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» Title: The Waves Keep on Crashing [G]
» Author:
_bluebells | k(at)noiresensus(dot)com | http://www.noiresensus.com
» Fandom: Tekken
» Status: Complete
» Warnings: None
» Pairing(s): None
» Summary: Obsession. It's not for the dispassionate.
Let it go, just let... it go....
He leaned over and whipped the volume dial; shrill techno thrummed from the double-bass speakers and he closed his eyes, reclining in the driver's seat. A deep breath and as his chest relaxed, he noticed the heavy cotton shirt clung to his skin in damp patches. For some reason he still wore the dark suede jacket, but he remedied this easily, throwing it into the empty backseat.
His skin itched and beneath he was waiting for the marrow to rip from his bones, just to be away from himself, away from this place where his mind scraped for coherence and a brief respite. It only had to be brief. Obsession was no healthy pasttime, but it wasn't an ailment easily cured. He actually lived for those moments when he could distract himself from the silent shadows of his disposition.
He'd been fighting a one-sided battle for three years and couldn't even say if he was losing. There was little point, yes, but at one decided moment in yesteryears he had acquiesed. He never really stopped caring, but he realised quickly that he pursued a phantom goal for all the wrong reasons.
Kicking back in his seat, blackened boots propped on the dashboard and wheel as he scowled through the grimy windscreen at the imposing temple not three hundred yards from his vantage point. Tall pillars, hallowed wood and sacred stones... he had a chance to go back and potentially solve the seed of his troubles.
Bother. What a true bother.
A key turned in the ignition and the charred vehicle roared to life, kicking up dust in the dark quiet of the forest as it sped away and out of sight.
Let's just keep on dancing....
» Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
» Fandom: Tekken
» Status: Complete
» Warnings: None
» Pairing(s): None
» Summary: Obsession. It's not for the dispassionate.
Let it go, just let... it go....
He leaned over and whipped the volume dial; shrill techno thrummed from the double-bass speakers and he closed his eyes, reclining in the driver's seat. A deep breath and as his chest relaxed, he noticed the heavy cotton shirt clung to his skin in damp patches. For some reason he still wore the dark suede jacket, but he remedied this easily, throwing it into the empty backseat.
His skin itched and beneath he was waiting for the marrow to rip from his bones, just to be away from himself, away from this place where his mind scraped for coherence and a brief respite. It only had to be brief. Obsession was no healthy pasttime, but it wasn't an ailment easily cured. He actually lived for those moments when he could distract himself from the silent shadows of his disposition.
He'd been fighting a one-sided battle for three years and couldn't even say if he was losing. There was little point, yes, but at one decided moment in yesteryears he had acquiesed. He never really stopped caring, but he realised quickly that he pursued a phantom goal for all the wrong reasons.
Kicking back in his seat, blackened boots propped on the dashboard and wheel as he scowled through the grimy windscreen at the imposing temple not three hundred yards from his vantage point. Tall pillars, hallowed wood and sacred stones... he had a chance to go back and potentially solve the seed of his troubles.
Bother. What a true bother.
A key turned in the ignition and the charred vehicle roared to life, kicking up dust in the dark quiet of the forest as it sped away and out of sight.
Let's just keep on dancing....