[ The words are barely a whisper above the waves crashing on the shore of the beach, the water washing away the blood staining the sand at the young boy's feet. Malik can feel his body shaking, hands balled into fists at his side, but against the freezing cold he's nowhere near dressed for or due to the blood dripping down from his hands, he's not sure.
Everything happened so fast.
What had woken him hadn't been the pain throughout his body, nor the near-freezing water biting all around him. Those things were trivial in comparison to the sound of a gun being cocked right by his head. His reflexes had kicked in before he gave himself time to stop and think, he was in pain, he was in unfamiliar surroundings and he was in danger, and those were the only things processing as he twisted out of the way, snatched a particularly sharp shell or rock fragment, whatever it may have been, and embedded it in the stranger's juggler.
It was only when wide, terrified eyes were staring up at him as warm blood spilled over his freezing skin that he registered what had just happened, what he'd done, and the fact that the looming threat that had been about to shoot him was an elderly farmer of some sort, no harm to anyone, just an old fool with an old gun. ]
"M-Mon..ster..."
[ The old man's last words, choked around mouthfuls of his own blood, were what finally snapped Malik out of it and had him let go of the body, and stare silently as the man bled out and died at his feet, shotgun laying now harmless at his side. The waves were still coming in, lapping at the body, taking away from the scene, so Malik did what seemed like the best course of action, and picked up the old man's body to throw further out into the waves. Maybe it'll wash up somewhere down the shore, where someone can find it long after he's away from the area.
Which leaves Malik to where he now stands, overlooking cresting waves and making a pretty sore sight. Just a teenage boy in a sleeveless hoodie, khol eyeliner smudged and covered in sand and blood, shivering, sore, cut up and wondering what the hell is going on. ]
T W O; Village
[ As it turns out, people don't appreciate someone killing an old man who'd been sent out on guard patrol. The town Malik had found his way to hadn't exactly been the most welcoming, not with the blood on his hands and the fact that the man they had sent off in that direction hadn't returned when this new kid showed up. But despite the glares and the hissed curses as he passed, he thought it odd most people seemed more inclined to be nice to him rather than have him lynched for his crimes. They could do it, easily, he was in no condition to be fighting anyone beyond a panicked fight or flight instinct, but he wasn't about to tell them that.
So for the moment, there's a young boy who while he looks pretty miserable, he's settled in like a king or a foreign prince, bundled in as many pillows, blankets and quilts as he could get the townspeople to come off of without feeling like too much of a dick about it and glowering at anything that passes him by. As if purple eyes and blond hair sticking out of a pile of blankets is in any way threatening whatsoever. The locals seem to think so at least, and that's all that matters for the time being while he tries to decide if he really wants to read these pamphlets they keep shoving around him or not. There's a pile of them next to his blanket nest that's settled next to a fire, but getting them would require getting out, and no, he's good for now thanks. ]
T H R E E; Wildcard
[ Malik is not even remotely dressed for any of this bullshit, feel free to encounter or accost him anywhere with anything you can think of. Even if it's just to admire the fact that this teenage pretty boy is walking around wearing over thirty pounds in solid gold jewelry at least. ]
Malik Ishtar || Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters
Monster, huh?
[ The words are barely a whisper above the waves crashing on the shore of the beach, the water washing away the blood staining the sand at the young boy's feet. Malik can feel his body shaking, hands balled into fists at his side, but against the freezing cold he's nowhere near dressed for or due to the blood dripping down from his hands, he's not sure.
Everything happened so fast.
What had woken him hadn't been the pain throughout his body, nor the near-freezing water biting all around him. Those things were trivial in comparison to the sound of a gun being cocked right by his head. His reflexes had kicked in before he gave himself time to stop and think, he was in pain, he was in unfamiliar surroundings and he was in danger, and those were the only things processing as he twisted out of the way, snatched a particularly sharp shell or rock fragment, whatever it may have been, and embedded it in the stranger's juggler.
It was only when wide, terrified eyes were staring up at him as warm blood spilled over his freezing skin that he registered what had just happened, what he'd done, and the fact that the looming threat that had been about to shoot him was an elderly farmer of some sort, no harm to anyone, just an old fool with an old gun. ]
"M-Mon..ster..."
[ The old man's last words, choked around mouthfuls of his own blood, were what finally snapped Malik out of it and had him let go of the body, and stare silently as the man bled out and died at his feet, shotgun laying now harmless at his side. The waves were still coming in, lapping at the body, taking away from the scene, so Malik did what seemed like the best course of action, and picked up the old man's body to throw further out into the waves. Maybe it'll wash up somewhere down the shore, where someone can find it long after he's away from the area.
Which leaves Malik to where he now stands, overlooking cresting waves and making a pretty sore sight. Just a teenage boy in a sleeveless hoodie, khol eyeliner smudged and covered in sand and blood, shivering, sore, cut up and wondering what the hell is going on. ]
T W O; Village
[ As it turns out, people don't appreciate someone killing an old man who'd been sent out on guard patrol. The town Malik had found his way to hadn't exactly been the most welcoming, not with the blood on his hands and the fact that the man they had sent off in that direction hadn't returned when this new kid showed up. But despite the glares and the hissed curses as he passed, he thought it odd most people seemed more inclined to be nice to him rather than have him lynched for his crimes. They could do it, easily, he was in no condition to be fighting anyone beyond a panicked fight or flight instinct, but he wasn't about to tell them that.
So for the moment, there's a young boy who while he looks pretty miserable, he's settled in like a king or a foreign prince, bundled in as many pillows, blankets and quilts as he could get the townspeople to come off of without feeling like too much of a dick about it and glowering at anything that passes him by. As if purple eyes and blond hair sticking out of a pile of blankets is in any way threatening whatsoever. The locals seem to think so at least, and that's all that matters for the time being while he tries to decide if he really wants to read these pamphlets they keep shoving around him or not. There's a pile of them next to his blanket nest that's settled next to a fire, but getting them would require getting out, and no, he's good for now thanks. ]
T H R E E; Wildcard
[ Malik is not even remotely dressed for any of this bullshit, feel free to encounter or accost him anywhere with anything you can think of. Even if it's just to admire the fact that this teenage pretty boy is walking around wearing over thirty pounds in solid gold jewelry at least. ]