Damon Gant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sirenspull_logs2012-03-18 02:33 am
demon_gent) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-03-18 02:33 am
Entry tags:
Tut-tut, it looks like rain!
Who: Damon Gant and YOU!
When: Sunday morning to the afternoon
Where: Between sector 4 and 5
Summary: With his first day here, Gant is more than ready to start assimilating himself with the rest of society, but hearing that this is an island, he's determined to see the beach, no matter how foul the weather is! Feel free to catch him between train-stops 26. Elmer Stop and 1. Ravenwood Stop, he'll be happy to chat you up along the way. Or even at his last stop walking from the train station past Better Afterlife Mortuary, Cinnagrad Cemetery, McKinley Zoo and towards the Aquarium.
Warnings: Only if you're allergic to happiness
The rain, rain, rain came down, down, down in rushing, rising rivulets... but Damon Gant was quick to the task of keeping dry, dry, dry. After all, his lightning-shock of hair would have deflated under the drizzle, and he couldn't have that, now could he? The old gentleman was in his Sunday's best; his glaring suit of sunset orange that he lived and died in. It was a difficult color to miss, especially amongst the grim transit public. They were either quick to look away so his radiance wouldn't burn into their retinas, or their gaze was fixated on him like moths to a whimsical flame.
Gant had that sort of magnetism to him. Enough that before entering the train station he managed to barter for a ticket and sweet-talked another into giving him their umbrella. Charm and benevolence were Gant's most powerful weapons in strange places he had never been... they weren't too shabby back home either. Without a doubt, Gant had the sort of air that wriggled itself into your heart where he would latch on and never let go. Some even went so far as to symbolically sell their soul to him.
For now there was no need for such a strangle-hold on anyone, Gant was his own man. Free of the fools he left behind, free of the hushed rumors and lies, the doubters and good-for-nothings, the objectors and persecutors, the sentencing, the shackles, the bars, the memory of the long green mile, and the memory of the last deep sleep. He had been executed but knew when he had awoken on this isle not between heaven or hell, but Canada of all the silly places, that his last words to the court held ever so true.
"You see, if I listen carefully, I can hear it right now...
...The sound of a new beginning!"
When: Sunday morning to the afternoon
Where: Between sector 4 and 5
Summary: With his first day here, Gant is more than ready to start assimilating himself with the rest of society, but hearing that this is an island, he's determined to see the beach, no matter how foul the weather is! Feel free to catch him between train-stops 26. Elmer Stop and 1. Ravenwood Stop, he'll be happy to chat you up along the way. Or even at his last stop walking from the train station past Better Afterlife Mortuary, Cinnagrad Cemetery, McKinley Zoo and towards the Aquarium.
Warnings: Only if you're allergic to happiness
The rain, rain, rain came down, down, down in rushing, rising rivulets... but Damon Gant was quick to the task of keeping dry, dry, dry. After all, his lightning-shock of hair would have deflated under the drizzle, and he couldn't have that, now could he? The old gentleman was in his Sunday's best; his glaring suit of sunset orange that he lived and died in. It was a difficult color to miss, especially amongst the grim transit public. They were either quick to look away so his radiance wouldn't burn into their retinas, or their gaze was fixated on him like moths to a whimsical flame.
Gant had that sort of magnetism to him. Enough that before entering the train station he managed to barter for a ticket and sweet-talked another into giving him their umbrella. Charm and benevolence were Gant's most powerful weapons in strange places he had never been... they weren't too shabby back home either. Without a doubt, Gant had the sort of air that wriggled itself into your heart where he would latch on and never let go. Some even went so far as to symbolically sell their soul to him.
For now there was no need for such a strangle-hold on anyone, Gant was his own man. Free of the fools he left behind, free of the hushed rumors and lies, the doubters and good-for-nothings, the objectors and persecutors, the sentencing, the shackles, the bars, the memory of the long green mile, and the memory of the last deep sleep. He had been executed but knew when he had awoken on this isle not between heaven or hell, but Canada of all the silly places, that his last words to the court held ever so true.
"You see, if I listen carefully, I can hear it right now...
...The sound of a new beginning!"
I really hope you don't mind if I backtag this, I REALLY WANTED TO REPLY TO YOU
But not this old fellow. Gant stopped before him with a rather grateful, if not relieved look upon his most magnanimous self, "Why you're the first person to notice without spite, I was starting to think this was the isle of doom and gloom. I've got to know your name."
For future reference of course. Gant never forgot a name once he heard it. Nor a face for that matter. Part of his job, after all.. former job, that was. A Chief detective and later Chief of Police all together, he had a knack for wanting to profile every living person he came upon. Be they friend of foe, Gant certainly wasn't shy by any means.
((ooc: I'm extremely sorry for this unacceptably LATE reply, I totally flounced on my drive coming into this. Baw new character syndrome D: ))
no subject
"Oh it certainly can be a depressing place at times, however it is better to focus on the positive. Though of course acknowledging the negative side of things is important too, but should not be consumed, life is worth living wherever you are."
Iroh pauses for a moment, and does a small polite bow.
"My name is Iroh, might I have the honour of your name?"
kasjhfkjads I am trying not to make this a habit D:
Gant fisted his arms behind himself and bowed back, "Damon Gant's the name! Just washed in with the morning tied. But I must say I know already I like the cut of your jib, you wouldn't happen to be a local, would you?"
Every name and profession he gathered mattered to him. This was reconnaissance on a grand scale. Every person was to be accounted for, for any person could equal his step up the social ladder.
You are forgiven. :P
"A pleasure, Damon Gant. I am likewise a newcomer, but I have been here for about three quarters of a year. I am currently managing a business here myself, though I shall soon be starting my own, a tea shop named the Jasmine Dragon." he explained happily with a bit of a twinkle in his eye at the mention of his own shop.