Kyouya Otori (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hostclubshadowking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
high_seas2014-07-12 09:16 am
hostclubshadowking) wrote in high_seas2014-07-12 09:16 am
The Princess Without Her Tower
Who: Kyouya Otori and Renge Houshakuji
Where: Port Chance
When: July 12th
What: A "rescue" and reunion.
Warnings: None likely, will update if necessary.
Style: Either.
It took him two days, but Kyouya made his way to Port Chance. Inquires were made. It didn't take him long to find where Renge had holed up. At least, he found himself thinking, the place was still in one piece.
It was about breakfast time, and, well, if he knew Renge, she'd be enjoying something more expensive than her budget ought to have allowed. After all, she'd taken a private jet to Japan on what basically amounted to a whim.
Still, he went in and looked around. Their kind -- the outsiders -- always stuck out, especially when they were new. Finding her wasn't hard.
Kyouya approached. Tamaki had arrived only a month after him, and he'd thought he looked different then. Now, the life he'd been living was etched into him. Skin dark from the constant exposure to sun without any way to prevent burning, rough from the wind and salt and work, body thin from the lack of consistent meals, hair only somewhat trimmed and devoid of any product, clothes with only an approximation of high-class style that were already worn-looking. He wasn't the vice-president of the Host Club anymore; he was the former first mate of a ship.
"Renge."
It wasn't good to see her; it wasn't bad.
He was just grateful he'd gotten to her before she'd been hurt or the like.
Where: Port Chance
When: July 12th
What: A "rescue" and reunion.
Warnings: None likely, will update if necessary.
Style: Either.
It took him two days, but Kyouya made his way to Port Chance. Inquires were made. It didn't take him long to find where Renge had holed up. At least, he found himself thinking, the place was still in one piece.
It was about breakfast time, and, well, if he knew Renge, she'd be enjoying something more expensive than her budget ought to have allowed. After all, she'd taken a private jet to Japan on what basically amounted to a whim.
Still, he went in and looked around. Their kind -- the outsiders -- always stuck out, especially when they were new. Finding her wasn't hard.
Kyouya approached. Tamaki had arrived only a month after him, and he'd thought he looked different then. Now, the life he'd been living was etched into him. Skin dark from the constant exposure to sun without any way to prevent burning, rough from the wind and salt and work, body thin from the lack of consistent meals, hair only somewhat trimmed and devoid of any product, clothes with only an approximation of high-class style that were already worn-looking. He wasn't the vice-president of the Host Club anymore; he was the former first mate of a ship.
"Renge."
It wasn't good to see her; it wasn't bad.
He was just grateful he'd gotten to her before she'd been hurt or the like.