[It's a lovely scene, really. And as he comes in, all boots and barn jackets, he feels immediately out of place.
This place is for dignified, respectable people. And maybe there was a day where he would have felt like he had the right to strut in, shopping for PR appearances, photo shoots, and late night talk shows. He'd never really loved the fame but it did come with some perks.
He isn't that person anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.
And that's okay. People change. Their lives take different directions. But it is ironic that he's sort of becoming a name around here. Not for being a fighter. Not for being a champion, or pilot or a fallen has-been (all of which he was back home) but a farmer. An Architect under the care and guidance of The Tower and Doorway combined. He never realized that it would be such an important or impactful job. And yet here he is worrying about the mud in his tread and wondering if he should have come in through a service door.]
Alayne?
[Still, for all his gruff exterior, he also carries a tired, soft smile, kind blue eyes, and an aura devoid of corruption. On the left side of his face, extending over his ear and into his floppy blond hair, is the faintest trace of a hand print.
There's an old military duffle bag on his shoulder and a large crate in his arms, bursting with meat and produce.]
no subject
This place is for dignified, respectable people. And maybe there was a day where he would have felt like he had the right to strut in, shopping for PR appearances, photo shoots, and late night talk shows. He'd never really loved the fame but it did come with some perks.
He isn't that person anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.
And that's okay. People change. Their lives take different directions. But it is ironic that he's sort of becoming a name around here. Not for being a fighter. Not for being a champion, or pilot or a fallen has-been (all of which he was back home) but a farmer. An Architect under the care and guidance of The Tower and Doorway combined. He never realized that it would be such an important or impactful job. And yet here he is worrying about the mud in his tread and wondering if he should have come in through a service door.]
Alayne?
[Still, for all his gruff exterior, he also carries a tired, soft smile, kind blue eyes, and an aura devoid of corruption. On the left side of his face, extending over his ear and into his floppy blond hair, is the faintest trace of a hand print.
There's an old military duffle bag on his shoulder and a large crate in his arms, bursting with meat and produce.]
Sorry I'm late.
[He is exactly on time.]