http://causeblocked.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
causeblocked.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lucetilogs2010-04-10 04:33 am
causeblocked.livejournal.com) wrote in lucetilogs2010-04-10 04:33 am
Could we all be dreaming of the suffering forming clouds on our feelings?
Who: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
causeblocked and denyingreasons
What: a re-meeting of friends
Where: their apartments
Summary: The Master of Amala is gone, leaving just a brat in his place, and Naoki continues to be a too-forgiving idiot.
Rating: Possibly PG-13 for Isamu's apt-to-be dirty mouth?
It was difficult, coming to. Isamu's eyelids felt glued shut, and he wondered how long he'd been sleeping for. Surprisingly enough, he found that breathing came easier now. He'd expected things to continue to get worse, so this improvement took him a few moments to process. In fact, he was starting to realize that he felt better all around.
...He also felt filthy. How many days had it been since he'd arrived? And he hadn't cleaned up properly since then. He probably smelled pretty foul, covered in his own sweat and... whatever was falling off of him in a caked mess. That was something he preferred not to think about. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto shaking arms and rolled unceremoniously off the bed, hitting the floor heavily.
For a while, he just laid on his back, wings crushed painfully beneath him, and stared up at the ceiling. His legs had to work today - he'd make them work - because he wasn't crawling his way to the bathroom. Eventually he'd have to get up, so he focused on that, using the edge of the bed for support. It wasn't as difficult as he imagined. He was still bone weary, and his limbs almost felt like they wouldn't support him, but the more he moved around the more able he felt. Finally he stood, light-headed and a little nauseous but steady. This was promising.
Isamu made straight for the bathroom, shedding his boxers (the only thing he'd been wearing for the past day) before he even reached it. He realized belatedly that he had nothing to shower with. No soap, no washrags, no towels... nothing. His apartment was basically empty of the bare necessities because he hadn't taken the opportunity, or rather hadn't had the chance to take the opportunity, to get anything. That would have to be a first priority, and he began making a mental list of everything he'd need even as he turned the water on. As long as he could get it scalding, he might be able to live with just standing under it for a good long while. He'd shower again once he had everything he needed.
He hung his head under the faucet, watching the water make its way down the drain... frowning as it turned slowly brown. It took him a while to realize the source of the discoloration, and he stared down at his torso with a detached sort of shock. The emotions, the growths that had attached themselves to him in Amala, had turned to mud and dust completely. The water was washing the last remnants of them away, leaving the skin beneath smooth and perfectly human. Without thinking, he aided the spray in this process, wiping away bits with his hand until there was nothing left but faint traces of residue. He didn't step out of the shower until the water had gone cold.
When he'd finished, he walked out and stood in the middle of the bathroom, not caring how much he dripped onto the tile. He turned to the mirror and just stared at his own reflection for a good while. Gray eyes stared back at him.
Then he started laughing, hard enough that it became difficult to breath again. He leaned against the counter and just let it all out, cackling until tears were running down the sides of his face. A fist was slammed against the mirror, but he lacked the strength to do anything spectacular like cracking it. Eventually, his chest began to ache and he had to stop, remaining in place until he was able to get his breathing back to normal.
Once out of the bathroom, he took better stock of the other room. Dirt littered the floor, along with a few feathers - all from him. A vacuum cleaner, or at least a broom and dustpan, was added to the list of things he needed.
...He didn't want to leave the apartment, though. Leaving meant facing Naoki. Naoki, who most likely wouldn't do anything to him, and that only made it worse. He dressed slowly - no shoes, no socks, no belt... He only wore the loose shirt he'd picked up the other day and his jeans. And he left his hat on his bed with the excuse that his hair needed time to dry. He felt naked still, and perhaps that's the way it needed to be.
What time was it? Early morning? Did it matter. Isamu paced around his room. He needed to make sure he had his footing, was all. It wouldn't do for him to go stumbling around like an idiot...
"...Fuck this," he decided suddenly, and strode straight out his door and to room #25, knocking before he could wuss out of it.
causeblocked and denyingreasons What: a re-meeting of friends
Where: their apartments
Summary: The Master of Amala is gone, leaving just a brat in his place, and Naoki continues to be a too-forgiving idiot.
Rating: Possibly PG-13 for Isamu's apt-to-be dirty mouth?
It was difficult, coming to. Isamu's eyelids felt glued shut, and he wondered how long he'd been sleeping for. Surprisingly enough, he found that breathing came easier now. He'd expected things to continue to get worse, so this improvement took him a few moments to process. In fact, he was starting to realize that he felt better all around.
...He also felt filthy. How many days had it been since he'd arrived? And he hadn't cleaned up properly since then. He probably smelled pretty foul, covered in his own sweat and... whatever was falling off of him in a caked mess. That was something he preferred not to think about. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto shaking arms and rolled unceremoniously off the bed, hitting the floor heavily.
