Post by jackal on Nov 30, 2009 16:28:22 GMT -5
Pigeons are not nocturnal. At night they are plump puffs of feathers perched in high sheltered places, sleeping more soundly than fat cats on sunny window ledges. They do not see well at night. They seem weaponless; lacking the taloned feet and hooked beaks of the raptors. Yet, a mother pigeon can accurately crack the knuckles of an intruding hand venturing into her nest with a sharp stroke of her wing. The pointed pink or black beak that pricks out bits of popcorn from cracks in cobblestones occasionally jabs even the soft palm of one who offers largesse. And the battering wings and jabbing beaks of a thousand hungry pigeons in competition for food are not to be ignored by anything.
It matters not the creature but the heart within coupled with a sharp mind that cannot be seen. It's a wolf within sheep's clothing that cannot be read out until the final moment before the candle flame will be snuffed out within an instant. Who would ever suspect another of the worst? It's hard to think that of anyone. One would like to think most of humanity tends to be civilized. Yet, things tend to be anything but that. That didn't keep others from being mere passerby though; strolling past this one man standing there across the street from joint.
He stands there with an apple within hand and mouth shut with teeth bearing down upon a morsel of that fruit. His eyes had not flitted away yet. He had been waiting, and waiting for quite a long time now. Yet, not one person within the whole of the lifeblood that brushes past him had stopped long enough to question him. He had become apart of the life within the city as a whole and because of that alone he blends with utter ease and without a hitch.
His short knife wedges deep within that red apple and motions to and fro; shaking and swaying within place before sawing through. All the while he's nonchalant whilst lifting that small portion to his mouth and drawing upon such with his tongue. Teeth bear down; utter routine, truly. Then his hands lowered and eyes focused upon one car that was suddenly drawing up.
It's a wolf within sheep's clothing that most don't suspect. It's always the quiet and reserved that have much more going on underneath the surface. It's men like him that hardly talk and offer so little to any other. Mayhap one could say that's because of the lifestyle he had lived. Maybe that's the truth of such things. Yet, you'd never hear that from him. It's then he's tossing the apple aside within the public corner trash can before quickly crossing the street.
He wasn't the only one to be wary of though. Just like pigeons there were those of the masses that were unknown to any other. There were dancers within joints like this who led lives beyond the mutlicolored and mirrored walls; beyond their small clothing and sweat-slick bodies that smelled of perfume and flesh. Beyond the sudden and loud thump of music that assails him upon entering past the bouncer and trailing at the heels of an entourage that's given a ceremonial welcome by the manager of the brightly colored establishment. He's left alone though.
Of course.
He's left there and saunters past without another look. He already knew what was needed to be done but not now. His eyes were flitting away from the group of clasping hands and male embracing to fall upon that center stage of half-naked dancing women. It's where men sit with their mouths open and breathing all too heavy with shivers running through them. They are all men who give their cash eagerly to see skin. As for him?
Daniel didn't motion for the center stage but sat aside at a half-circle of an open booth. He settles there quietly for the moment and leans there with his eyes flitting over the stage and tongue smoothing along the inside of his mouth. He could go for a drink. He could go for a lot after drinking the scent of the gentleman's club; nostrils assaulted with clashing perfumes and sweat. He could have nearly salivated, and truth be told, he nearly did.
Not now though. He breathes deep nonetheless and undoes the buttons of his blazer.[/font]
It matters not the creature but the heart within coupled with a sharp mind that cannot be seen. It's a wolf within sheep's clothing that cannot be read out until the final moment before the candle flame will be snuffed out within an instant. Who would ever suspect another of the worst? It's hard to think that of anyone. One would like to think most of humanity tends to be civilized. Yet, things tend to be anything but that. That didn't keep others from being mere passerby though; strolling past this one man standing there across the street from joint.
He stands there with an apple within hand and mouth shut with teeth bearing down upon a morsel of that fruit. His eyes had not flitted away yet. He had been waiting, and waiting for quite a long time now. Yet, not one person within the whole of the lifeblood that brushes past him had stopped long enough to question him. He had become apart of the life within the city as a whole and because of that alone he blends with utter ease and without a hitch.
His short knife wedges deep within that red apple and motions to and fro; shaking and swaying within place before sawing through. All the while he's nonchalant whilst lifting that small portion to his mouth and drawing upon such with his tongue. Teeth bear down; utter routine, truly. Then his hands lowered and eyes focused upon one car that was suddenly drawing up.
It's a wolf within sheep's clothing that most don't suspect. It's always the quiet and reserved that have much more going on underneath the surface. It's men like him that hardly talk and offer so little to any other. Mayhap one could say that's because of the lifestyle he had lived. Maybe that's the truth of such things. Yet, you'd never hear that from him. It's then he's tossing the apple aside within the public corner trash can before quickly crossing the street.
He wasn't the only one to be wary of though. Just like pigeons there were those of the masses that were unknown to any other. There were dancers within joints like this who led lives beyond the mutlicolored and mirrored walls; beyond their small clothing and sweat-slick bodies that smelled of perfume and flesh. Beyond the sudden and loud thump of music that assails him upon entering past the bouncer and trailing at the heels of an entourage that's given a ceremonial welcome by the manager of the brightly colored establishment. He's left alone though.
Of course.
He's left there and saunters past without another look. He already knew what was needed to be done but not now. His eyes were flitting away from the group of clasping hands and male embracing to fall upon that center stage of half-naked dancing women. It's where men sit with their mouths open and breathing all too heavy with shivers running through them. They are all men who give their cash eagerly to see skin. As for him?
Daniel didn't motion for the center stage but sat aside at a half-circle of an open booth. He settles there quietly for the moment and leans there with his eyes flitting over the stage and tongue smoothing along the inside of his mouth. He could go for a drink. He could go for a lot after drinking the scent of the gentleman's club; nostrils assaulted with clashing perfumes and sweat. He could have nearly salivated, and truth be told, he nearly did.
Not now though. He breathes deep nonetheless and undoes the buttons of his blazer.[/font]
