Malhyanth
The Wolverine
Please do not enter this RP unless expressly invited.
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This roleplay is a fantasy roleplay based around a modern world, where supernaturals exist. Within it there are a multitude of races, magics, and roles to be fulfilled.
Religions, cults, tribes, civilisations are all broad and varied, much like the types of people that live in this world._____________________________
Flame flared in his palms for all of a moment as the tall man leant against his jeep, waiting. Amber eyes scanned the streets, the signs outside quaint little houses, the one he stood outside of, the largest of the street. Potential neighbours looked the scruffy, unkempt man up and down as they drove, and strolled, past, eyeing him with suspicion, like he may actually be out to assess their little street for loot, and valuables. The man didn't seem to care, only inclined his chin at those that came within eyeline, walked past him on the street, didn't cross to avoid him. Smoke rose in soft tendrils as he breathed in, before being taken between strong fingers and held down at his side as he continued to wait, two streams of the smoke exploding from his nostrils like his was a disgruntled dragon.
The girl was late. He rose the hand holding the cigar up, and inspected the half hunter, skeleton watch that resided there. It was the only bit of "bling", as the kids called it, that adorned him, and gave away that perhaps this scruffy, homeless looking fellow with the wholes in his jeans, the scuffs on the elbows of his jacket, and all the scrapes and scratches in the rest of the hide of his jacket, might actually be wealthy enough to afford this place. Even the jeep he leant on looked like it was about to fall apart. His booted food rested against the tyre of his wheel, tapping out a rhythm as he stood, waiting.
The house was broad, and quite exposed; it needed some serious work doing to the grounds. But what appealed was the fact it held 6 large bedrooms. And more land beyond the back fence; in fact, half the woodland to his right, as he stood facing this final house in the cul de sac belonged to this house. His main reason for being so drawn to it. His needs required little by way of homely comforts; the house itself was a rouse, a place where those that were injured or sick could be cared for. The main thing to take note of was the grounds, and the idillic life this could bring, being so far from others whom may wish them harm.
A sighed huff shook his large frame as the man he lowered the sunglasses from his mess of russet hair, over his amber eyes. Again, the wrist was turned slightly, as he looked at the slowly creeping hands, as the cigar rose to his lips for another drag. The blue tinted smoke held scents and tastes your average human cigar might not; they couldn't appreciate flavours like this man could. Every little taste that played across his tongue was like a dance. The sounds around him were also so intricately carved into this time right now; the birds that sang, especially at this time on an afternoon, after rain, but after enough sun had dried the ground, the insects that chirruped and sang as much as the birds, the lawn mower two roads over, the aeroplane flying over head, the breathing of his lungs, the tapping of his booted foot. These were a selection of noises, carefully layered in such a way that they may never collide in this fashion again. It was simple things like this that made this man exceptionally happy.
Which, he had to admit, did explain why he held no anger towards the estate agent he'd been meant to meet here 24 minutes ago. She, too, in her absent way, was part of this elaborate set of events that lead to his being here, at this point, experiencing these things, he'd of otherwise missed, he just hoped that the sides of this house were as beautiful and elaborate as the soundscape he enjoyed in this neighbourhood.
