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[Oct. 16th, 2008|10:28 am]
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Who: WOlfwood and Gojyo
What: sex, probably
Where: Gojyo's place
When: a few days ago
Warnings: See 'what'

Wolfwood was a good runner. Years of being shot at had made him an expert at all manner of fleeing. So he didn't have any trouble at all hauling ass from the portkey to Gojyo's apartment, espeically now that he didn't carry that heavy cross anymore.

He stopped at the door, panting heavily as he knocked.
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[Sep. 1st, 2008|03:48 pm]
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Who: Gojyo and Wolfwood
What: Hanging out, drinks
Where: Gojyo's place
When: Tonight
Warnings: Swearing, I'm sure. Should be about it.

Just click it, already )
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[May. 29th, 2008|07:55 pm]
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Who: Goyjo and Wolfwood
What: Drinking
Where: A bar
Warnings: language and maleness.

Wolfwood wandered into the bar, looking sad and worldweary. He carried a large cross wrapped in canvas, and a backpack.

He looked for his friend, and gave him half a smile when he saw the man.
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[Mar. 6th, 2008|11:01 pm]
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Who: Vash and Wolfwood
What: Finding each other
Where: Central Park and then Lord knows where.
When: Thursday evening
Warnings: ...I'll let you know.

Upon arriving on Earth, Vash had begun wandering aimlessly around New York City. There was so much to see, his mind almost couldn't handle it. So after he'd joined a street performer in a gleeful little dance and snatched some free donuts from the donut company he apparently owns, he began exploring Central Park. He looked at the trees with up most curiosity, touching the bushes, getting down on his knees to smell the grass. A 12 year old had inquired as to what he was doing and when he began asking questions, the little boy led him around the park and explained things until his mother called him home.

So, currently eyeing a squirrel that had settled on the park bench beside him, Vash waited for Wolfwood.
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[Feb. 16th, 2008|03:06 pm]
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Who: Donald W. Blackburn and Wolfwood
What: A meeting.
When: Today.
Where: The street.

Donald had spent almost the entire week since his arrival to the city spending more money than he had in his lifetime. It was mostly on ice cream, sweaters that he'd never wear, and flowers for strangers--it always got a smile, or at least usually did. He was now leaning against a newsstand, thumbing through the newest issue of Esquire with no particular meter.

But he wasn't reading--he didn't know how to read. His eyes were hovering over the line of the magazine, watching everyone that passed by. He was lonely--he hadn't held a proper conversation with anyone in days. He was just trying to find someone to talk to.
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