Damon Gant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
demon_gent) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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!"
no subject
He is quite aware that he still has business that needs attending, and thus the intercom announcing his stop pulls him back to reality.
"Hn. As long as you know where we draw the line."
There's a line of tension down his back as he's pulled against his will, and he'll bat the hand away once he's finished. Manfred was not entirely fond of that sort of contact from Chief Gant, after all. He didn't need a crutch. Depending on another was a sign of weakness.
"Fine. Then don't be late. You'll know when I am finished. I'll send the proper time to that device of yours."
A last glance is given before Manfred turned and, with cane in tow, left the train off to carry out the task that was required of him. It was an interesting development, but time would tell whether or not Gant lived up to his word. Nothing further was needed.