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towerofanimus2011-12-07 06:35 pm
arisawa.livejournal.com) wrote in towerofanimus2011-12-07 06:35 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Characters: Tatsuki and whoever runs into her! WE ALL 'BOUT DAT OPEN LOG Y'ALL
Setting: Dorm 1-13, Floors 1 & 11
Format: Prose for the post, action for the tags
Summary: There's a distraught teenager wandering the tower. Approach y/n?
Warnings: Nothing to speak of!
[Dormitory]
For thirty seconds, Tatsuki lay there in bed. Thirty seconds of tortured struggling against her own inability to move, or even cry out. Frozen, trapped in her own skin for thirty agonizing seconds.
Twenty eight. Twenty nine. Thirty.
"Haaaaaaah!"
And then right on cue, she shot bolt upright in her bed - well, a bed. She'd never slept in it in her life. Not the bed, not the room... even the air itself was thick with a pervading sense of unfamiliarity. With each hyperventilated breath she took, the atmosphere felt wrong in her lungs. There was no familiar presence she could sense to reassure herself. Just the bed, the trunk at its foot, the weird, sci-fi jumpsuit she wouldn't be caught dead in if she could help it, and a letter, which, against her better judgement, she proceeded to read.
"No... that's impossible..."
It was safe to say she regretted that right away.
[Floor 1]
From the corner of the cafeteria, the sound of a teenage girl coughing can be heard, as she chokes down the bowl of sick the tower attempts to pass off as oatmeal. She knows she has to finish it, if only because she's starving, but every two or three spoonfuls she pauses to gag and rub her forehead in frustration.
[Floor 11]
There was nothing here for her.
Sitting there on the spiral staircase, she pauses for a moment to consider the possibility of diving into the water and swimming off the edge. Not for more than a moment, though. That wouldn't be her style at all, would it? Besides, there had to be some kind of catch. Everyone was fine, and Ichigo would pull his whole hero schtick like he always did. Everything would work itself out.
Right?
She spat into the water, fists clenched tightly. So tightly, the palms of her hands began to bleed as her nails dug in.
Setting: Dorm 1-13, Floors 1 & 11
Format: Prose for the post, action for the tags
Summary: There's a distraught teenager wandering the tower. Approach y/n?
Warnings: Nothing to speak of!
[Dormitory]
For thirty seconds, Tatsuki lay there in bed. Thirty seconds of tortured struggling against her own inability to move, or even cry out. Frozen, trapped in her own skin for thirty agonizing seconds.
Twenty eight. Twenty nine. Thirty.
"Haaaaaaah!"
And then right on cue, she shot bolt upright in her bed - well, a bed. She'd never slept in it in her life. Not the bed, not the room... even the air itself was thick with a pervading sense of unfamiliarity. With each hyperventilated breath she took, the atmosphere felt wrong in her lungs. There was no familiar presence she could sense to reassure herself. Just the bed, the trunk at its foot, the weird, sci-fi jumpsuit she wouldn't be caught dead in if she could help it, and a letter, which, against her better judgement, she proceeded to read.
"No... that's impossible..."
It was safe to say she regretted that right away.
[Floor 1]
From the corner of the cafeteria, the sound of a teenage girl coughing can be heard, as she chokes down the bowl of sick the tower attempts to pass off as oatmeal. She knows she has to finish it, if only because she's starving, but every two or three spoonfuls she pauses to gag and rub her forehead in frustration.
[Floor 11]
There was nothing here for her.
Sitting there on the spiral staircase, she pauses for a moment to consider the possibility of diving into the water and swimming off the edge. Not for more than a moment, though. That wouldn't be her style at all, would it? Besides, there had to be some kind of catch. Everyone was fine, and Ichigo would pull his whole hero schtick like he always did. Everything would work itself out.
Right?
She spat into the water, fists clenched tightly. So tightly, the palms of her hands began to bleed as her nails dug in.
no subject
Right, because my main concern is the menu.
no subject
no subject
Look, are you selling something? Because unless it's a ride home, I ain't buyin'.
[She takes another spoonful of oatmeal, momentarily forgetting how awful it is until it enters her mouth.]
no subject
Think I'd still be here if I did? [HE IS TRYING TO BE RELATIVELY FRIENDLY OK. HE IS AWARE THAT THIS IS A SUCK ASS SITUATION. Look, he's even extending his hand -- HE COMES IN PEACE, CHILL.] Name's Ed.
no subject
Do you seriously have nowhere else to be right now?
no subject
Look, I'm just trying to help you out. But hey, if you'd rather sit here hacking and gagging on some shitty oatmeal because you didn't want to listen to the guy who would've told you that eating it slower would probably help you not throw up, that's fine. You just go ahead and enjoy that.
[and with that he pushes himself up off the chair, stuffing his hands in his pockets. But before he leaves he turns to tell her one last thing.]
Oh and you might want to be careful whenever you head back to your room. There's a couple of floors that aren't exactly safe.
no subject
I'm sure I can handle myself just fine. Worry about yourself, Shorty.
[...Yeah, she went there.]
1/2
What is his life. WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO HIM? HE CAN NOT.]
no subject