The sky was stained with pigments of onyx and oil, one might even be able to spy straying spirals of mulberry. Tones of charcoal outlined by crow wisped atop the collision of color, the remnants of the ivory clouds of the day. Twinkles of pearl danced and shined about the entirety.
This sublime scenery was primarily dismissed by the citizens of Midorijima, all too engulfed in business calls or locating one’s desired rendezvous location.
The ignorance wasn’t entirely exhibited by the juvenile executioner as he perched over a cedar colored structure, Daffodil hues placed themselves to gaze out into the unabridged, yet beautiful disarray. Robust elbows would rest on equally as athletic thighs. The rugged hands that leniently hung off each other in between his legs would be conquered by obsidian, finger less gloves. Above the shadowed addition would lay equally as ebony gauntlets, though this set much more hardy with silver supports throughout for an efficient grip. From either panel of knuckles would sprout luminous, lengthy blades. The overt weapon of choice for the boy, apparent with the splats of fresh crimson upon the grey.
The assassin’s striven for, toned body was decorated with alabaster skin, that in itself, was littered with flecks of hickory and cicatrices. A rounded face with a splash of garnet along the cheek would peak from an eared, coal hood. The cloak lead to a sleeveless, ink-toned top. The entire apparel of the male happened to be light in weight yet so blackened in color, leading one to believe that night was where he excelled. It was almost unfortunate that you couldn’t see his tawny locks, but this loss was reconciled, the set of peach lips parted to reveal a snide, clean-toothed sneer.
Nao would rise to his full height- which wasn’t much to gawk at in itself, the time to daydream was past, long past. He would cloak that devilish grin with a sable mouth mask, and the curtain would close on the shimmering pupils of gold as a set of maroon- washed, ash goggles.
The job was done, eliminate a few given people as to frightened the patrons, to put the spotlight on the police. It was a shame they hadn’t went as far as sending in helicopters, that truly made things much more recreational.
Nevertheless, Nao’s night was far from over, and he proclaimed this with a leap from the tall-standing building. He felt the adrenaline rise in the pit of his stomach and ignite throughout his whole body, he felt weightless, despite dropping. The near impossible-esque landing knocked a reasonable amount of reality through the boy’s soles and joints, as they were all required to make an injury-less landing.
The boy dragged his claws along the wall as he paced forward through the alleyway, his attention diverted from the dull ‘skrrr!’ the collusion caused, only when he noticed graffiti at the end.
A rough-around-the-edges skull adorned with a midnight crack on the forehead presented itself in the middle of two words, behind the logo were splats of berry, Dry Juice.
Nao could’ve sworn this named was familiar, not akin to the familiarity of the oval tower’s many floors, but rather in the same sense of how that junk shop felt. Nostalgia, but an empty one, as if it was hollow, missing something, or as if something had been robbed from it.
