|Vincent (king_of_gods) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2010-07-19 20:00:00
Who: Vince & Paul
Discussing the idea of a tidal wave to wash away subversive mortals Coffee and becoming reacquainted with the awesome that is living close together.
Where: Lobby and then strolling to aforementioned coffee.
When: At exactly 1:01.
Warnings: No...t yet!
The mind bending way in which Vincent was able to dress in a mundane manner, yet still appear utterly overpowering, seemed an esoteric and lifelong trait. He can trace this phenomena back to the funeral of his great uncle Alexander (whom his middle name was so worthlessly settled after.) wherein, family from all over the world had flown specifically out to the French Riviera, to St. Tropez to be particular (Alexander's favored place in all the world while alive.) to watch his trifling ashes be dumped mournfully and boohooily into the mysterious depths of the mystical Mediterranean sea. No one was allowed to wear black at the funeral, as indicated by his requests, and this is where Vincent uncovered the magnificent truth behind all the machinations of man--especially his perceptions of how one dresses--and that to be a wolf in sheep's clothing was the most diplomatic way to slay a lamb.
Superman, when he went to bed at night, was Clark Kent. He needn't feed consistently on the oo's and aah's of all his faithful to feel uplifted or obligated to perform his heroic duties. People who are what they are, do what they do, because they like what they do, and want to do what they want. When they want to. After unbraiding that tricky thought delicately as a man might the corset of his Edwardian lover, you might discover the pale, flawless secret that was the middle path of life. A terrain few ever uncovered. A bridge you can only find by testing extremes...
In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice.
Thus, Vincent did his best to (within reason.) do as he pleased, however, and whenever he wanted. This may seem an odd idea to those chained down by society's way of controlling the smaller minded, but the free-spirited, like Vincent, the strong and bold of heart, are unchained but not untethered.
They also evidently wear gray, faded jeans, plain black t-shirts, asic tigers, and seemed to stroll with a predatory edge that teetered gracefully on the precipice of Vincent's naturally imposing demeanor. It had taken him only ten minutes to be ready, and hours to wait and wait and wait impatiently for the hour to arrive for him to leave.
And finally, he'd arrived in the lobby with a *DING* of the elevator, a wolfish grin slathered onto his face like Artemis' soap and the eyes of a storm at sea.
Purposefully, exactly one minute late. It was his thing.