Fortune & Fortitude
I
It was one of Izaya Orihara's many strange hobbies to spend a couple hours hanging around the train station. He only ever wanted to watch and observe. They were people to everyone else, but to him they more closely resembled prey. Many faces were familiar and most of the faces filing off the train were dull. But every once in a while, he got lucky. Izaya was very good at recognizing a subtle brilliance in a person with a single glance. Only the best deserved his attention after all and he was always looking for more pieces to play a part in his games. Players or pieces, they were all sitting in his giant toy box that was the city of Ikebukuro at the end of the day.
It was a gradual, tedious process in which Izaya carefully weaved a web that would eventually ensnare the pawns into becoming his puppets. He didn't mind the complexity of it at all. Instead, he enjoyed it. He was the puppet master and the entire town was a stage where he was free to pit anyone against everyone in order to sate his curiosity.
Izaya played with the switchblade in his right hand while his eyes scanned over each passenger that emerged. The late train, the last one, rarely ever disappointed him, which was why he was so inclined to be patient. He never knew what to expect and he liked it that way.
Tonight's new toy came in the form of an unassuming woman with raven hair and dark eyes that glimmered with a subtle vigilance. It was her yellow scarf that initially caught his attention. It was wrapped snugly around her neck and its tails were tucked into a black, double breasted military coat. Despite the bold choice of color for her muffler, Izaya sensed that she was trying to maintain an intangible presence from the manner in which she moved.
He smirked, stowing away his knife into the pocket of his parka as he straightened to follow her. What Izaya didn't expect was to run into a certain kind of disturbance when one of the iron trash bins went sailing through the air. Bits of junk rained down on the crowd and the bin itself crashed into the pavement near the edge of the platform. Izaya only caught a glimpse of the familiar head of bleached blond hair, but he sighed in annoyance and took up an obscure niche to maintain his position outside the spotlight.
His eyes flickered over the crowd, spying the woman with the yellow scarf as she stood at the very back of the gridlock. She hardly seemed to be concerned and waited only a moment before ducking her head and squeezing through the gaps in the crowd. Izaya lost track of her, but he wasn't troubled.
There wasn't any rush.
After all, Izaya had much to consider if he was going to reel her onto the game board that was Ikebukuro.
It was a gradual, tedious process in which Izaya carefully weaved a web that would eventually ensnare the pawns into becoming his puppets. He didn't mind the complexity of it at all. Instead, he enjoyed it. He was the puppet master and the entire town was a stage where he was free to pit anyone against everyone in order to sate his curiosity.
Izaya played with the switchblade in his right hand while his eyes scanned over each passenger that emerged. The late train, the last one, rarely ever disappointed him, which was why he was so inclined to be patient. He never knew what to expect and he liked it that way.
Tonight's new toy came in the form of an unassuming woman with raven hair and dark eyes that glimmered with a subtle vigilance. It was her yellow scarf that initially caught his attention. It was wrapped snugly around her neck and its tails were tucked into a black, double breasted military coat. Despite the bold choice of color for her muffler, Izaya sensed that she was trying to maintain an intangible presence from the manner in which she moved.
He smirked, stowing away his knife into the pocket of his parka as he straightened to follow her. What Izaya didn't expect was to run into a certain kind of disturbance when one of the iron trash bins went sailing through the air. Bits of junk rained down on the crowd and the bin itself crashed into the pavement near the edge of the platform. Izaya only caught a glimpse of the familiar head of bleached blond hair, but he sighed in annoyance and took up an obscure niche to maintain his position outside the spotlight.
His eyes flickered over the crowd, spying the woman with the yellow scarf as she stood at the very back of the gridlock. She hardly seemed to be concerned and waited only a moment before ducking her head and squeezing through the gaps in the crowd. Izaya lost track of her, but he wasn't troubled.
There wasn't any rush.
After all, Izaya had much to consider if he was going to reel her onto the game board that was Ikebukuro.
♠ ♠ ♠
Urk. This is really old.