Zachariah arrived at the edge of the Ace of Spades just as the orange morning sun ascended the horizon, sore from his travels. He held the keys to his new condo in hand, but the enormity of the city made directions difficult to follow. As much as he loved wandering about, he wanted nothing but a place to rest his feet and back now. Despite the arriving morning, the streets were still dark. And, seeing no other bodies nearby, Zachariah reached his hands out and called for his magic, lighting the streetlamps in different colors. They flickered to life, illuminating the sings at every corner until he read what he needed to, but Zachariah still couldn't find where he was supposed to go. He looked up at the castle in the center of the city, Sabertooth's home, brightly shining in the dawn's rays. The city still rested, save for a small corner cafe. So, Zachariah decided to rest in its salon until the city awoke. He'd only been to this place once before, when he initially joined Sabertooth, but never returned to partake in the guild's activities. He was nervous and restless in an unfamiliar place, but hoped to change that unfamiliarity soon.
"A large coffee, please," he muttered, voice soft and nearly inaudible.
He vividly remembered the first time he'd been here, when he'd collected many eyes for his scars and vibrant hair and skin. Although accustomed to strange looks, they made him uneasy nonetheless. In those days, he wore a short collared jacket, brazenly expressing the purple, lightning shaped scars that descended from his jaw to far bellow his collar. But now, he wears a pea coat with a collar that hides his neck and some of his jaw. Having traveled for jobs in the past weeks, he never had a chance to sit down. But when he sat down at the cafe in the quiet morning, his eyelids quickly drooped and became heavy. His head fell on his arms, and he dozed off for a minute.
Zachariah felt himself being watched, and jumped up at the slightest unnatural sound. "Hello?" he called, scanning the road around him. "Is anyone there?"
Ace of Spades was a strange place to him, but if it was going to be his new, permanent home, he had to make it work.
"A large coffee, please," he muttered, voice soft and nearly inaudible.
He vividly remembered the first time he'd been here, when he'd collected many eyes for his scars and vibrant hair and skin. Although accustomed to strange looks, they made him uneasy nonetheless. In those days, he wore a short collared jacket, brazenly expressing the purple, lightning shaped scars that descended from his jaw to far bellow his collar. But now, he wears a pea coat with a collar that hides his neck and some of his jaw. Having traveled for jobs in the past weeks, he never had a chance to sit down. But when he sat down at the cafe in the quiet morning, his eyelids quickly drooped and became heavy. His head fell on his arms, and he dozed off for a minute.
Zachariah felt himself being watched, and jumped up at the slightest unnatural sound. "Hello?" he called, scanning the road around him. "Is anyone there?"
Ace of Spades was a strange place to him, but if it was going to be his new, permanent home, he had to make it work.