Ga҉n̸t͏a I̕g̡ara̷şh̕i ͜| woo҉d͏p̛e̸ck̨er (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
woodpeckermaruta) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-08-09 03:37 pm
woodpeckermaruta) wrote in towerofanimus2013-08-09 03:37 pm
...don't mind him while he mopes...
Characters: Ganta Igarashi and whoever is available to join
Setting: Dorm room #2-10, then immediately to the first floor's cafeteria
Format: Whatever, is fine with me.
Summary: He's having trouble accepting that crap.Slap him around, a bit? He'll come around.
Warnings: He can control his blood and use it as a weapon, for those... characters with violent tendencies. ♥
The black-haired teenager had read the two letters at least ten times, a piece (after freaking out just a bit at the thirty seconds of paralysis, of course). No matter how many times he reads the one explaining his situation, though, he still cannot seem to bring himself to believe any of it. Despite the truth becoming more and more obvious. Despite the fact that there are other people here, some obviously... against their will.
He finds himself standing it what appears to be a cafeteria. How he got there, he is completely unsure of. He goes through the motions of getting his food, almost in the way a robot would-no sign of emotion, no sign of even being in touch with reality. Ganta stares down at the bowl of oatmeal, after sitting down at the first empty table he reaches, realizing that he has absolutely no desire to even touch it. What is the point? If Earth was destroyed, then what does he have left? There is no way this is what surviving would feel like, though. No way, in hell, is this just... it for everyone he ever knew.
An image of Shiro plays into his mind and he suddenly feels the urge to throw up. If not for the fact that his stomach is completely empty, he likely would have. Nagi, Karako, Senji, Yoh, Minatsuki... everyone... Everyone cannot possibly be dead, right? This is all a game, ...right? A trick? Even if it is not, they are all here, as well, ...right? He squeezes his hand into a fist, a hint of a reminder of the open cut on his thumb. The pain in his thumb, from when he tested his “it's a dream” theory, is nowhere near what it was.
If this truly is real, then why him?! What the hell did he do to deserve to be the last one? To suffer through a reality without anyone he ever cared about? First, his friends from school, now this?! Wait... is it possible that the "Red Man" could have done this? No, that is a stupid thought. Why would that kind of monster save him?
The longer he stares at the oatmeal, the more he has the desire to throw it at the wall. If it were not for the increasing feeling of numbness he suddenly finds himself with, he probably would.
Setting: Dorm room #2-10, then immediately to the first floor's cafeteria
Format: Whatever, is fine with me.
Summary: He's having trouble accepting that crap.
Warnings: He can control his blood and use it as a weapon, for those... characters with violent tendencies. ♥
The black-haired teenager had read the two letters at least ten times, a piece (after freaking out just a bit at the thirty seconds of paralysis, of course). No matter how many times he reads the one explaining his situation, though, he still cannot seem to bring himself to believe any of it. Despite the truth becoming more and more obvious. Despite the fact that there are other people here, some obviously... against their will.
He finds himself standing it what appears to be a cafeteria. How he got there, he is completely unsure of. He goes through the motions of getting his food, almost in the way a robot would-no sign of emotion, no sign of even being in touch with reality. Ganta stares down at the bowl of oatmeal, after sitting down at the first empty table he reaches, realizing that he has absolutely no desire to even touch it. What is the point? If Earth was destroyed, then what does he have left? There is no way this is what surviving would feel like, though. No way, in hell, is this just... it for everyone he ever knew.
An image of Shiro plays into his mind and he suddenly feels the urge to throw up. If not for the fact that his stomach is completely empty, he likely would have. Nagi, Karako, Senji, Yoh, Minatsuki... everyone... Everyone cannot possibly be dead, right? This is all a game, ...right? A trick? Even if it is not, they are all here, as well, ...right? He squeezes his hand into a fist, a hint of a reminder of the open cut on his thumb. The pain in his thumb, from when he tested his “it's a dream” theory, is nowhere near what it was.
If this truly is real, then why him?! What the hell did he do to deserve to be the last one? To suffer through a reality without anyone he ever cared about? First, his friends from school, now this?! Wait... is it possible that the "Red Man" could have done this? No, that is a stupid thought. Why would that kind of monster save him?
The longer he stares at the oatmeal, the more he has the desire to throw it at the wall. If it were not for the increasing feeling of numbness he suddenly finds himself with, he probably would.
no subject
He looks over at the table next to him where the newcomer is staring blankly at a bowl of oatmeal and gives him a weary sigh.
"Just eat it. It's by far not going to be the worst thing to happen to you."
no subject
"How long have you been here?"
He is unsure of why he is curious to know this. What good would it do, other than torture him with the realization that this could very well be home.
no subject
He's not intentionally being mean, but he was cold and bitter even before he got pulled to the tower. This is just a kid, though, and Zelgadis could probably do with toning it down a notch.
"If you're just going to stare at it, why did you even bother taking a bowl? It would be curious to see if you can starve to death here."
....okay, that's not really toning it down.
no subject
"I thought I would be able to eat it. Guess not, though."
no subject
Zelgadis takes a bite of his soggy, bland bar. Now there are crumbs in his water. Things could be worse.
"Unless you really do want to starve."
no subject
"Yeah, might as well." He is referring to the first sentence, "Nothing good comes from dying..."
He is obviously in an inward struggle against his own thoughts, considering the tense facial expressions. He then sighs and begins eating. This is actually not even that bad. It definitely tastes a heck of a lot better than the antidote he used to ea-...
Wait, the antidote... Is there poison being injected at regular intervals from this collar, as well? He decides to go to the infirmary the second he is finished eating, to ask. It would definitely be a bad thing to be at a risk of dying, every three days, on top of everything else.