08-24-2018, 04:34 AM
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For the most part Rialto had little to no concept of time, discounting his internal clock going off the moment it was safe to step outside; dates, he was hopeless with. His own birthday? Long forgotten. Maybe it was somewhere in there, if he took the time to dig around and flip through a calendar to get his memory caches stirred up like a shaken snow globe enough. Oh, funny: if he took the time. Time was a human concept that lazy vampires, who had no inclination to get up and do anything productive ever, had nothing to do with.
So he'll admit there was a different note that shivered in the air as a certain twenty-sixth inched closer, slowing down and speeding up at the same time; like, collectively, the entire population of San Creado was on the very tips of their toes, holding their breaths. A louder edge to the volume of each night, the chatter and buzz just a touch more hysterical, the ominous silences during the day more pronounced. San Creado was waiting.
"Cheers, Monsieur Marko," Rialto drawled, having already snatched up his cards - after taking an incredibly annoying five minutes at the front of the line to flick through both piles and grab the cards at the very bottom, just to pick the unwrinkled ones - and shoved them into the back of his... whatever you called those pants. Let's just say they're sweats. Alex had already abandoned their post, so Rialto took the initiative to pen a mature kat is dum on the notepad where his name should've went before going for two cans. One blood soda, the other paint. Don't even play with him, he could draw the most awe-inspiring mockery of Catheryn any of them had ever seen. At any rate this night was going to end with him accidentally drinking from the wrong can. "Add green," he said to Alex, and tossed them the spraypaint.
[ graffiti a wall 1/3 !!!!! ]
So he'll admit there was a different note that shivered in the air as a certain twenty-sixth inched closer, slowing down and speeding up at the same time; like, collectively, the entire population of San Creado was on the very tips of their toes, holding their breaths. A louder edge to the volume of each night, the chatter and buzz just a touch more hysterical, the ominous silences during the day more pronounced. San Creado was waiting.
"Cheers, Monsieur Marko," Rialto drawled, having already snatched up his cards - after taking an incredibly annoying five minutes at the front of the line to flick through both piles and grab the cards at the very bottom, just to pick the unwrinkled ones - and shoved them into the back of his... whatever you called those pants. Let's just say they're sweats. Alex had already abandoned their post, so Rialto took the initiative to pen a mature kat is dum on the notepad where his name should've went before going for two cans. One blood soda, the other paint. Don't even play with him, he could draw the most awe-inspiring mockery of Catheryn any of them had ever seen. At any rate this night was going to end with him accidentally drinking from the wrong can. "Add green," he said to Alex, and tossed them the spraypaint.
[ graffiti a wall 1/3 !!!!! ]
© MADI
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