Kariya Matou (
vermicompost) wrote in
towerofanimus2013-01-13 02:33 am
Long lost days of you and me
Characters: Kariya Matou and open
Setting: The dormitories and the meadow (or anywhere else, if anyone would like to take him somewhere, as he isn't very mobile on his own– he likes visitors, and trips.)
Format: Action to start, but prose is fine, too
Summary: It's only been a year or so, by Kariya's reckoning (when he can remember), but time and magical parasites have taken their toll.
Warnings: blood and possible body horror or angst
Kariya's Room:
[It's difficult for him to move at all, yet he has his wheelchair, and he can push it a little ways. It's hard for him to leave the dormitories, yet sometimes he still tries. Not now. For the moment, he's resting in his room, his eyes closed, even though he isn't sleeping. It's hard for him to fall asleep.
His body is smaller than it used to be. He's shrunk. Both his eyes are oddly whitish, both sides of him equally affected by what lives within him. His pale skin is all lines and veins, and the movement of the worms within him is evident beneath it, where it shows. His skin appears so thin, it seems it might break at any moment. All of him seems like it might break. Sometimes it does. His skin cracks in lines where it's thinnest, and the blood seeps out. He hardly notices when that happens. Maybe it's because it happens all the time, or maybe he simply isn't thinking clearly enough to realize.
He mutters to himself sometimes, and today is no exception. Sakura, he says often, or he mumbles something about going back home. Back home. He's going to get there. He'll go back to the War, he'll fight and he'll win, and he'll make everything all right again. Suddenly, he speaks, his voice firming, loud enough to be heard clearly.]
I'll help everyone go home.
[That's what he'll do.]
The Dormitory Hallways:
[Kariya wheels himself slowly along. He probably won't get very far, but he likes the feeling of moving forward. (He hasn't told anyone he was going.) He likes to travel. He used to travel once, didn't he? He feels so confined when he's in his room too long, trapped in one place. It's better to get out and around. Unfortunately, the corridors are so confusingly, frustratingly similar.
When he's gone a certain distance, he forgets how far he's come and where he was headed. He stops in the middle of the hallway, not sure whether to go forward or back. Maybe if he waits here long enough, he'll remember. Or maybe it wasn't so important. This is a change of scenery, isn't it? He sits back and gazes down the corridor, a wasted figure with white hair, waiting for someone or something interesting to arrive. He can't see very well, but his expression, if anyone were close enough to read it, is a hopeful one.]
The Meadow:
[It's a good day when he can get to the meadow. Some days, he's stronger, if only a little. The meadow is his favorite floor. It's beautiful there. It makes him smile. The grass and the flowers remind him of the park where he used to play with the children. Sometimes he thinks it is that park. But not today. No, he's thinking more clearly today. He moves a thin arm and manages to take out his photograph, from where he always keeps it, in the pocket of his jacket. It's wrinkled and torn and stained with blood, but it's his. His picture of his family: that's Aoi standing beside him, his wife, and with them are two little girls: their two daughters, Rin and Sakura. When he goes home, he'll see them again. They'll be happy again.
He's forgotten that he never married, that he never had children. But why would he want to remember a thing like that?]
Setting: The dormitories and the meadow (or anywhere else, if anyone would like to take him somewhere, as he isn't very mobile on his own– he likes visitors, and trips.)
Format: Action to start, but prose is fine, too
Summary: It's only been a year or so, by Kariya's reckoning (when he can remember), but time and magical parasites have taken their toll.
Warnings: blood and possible body horror or angst
Kariya's Room:
[It's difficult for him to move at all, yet he has his wheelchair, and he can push it a little ways. It's hard for him to leave the dormitories, yet sometimes he still tries. Not now. For the moment, he's resting in his room, his eyes closed, even though he isn't sleeping. It's hard for him to fall asleep.
