Post by Vice Ysal on Feb 3, 2014 3:37:27 GMT -5
Cold. It was just a state of nature and sometimes it could even be a figment of the mind. A psychological thing, experts said, that the mind really was over matter. Sitting there on top of a rock, a scarf wrapped around his neck and virtually alone in a vast wasteland of shadows, Vice wanted nothing more but to call bullshit on whoever egg head decided that that was a legitimate reason to not bring in a few heat insulating clothes to help with the cold. He wasn’t sick, far from it, he was healthier than ever. It just so happened that it was too goddamn cold without any of the sun backing him up for once and that made all the difference. He wasn’t quite sure if that would be a thing but the study of the possible weather patterns in the outside city could spell the outcome of a raid.
Like everything else in this world apparently.
Bout of paranoia aside, the young man simply continued to fiddle with the auxiliary zippers made available to him courtesy of his biker jacket. Breathing into his gloved hands to circulate his warm breath against his face, the Civilian tried once more to reassess his current situation. He was running an errand for the blonde woman over at the gap, something about funky tunes and cds and smashing shadows in an effort to obtain a couple. The mission sounded linear enough, calling it easy with past experiences to go by would be going full retard, and that’s not all, he was apparently going to have a partner for this one.
Beats going solo, that much he’ll admit.
Unless said partner was a useless shit but Vice had at least made it a point not to be prejudiced with the Users and the occasional Normals like him. If he could do this, granted he did a lot more than the average normal, then it stood to reason that others should be capable of it as well. Another loose gust of the most random of winds passed by and the young man shivered in an attempt to warm himself up. Packing a new weapon with him, top quality equipment according to the owner of Laharl’s smithy, and his trusted firearm, Vice was pretty sure he could hold his ground. The three medicine packets he had with him would just reinforce that fact.
“Goddamnit it’s cold.”
And still he was alone.