Post by Sascha Kilmore on Jan 5, 2015 6:27:15 GMT
Sascha enjoyed the subtle stench of Newark. It smelled of rot and decay, not just of the physical sort, but the narcissistic souls that inhabited it. But something had drawn him from the city, in sort of a search inside his fiery heart. Mother always did tell him to follow his heart’s desire. With a cooler of blood, a satchel of items, and drawing his shades over his almost white blue eyes, he revved up his hog at the setting of the sun. He didn’t want to be hassled with. So he made his markings clear. They were known by legend among those on the east coast. The Viper Star was spoken about in hushed tones, and every once in a while bravely told in stories surrounding the campfires at night. Some that told the story never were heard from again. Exchanges for room and board had to be made by the time he made it to the Midwest, however. The dawn was approaching. Although the sky was generally a smog infiltrated mess, it offered no solace from the sun. It passed by quickly in the shade drawn room before he took flight again. He landed himself in an area where it seemed desert met sea. The oasis it afforded had a battered looking sign that said “Dallas, Texas” next to a bluebonnet. “How quaint…” he mused to himself. What in this forsaken hell hole of a planet would have drawn him out here, he would have to have find out soon enough. He did have to admit, the smell of the pure blood out here as compared to the degenerates back east did hold some appeal. But another day in a seedy motel was going to have to take place. This was easily found, as he was in the vicinity of the DFW airport, which still seems to be in commission. After his second sleep from that trip, he drew the curtains of his window to note a car dealership just cattycornered in his vision. And then his heart fluttered as a male, looking the devil in a pair of Levis, seemed to be sweeping the lot for the evening. A couple was interested in one of the minivans, and that sweet little young thing was showing it to them. Sascha would certainly have to go meet him. So across the street, he strutted.
