Sol Badguy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
immoralflame) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
vatheon2013-06-09 08:32 pm
immoralflame) wrote in vatheon2013-06-09 08:32 pm
Entry tags:
[open] This town, honey, is a dead town
Who: Sol, Queen, and open
When: Evening of the 9th
Where: Somewhere with food and booze in the bubble and an "outdoor" area.
Style: Adaptable
Status: Open!Even if Sol is made of alternating lineface and jackass.
Sol hunches forward, the movement profoundly lazy even as he scrawls something out in a notebook, glancing between it and the starfish communicator he has sitting in front of him, next to a short glass of half-melted ice and gin and an ash tray. His surroundings go largely ignored as the usual milling about and wandering for this time of day: people coming and going for their meals or walks or whatever their preferences, and Sol's more absorbed in the music he has going in his headphones anyway. Right leg just above the ankle crossed over his left knee, he's into it enough for his foot to bob in time with it. Little sways here and there with how he moves and adjusts while writing, someone comfortable in what they're working on. Or at least relaxed. It's a bizarre thing, since research and data collection isn't something he's really done in... well, years. But between perusing the network for posts concerning the way Vatheon operates, for things he missed while comatose, and as far back as he can go, the rest of the world's shut off, too, and that contributes a lot.
Sadly, he's also made himself the perfect target for interruption.
When: Evening of the 9th
Where: Somewhere with food and booze in the bubble and an "outdoor" area.
Style: Adaptable
Status: Open!
Sol hunches forward, the movement profoundly lazy even as he scrawls something out in a notebook, glancing between it and the starfish communicator he has sitting in front of him, next to a short glass of half-melted ice and gin and an ash tray. His surroundings go largely ignored as the usual milling about and wandering for this time of day: people coming and going for their meals or walks or whatever their preferences, and Sol's more absorbed in the music he has going in his headphones anyway. Right leg just above the ankle crossed over his left knee, he's into it enough for his foot to bob in time with it. Little sways here and there with how he moves and adjusts while writing, someone comfortable in what they're working on. Or at least relaxed. It's a bizarre thing, since research and data collection isn't something he's really done in... well, years. But between perusing the network for posts concerning the way Vatheon operates, for things he missed while comatose, and as far back as he can go, the rest of the world's shut off, too, and that contributes a lot.
Sadly, he's also made himself the perfect target for interruption.