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┏──── ✯ ≛ ✯ ────┓
ＴＨＩＳ ＩＳ ＹＯＵＲ
ＬＩＦＥ，
age ;; fifteen
gender ;; male
location ;; the streets
power ;; psychometry
tagged ;; open
ooc ;; Imran is open <:
ＡＮＤ ＩＴ＇Ｓ ＥＮＤＩＮＧ
ＯＮＥ ＭＩＮＵＴＥ
ＡＴ Ａ ＴＩＭＥ
┗──── ✯ ≛ ✯ ────┛
.
┏──── ✯ ≛ ✯ ────┓
ＴＨＩＳ ＩＳ ＹＯＵＲ
ＬＩＦＥ，
age ;; fifteen
gender ;; male
location ;; the streets
power ;; psychometry
tagged ;; open
ooc ;; Imran is open <:
ＡＮＤ ＩＴ＇Ｓ ＥＮＤＩＮＧ
ＯＮＥ ＭＩＮＵＴＥ
ＡＴ Ａ ＴＩＭＥ
┗──── ✯ ≛ ✯ ────┛
xxx
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i m r a n .
xxxxxImran furrowed his eyebrows, sitting down on the curb and staring at the ground of the road for awhile before letting his gaze wander upwards. He hated America the moment he got here. But now, he was stuck here for good. He let out a hiss followed by a soft whine, him lowering his head to rest on his arms, which were draped over his knees. He messed with his fingers for awhile before finally standing, walking around some, tired of sitting still. His fingers twitched some and he let them rest atop a roadside trashbin, his eyes fluttering closed at the swamp of information that gathered in his mind, letting his hands pull away. Nothing too interesting in this part of town.
xxxxxxThere wasn't really much wiggle room to explore. They were all on a tight leash here, the dome making it impossible for anything to come in, and for anything to go out. Which infuriated Imran. He hated the thought of being confined. He didn't live in a house for no reason whatsoever, here. He couldn't stand the walls and roof, edging tall over him and threatening to cave in more and more each day until he was encased in nothingness. The young male involuntarily shuddered, him shaking his head to clear his thoughts as he walked down the sidewalk. His claustrophobia would be the death of him, he swore.
xxxxxxHe lowered his head, allowing his hair to fall in his face, not bothering to try and move it away from his eyes. What was the point? It wasn't like he was dressed to impress here anyways, what with his dirt stained dark grey shirt and once light khaki trousers. They were now a dark brown with black streaked all over it. His face more than likely sported soot or dirt, both a likely possibility. Living out on the streets was hard and nobody understood. He chewed on his nails for a bit, sliding onto a bench in an empty park. A slide was pulled up out of the ground, and the swings were tipped dramatically. It made his heart pang a bit when he saw it, him frowning and lowering his head away as he thought of the kids that had once played here. Now they didn't have time to play, what with what had happened. Poor kids couldn't even have a proper childhood. He forced himself to stop thinking like that, Imran shaking his head and rubbing his temples. His thoughts were slowly overwhelming himself, but he had nothing to help with his slowly forming headache. He could only hope it ended soon.
xxxxxxImran rolled his wrists and closed his eyes, running his hands over the brick walls as he cut down a thin alleyway. There was faded graffiti on the walls, even if it was scarce, it was there. Imran found the symbols of the once prominent gangs comforting. He'd probably sleep here tonight. There was a trash can close, which he could dig through if he got too hungry. But digging through trash cans was very ego and dignity reducing, so he only used it as a last resort, if he was absolutely starving. Otherwise he held off. The fifteen year old slid down the wall some and sat with his back against it, his head tipped back and his knees folded slightly in front of him, arms wrapped loosely around them, keeping them relatively close to his chest.
