1 Among the People [Open] Sun Nov 10, 2013 11:45 pm
Dameon
D-rank
Years had passed and time felt like a plague endlessly gnawing away at his life. These feelings he could not shake constantly in the back of his mind like a tumor of sorrow. Many people as they got older would forget about their past, bits and pieces fade into oblivion, details about loved ones gone, and family forgotten. He however was not like most, he could still remember how cold it felt to be kicked out of home and cast among the wolves of the wild. The ever growing fear of abandonment and torment that haunted him every step he took on his own. Two years alone in the wilderness as a mere child of seven hunting, defending, and starving. Those feeling of loneliness never eased as he grew older in a village filled with people. People saw him every day and yet chose to ignore him as if he was a blight on society, an unwanted outsider. It was because he was in such a populated society and being alone that made these feelings worse.
He would never admit these feelings though. To him showing emotion was a sign of weakness and among shinobi, weakness is not welcomed. There was also the factor that if he did express his feelings he was outcasted even more. Relying on himself is all he had ever known but it didn't make his longing for companionship any less potent. Today however, was like any other day. He would always walk through the market purchasing the few things he could afford, like apples, and other snacks the get him through the week. His diet wasn't the best but he trained so much he never really cared what or when he ate. He would also walk the market just people watching, observing, and questioning himself what it meant to be a normal human of Kiri.
Dameon took a bit of the fresh red apple as he ducked into an alleyway he knew all too well and sat down. He rested his back against the cold foundation of one of the market buildings and stared up at the cloudy sky, his hair ever so slightly blowing in breeze. He took another bite, whipping his mouth of the juices that flowed from the fruit. The day was particularly cold because of the breeze so he had his jacket buttoned up to the last two buttons, the leather straps and belt lying against the ground. He turned his attention back to the market, observing the people of the village as they passed his alleyway. He envied them in a lot of ways.
He watched a young family with their children no older than five playing with one another as they walked the length of the market. He wondered where that had been in his life as the haunting memories of his parents being jailed filled his mind. A single tear fell from his face, mixing with the moisture left over from his now half eaten apple. This was why he had become a shinobi, to endure the rough times, and take on the pain of his own lie, so other people wouldn't have to go through what he had. He didn't know if his ideology was correct or if it was the misguided judgment of a foolish teen. All he did know was that it felt right to him, so he would pursue it.
He finished his apple departing it among the trash of one of the stalls he sat between and retook his seat in the alley. Every day for seven years he had walked this path and sat in this alley eating the same apples from the same stand. Not once had anyone so much as even asked him his name. It was a depressing thought to be in a world so busy and still be considered alone. He wondered if it would ever change, but he was always prepared for the worst.
He would never admit these feelings though. To him showing emotion was a sign of weakness and among shinobi, weakness is not welcomed. There was also the factor that if he did express his feelings he was outcasted even more. Relying on himself is all he had ever known but it didn't make his longing for companionship any less potent. Today however, was like any other day. He would always walk through the market purchasing the few things he could afford, like apples, and other snacks the get him through the week. His diet wasn't the best but he trained so much he never really cared what or when he ate. He would also walk the market just people watching, observing, and questioning himself what it meant to be a normal human of Kiri.
Dameon took a bit of the fresh red apple as he ducked into an alleyway he knew all too well and sat down. He rested his back against the cold foundation of one of the market buildings and stared up at the cloudy sky, his hair ever so slightly blowing in breeze. He took another bite, whipping his mouth of the juices that flowed from the fruit. The day was particularly cold because of the breeze so he had his jacket buttoned up to the last two buttons, the leather straps and belt lying against the ground. He turned his attention back to the market, observing the people of the village as they passed his alleyway. He envied them in a lot of ways.
He watched a young family with their children no older than five playing with one another as they walked the length of the market. He wondered where that had been in his life as the haunting memories of his parents being jailed filled his mind. A single tear fell from his face, mixing with the moisture left over from his now half eaten apple. This was why he had become a shinobi, to endure the rough times, and take on the pain of his own lie, so other people wouldn't have to go through what he had. He didn't know if his ideology was correct or if it was the misguided judgment of a foolish teen. All he did know was that it felt right to him, so he would pursue it.
He finished his apple departing it among the trash of one of the stalls he sat between and retook his seat in the alley. Every day for seven years he had walked this path and sat in this alley eating the same apples from the same stand. Not once had anyone so much as even asked him his name. It was a depressing thought to be in a world so busy and still be considered alone. He wondered if it would ever change, but he was always prepared for the worst.