Have you ever heard of some exotic food dish and thought “hey, I’d like to try that, but I don’t even know where I’d go about finding it?” That thing— it’s coming to mind now. You saw it on the television or in a magazine. Something that wormed its way into your head as the thing you were missing out on. The years passed and eventually, you might have forgotten all about it until suddenly that thing was obtainable and yours for the taking. Was that exotic dish good? No? You thought you would be adventurous for eating some roasted raccoon but there was so much heat added to mitigate that musky raccoon flavor that you were left gagging, gasping for air. Maybe you discovered you had an allergy to shellfish amidst some mussel prosciutto mascarpone pasta. Now say that three times fast before your airways close up. Sometimes, the things we desire don’t play out as anticipated. The food wasn’t good, nor was it worth enduring the shitty service that brought it to you. But, you’ll leave a decent tip because you’re a good person and only assholes don’t tip more than 15%. Right? Always provide a proper gratuity, it’s good karma.
By now you’re wondering where this is going? Well, it’s going to a market teeming with people droning about in peak business hours like ants on a log. There was a boy alone and finding his way through the morass, but a few too many shoulder checks and stray elbows from aloof strangers left him flustered and sidelined on the corner of a shawarma stand. The lad stood out despite being among many common folk who had enough in common with his heritage. Jinto was his name, The End, though things seemed more like a new beginning. He was meager in stature, with his twists of pale, curly hair helping him reach just above five feet towards the sun. His complexion was like a blonde roast of coffee and he was dotted with bright cobalt markings on his temples and cheeks. The warm red of his cloak was like copper-rich clay. Out from beneath the covering his hand gripped a long crook that was as tall as he was, which forked out at the top like a dowsing rod. Bright blue slacks were dusty on him from a day of wandering and sightseeing, and his yellow slippers we stained from grass and mud.
“I hate it here” he admitted below his breath, though he felt sure that none of the strangers passing by would so much as turned their heads if he belted the words. A youth spent roaming the valleys and hills of the Wind Country meant dreams of civilization for Jintou. He didn’t know exactly what he expected, perhaps more streetwise academy friends with nice teeth than he could count or maybe ice cream sundaes… icecream was next to impossible to get where he came from. Currently, all he had was that shawarma and it cost him most of his weekly stipend from the academy. Quite frankly, the giant roasted lizard tail his mother used to make was much more succulent.
“I wish something interesting would happen.”
Jintou Oba has entered the thread.
Requesting Kaen.
WC529
By now you’re wondering where this is going? Well, it’s going to a market teeming with people droning about in peak business hours like ants on a log. There was a boy alone and finding his way through the morass, but a few too many shoulder checks and stray elbows from aloof strangers left him flustered and sidelined on the corner of a shawarma stand. The lad stood out despite being among many common folk who had enough in common with his heritage. Jinto was his name, The End, though things seemed more like a new beginning. He was meager in stature, with his twists of pale, curly hair helping him reach just above five feet towards the sun. His complexion was like a blonde roast of coffee and he was dotted with bright cobalt markings on his temples and cheeks. The warm red of his cloak was like copper-rich clay. Out from beneath the covering his hand gripped a long crook that was as tall as he was, which forked out at the top like a dowsing rod. Bright blue slacks were dusty on him from a day of wandering and sightseeing, and his yellow slippers we stained from grass and mud.
“I hate it here” he admitted below his breath, though he felt sure that none of the strangers passing by would so much as turned their heads if he belted the words. A youth spent roaming the valleys and hills of the Wind Country meant dreams of civilization for Jintou. He didn’t know exactly what he expected, perhaps more streetwise academy friends with nice teeth than he could count or maybe ice cream sundaes… icecream was next to impossible to get where he came from. Currently, all he had was that shawarma and it cost him most of his weekly stipend from the academy. Quite frankly, the giant roasted lizard tail his mother used to make was much more succulent.
“I wish something interesting would happen.”
Jintou Oba has entered the thread.
Requesting Kaen.
WC529
