Welcome to Gaia! ::

Just because it's been approved already doesn't mean it can't be revoked. But you know what? ******** it, not like the other mods are going to do anything about it anyway. Like you said, no one is listening, tch, that's the ******** problem right there. -stretches out a bit- whatever...

Mikael was slowly rolling around the temple grounds, examining the architecture, the layout of the building and the grounds, and looking for anything that could be used for tricks or training. His Air Treks were strapped to his feet, the simple things, black with white wheels, checkerboard screws, basic parts. Nothing special. He sighed as he reached into his pocket, pulling a small silver metallic case, a rectangular box about four inches long, two inches wide. He flipped open one end of it, looking inside and sighing. Joy... four left. He tapped the side of the box against his hand, the cold metal exhilarating him for a moment as a small white cylinder slid into his hand. He started to bring the cigarette up to his lips, replacing the silver case into his pocket, fingering his lighter before stopping. He looked down at the cigarette, twirling it it between his fingers, the black tobacco tightly packed inside of it's white paper prison. He looked at his Air Trek's for a moment, sighing as he raised one foot slightly off the ground. He pressed his foot forward, the motor clicking twice before revving, it's high pitched whine filling the air around him. He waited until the wheels were spinning as fast as they could, pivoting quickly he kicked the stone wall nearby, grinding the wheels against the stone. As the high speed wheels struck the cold stone wall, it sparked, spraying bits of rock and dust to the side leaving a bright red heated spot on the wall. He lazily dropped his hand down, pressing the tip of the cigarette against the red spot before bringing it to his lips. He let the back end of the cigarette rest between his lips as he inhaled slightly, watching as the red embers on the end grew, smoke trailing off of the end. He watched the whispy white trail of smoke leak from the ashes, like a sign of life in the barren wastes, even as he reached up, plucking it gingerly from his lips, and tapped it off to the side, the ashes crumbling and falling as they lost their hold on the embers that had formerly held them, attached to their soul. The whither, and fell like words into a paper cup as they floated on and on across the universe, before crashing to the ground, a silent thunder resonating across the ground, unheard by all but the smallest of creatures, the ants, the beetles, and the other various insects which had taken refuge near his large and slow moving form. He replaced the cancerous stick back into his mouth, finally taking a long drag, merely to watch the paper burn and die, as if from a good safe distance, a quarter of the stick down, stopping to remove the cigarette once more. He looked up to the sky, the same way he always did, as if he were about to die and it was the last time he would, staring at the full thick clouds, rolling lazily across the endless blue scape that was what he and everyone else int he world, worshiped as a savior to space. He wished he were a cloud sometimes, just rolling across, flying through the air, the wind gently rolling across his face, as a mother caressing a child, or a fathers gentle touch. He wished he could feel the soft embrace of the other clouds, like a perfect family away from the toil and turmoil that was the real world, and rain, how he would love to rain, releasing his trouble to the winds and the earth, shedding them like a wet sheet whenever he wished, becoming light and carefree once more. These thoughts faded when he recognized the familiar burn of smoke smarting his cheeks and the back of his throat, the burn merely reminding him that he had lost himself once more in thoughts that would never happen. He opened his mouth, barely parting his lips, as if to kiss the air, letting the smoke rise out of his mouth slowly, it's vile cancerous burn leaving behind only the shallow taste of death that came with his horrid addiction. The smoke rolled into the sky, crossing his field of vision to join the clouds, letting him compare the two, so similar, yet so different. Both were white, wispy, and apparently carefree but the stories behind both were so different that to put them on the same level, was comparable to putting death and life as the same thing. Clouds could never harm, never kill, but smoke was the essence of death itself.