That afternoon, somewhere high up above, the skies had decided to let loose the participation they bore upon the eclectic city. This kind of rain, however, was no mere drizzle, instead more defined by "pouring" or "raining cats and dogs" or whatever the newest analogy happened to be. He hardly bothered to keep up with the newest phrases to assault the English language. The dialect changed so frequently, evolving like the monstrosity it was. His own native tongue had long sense been lost to the world - contorting in the same fashion. A flash of lightening filled the dark grey skies, followed promptly by a thunderous entourage indicating the storm was quite close by, pulling him from his thoughts on the transformation of vocabulary over the years. Usually such dismal weather brought the busiest days into the cafe. However, today it would seem his usual patrons sought the secure embrace of their homes. It left Alexander's cafe in an entirely dull state of complete silence. A soft sigh crossed his lips, his cheek brushing against the palm of his hand as he leaned over the counter top, watching people run by his storefront.
Abruptly Alexander shifted, the waiting having begun to bore the man. There was no point in waiting for customers who were not coming, at least, that's what he'd told himself. He turned, pouring himself a cup of coffee in an ivory ceramic mug before plucking from the display case a jelly filled pastry from a nearby local bakery. With his own snack chosen, Alexander made his way around the front counter, instead settling in a plush chair near the entrance of the cafe to watch not only for the wandering in customer but primarily to observe the storm raging outside. Quite frankly, it wasn't as if he had anything else of great importance to do or to go. He placed his feet upon the low coffee table in front of him, his pastry on a plate in his lap as he settled comfortably. Carefully he picked bits off the pastry, the red tinged jam getting on his fingertips as he nonchalantly placed a piece within his mouth.
Life have become so taxing for the Dark Hunter of late. With no immediate desire to waste another century of his life dedicated to the tracking and killing of others, having decided that it was entirely pointless. There were always be more weres or witches to take the place of those that were slaughtered. Some hardly deserved the fate they were condemned to, it was that realization that had caused Alexander to falter in the first place. By now he hadn't lifted his sword or spear in almost a decade, instead apparently taking to creating coffee concoctions that were under appreciated by rushed early morning coffee drinkers. Frankly, he was beginning to question if this was any better then hunting either. He raised his coffee to his lips, his green-blue eyes shifting toward the outside the windows of the cafe, deciding that perhaps it was best not to dwell on it at all.
ALEXANDER MACEDONIA