Strikit
Procrastinator Extraordinaire
- 1,559
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- Age 32
- Your house
- Seen Aug 5, 2016
It was not uncommon for Marco to begin the day with something set afire. Startled by the squall of his alarm, he unleashed a jet of flame in its direction and jumped to his feet. It was engulfed in seconds. Frustrated at his repeated fault, he reached under his bed for the fire extinguisher he always kept handy and sprayed the flames with the foamy chemicals. Just as quickly as it had started it was finished.
His scarlet eyes were perfectly alert as he gathered his clothing and dressed. Fitting black jeans went on over his legs, followed by a red cotton button down shirt, his Houndour skull talisman, and his boots. His belt went around his waist, and then the metal wrist cuffs were snapped in place, and the ankle cuffs.
Ever concerned with making sure he was presentable, he combed through his silky black hair, polished his curving horns, and ascertained that not a single hair was out of place. Once he was finally satisfied he turned his back on the mirror he had been using to gauge the appropriateness of his appearance and carried a single pen and notebook into the Hall for breakfast. Like most days, he didn't spend much time eating, nor did he eat much. Excitement was not the reason, and neither was illness. He simply did not eat much.
With the slightest hint of a strut, his tail swishing aggressively behind him, Marco made his way quickly to Attack Class. His eyes betrayed the foul mood he found himself in today. Why was not important; all that mattered was that the first person so unfortunate as to cross his path too closely would be viciously treated.
His swagger led him to the outside grounds, where he found the coach for his first class.
"Hellgar?" he barked. Marco stood up straight, offering a touch more respect than he did to most, and yet at the same time managing to seem so arrogant.
"Yes, sir."
The coach ticked his name off of his list. "You're cutting it really close, boy. Get yourself ready, we don't have all day."
Obediently Marco shed his jacket and set it on the grass several feet away, readying himself for what was to come. Already the adrenaline was pumping through his veins.
His scarlet eyes were perfectly alert as he gathered his clothing and dressed. Fitting black jeans went on over his legs, followed by a red cotton button down shirt, his Houndour skull talisman, and his boots. His belt went around his waist, and then the metal wrist cuffs were snapped in place, and the ankle cuffs.
Ever concerned with making sure he was presentable, he combed through his silky black hair, polished his curving horns, and ascertained that not a single hair was out of place. Once he was finally satisfied he turned his back on the mirror he had been using to gauge the appropriateness of his appearance and carried a single pen and notebook into the Hall for breakfast. Like most days, he didn't spend much time eating, nor did he eat much. Excitement was not the reason, and neither was illness. He simply did not eat much.
With the slightest hint of a strut, his tail swishing aggressively behind him, Marco made his way quickly to Attack Class. His eyes betrayed the foul mood he found himself in today. Why was not important; all that mattered was that the first person so unfortunate as to cross his path too closely would be viciously treated.
His swagger led him to the outside grounds, where he found the coach for his first class.
"Hellgar?" he barked. Marco stood up straight, offering a touch more respect than he did to most, and yet at the same time managing to seem so arrogant.
"Yes, sir."
The coach ticked his name off of his list. "You're cutting it really close, boy. Get yourself ready, we don't have all day."
Obediently Marco shed his jacket and set it on the grass several feet away, readying himself for what was to come. Already the adrenaline was pumping through his veins.