Kaisel
Haters on my back like a backpack
He’s just gotten off work, still dressed the part because he decided to stop at the markets before going home and stripping the day away from him. The shift started in the middle of the night, patrolling the undercity, security measures that haven’t waned, even after all this time. Unrest remains, evidence that they’re treating the symptoms rather than the cause, although not for lack of trying.
It’d been a generally boring night, except there’s a fresh ripple of gossip through the Fingers. Ruddy sails back in port. He’d stared them down the moment he’d been relieved of work, the stretch of daylight offering them in plain view, which feels intentional. A level of weariness hasn’t fully left his shoulders since stepping away from that dock, although he does his best to bury it in the hopes it’ll stick by the time he makes it home. It’s why his stride is unhurried, lackadasial even, and his smile rises often and easy to some of the passersby who offer a greeting or familiarity.
He stops for one in particular, hands slipping from his pockets to conduct an overly complex handshake. It goes on for a good minute at least, involving feet, elbows, and a few leaps and twists. ”Alright, catch ya later man!” he calls out. He makes eye contact with the red head in the distance then, but no recognition lands, so his attention scrapes right past her. He steps up to the smoothie shop, bouncing on his toes as he waits in line.
It’d been a generally boring night, except there’s a fresh ripple of gossip through the Fingers. Ruddy sails back in port. He’d stared them down the moment he’d been relieved of work, the stretch of daylight offering them in plain view, which feels intentional. A level of weariness hasn’t fully left his shoulders since stepping away from that dock, although he does his best to bury it in the hopes it’ll stick by the time he makes it home. It’s why his stride is unhurried, lackadasial even, and his smile rises often and easy to some of the passersby who offer a greeting or familiarity.
He stops for one in particular, hands slipping from his pockets to conduct an overly complex handshake. It goes on for a good minute at least, involving feet, elbows, and a few leaps and twists. ”Alright, catch ya later man!” he calls out. He makes eye contact with the red head in the distance then, but no recognition lands, so his attention scrapes right past her. He steps up to the smoothie shop, bouncing on his toes as he waits in line.
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
