Sho Minamimoto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thepiisatruth) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2013-07-08 07:53 pm
thepiisatruth) wrote in savetheearth2013-07-08 07:53 pm
1.4142135623730951^2 = 2 [Action | Open]
Who: Shawn Minamoto and OPEN!
What: A fellow has a project in mind and is off to gather supplies.
When: Monday evening.
Where: Here and there all throughout the city open to be accosted or approached anyplace; Locke City's Japantown after dark.
Shawn rolled and sprawled awake near twelve. The object of the day fueled him immediately up and out with a camping bag which he never used for camping as he found wildernesses boring, barely a word, and five bucks and a granola bar palmed passing the counter.
He was out on the street with rolled-up sleeves, and a watch and shades for his lion's-eyes, and his megaphone hung on his belt, and set out collecting. He swaggered along the sidewalk at turns with a bag slung over his shoulder, turned into and crept along back alleys to scavenge with an intent. He stomped tin cans flat - a usual useable thing - and "stacked" them like cards in the bottom of his bag. He dove vulturishly into the occasional dumpster from which a strip of metal protruded here and there, leering for others and testing their malleability with a good, hard bend, and loaded them triumphantly. He took a detour into the Dead District where unprotected and unpretentious garbage was all in reasonable supply.
Along the way he stopped for the snacking bar, and later for another bite and a drink in an accomplished summer sweat, and again in a detour into a small park to spend around ten minutes at the fountain, and later snuck into open bus doors backdoors past a disembarking passenger to pounce into their seat, patting the bag fit next to him bulging and protruding with bars like a gemcut set of bagpipes.
He pulled it off along behind him and stepped off the bus with a wild and anticipatory grin with the sun all but down, a few blocks from Pop's restaurant, stole into a wide alleyway marked with a marked stylized lion skull on a dumpster - a spot of his! - and swung the bag off his shoulder hard, forced the zipper along its track with two hands pulling along the old thing's sides, and dumped it all into the corner with scraping clangs and bangs.
Shawn folded his arms behind his back for a long, good stretch. He nudged and distributed the pieces to begin brainstorming of a spot to begin - haphazardly as it was collected. Carefulness was little of a factor, as in decent enough quantity anything ought to be configurable into something worth about the same. And there was one of the boons of the start of Summer Vacation Eternal: he had, inarguably all fairness, absolutely all of the night. His time was his-all-his.
Maybe a base of cans in a framework of bars was a good place to start, or perhaps he ought to start with a twisted thunderbolt.
What: A fellow has a project in mind and is off to gather supplies.
When: Monday evening.
Where: Here and there all throughout the city open to be accosted or approached anyplace; Locke City's Japantown after dark.
Shawn rolled and sprawled awake near twelve. The object of the day fueled him immediately up and out with a camping bag which he never used for camping as he found wildernesses boring, barely a word, and five bucks and a granola bar palmed passing the counter.
He was out on the street with rolled-up sleeves, and a watch and shades for his lion's-eyes, and his megaphone hung on his belt, and set out collecting. He swaggered along the sidewalk at turns with a bag slung over his shoulder, turned into and crept along back alleys to scavenge with an intent. He stomped tin cans flat - a usual useable thing - and "stacked" them like cards in the bottom of his bag. He dove vulturishly into the occasional dumpster from which a strip of metal protruded here and there, leering for others and testing their malleability with a good, hard bend, and loaded them triumphantly. He took a detour into the Dead District where unprotected and unpretentious garbage was all in reasonable supply.
Along the way he stopped for the snacking bar, and later for another bite and a drink in an accomplished summer sweat, and again in a detour into a small park to spend around ten minutes at the fountain, and later snuck into open bus doors backdoors past a disembarking passenger to pounce into their seat, patting the bag fit next to him bulging and protruding with bars like a gemcut set of bagpipes.
He pulled it off along behind him and stepped off the bus with a wild and anticipatory grin with the sun all but down, a few blocks from Pop's restaurant, stole into a wide alleyway marked with a marked stylized lion skull on a dumpster - a spot of his! - and swung the bag off his shoulder hard, forced the zipper along its track with two hands pulling along the old thing's sides, and dumped it all into the corner with scraping clangs and bangs.
Shawn folded his arms behind his back for a long, good stretch. He nudged and distributed the pieces to begin brainstorming of a spot to begin - haphazardly as it was collected. Carefulness was little of a factor, as in decent enough quantity anything ought to be configurable into something worth about the same. And there was one of the boons of the start of Summer Vacation Eternal: he had, inarguably all fairness, absolutely all of the night. His time was his-all-his.
Maybe a base of cans in a framework of bars was a good place to start, or perhaps he ought to start with a twisted thunderbolt.