An unknown heartache. ( Sailor Moon. )
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Tainted Infinity on 06-08-2012, 10:35:18</h2>
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				Title: <strong>An unknown heartache. ( Sailor Moon. )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Tainted Infinity</strong> on <strong>06-08-2012, 10:35:18</strong>
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				(Ok so a small bit of information on the plot of this. Those of you who know this show know of Michiru and Haruka. My general plot for this existing char stems from the thought that when they did what they did fate was shifted. A knight was left with a broken heart and never knew for sure why. I am looking for a Michiru and Haruka for this rp though others are allowed just ask first. The general focus is he was supposed to be Haruka's knight so I would definitely like a Haruka or someone who is down with multi characters. Obviously I am wanting some sort of romantic interaction what ever that may be to you so send me a pm if your interested and we will discuss expectations. )<br><br><br>The smell of burning rubber, the feel of the engine as it revved at high speeds sending exhilaration through every single corner of his body. This was his first love, the feeling of being alive speed gave him. His second his car obviously, the black Bugatti Veyron hugged the roads like it owned them, its sleek body seeming to blend into the night as it circled the racetrack on the edge of town.&nbsp; The man who sat at her wheel drove like a man possessed. He banked hard into curves seemingly hell bent on pushing every bit of luck he had to its limit. He wore an expensive custom tailored black suit, platinum hair cut low to his bangs glistened in the light of cars multi function displays blue eyes eerily agleam in their ghostly light as well. A set of insanely expensive sunglasses rested in the seat beside him next to a cellphone which dutifully reminded him he had seven hundred and eighty seven messages in the last hour. <br><br><br>He was Merc Kestevantai, a wealthy investment broker. The kind of guy who had appeared in Forbes more times than he could count. He had his own jet, seven houses and stroke with people in such high places the air got thin. Not to mention his own multi million dollar corporation in the form of Kestevantai Enterprises,&nbsp; a company that catered to the richest and most stuck up of the high class.&nbsp; Yet none of it seemed to bring him satisfaction. Always there was this feeling of lacking as if his life were somehow incomplete. All of the women in the world, the sleepless nights, the parties. No amount of it was enough to make him feel alive, it was all just noise. This was the only time he felt alive, as if somehow he was close to that completeness when he was behind the wheel. <br><br><br>Finally he jerked the car off the track into the pit lane stopping to stare out at the old asphalt surface. He wasn't sure how long he had been here but judging by the angry notifications on his phone way too long.&nbsp; Yet all he did was flick the piece of shit off tossing it in the back seat as he reached for a case of beer. He then kicked doors open and threw back on the hood of his car drink in hand.&nbsp; His eyes turned up to the stars watching them, the cold night tickled at the back of his neck, it was late and all was quiet. There were no investors up his ass, no secretaries trying desperately to crawl under his desk and score a raise. Just him the track and his car exactly how he liked it. <br><br><br>Yet always this damn feeling, this weight that rested on his heart holding him down.&nbsp; The smell of sand, the scream of some wild animal as it lunged at him. He had been having that dream since he was a small child. A claw like scar ran the length of his left shoulder blade and part of him wondered if it was not some suppressed memory from his child hood. Perhaps he had been attacked? He had always had this feeling it was something deeper, that what ever it was it held the key to this misery that held his life ensnared no matter what he tried. <br><br><br>He took a drink of his beer letting the cold liquid quench the thirst he had built up somewhere between the office and the end of his marathon race. He could of been out with a super model for god sakes .. at the very least walked into a bar and had his pick. Instead he was sitting here like he had done a thousand times before .. waiting. He waited for something he didn't even know just a feeling that always brought him back here. <br>
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