Daniel Ciin (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} miaiphonos) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} paxletalelogs,@ 2011-01-19 08:04:00 |
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Who: Artemis & Ares.
What: Somnambulistic shenanigans.
Where: Pax rooftop.
When: 19 January, 11:45 p.m.
Warnings: Language, violence, outrageous animal rights violations.
Notes: Pax residents, expect some ex-animals littering the roof and environs of your building Thursday morning. Enjoy.
It was nearing midnight; the full moon had risen high and bright. Samuel had only just nodded off to sleep when his body stirred once more, rising from the couch with a purpose not entirely his own. The television had dimmed, the red and black menu of his Netflix queue a faded backdrop on its screen. Blinking, Ares took in his surroundings, quirking a brow at his strange attire. But he had no time for such petty concerns, no desire to waste this rare moment of overt control on glaring at the thin boxers covering his tanned skin. He moved into the bedroom, plucking jeans and a black PT shirt from a neatly folded stack atop the dresser. He found he liked the feel of the tee, its ancient, soft cotton clearly fitted to his shape after years of hard wear. He pulled it over his head as he walked to the bedside table. There, in a deep drawer, he found what he had truly come for: The smooth, hard lines of his vessel's favored weapon.
The Sig Sauer P226 felt solid in his hands, familiar in the way all weapons did. It resonated with them both, deity and mortal, and both sharply smiled. He found the keys to the trigger lock readily enough, and those to the lockbox with extra ammunition shortly after. This attended to, he pulled on his jeans, filled his pockets with the additional clips, slipped the handgun into his waistband at the small of his back, and padded out of the apartment.
His bare feet made no sound on the hallway floor. The door to the stairwell fell shut behind him, and quickly he made his way to the roof. He felt her presence there, always a step ahead of him: His half-sister, awakened with the night, itching for the hunt.