His body is smaller than it used to be. He's shrunk. Both his eyes are oddly whitish, both sides of him equally affected by what lives within him. His pale skin is all lines and veins, and the movement of the worms within him is evident beneath it, where it shows. His skin appears so thin, it seems it might break at any moment. All of him seems like it might break. Sometimes it does. His skin cracks in lines where it's thinnest, and the blood seeps out. He hardly notices when that happens. Maybe it's because it happens all the time, or maybe he simply isn't thinking clearly enough to realize.
He mutters to himself sometimes, and today is no exception. Sakura, he says often, or he mumbles something about going back home. Back home. He's going to get there. He'll go back to the War, he'll fight and he'll win, and he'll make everything all right again. Suddenly, he speaks, his voice firming, loud enough to be heard clearly.]
I'll help everyone go home.
[That's what he'll do.]
The Dormitory Hallways:
[Kariya wheels himself slowly along. He probably won't get very far, but he likes the feeling of moving forward. (He hasn't told anyone he was going.) He likes to travel. He used to travel once, didn't he? He feels so confined when he's in his room too long, trapped in one place. It's better to get out and around. Unfortunately, the corridors are so confusingly, frustratingly similar.
When he's gone a certain distance, he forgets how far he's come and where he was headed. He stops in the middle of the hallway, not sure whether to go forward or back. Maybe if he waits here long enough, he'll remember. Or maybe it wasn't so important. This is a change of scenery, isn't it? He sits back and gazes down the corridor, a wasted figure with white hair, waiting for someone or something interesting to arrive. He can't see very well, but his expression, if anyone were close enough to read it, is a hopeful one.]
The Meadow:
[It's a good day when he can get to the meadow. Some days, he's stronger, if only a little. The meadow is his favorite floor. It's beautiful there. It makes him smile. The grass and the flowers remind him of the park where he used to play with the children. Sometimes he thinks it is that park. But not today. No, he's thinking more clearly today. He moves a thin arm and manages to take out his photograph, from where he always keeps it, in the pocket of his jacket. It's wrinkled and torn and stained with blood, but it's his. His picture of his family: that's Aoi standing beside him, his wife, and with them are two little girls: their two daughters, Rin and Sakura. When he goes home, he'll see them again. They'll be happy again.
He's forgotten that he never married, that he never had children. But why would he want to remember a thing like that?]

no subject
If you have left, you have a destination in mind. Or, perhaps, a more restful place might have approached the breaches of your mentality? Doom himself often requires a quiet place as well.
Not in the moment, however. I am busy as always.
[As he's about to pass:] Best to clear your head.
no subject
[Often too far for him.
He's curious. As Doom draws even nearer, he can't resist asking:]
What are you busy with?
[As for his head, he tries to clear it as well as he can.]
My head is fine.
no subject
[It is just momentary, as he turns his entire self, as if a professor was explaning a lecture.]
Currently, I am fastidious at work on my latest project. I'll not bore someone of lower intellect such as yourself with the details--they're very laborious, anyway--and I shall merely say to you, Kariya, that it is something you need not concern yourself with. You have more pressing matters at hand, after all.
[Doom flips his cape behind him as he continues his journey.]
[His tone of voice was neither unkind or disconcerting. As if it were an insult that was meant to harm, but falled quite short of its mark from inception.]
no subject
[Kariya doesn't know what else someone would be working on, here. Doom's insult hardly bothers him. That's how the man's always talked, whenever he's encountered him in the years he's spent here.]
That's what I'm looking for. [He remembers, that's where he was going, wasn't it?] I can understand more than you think. If you find anything, you should tell people. They deserve to know.
There's nothing more important than that. [His health isn't so pressing. It simply is.]
no subject
[He waves his hand back, as if it were a command to "shoo". And maybe it was.]
And dare not to waste my time any further.
no subject
[But the words were weak. He was hardly insisting.
He wondered if he'd ever know what, exactly, Doom was about. The man had never harmed him, so he didn't really fear him, but he didn't trust him either. He didn't want to press any further.
He remained where he was, as usual, slightly confused.]