![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
RESTING, WANDERING, BUT ALWAYS LOOKING
Jun. 8th, 2015 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whatalovelydayCLOSED TO HILLINGDON HOUSE
[Lying outside by the waters, he rests his hands over his bare chest – fingers lightly scratching at the tattoo of an engine that he has etched into his skin. He had gone out earlier in search of answers, of whispers, of where the other War Boys are, but came up with nothing. Nux isn't sure how he fits in with the other hunters; they were not raised on the same beliefs as he was, but they were still human. They still wanted to make a world safe for humans and that is more than enough for nonbelievers.
It isn't that he's lounging. Though, he does like to give the impression that is what he is doing. It is honestly that he has quite winded. Nux does what he can to build his strength up enough to move about, but sometimes, it does get the better of him. At least, the war paint that he still coats his skin in covers up how pale that he is actually getting.]
All I need to do is find the others, or find the one who did it. That's all.
[An easy task, he tells himself. He will be given great treasures in the afterlife once he has completed either goal. He takes a breath in and slowly turns his head to look toward the house. Nothing like his kind. It'll be all right. He'll protect them. Keep 'em safe any hunter would.
Already, he thinks that he can hear the war drums.]
OPEN: WANDERING THE STREETS
[His pants make an almost jiggling noise as he walks. It'd probably be better if it was bells, but it is mostly due to spare chains and bullets that he keeps in his pockets. Nux has become aware in the two years that he has lived out in the world that people do not like how he looks. His saved head and painted white skin tends to make them back away from him. But that's the point, isn't it? Humans are safe and hunters hunt. They're supposed to be frightening like guard dogs.
Or so he thinks.
At the moment, it isn't as serious as that. He's looking for his brothers as always, but he can't do that on an empty stomach. Nux isn't sure how long he has been wandering the alleys, and streets, but night has already fallen. He runs his hands along the glass of where there is some baked goods. But the lights are off given the indication that it's closed.]
Maybe should pop over to some store? How long do they stay open, anyway? [He is asking no one but is already starting to try to walk to find the fabled open shop in the middle of the night.]
[Lying outside by the waters, he rests his hands over his bare chest – fingers lightly scratching at the tattoo of an engine that he has etched into his skin. He had gone out earlier in search of answers, of whispers, of where the other War Boys are, but came up with nothing. Nux isn't sure how he fits in with the other hunters; they were not raised on the same beliefs as he was, but they were still human. They still wanted to make a world safe for humans and that is more than enough for nonbelievers.
It isn't that he's lounging. Though, he does like to give the impression that is what he is doing. It is honestly that he has quite winded. Nux does what he can to build his strength up enough to move about, but sometimes, it does get the better of him. At least, the war paint that he still coats his skin in covers up how pale that he is actually getting.]
All I need to do is find the others, or find the one who did it. That's all.
[An easy task, he tells himself. He will be given great treasures in the afterlife once he has completed either goal. He takes a breath in and slowly turns his head to look toward the house. Nothing like his kind. It'll be all right. He'll protect them. Keep 'em safe any hunter would.
Already, he thinks that he can hear the war drums.]
OPEN: WANDERING THE STREETS
[His pants make an almost jiggling noise as he walks. It'd probably be better if it was bells, but it is mostly due to spare chains and bullets that he keeps in his pockets. Nux has become aware in the two years that he has lived out in the world that people do not like how he looks. His saved head and painted white skin tends to make them back away from him. But that's the point, isn't it? Humans are safe and hunters hunt. They're supposed to be frightening like guard dogs.
Or so he thinks.
At the moment, it isn't as serious as that. He's looking for his brothers as always, but he can't do that on an empty stomach. Nux isn't sure how long he has been wandering the alleys, and streets, but night has already fallen. He runs his hands along the glass of where there is some baked goods. But the lights are off given the indication that it's closed.]
Maybe should pop over to some store? How long do they stay open, anyway? [He is asking no one but is already starting to try to walk to find the fabled open shop in the middle of the night.]
