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Enzo

Some men base their lives off of a belief. Be it honor, courage, or loyalty, these men are the hardest to sway. Yet their greatest enemies are not those who appose their beliefs, but the beliefs in themselves.

0 · 417 views · located in Vestibule

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by LeBeau

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An ancient order, sworn to defend the Garden and it's inhabitants. Men and women touched by God and blessed with immortality for as long as their hearts remain pure.

So begins...

Enzo's Story

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

The setting changes from solinus-sea-coastline to Gambit's Bar

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo had taken to balancing the toe of his his shoe against the heal of the other, listening for the light squeak of worn leather. He had taken a salt shaker between his hands, twisting the cap with averted eyes. His eyes only returned to the vile of salt once the cylinder let free of the tin cap. He slid his hand into his pocket, fingers dipping deep within the creases of his jacket. The black box he withdrew landed shakily on the table.

He tipped the salt into the box, peering over his shoulder as if nervous of being caught. Regardless, he managed to keep his composer, not a bit of nerve showing under darkened eyes and rough cheeks.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo briefly pondered how efficient the box, now residing in his pocket, would be at keeping the salt from taking to the fabric of his coat. Perhaps a side-effect of his consistent lack of planning and refusal to abide to any semblance of organization; He hadnt thought to take something from his residence suitable to hold the small crystalline structures. He gazed across the counter top as the last 2 beakers of salt, one nearly empty and the other on its side. He made a note to get to those before he left.

For now, he'd provide himself with sustenance. Enzo placed the toe of his shoes onto the small incline at the bottom of the counter, giving him the extra inch of height he needed to reach over the counter and take an apple from a tweed basket in the back of the bar.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo had taken to staring aimlessly towards the center of the room, mind far from the actual happenings of the bar. He pondered dilemmas that resided in his head from days prior. He'd worked through a majority of them the night before while sulking in a corner booth and had apparently decided to sort through the rest at this very moment.

Perhaps he would of made some progress if not for the constant distractions, the latest being what seemed to be a character ripped outside of a horror movie and her equally as disturbing counterpart.

He turned to eye the tender now, briefly considering a drink. The idea sounded fine, yet the means to pursue were lacking; That came with being dirt poor. He bit his lip before turning away to gaze upon the other patrons of the bar. Perhaps he could scavage a drink off of one of them.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo smoothed the front of his coat, coming to a stop at the first button he reached and twisting it between his fingers. He let out a cough, moving to cover his mouth with the black square of cloth that had resided inside of his left breast pocket.

After retaking his composure, he continued surveying the bar for some possible company. He spotted Duncan, the man seemed interesting enough. Enzo maneuvered the bar, hands scathing the dark hairs clinging to his cheeks. "Name's Enzo, yourself?" He stood before Duncan. "Mind if I join you?"

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

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#, as written by LeBeau
The grains of the counter top had already began to work a pattern into the butt of Enzo's elbows. He turned at what seemed a greeting, smiling sheepishly at the woman. "Well... hello?" He spoke with a hint of surprise, he wasn't accustomed to being greeted by strangers.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo rose a brow, ears tuning to the sound of water drops colliding with the floor."I came to find something to eat, yourself?" He paused for a moment, eyes averting and watching the puddle of water besides her. "You seem to be... leaking."

He motioned towards the floor.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo met her response with a nod. " I guess it was, then."

He gazed over his shoulder at the menu that he had abandoned atop the counter.

"Well, Im somewhat discouraged after looking at the menu. Nothing really suits my taste at the moment. At least not anything on the menu."

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#, as written by LeBeau
"Ussually i wouldnt mind a greese bathed hamburger, but I was hoping for something a bit more homely for tonight... I guess I'll just have to cook something myself once I retreat to my apartment."

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo seemed concerned. "You dont look so great, darlin'"

He bent down a bit and rose her chin with his finger.

"Anythin i can do to help?"

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#, as written by LeBeau
The striked knocked Enzo swiftly off his chair, blood streaming down the rip in his short.

"Well, that was uncalled for"

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo's eyes widened, instinctively taking his pistol with his hand and shoving the shortened barrel aggainst the attackers throat.

"You're a little too clingly for my taste miss."

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo rose his arm, shielding his eyes from the blast. Just as he moved it away, he was grabbed by the strange woman. At first he seemed frightened but the feeling didnt remain for long.

The cock of a pistol rang throug the bar followed by what seemed to be complete silence, if only for a moment. A man stood above Enzo and the woman, the barrel of a gone pressed to the back of Ivanna's head. The cold steel should of left a chilling sensation atop her skin.

He didnt speak a word, he wasnt capable of it. But his finger remained on the trigger none the less, and at this distance no feet, however extrordinary, was likely to allow the girl to evade him without a bullet through the head.

Enzo held out his arm, still lying on his back. "Talylor... put down the gun."

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo moved his hand up Ivanna's neck, slipping it between the guns barrel and the back of her head. "Relax, Taylor. its not a big deal." He turned to face the guards as he sat up slowly, placing his own pistol on the floor.

"just take a breath guys, my pals not in the best state of mind. Taylor was clearly ragged and somewhat beaten.

Enzo slowly rose to his feet, letting Ivanah do as she pleased. He reached into his pocket "Dont worry, dont have another gone." He attempted to calm the rest of the armed men in the room.

He withdrew a pair of keys, placing them in Taylors hand. "Go ahead, Ill catch up with you later." And with that, Taylor was gone, and Enzo attempted to leave himself.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind, its fur collar wrapped around the back of his neck, peeking out beneath his chin. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

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#, as written by Leb
Enzo maneuvered the tightly packed oak tables, hands resting within his pocket and shoe heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He settled when he reached the bar and rested his elbows atop the counter, hands sliding over one another in an attempt to warm them. They were the only part of his body not dressed with temperature in mind. He wore tailored beige pants, thick enough to insulate his lower half. They tapered off and rested in small folds atop his shoes; Leather oxfords, beaten, raw, and bathed with scuffs, yet with them came a rugged charm. On the opposite end of his pants was a leather belt which hoisted up a circular, bronze buckle, adorned with some sort of symbol. One could perhaps make out the insignia if not so equally beaten as his shoes. A simple black V-neck and a brown leather jacket shielded him from the wind. The only jewelry he wore was a old signet ring and a bronze cross, matching the one imprinted on the inverse of his wrist with greying ink.

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#, as written by LeBeau
Oh look.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Taylor's Bar

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#, as written by LeBeau
Enzo peered through the gap in the door, a cigarette barely camped between his lips. He pressed his cheek against his shoulder, speaking into a small circular microphone strapped to the top of his shoulder. "Found it, the kids probably here. All he was talking about was seein' his girl. Ill let you know how it goes." And Inaudible buzz from the microphone seemed to give him an aswer as he stepped in and let his cigarette.

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#, as written by LeBeau
"My business isnt with the bar, It's with your husband." He removed a small sheet of paper from his pocket, holding it up as to compare it with the girl. "Elizabeth..." He returned it to one of the many pockets on his tactical vest, stepping closer to the woman as he took another puff of his cigarette.

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#, as written by LeBeau
"Sorry miss, but Im not going to be able to take your word for that."

He took another step towards her.

"He's a very... popular man and I know there must be people who'd wish the worst on him, but I'm not one of those people. I need to speak to him."