I'm the one they call the underdog, If you want a shot, just step in the ring
He's not normally a fan of libraries. It reminds him of long nights banging his head against a wall, or pages, trying to retain facts he found pointless for tests he didn't care about, all of it necessary thought to advance to things that did matter. Such as, kicking ass in the field. Show him where a book could teach him properly how to crescent kick and he might have been sold, and while certainly plenty of teachers had tried, even enticing him with books on warfare, strategy, and pictures of maneuvers, they did little to trickle that knowledge into him when digested in this form—the dead tree hallucinogenic scribble form.
Yet he has deigned to come here while waiting for Charlie so that he could do something useful other than pace and listen to the moaning of Dygra worship. She'd find him when she had time, and until then, he'd keep perusing every shelf of parenthood he could get his hands on. He has amassed such a collection already on a table nearby, books stacked in haphazard fashion and spread in a semi circle in front of him. To any wandering eye he looks like a very studious man cross-referencing multiple topics, but truth be told he keeps jumping from one book to another trying to find one a bit less boring than the last, the current fan of tomes in front of him flipped into various order as potentials. His back is pressed into the table for support, one leg lazily waving back and forth among the pull of the water rushing by just at his side, a trick to keep him focused even if he'd had no intention of getting his feet so literally wet today. He's holding up a thin book to his face, the colorful cover proudly asking, SO YOU'RE A PARENT?"
Yet he has deigned to come here while waiting for Charlie so that he could do something useful other than pace and listen to the moaning of Dygra worship. She'd find him when she had time, and until then, he'd keep perusing every shelf of parenthood he could get his hands on. He has amassed such a collection already on a table nearby, books stacked in haphazard fashion and spread in a semi circle in front of him. To any wandering eye he looks like a very studious man cross-referencing multiple topics, but truth be told he keeps jumping from one book to another trying to find one a bit less boring than the last, the current fan of tomes in front of him flipped into various order as potentials. His back is pressed into the table for support, one leg lazily waving back and forth among the pull of the water rushing by just at his side, a trick to keep him focused even if he'd had no intention of getting his feet so literally wet today. He's holding up a thin book to his face, the colorful cover proudly asking, SO YOU'RE A PARENT?"
Kaisel
Even when my feet get tired, I will keep on moving higher
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
