make cheese, not war // human au, jor

[VALE]

Vale glanced from the cheese to the doors, head leaning back. Vision upside down, Vale watched zir date approach, waving the mozzarella ball in greeting. He dressed so terribly boring, weren’t suits the least chaotic fashion accessory?

Vale’s eyes widened when he stole the cheese, touched zir face, and sloughed off the suit. Then a smirk flashed, and Vale leaned forward in the chair. The chair’s front legs tapped back on the floor. The other boot tapped down on the table; Vale’s hand rose to zir face, half hiding the growing smirk. The top two knuckles, the only areas in Vale’s hand lightly dusted with fresh purple bruises, demonstrated Vale’s hand to hand skills. And the aftermath of the intragang fight Vale’d unintentionally started.

“That would be me. Vale Aston, if you don’t remember. I know I was sky high on sativa.” Vale laughed a bit at the memory, and gestured to zir black slacks covered in white paint splotches. “Doesn’t look too bad, given I barely remember painting this after coming home, eh?”

Vale had gotten so high, ze’d wandered home and painted until passing out on the floor. If Vale had been born into different circumstances, there was no doubt Vale would’ve ended up in an artsy vocation.

“I’ll be blunt as hell. I’m weird as fuck. Most people can’t deal with my shit, you know? I’m a loose cannon. Can’t tell you how many variations I’ve been called on that theme.” One of zir nails, painted black, tapped zir cheekbone. “But at least I’m not boring. Fuck that noise, right? It’s more comfortable to sit with your feet on the table, so why does everyone collectively pretend it’s not?”

pittian ★ crow shapeshifting into a winged serpent ★ literally chaos

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