, how his hands were filthy and his eyes tired, and he felt a weird sense of freedom. He grinned. "Jesus. I don't even fucking care. Arthritis Angie and her gingersnap biscuits and bad attitude can get fucked." He looks to the horse, to Hazel, back to the horse, and nods. "Whats up." says the boy, and promptly lowers himself to the ground. He's surrounded by pictures of broken bones and anatomy prints and he feels slightly lightheaded, but other than that, his voice is ridiculously casual for what just happened. "I'm gonna' sit here for a sec. What're you guys up to. My Little Pony stuff? Are those gems? Weird."
But that was for another time. Now, he had pot after pot of plants stacked up on top of one another, as well as several files of the patients currently under their care, and he was carrying them from point A to B. He hummed, loud, as he walked, but despite how good the Album in question was, Moon wasn't at his most graceful or aware today, and he failed to realize just how unstable his mountain of pots and stuff was. It obscured his vision, and though he mostly didn't notice, if he had, he would have just hoped that his aimless feet would at least bring him to a cliff that lead to a sudden endless drop where he would fall to his death and finally meet Cerberus. He liked dogs.
But, instead, they led him to Hazel. Just as mythological. A small bump is all it took for his luggage to come crumbling down, like the twins towers except the triplet pots. They clambered to the ground noisily, and, feeling vaguely detached with Up's soundtrack floating through his head, he watched it all happened and barely reacted. The classical music almost made the spinning of the pot poetic, the fluttering of the file's pages through the air like some... stray angel feathers, or whatever the fuck.
He looked to Hazel and, slowly, removed one earbud. It took him a moment. "Nuts?" Clearly Moon wasn't such a well-oiled machine today. He frowned at first, thinking of how much work he'd have to redo and all the patients who'd be without their files. But then he remembered just how overworked he was, how his hands were filthy and his eyes tired, and he felt a weird sense of freedom. He grinned. "Jesus. I don't even fucking care. Arthritis Angie and her gingersnap biscuits and bad attitude can get fucked." He looks to the horse, to Hazel, back to the horse, and nods. "Whats up." says the boy, and promptly lowers himself to the ground. He's surrounded by pictures of broken bones and anatomy prints and he feels slightly lightheaded, but other than that, his voice is ridiculously casual for what just happened. "I'm gonna' sit here for a sec. What're you guys up to. My Little Pony stuff? Are those gems? Weird."
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]