So far out of his element was he, Kor had a presence about him that repelled others from approach. There was the usual fare about as he stood to allow for the boy to scale the wall at his own pace, the perfect parent standing boldly without paying heed at all to the young one with the potential of losing his grasp, tumbling head over heels to the pavement awaiting a shower of his guts upon it. Bums sprawled out along city streets, just about every one of them covered with some manner of dust. All business, once spirited and common, stopped when he passed, silence overtaking those who were speaking to one another, working out a deal or trying for one, falling silent to catch a glimpse of the dark vision. Such prey had no interest to him those days.
The body he possessed was not equipped for hard manual labor, he would have to make do with what he had, remember his place within that frame and hope to reach the goal without cracking open a skull. Muscles and sinewy propelled his body forward, fingers digging into the useless material of the structure itself. So many of the buildings were created in different ways, he honestly didn’t understand the point. One was wood, another brick, and another yet constructed with materials he knew nothing of. It was smooth to the touch, no character at all, slippery once he made contact. Worthless, all of it.
It was an exercise for the boy to see how far he would go upon command, if he would push past boundaries to surpass limitations more often than not self-imposed, and also, a wider view of the arena before him. He stood once reaching solid ground, shaking out his aching arms, squinting to the land ahead. There were two paths that captured his interest, one was dark, an alleyway with no character, not so unlike the path they traveled daily but situated outside the zone he’d deemed as his own. He was not particularly taken with the city, but had found himself comfortable enough to branch out. The Red Light District, or what the citizens called it, ladies of the night ready to serve. The other path—-
‘What is this?’ A fluent utterance of harsh words emerging through the lips of the gentle king, gesturing to quite a large crowd gathered across the way, the seasonal Fall-Fest kicking off with flying colors it would appear. Two paths, two curiosities. 'What is your name?’
Yugi’s mind was just one long stream of expletives colourfully crossed. They could’ve just gone rock climbing but, oh no, relatively naked in an alley with the eye of a drill sergeant was how Kor wanted to play this. - Fuuuuuuuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuck- Yugi panted, hauling himself. He heard on a splurge of survival shows to keep his weight always on his feet for stability and prolonged energy but buildings were not the same as trees. He was suddenly very grateful for every night he’d snuck onto fake-Grandpa’s roof through the skylight in his room. He slipped for a second, stomach vaulting down with gravity, his mouth making a noise as it assumed he was falling but pressing himself closer to the gritty brick he found his place. FUCKFUCKFUCKTHIS.
Looking down was so not an option right now. If Kor wanted him down or intended to be useful there would’ve been a gruff “DOWN” but as there was not and the roof was closer than the ground Yugi powered upward. Roof. He wanted safe roof. Ah shit going over that ledge was going to be a bitch. Fuck everything. Fuck this. Okay, it was kind of fun in a stupid, about-to-die, kind of way. In hindsight more so than in the moment.
He heard something scratching below him an—Nope not looking down. Just going to assume Kor was coming up. Well good for him. Honestly he should’ve just tried jumping but his aim was shitty.
Okay…Okay… he grasped the edge of the roof, hands sweaty and stinging, heart hammering, and hauling with a moan but the first half of his chest up before the struggle. Nopenope- He pulled, struggling— Once he waist was over he fell the last of the way onto the roof, panting. He was still on his back a moment or four later when Kor made it up and stared. Nope. Yugi was just going to lay here staring at the sky for a moment, its endless blue, pretending a sensible adult hadn’t suggested that. He was training for the Hitler Youth.
He blinked, pushing himself up onto his elbows and then onto his knees and then to his feet. “Huh?” He drew close but not too close, glancing across to the designated street where happier, more homely, civilians cheered. “Oh! Celebrating, festival, new season,” he gesticulated.
The second question caught him, would’ve hurt but somehow didn’t: “Yugi, or Bamf.” He supplied warily.