Homeward Bound
Apr 11, 2016 0:27:00 GMT -5
Post by Vincent Meian on Apr 11, 2016 0:27:00 GMT -5
((Takes place March 15th, 2016))
The taxi pulled up to the house at the end of the block, and sat idle for a few moments. There was a slight shift on its axles, and the back passenger door opened, held there by a tan and scarred hand. Long legs unfolded themselves onto the blacktop, and a tall figure emerged from the shady confines of the vehicle. He was dressed casually, dark jeans and a mussed red dress shirt clinging to his lean frame. Dark sunglasses shaded his eyes, and his long black hair was tied away from his face, but those inside the house he faced would know him instantaneously.
Vincent Meian had returned home.
After almost two years of absence, the Japanese man had finally returned, more confident and certainly more relaxed. He even smiled openly at the sight of his home, and tipped the driver when the woman handed him his bag from the trunk. She thanked him and drove away, leaving him standing in the street for a moment.
Home. He was finally home.
It hadn't really been that long. In fact, for effectively being a complete retrain from the ground up, the dimensionalist was almost preternaturally swift with his recovery. But over a year was still a long time to be away from home. From family. From friends and students. It was a long time, and he was happy to be back.
Another moment's hesitation was banished by one step, and then another. In no time at all that was at once an eternity, he reached the door. Keys emerged from a pocket, fitting into the door as perfectly as they had so many months ago. The lock clicked, the door knob turned, and a phrase that hadn't been uttered in a long time fell from the trainer's lips as he walked inside.
"Tadaima!" I'm home.
The taxi pulled up to the house at the end of the block, and sat idle for a few moments. There was a slight shift on its axles, and the back passenger door opened, held there by a tan and scarred hand. Long legs unfolded themselves onto the blacktop, and a tall figure emerged from the shady confines of the vehicle. He was dressed casually, dark jeans and a mussed red dress shirt clinging to his lean frame. Dark sunglasses shaded his eyes, and his long black hair was tied away from his face, but those inside the house he faced would know him instantaneously.
Vincent Meian had returned home.
After almost two years of absence, the Japanese man had finally returned, more confident and certainly more relaxed. He even smiled openly at the sight of his home, and tipped the driver when the woman handed him his bag from the trunk. She thanked him and drove away, leaving him standing in the street for a moment.
Home. He was finally home.
It hadn't really been that long. In fact, for effectively being a complete retrain from the ground up, the dimensionalist was almost preternaturally swift with his recovery. But over a year was still a long time to be away from home. From family. From friends and students. It was a long time, and he was happy to be back.
Another moment's hesitation was banished by one step, and then another. In no time at all that was at once an eternity, he reached the door. Keys emerged from a pocket, fitting into the door as perfectly as they had so many months ago. The lock clicked, the door knob turned, and a phrase that hadn't been uttered in a long time fell from the trainer's lips as he walked inside.
"Tadaima!" I'm home.
