the deeper you go, the higher you fly

Strelein von Rosnete · 07-17-2010, 10:11 PM

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300+
Gen is a bad bad mofo.

If there was any questioning of Strel's sexuality, it had to disappear if they saw the way he picked flowers, practically prancing around in an unseemly manner for a man his age and gender to boot. He strolled, most enthusiastically, if it could even be called something as lazy as a stroll. Strelein had little to do now that the part was over, over for a while even. Yet, still, there was little for his hands to be busy with, bodies aside. So, to brighten up places in the hotel, such as his own rooms and the entry ways, he went out to pick as many flowers as he could. It was the matter of a few hours for him to fill up his arms and the pack he had brought to Nova Scotia with him. The heads of Canadian wildflowers stuck out from the pack, slowly dying from their separation from the earth.

Arms full, Strel figured out where he was; kind of far from home. To his surprise, he had gone quite far in his early day prancing, or was it late afternoon prancing? God, what had taken his absent mind away from his modest palatial - or rooms in the modest palatial hotel - home? The territory was large, and had gotten larger to accommodate the increase in people in the Kingdom. At least Vigilante was on top of things like that. Honestly, they just needed that land so they would never have to see another soul all day.

But Strel found himself in luck, for he saw a woman, an unknown one at that, before him. He cocked his head to the side a bit as he looked at her, drinking from a glass, or was it a bottle? Debating it for merely a moment, he closed to the distance, calling out a greeting. "Evening Miss. Care to share some of that? I can offer you a handful of pretty flowers picked fresh," he offered, trying to be tempting and alluring. Drinks were always welcome; he found alcohol a rather delightful thing to sin with.

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