Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sorano slouched forward, nearly falling asleep from the sudden exposure to the Sweet Scent. He looked like a zombie on a dangerous amphetamine. It was a little scary.

"I-I 'aven't." he replied. His eyelids felt extremely heavy yet they refused to droop down and close. He was lingering between conscious and sleep. Did the air always smell this sweet? "She 'ouldn't listen. Too much a dreama . . . not much a listena.

"She 'on't listen." he replied. He blinked and inhaled sharply. There was no sweet smell. Darn, he wished for there to be more.

"It be 'ard ta talk ta 'er sometimes . . . I coulds try but it ain't worth it . . . no . . . no. She jus' won't listen."

Sorano sighed and regained his composure slowly. He'd been drifting in that dream sea for too long. Any longer and he would have drowned. "That ain't got nothin' ta do with why I punched tha' fellow, an' I ain't gonna talk 'bouts tha'. Now ifins ya 'cuse me, I gots some trainin' ta do."

With that, Sorano picked himself up and began to slowly walked towards the exit. His session wasn't over yet though.

Oh, he wished Never were there. Seriously. He really, really wished Never was there.

Yet, he shrugged his shoulders and returned to his seat compliantly without any remark or jest. Deep on the inside, he knew he had irked the doc a bit. That was satisfaction as it was.

"I joined it 'cause I thoughts it was cool at tha time." he replied and raised his hands over the sides of the couch and folded one leg over the other. "I tolds ya I was a rebel durin' me youth."

"Not 'eally." he replied in full. That was the truth than. There really wasn't anyone he admired to the point of spouting, 'I want to be just like them!'. He did get along well with the leader of his little biker gang, but not to the point of borderline brotherly infatuation. He held more of a sense of dedication for his biker brothers, not idolization since all were treated the same no matter their rank.

"Lemme guess, yer next question is gonna be 'bout anyun' else I probs looked up to in me life?" Sorano was jumping the gun here and his shot was probably off the maker. Nevertheless, he continued on. "I has a best bud in Cinnabar name' Vamoose. I calls 'im Moose, somethin' I called 'im since we 'ere young'uns. I always looked up ta 'im. He had a set of erm, Aprinuts 'hen it came ta thin's. He was always one ta jump in 'ead first fer 'ventures an tha like 'cause he liked tha kinda thin'. He was verrry courageous, sos ya can say I definitely looked up ta 'im."

Sorano pursed his lips. All these questions, questions, questions. Why did this have to remain a one-sided conversation of questions to answers, answers to worthless questions that will only be recorded to a memory that eventually forget them? That itching in the middle of his spine refused to grant him clemency.

Sit through this single session and comply with the doctor, than you will be set free. It's a menial and simple task. Do it and we will never speak of this accident again. Don't, well, be ready to face your punishment, maggot.

" 'ave ya aneh bros, doc?" he asked in reply. "Moose be like me bro, I looks up to 'im like that. Nothin' more an' nothin' else."

Than came a silence.

Sorano remained silent. He was getting tired of talking, his jaw hurt and his butt was asleep again. The grunt started to marvel at his thumb suddenly, first wanting to nibble at the nail but than just going on to stare at it. He had one of those hitchhiker thumbs where the tip curved back to point sideways at its bearer. A clean scar traced upwards along the curves and whirls of his print, which he obtained from grabbing a pair of scissors wrong from his friend Moose when they were younger. It's been a permanent reminder to why he hated arts and crafts as a kid and would hardly step near scissors when he started to grow up. The skin was ashy and chapped, he always forgets to lotion his hands after washing them as they get extremely dry. It all honesty, it was an ugly thumb. Out of all his fingers, Sorano hated his thumb the most. It had the most hair out of all his hand's members, had the weirdest folds when he arched it up and the skin crinkled, was stout and fat looking, and he couldn't fit any of his rings on it. It was a terrible thumb, just terrible. Yet, it was something great to use if he ever decided to hitchhike around the galaxy. It stood out like a sore thumb, though it was just extremely ugly.

[[ Feel free force Sora to talk. I couldn't really think of anything to write about since ICly, he was going to get bored anyway. orz ]]