Atlantis Arising [M] [Most Original 4Q '11] [Best Veteran 1Q '12]
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February 13th, 2012 (11:29 AM).
Resident Yuri-ism Cult Leader
In your pantry, eatin' your delicious cake.
Cira & Alex Gaile - Florence, Italy
The two had a few hours to kill before they had to board the train to London, so they toured Florence for a little while. While they were there, the pair split up and agreed to meet at the station before the train arrived, leaving the luggage there for safe-keeping and keeping some cash on hand. Cira took his language classes to heart, making a few friends and hitting on a few cute girls, along with getting a group to show him around, while Alex's attention and face went straight into the cuisine. The latter didn't need to know any Italian to track the smell of a good calzone and order one (or two and a salad) for himself.
Cira spent some of the time looking for souvenirs, and getting something to eat. On the search for a something to take home with him (if they ever had the chance to go back), the boy started to wonder what he'd be doing right now had he not been Atlantean. He'd probably be in school, finishing up his last year. He wanted to be a therapist, maybe for PTSD soldiers or troubled teens. Probably wouldn't have been a good one since he could've come off as rude a lot, but a therapist nonetheless.
"Out of time, I guess," the want-to-be therapist noted to himself as he checked his pocketwatch. He picked out a pair of keychains with a bird's-eye view of Florence painted onto it and a chain-attached wallet, bid a friendly "grazie" and "arrivederci" to the girls who showed him around, and went to the station, where his father was sleeping on a bench, "guarding" the luggage under his arms. Waiting for the train, Cira attached the keychains to both of their bags, and slipped the wallet into his front left pocket, chaining it to the belt loop above the opening. Thankfully, the sound of the train arriving woke Alex up, because Cira wasn't too sure how to do so without risking a slap in the gut or face.
When they got onto the train, they took a nearly empty car, inhabited by only a few people at the moment, and put up their luggage, sitting across from each other and talking about their past couple hours. Soon enough after the train took off, the arguably strangest-looking person walked up and took a seat next to the son. "Hello," she started with a heavy accent. "Where are you headed?" She had sort of a goth feel to her with all the piercings, but the cherry blossom tree she had tattooed to her arm (against the many other designs like dragons and demons) dismissed some of it. Some of her hair was shaved off, too, leaving a spiral tattoo showing on the scalp. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it seems like shaving a portion of a person's head would be more prank-worthy than a sort of fashion.
"London," he answered, "and yourself?"
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