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View character profile for: Ponce de Gezzadro
Countertop NightmaresPosted by
Posted: Dec 22, 2017, 11:45pm
- -A Bar in Hartford,
Early Evening, 0 DSTR- -
Some have nightmares of the enemy. Blades narrowly missing thier targets, the most unfortunate of the living would have seen a bolt or two, explosions ripping apart those they once called friends. But Ponce dreamt of his father. The days they lived together, the sun never seemed to shine, or perhaps that was just the way he remembered it.
The sky was grey that day. Clouds covered the sun, light barely pierced the thick fog of condensation. He knew that because he stared up at the sky for a solid three minutes, simultaneously crying and bleeding, both his tears and his blood running down his face. He wasn't sure at the time, which hurts more, the wound itself, or the fact the the wound had been inflicted upon him by his own father. He couldn't look up at the sky anymore without thinking of that scar.
The sound of something metal slamming down near his face woke him from his slumber, if you could call it that. Bewildered, his head shot upward, twisting around to servey the room he was in. The place was populated, and he was sat on a stool, leaning over onto a counter top. He looked up, his grogginess, combined with the sunlight from a horribly angled window made it hard for him to see, but never the less, his eyes darted around, trying to piece together the scene. Upon seeing it mere away from him, Ponce realized that the noise he had heard was someone's tankard, the contents of which were now on his face. He let out a groan.
I've fallen asleep in the bar... again.
"God, you look like fresh shit Avogadro!"
Ponce looked up the the blonde haired male standing over him.
"My name is de Gezzadro."
The man scoffed, his nose turned up as he looked down.
"What ever you say, da Vinci."
Ponce let out another groan, this time of utter annoyance. His sight no longer failed him. He sat up in his...on his stool.
"Cabrón, what do you want Wren?"
Wren smiled at Ponce, it was a smile that made his skin crawl.
"Our squad is going on a "patrol" tomorrow, and it would be beneficial to us if you tagged along."
Upon hearing this, Ponce turned around in his seat.
"Tú mientes! Who's the whore?"
The young soldier leaned forward, cupping Ponce's mouth with both of his hands.
"Sssshh!", he said, his voice hushed and his tone forceful. "Not now, and not here. You need not worry about anything, just meet us near the border by nightfall."
Ponce reached up, grabbing Wren's hands and pulling them from his face.
"If we leave by nightfall, how will we have time to get back?"
"Like I said, pony, you need not worry."
With that, Wren stood and began stepping towards the door, though backwards so that his eyes would remain locked with Ponce's.
"It is Ponce, not pony." He called towards Wren.
"What ever, Penny. Just be there!"
Ponce turned away as the door swung shut. He let his head fall back down onto the counter.