Well, this day had already been one hell of a roller coaster, but what's another sudden drop off, or an unexpected loop-de-loop?
Between the unexpected visit from Steven, the equally unexpected news that he and Hythlodaeus were making drugs in his kitchen (and apparently are friends???), and then to top it all off that debate that went...no where good. Solus is feeling especially raw. Being drunk and high helps nothing, as well. Then to hear all of what Steven had to say about his own personal struggles with himself and his morality only added more to his already cramped and deafeningly loud mind.
Which is why he's on his way to somewhere more quiet. Away from the busyness of the city, away from people. He's dressed far less flashy than normal, which helps him blend in a little better than his usual getup, but he's still pretty distinguishable. However, because of his state he doesn't quite seem to be aware of those around him, no more than them serving as physical obstacles to his destination. And while he does seem to decide to sit on a secluded bench in a less busier part of the city, even when others walk by he does not seem to see them. Like they're nothing but at all. Like he's somewhere else entirely.
He's quite the sight to come across: sitting forward with his elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped together, his head hanging. Due to the angle and his hair that works to hide his face, he's afforded at least a little shielding from the eyes of others. To most, he might merely look as though he's thinking deeply about something, but to those much more astute, the slight quiver to his breaths may make it far more clear that this is not simple contemplation.
action; 7/14
Between the unexpected visit from Steven, the equally unexpected news that he and Hythlodaeus were making drugs in his kitchen (and apparently are friends???), and then to top it all off that debate that went...no where good. Solus is feeling especially raw. Being drunk and high helps nothing, as well. Then to hear all of what Steven had to say about his own personal struggles with himself and his morality only added more to his already cramped and deafeningly loud mind.
Which is why he's on his way to somewhere more quiet. Away from the busyness of the city, away from people. He's dressed far less flashy than normal, which helps him blend in a little better than his usual getup, but he's still pretty distinguishable. However, because of his state he doesn't quite seem to be aware of those around him, no more than them serving as physical obstacles to his destination. And while he does seem to decide to sit on a secluded bench in a less busier part of the city, even when others walk by he does not seem to see them. Like they're nothing but at all. Like he's somewhere else entirely.
He's quite the sight to come across: sitting forward with his elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped together, his head hanging. Due to the angle and his hair that works to hide his face, he's afforded at least a little shielding from the eyes of others. To most, he might merely look as though he's thinking deeply about something, but to those much more astute, the slight quiver to his breaths may make it far more clear that this is not simple contemplation.
The man may very well be silently weeping.