INTRO LOG

[ii2cariiot]

Characters: The Psiioniic and YOU
Setting: Wandering
Format: Also up to the tagger
Summary: The Psiioniic is wandering and exploring his new surroundings, and is also lost. THESE AREN'T MY GLASSES.
Warning: He doesn't have shoes on.

[At first he hadn't moved much when he awoke. Like someone laying awake in bed in the early hours of the morning. A child unable to go back to bed while dismissing the notion of having to get up. At least, that's what every fiber of his being seemed to spell out. In actuality, he'd been waiting. Waiting for permission, a command, anything that guaranteed it was okay to move about.

When it didn't come and didn't come, he finally took the initiative to get up and wander on his own. The situation didn't seem to frighten him, or faze him. Instead, it piqued his curiosity and blue/red eyes quietly observed the floors. Acknowledging things in some hidden understanding.

Perhaps he is simply lost and there is no universal truth in which he seeks.

Or perhaps it is because he is barefoot and moving to keep them warm.]

Comments

[ii2cariiot]

I'm not thuicidal. But thoeth are thtill thtupid.

[restitchtime]

Right, because god forbid you keep your feet from trampling all over shit like broken glass and pointy rocks. What the hell are the rest of us thinking?

[ii2cariiot]

You walk around broken glath and rockth.

[Give this genius the noble peace prize.]

[restitchtime]

[eyebrow. raise.]

Yes, because no matter where you are there will always be a way around dangerous debris.

[ii2cariiot]

Thimply clear a path.

[restitchtime]

Sounds like a lot more work than just wearing a damn pair of shoes.

[ii2cariiot]

Perhapth but what are the chanceth of running into broken glath and debrith?

[restitchtime]

Here? Pretty damn high, along with anything else that'd make your life more of a hassle than it already is.

[ii2cariiot]

Hmm. I'll live.

[WHAT AN UNDERSTATEMENT.]

[restitchtime]

Yeah, but how many times you'll have to die to get there is another question.

[ii2cariiot]

I have to die to live?

[restitchtime]

If you're not careful here, yeah. It'll tear you apart and bring you back just so it can do it again.

[ii2cariiot]

...Theemth like a wathte of energy.

[restitchtime]

No shit. But this place has apparently got energy to spare, because it happens all the time.

[ii2cariiot]

Whoth in charge? Perhapth they do not underthtand how energy workth. Happenth all the time with new thlave owning highbloodth.

[restitchtime]

That's the million dollar question. Nobody knows who the fuck is running this shithole or where they'd hiding. Believe me, if we did I'd have already snapped their spine six ways to Sunday.

[ii2cariiot]

Million dollar? [HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND.]

Perhapth no one ith in charge?

[restitchtime]

[she waves a hand dismissively. LET IT GO, SHE DOES NOT FEEL LIKE EXPLAINING SYNTAX TO YOU]

Nah, there's somebody pulling the strings up there. This shit's way too deliberate to just be an accident.

[ii2cariiot]

Are you thure?

[He can't just take your word for it.]

[restitchtime]

Did you read the letter they give you when you get dumped here?

[ii2cariiot]

Thort of.

[He skimmed over it.]

[restitchtime]

Do accidents in the fabric of time and space usually leave you little notes like that?

[wow dude you're such a bad detective]

[ii2cariiot]

...thometimeth.

[um, no, you are you loser. dont you ever recieve notes from the universe??]

[restitchtime]

Then your little pocket of paradox space is a hell of a lot more polite than mine. That shit just doesn't happen on its own.

[no she's too busy being punched in the face by it]

[ii2cariiot]

Perhapth I don't inthult it conthantly.