Post by Lord Kankaro on Aug 3, 2006 22:49:47 GMT -5
It was a wonderful night. It had been about two days since he had come to Coruscant, and after the hangover subsided, he was having the time of his life. It had been almost two years since he had last visited the planet, during which time he had framed his father for sexually and physically abusing him and then had his clone commit suicide. That was back when he was Griffith Knesos, emo child. Many things had changed. For one, Officer Samael Knesos was no child, at least, not by military standards. He had killed more men before he joined the military then most do after their first three missions. He was the leader of the top unit of elite child soldiers’ codenamed the Toy Soldiers. He had changed a lot during his year and a half of training; he had grown ‘emotions’ and an attitude. He had grown physically as well as mentally; he could kill a man ten different ways with a single rock thrown only once. He loved that too, the feeling of ripping your life from your enemies, the adrenaline rush when they fired back, the pain that was administered after a wound was taken. Hell, even the taste of blood in your mouth after a wound to the stomach. However, tonight, unlike most nights, he was looking for some peace and relaxation.
He climbed the stairs of the Coruscanti building, not bothering to take the stairs when he could get a good work-out from climbing the steps. After reaching the hundredth floor, he had changed his mind, but by then he was only a floor from the roof. He climbed up the final step of stairs and exited to the rooftop. It was brilliant. At five o’clock in the morning, the regular traffic was down a bit, and not many ships flew this high in this part of the planet. Their wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the moon was humongous and full.
= Samael, in his uniform, which consisted of a pair of olive green baggy cargo pants, a set of black combat boots, pair of thumb and fingerless black leather gloves, an unzipped long-sleeved green jacket with three stripes on one side of it and a medal on the front with a black tank top underneath, looked oddly like an adult tonight. At six years old, he stood at 5’4, and his mid-length white hair was still; there wasn’t a breeze tonight. He had two items on him, excluding his always carried DC-17 blaster pistol, modified for greater accuracy and entirely black, which was tucked into his pants and his six inch long knife which was in a sheath inside of his jacket. In his left hand was a basket with food and drink in it, and tucked under his right arm was a blanket.
The roof was smooth, made of metal. He intended to sleep up here tonight just as he would sleep on the roof of the school during boot camp. He placed both items on the ground and looked up, his crimson eyes staring at the moon with satisfaction. The beauty was what he enjoyed the most; its glowing paleness reminded him of himself. The Albino soldier laid the red blanket out on the ground and laid on it, his hand reaching into the basket next to the blanket and pulling out a small canteen full of liquor; compliments of The Commander. He unscrewed the cap and took a quick shot of it, screwing the cap back on afterwards. The burning sensation of it going down his throat woke him up. He sat on the blanket and looked up at the sky once more, his eyes staying on the moon like a target. He laid his hand on his left arm, his right held over his chest with the canteen held in his hands. He closed his eyes once, taking in a deep breath, his well muscles chest moving up and then down slowly. He opened his eyes once more and looked back at the moon, his eyes continuing to stare until it was like they were in a trance, unable to move. It was at this point that his mind began to drift to his memories of the past, his face not showing any pleasure to them. His mother was a whore, his father a pig. His sisters were tolerable but without doubt took after both of them. The mysterious blue man who protected him during his infancy, the Jedi that watched after them because his parents were too weak to protect him. He detested his family and only wished to have one that was more like him. One with power, one with brains, one that wasn’t a Jedi family.
“My family in blood only, and barely that.”
He climbed the stairs of the Coruscanti building, not bothering to take the stairs when he could get a good work-out from climbing the steps. After reaching the hundredth floor, he had changed his mind, but by then he was only a floor from the roof. He climbed up the final step of stairs and exited to the rooftop. It was brilliant. At five o’clock in the morning, the regular traffic was down a bit, and not many ships flew this high in this part of the planet. Their wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the moon was humongous and full.
= Samael, in his uniform, which consisted of a pair of olive green baggy cargo pants, a set of black combat boots, pair of thumb and fingerless black leather gloves, an unzipped long-sleeved green jacket with three stripes on one side of it and a medal on the front with a black tank top underneath, looked oddly like an adult tonight. At six years old, he stood at 5’4, and his mid-length white hair was still; there wasn’t a breeze tonight. He had two items on him, excluding his always carried DC-17 blaster pistol, modified for greater accuracy and entirely black, which was tucked into his pants and his six inch long knife which was in a sheath inside of his jacket. In his left hand was a basket with food and drink in it, and tucked under his right arm was a blanket.
The roof was smooth, made of metal. He intended to sleep up here tonight just as he would sleep on the roof of the school during boot camp. He placed both items on the ground and looked up, his crimson eyes staring at the moon with satisfaction. The beauty was what he enjoyed the most; its glowing paleness reminded him of himself. The Albino soldier laid the red blanket out on the ground and laid on it, his hand reaching into the basket next to the blanket and pulling out a small canteen full of liquor; compliments of The Commander. He unscrewed the cap and took a quick shot of it, screwing the cap back on afterwards. The burning sensation of it going down his throat woke him up. He sat on the blanket and looked up at the sky once more, his eyes staying on the moon like a target. He laid his hand on his left arm, his right held over his chest with the canteen held in his hands. He closed his eyes once, taking in a deep breath, his well muscles chest moving up and then down slowly. He opened his eyes once more and looked back at the moon, his eyes continuing to stare until it was like they were in a trance, unable to move. It was at this point that his mind began to drift to his memories of the past, his face not showing any pleasure to them. His mother was a whore, his father a pig. His sisters were tolerable but without doubt took after both of them. The mysterious blue man who protected him during his infancy, the Jedi that watched after them because his parents were too weak to protect him. He detested his family and only wished to have one that was more like him. One with power, one with brains, one that wasn’t a Jedi family.
“My family in blood only, and barely that.”
