A SCRIPT featuring SQUALL LEONHART ( @mrcenary ).
exhumed memories tend to linger against the back of his head, compelling himself to nurture a barrier that encapsulates the nostalgia in a crook far away. the psyche has always been a difficult terrain to navigate, but in the graveyard of the past, he buries it. believes that some things are those he’d be better off without, so he continues wandering, combing one alley after another in search of something worthwhile to settle at. transient, sure, but there is no permanence set for a man whose boyhood is plastered with absence. in the emptiness of this barren land, the span of the forest might proffer him with more bounties to slay, but today, he isn’t interested. and so, wherever his feet bring him, he carries himself as directed by the arbitrary directions.
growing weary out of the wayward clusters in his head, he reroutes himself to a bar nearby. the entrance is unceremonious, but some are bound to look when he’s bringing such a broad sword, strapped to his back. still, the presence of bounty hunters in the area has been amplified as of late, and so, they are quick to repurpose their focuses. a familiar face, then, as he spots the leader of the mercenary party he was matched against the other day—to secure the payment, he was to surpass them in eliminating the enemies. he didn’t exit unscathed out of the scene, being a lone hunter, and to see the man again is none of his interests. alas, ennui inflicts a variant of haphazard acts. for that, he settles on the vacant stool next to squall leonhart. orders a drink before sending a glance the other man’s way. “i guess coincidences don’t escape us.”
