美咲·凛

there are a multitude of things wrong with this entire situation. one being that he shouldn’t even be here in new york in the first place, that’s just asking for trouble. two being that he’s a little concerned for the mental and physical safety of this boy. and three being that he’s actively trying to start a conversation with someone that might turn around and bash his head in with a skateboard. “that’s a really shitty excuse.” he doesn’t stop moving, but he doesn’t do anything crazy either, just moves around the in lazy circles, hoping that he’ll get to dizzy to finish this conversation. what isn’t ailing me? prokopenko isn’t even sure where to start, or if he should start. other than the outburst in london he, for the most part, keeps his feelings to himself because he never really has the place to speak on them. “so much, road block.”

apparently everything he does is going to be classified as shitty. it’s the first time in a long time that misaki feels like he’s still in arizona. a shoulder lifts, noncommittal. he isn’t phased by it. watching the circles dizzies him a little but that might be due to the fact that he hasn’t slept much. must be a lot, he realizes from the expression that flits through black eyes’ face before he says anything. probably shouldn’t have asked. misaki isn’t exactly on to go around spilling his own secrets ; as it is, he makes a habit of avoiding asking people for theirs. “sorry to hear it.”

#🌾 ; semblance.#🌾 ; to a tee.#🌾 ; a lion a witch & a.

shades-of-universe

did he want to fight? probably, but this boy was not the person that he wanted to be fighting. he doesn’t like to fight pretty people unless that person is kavinsky and even then he doesn’t like to fight him. but he does suppose that he probably did come across has wanting to fight. it’s a force of habit these past few days. usually he’s much nicer. there’s a bad day for everyone. regardless of whether or not he meant to fight, he still rolls his eyes at the gesture. fuck that. prokopenko hops back on his skateboard, and takes off with enough momentum to make it up the wall, doesn’t do anything super impressive, just a flips his board as he comes up and then lands back down the hill, swerving around the bottom of the bowl. as he rounds the spot in front of the blond, he gives him a two finger salute, and a bit of a smirk. “southern comfort, huh?”

he finishes out a lighter, finally remember the cigarette he’d had in his hand before while he watches the whole ordeal ; he has to pat himself down for a couple seconds to find both. lighter in his right back, and cigarette behind his left ear. he speaks around the filter and through his teeth, while he takes the flame to the end. “yeah - i’d have thought of something more clever but i’m sleepy.” the last word comes with the exhale of smoke, and an edge as if he finds it amusing that he’s so tired. deliriousness will set in soon, he’s sure. or an avocado. could go for one of them, too. though, now that he’s actively thinking about it maybe some southern comfort would be nice. “not too bad on your mobile balance beam, monkey” he offers a two fingered salute back, only half sarcastically. “so what ails you so that it brings you to my home?”

kavsdream:

unlike any other day his temper is very short. something a kin to a growl comes from his throat as he pushes himself off the wall, examining his palms. “don’t give a shit.” if all he offers up to the first part - prokopenko has never really cared about doing things by the rules, for fucks sake he follows around a leader that finds joy in setting cars on fire. dropping in at the wrong place is nothing compared to the things that he’s done. prokopenko wipes his hands on his pants as he turns around, stopping the skateboard from escaping by placing a foot on top.”oh yeah, what gave that one away?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, an eyebrow raised in a very mocking way. regardless of whether or not he dropped in at the wrong place, it was still a shitty place to sit. but more so than that the park is nearly closed and yet, here this kid is. he can’t be all that bad.

this guy’s giving him a headache. a hand lifts, trying to scrub away the pang of annoyance at his temple. “why are you tryna fight me?” his voice is more exhausted than anything else. “i’m sorry, southern comfort, but i’m too tired to fight you. try again later.” he pushes himself to his feet, kicking his skateboard up from the ground to examine the end of it like he’s forgotten what it is. really his mind is just otherwise occupied. i wish i had some carrot sticks. once bored with his examination, he drops the board back down and steps on, kicking off toward the far side of the bowl for maximum momentum. instead of doing anything impressive he just grabs the board from under himself and lands on his feet over the edge, turning and making himself comfortable sitting with his feet dangling into the bowl. he makes a gesture as if to say now i’m out of your way.

as soon as the wheels tip into the descending wall his eyes lock on the blond in the middle of the bowl and two things come to mind: one being that skov would like him, and the second he says out loud. “shitty fuckin’ place to sit.” purposefully he waits until last minute to swerve his board away from colliding with the male. damn people in new york. he doesn’t make it back up the ascending hill, the last minute swerve killed most of the momentum he had, but he manages to just catch himself before falling on his face.

amusement is probably not the proper response but an angel descends from over the edge of the bowl and misaki is too distracted by the southern drawl of his voice to focus on the fact that he’s about to be run over. it doesn’t prevent his heart rate from rapidly increasing in anticipation for the impact though. his nerve endings sputter when it doesn’t come. the near miss elicits two thoughts: one being that he can’t tell if the feeling in wake of it is disappointment or relief, and the second being that he features on this southern gent’ are aesthetically pleasing ; liam would like him. “shitty fuckin’ place to break in,” he offers, voice back lit by the previous amusement. he doesn’t seem particularly troubled by the whole thing. probably the lack of sleep, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s been off his meds for a couple days now. he watches the almost fall with the same feeling of disappoint or relief, head canting curiously. “you’re new.”

everything is fucking shit. it’s only been a short amount of time since he’s been back in the states but it feels like it’s been days hanging on this shit wagon. probably because it has been days. prokopenko drops his skateboard over the fence, before hopping over himself. the park is closed considerably early today, but that has never stopped him from showing up. he’d rather be alone right now anyway. once he’s over the fence his feet hit his skateboard and he takes off slowly toward the bowl.

confusion comes first. misaki’s eyes flicker over to his skateboard, immobile by his side. sleep deprivation lags his thoughts. not my skateboard wheels? someone else’s skateboard wheels. liam’s not in new york this weekend. he turns his grey gaze toward the increasing noise, realizing too late that he is potentially directly in the path of where they’re heading. i should move. he crosses his fingers instead, hopeful that his new company misses.