[ to start off with the age-old cliche: it's been some time since he's been to los angeles, and the city is still as stunning/a hot mess/traffic-locked/nostalgic/tacky as fuck (insert your own adjective here, they all probably apply) as he remembered it to be. the only part that isn't a direct cliche about this visit is that it quite literally has been 'some time' since he's stepped foot in chinatown and its weaving back alleys and paved pathways to sketchy and sketchier places still-- if you consider 'some time' anyway from a year to the upward limits of several centuries, of which hakon falls neatly onto the vague latter half of the spectrum. the streets have changed. this doesn't surprise him anymore than the fact that there are bigger and better things happening in the city than the coming of the railroads and the discovery of oil and the building of weapons that would eventually find themselves bombing of a good swath of europe. nowadays, the bombing tends to happen in the middle east and the weapons tend to be built off-shore -- the same old game, just with pieces in different places on the chessboard, and that's why hakon doesn't know much about peace.
it's also the reason why he's never found the petshop until now. in hindsight, if the shop exists, then there must be a place for in the world. but since the world is vast and petshops don't usually have much do with the bombing of oil-rich countries, he hadn't had a clue. but after stepping into los angeles, he could feel the familiar presence of the city calling out to him in a way that dirt and grime and hopes and wishes and dreams have always mingled. when he finally finds his way to what is perhaps the sketchiest shop in the sketchiest alleway in what is perhaps the sketchiest part of town (he's exaggerating, mostly, somewhat, fondly), he can only really look up at the sign and laugh to himself. ]
Figures.
[ without further ado, to the faint of scent of incense and the guady tinkling of bells, he enters the store. ]
i pave my own shitty prompts
it's also the reason why he's never found the petshop until now. in hindsight, if the shop exists, then there must be a place for in the world. but since the world is vast and petshops don't usually have much do with the bombing of oil-rich countries, he hadn't had a clue. but after stepping into los angeles, he could feel the familiar presence of the city calling out to him in a way that dirt and grime and hopes and wishes and dreams have always mingled. when he finally finds his way to what is perhaps the sketchiest shop in the sketchiest alleway in what is perhaps the sketchiest part of town (he's exaggerating, mostly, somewhat, fondly), he can only really look up at the sign and laugh to himself. ]
Figures.
[ without further ado, to the faint of scent of incense and the guady tinkling of bells, he enters the store. ]