The silver-haired boy sat in the forest, against one of the trees. He sat in stark contrast, as he wore his white shirt, and nice white dress-pants. He held a small journal in his left hand, and in his right hand, a pen. There was writing scrawled on the page, clearly written in haste. If one would look closer, one would notice that it were a poem, roughly written. The poem, though, would have to be given permission to be read, as it's owner was Dane. Dane had scrawled it about 5 minutes earlier, and was enjoying himself. His ruby ring, placed on his finger, sat undisturbed. He had made sure that he didn't accidentally open the spike and hit the cover of his book. The spike might only be a few centimeters, but it still causes irritation.
Irritation that distracts, and distraction can make a fight end. Although, he cared less about that and more about how much fun he'd be having at the time. Poetry was something he enjoyed writing.
Irritation that distracts, and distraction can make a fight end. Although, he cared less about that and more about how much fun he'd be having at the time. Poetry was something he enjoyed writing.