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soul_campaign2012-03-20 05:17 pm
dead_black_eyes) wrote in soul_campaign2012-03-20 05:17 pm
Entry tags:
Entry #A-11: "Anticlastic" [February 3, Audio, Morning]
[The last three days have run L absolutely ragged.
The madness-induced events of the 31st had been no joke, leaving L with finger-shaped bruises on his throat, drugged (sleeping pills), and poisoned (undercooked eggs? Or perhaps something else?) . The 1st of February had been spent recovering from the exhaustion and illness of the previous day, , and the 2nd had found him tentatively leaving the apartment in search of something to soothe his unsettled stomach... only to find himself in the middle of an attack on the city.
A crow familiar had tried to seize his skinny arm and carry him away. He'd beat it off with an enormous bottle of Pepto-Bismol he'd purchased moments before the city had erupted in chaos, stumbling and half-falling into a shop's storm cellar.
He had remained there, motionless and wide-eyed, all night, watching shadows pass outside and pressing his back against the wall if one came too close. At one point, a zombie had tried to break in; scarcely daring to breathe, L had held the doors shut, knuckles whiter than his face, until the threat had given up and shambled off to find a meal more easily extracted from its seclusion.
Now it is the 3rd. The Madness Wavelength is all but out of his system entirely (no small thanks to the food poisoning), and he emerges, disheveled and blinking, into the quiet street.
He takes out his communicator, reading the news as he walks, briskly, and then at a slight jog, back towards Death City Heights.
He's moving too quickly to be a zombie, so hopefully residents won't mistake the gaunt, rigid-eyed man for one. He simply looks like someone who is consumed by an all-important purpose, and whose legs might give out before he accomplishes it. There are also some alarmingly vivid bruises on his neck, but if you're polite, maybe you'll pretend you don't notice.]
[Private to Mello and Near]
If you're there, please answer as soon as possible.
[/End Private to Mello and Near]
[Private to the Members of the Watch and the Agency (Excluding Light Yagami)]
I'm Rue Ryuzaki, a relatively new member of the Watch. I respectfully request the names of those who either died or went missing during last night's attack, especially those who were scheduled to work with these two organizations today but failed to show up this morning.
[/End Private to the Members of the Watch and the Agency (Excluding Light Yagami)]
[Private to Light Yagami]
Where are you, at this exact moment?
[/End Private to Light Yagami]
[Private to Bakura]
Make me something to eat. Immediately. I haven't eaten since the 31st you cad and if I'm going to do something about this situation, I'm going to need more energy than what I can currently muster. Leave it at my apartment.
[/End Private to Bakura]
[He makes it all the way to Mello and Near's apartment, letting himself in with a key they never asked him to return and finding no trace of his successors.
Exhausted, he leans against the wall and slides to the floor, cupping his communicator in his hands. He'll go back to his apartment soon... but for now, he's winded, heart pounding in his thin chest and his legs refusing to work. It can wait until he's rested a moment.]
The madness-induced events of the 31st had been no joke, leaving L with finger-shaped bruises on his throat, drugged (sleeping pills), and poisoned (undercooked eggs? Or perhaps something else?) . The 1st of February had been spent recovering from the exhaustion and illness of the previous day, , and the 2nd had found him tentatively leaving the apartment in search of something to soothe his unsettled stomach... only to find himself in the middle of an attack on the city.
A crow familiar had tried to seize his skinny arm and carry him away. He'd beat it off with an enormous bottle of Pepto-Bismol he'd purchased moments before the city had erupted in chaos, stumbling and half-falling into a shop's storm cellar.
He had remained there, motionless and wide-eyed, all night, watching shadows pass outside and pressing his back against the wall if one came too close. At one point, a zombie had tried to break in; scarcely daring to breathe, L had held the doors shut, knuckles whiter than his face, until the threat had given up and shambled off to find a meal more easily extracted from its seclusion.
Now it is the 3rd. The Madness Wavelength is all but out of his system entirely (no small thanks to the food poisoning), and he emerges, disheveled and blinking, into the quiet street.
He takes out his communicator, reading the news as he walks, briskly, and then at a slight jog, back towards Death City Heights.
He's moving too quickly to be a zombie, so hopefully residents won't mistake the gaunt, rigid-eyed man for one. He simply looks like someone who is consumed by an all-important purpose, and whose legs might give out before he accomplishes it. There are also some alarmingly vivid bruises on his neck, but if you're polite, maybe you'll pretend you don't notice.]
[Private to Mello and Near]
If you're there, please answer as soon as possible.
[/End Private to Mello and Near]
[Private to the Members of the Watch and the Agency (Excluding Light Yagami)]
I'm Rue Ryuzaki, a relatively new member of the Watch. I respectfully request the names of those who either died or went missing during last night's attack, especially those who were scheduled to work with these two organizations today but failed to show up this morning.
[/End Private to the Members of the Watch and the Agency (Excluding Light Yagami)]
[Private to Light Yagami]
Where are you, at this exact moment?
[/End Private to Light Yagami]
[Private to Bakura]
Make me something to eat. Immediately. I haven't eaten since the 31st you cad and if I'm going to do something about this situation, I'm going to need more energy than what I can currently muster. Leave it at my apartment.
[/End Private to Bakura]
[He makes it all the way to Mello and Near's apartment, letting himself in with a key they never asked him to return and finding no trace of his successors.
Exhausted, he leans against the wall and slides to the floor, cupping his communicator in his hands. He'll go back to his apartment soon... but for now, he's winded, heart pounding in his thin chest and his legs refusing to work. It can wait until he's rested a moment.]
[audio; private]
[The fact that he can still joke like this even in situations like this probably tells a thing or two about Aion's moral compass (or lack thereof). He files the information about the chewing on nails carefully away for later uses at the same time.]
[audio; private]
I'm not going to bite your fingernails.
[audio; private]
[audio; private]
[audio; private]
[audio; private]
[audio; private]