Haraka Omaras
- Spoiler:
- Job approval on page 26, post n°636.
There was a certain amount of repetition within the randomness that gave comfort. It made an every changing life feel more stable and secure. This was important for a certain someone who lived thousands of years with little change to their routine. So off the young looking man went to work after making sure his bag was full, making sure everything would be okay, then saying goodbye to William. The hospital wasn't especially busy during his shift, or maybe it just didn't feel that way? There was no emergency and no rush. His shift ending during the hottest time of the day during summer left for briefly feeling engulfed within heated weather. Haraka wanted to escape, but none of the food items or drink he packed would be cold enough to pull that off. The well sized bag hadn't exactly been sitting in a freezer when he had been working. This was how the pale ice blue skinned person ended up wondering on the docks and sucking in steamed buns stuffed with corn, squash, beans, cheese, chives, garlic, tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers. It tasted a bit like a meatless taco in a bun, only juicy. The bread rolls themselves that had this filling had been baked, having many thin, crisp buttery layers before the filling. The brea d wasn't thick, but it was thick enough to hold everything in. There was more food in the giant white bag that hung over one shoulder, but for now this was what he was eating. One by one he chatted with different merchants, catching up on a few day to day things. It might not make sense to a stranger why someone without wealth had so many connections, or why some merchants had to practically stuff items in his bag to accept invitations to events, food items, and drinks.
The food items weren't the cheapest, some weren't even officially released to the public yet, along with the drinks. The invitations were to social events that could help someone who was looking for connections to be able to make many of them. Many people would fight for these sort of items, he was talked into accepting them as they were forcefully shoved into his bag. To Haraka and the merchants it was a family like friendship, but such a connection wasn't well known, nor public. This didn't change ho easy it was to tell Omaras had many connections, even if he wasn't someone who stood out all that well. The doctor dressed well, but he was also in his guild uniform. He stopped snacking after catching up, the dreary minded mans long talons tapping against an ice cold melon drink that had been shoved into his bag minutes before by one of the merchant friends of his. The tapping continued a bit, before it was lifted from within the bag. Instead of drinking it, the half demon slid it behind his neck to help his body cool down. There was a sigh of relief that escaped him. "It's strange to think how many of them remember I fair badly in this sort of weather." It was nice.
The Blood of death kept me breathing. From that fluid birthed a new rhythm.
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