ACCIDENTAL VIDEO | ACTION ► 001 day.
[The approach of spring brings with it the wind which is seemingly relentless during this particular day. Gusts and gales pushing through the streets of the city like through canyons amongst the summer storms. The weather kicks up the sand on the coastal and pushes sails outward, filling their bellies with the breeze of the afternoon. Clouds move quickly in the sky, shrouding the sun only momentarily at moments for asides the winds, it is an ideal day, the perfect example of winter breaking and spring arriving loudly as it shakes the panes on windows and throws the shutters that attempt to cover them back and forth, a melody within the intensified gusts. Needless to say, while otherwise the weather is perfect to behold, the mornings calm has brought that afternoons rage and a certain individual as chosen the wrong moment in his endeavors of mapping out the entirety of the city, bit by bit. It is something that he feels he is required to complete but in such a moment, things prove difficult.
His hood barely stands still upon his head to shadow his features and the layers of his attire whip around in the gale that consumes the landscape. Though perhaps traversing via the rooftops is not the wisest choice when the wind picks up its speed throughout the day. What comes though from such an error in judgment is something that could be predicted as the flap of his satchel wavers in the currents of the air. Filled with parchments and quills, the threat is obvious and it only takes a particular strong gust to throw him off his guard and with a tilt of his body, a bend at the knees and turn of his waist the air holds perfect timing as it catches the case he carries and outward spills the entirety of its hold. The cursed device, the singular method of communication that he keeps primarily for research and purposes of regard falls to the ground and with a click, audio and video meet static and the image of a man standing, watching parchment fly into the air curses in a foreign tongue that translates amongst the waves of audio roughly.
It takes a moment to realize and with stealth his singular arm reaches outward and snatches a page, then another that attempt escape, rolling along the rooftop he stands upon. Yet with dark eyes, he notes the device, notes that he is found broadcasted and with a glare moves towards it. A negative and annoyed regard follows.]
Tsk-- [Comes the sound of breath and with a near silent murmur the device is switched off after its moment of life, a rarity indeed. Moments later, he turns casing his precious parchments throughout the city, attempting to gather what he can and unsure where or with who the documents will find themselves.]
[ooc: cut for TL;DR--sorry for the wait for those who were promised it! Issues abounds on the home-front as an excuse but nonetheless, the post has arrived. You can reply in any formant and for once in his life he is likely bound to respond. Action is open as well as he'll be throughout the entirety of the city chasing his sketches, so feel free to interject. Due to there being more than one object he is attempting to catch, multiple threads are encouraged if you are taking that route.
As a warning, the wind is actually really horrid here lately and knocked out my power the last two nights in a row so if things are slow, I apologize in advance.]
His hood barely stands still upon his head to shadow his features and the layers of his attire whip around in the gale that consumes the landscape. Though perhaps traversing via the rooftops is not the wisest choice when the wind picks up its speed throughout the day. What comes though from such an error in judgment is something that could be predicted as the flap of his satchel wavers in the currents of the air. Filled with parchments and quills, the threat is obvious and it only takes a particular strong gust to throw him off his guard and with a tilt of his body, a bend at the knees and turn of his waist the air holds perfect timing as it catches the case he carries and outward spills the entirety of its hold. The cursed device, the singular method of communication that he keeps primarily for research and purposes of regard falls to the ground and with a click, audio and video meet static and the image of a man standing, watching parchment fly into the air curses in a foreign tongue that translates amongst the waves of audio roughly.
It takes a moment to realize and with stealth his singular arm reaches outward and snatches a page, then another that attempt escape, rolling along the rooftop he stands upon. Yet with dark eyes, he notes the device, notes that he is found broadcasted and with a glare moves towards it. A negative and annoyed regard follows.]
Tsk-- [Comes the sound of breath and with a near silent murmur the device is switched off after its moment of life, a rarity indeed. Moments later, he turns casing his precious parchments throughout the city, attempting to gather what he can and unsure where or with who the documents will find themselves.]
[ooc: cut for TL;DR--sorry for the wait for those who were promised it! Issues abounds on the home-front as an excuse but nonetheless, the post has arrived. You can reply in any formant and for once in his life he is likely bound to respond. Action is open as well as he'll be throughout the entirety of the city chasing his sketches, so feel free to interject. Due to there being more than one object he is attempting to catch, multiple threads are encouraged if you are taking that route.
As a warning, the wind is actually really horrid here lately and knocked out my power the last two nights in a row so if things are slow, I apologize in advance.]