For a while, he just laid on his back, wings crushed painfully beneath him, and stared up at the ceiling. His legs had to work today - he'd make them work - because he wasn't crawling his way to the bathroom. Eventually he'd have to get up, so he focused on that, using the edge of the bed for support. It wasn't as difficult as he imagined. He was still bone weary, and his limbs almost felt like they wouldn't support him, but the more he moved around the more able he felt. Finally he stood, light-headed and a little nauseous but steady. This was promising.
Isamu made straight for the bathroom, shedding his boxers (the only thing he'd been wearing for the past day) before he even reached it. He realized belatedly that he had nothing to shower with. No soap, no washrags, no towels... nothing. His apartment was basically empty of the bare necessities because he hadn't taken the opportunity, or rather hadn't had the chance to take the opportunity, to get anything. That would have to be a first priority, and he began making a mental list of everything he'd need even as he turned the water on. As long as he could get it scalding, he might be able to live with just standing under it for a good long while. He'd shower again once he had everything he needed.
He hung his head under the faucet, watching the water make its way down the drain... frowning as it turned slowly brown. It took him a while to realize the source of the discoloration, and he stared down at his torso with a detached sort of shock. The emotions, the growths that had attached themselves to him in Amala, had turned to mud and dust completely. The water was washing the last remnants of them away, leaving the skin beneath smooth and perfectly human. Without thinking, he aided the spray in this process, wiping away bits with his hand until there was nothing left but faint traces of residue. He didn't step out of the shower until the water had gone cold.
When he'd finished, he walked out and stood in the middle of the bathroom, not caring how much he dripped onto the tile. He turned to the mirror and just stared at his own reflection for a good while. Gray eyes stared back at him.
Then he started laughing, hard enough that it became difficult to breath again. He leaned against the counter and just let it all out, cackling until tears were running down the sides of his face. A fist was slammed against the mirror, but he lacked the strength to do anything spectacular like cracking it. Eventually, his chest began to ache and he had to stop, remaining in place until he was able to get his breathing back to normal.
Once out of the bathroom, he took better stock of the other room. Dirt littered the floor, along with a few feathers - all from him. A vacuum cleaner, or at least a broom and dustpan, was added to the list of things he needed.
...He didn't want to leave the apartment, though. Leaving meant facing Naoki. Naoki, who most likely wouldn't do anything to him, and that only made it worse. He dressed slowly - no shoes, no socks, no belt... He only wore the loose shirt he'd picked up the other day and his jeans. And he left his hat on his bed with the excuse that his hair needed time to dry. He felt naked still, and perhaps that's the way it needed to be.
What time was it? Early morning? Did it matter. Isamu paced around his room. He needed to make sure he had his footing, was all. It wouldn't do for him to go stumbling around like an idiot...
"...Fuck this," he decided suddenly, and strode straight out his door and to room #25, knocking before he could wuss out of it.
no subject
He smirked. "So do you think I'd turn into a demon if I ate it?" It was a mostly serious question, and if it didn't appear to be irreversible he might have asked to try. Having just stopped being... whatever he'd been before, however, he wasn't keen on immediately changing again. He laughed to show that he had no intention of trying.
no subject
He trailed off and shrugged lightly, uplifting his hands with a smile. “I don’t recommend it, man, if you can help it. It just hurts a hell of a lot. I would’ve stopped them from giving me it if I’d been able.”
no subject
He frowned. "You can't tell me you haven't been thankful for those abilities at all."
no subject
He wished it had never gotten to the point where he had to be a demon to survive, though. He curled a hand to the back of his neck.
no subject
...His thoughts wandered briefly to Chiaki at that, and he quickly shoved that matter aside.
"So how bad is this place, really?" He regretted asking right after he had, but he'd have to know sooner or later. It wasn't the best of topic changes, though.
no subject
“Most of the people here are nice,” he told him. “Talking to them is something to do. There’s lots of interesting stories to hear.” He shrugged lightly, deciding not to mention the worrying that came with making friends in Luceti and hearing about them being kidnapped, or sent home, or killed.
no subject
If Naoki said it was that bad, then he was going to assume that some things were still going to be pretty lame, but otherwise take his word for it. This version of his friend seemed to have a terrible habit of being truthful. Chances were, these 'crazy people', other citizens no doubt, would be the worst of his problems.
"What about the individual ones?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "The experiments, I mean."
no subject
“Well…one was changed into his ten-year-old self, another lost her memories of this place—I dunno how varied the effects can be. A lot of people just come back really tired and injured sometimes. Or they’re missing one of their senses.” He rubbed the side of his neck.
no subject
He really needed to stop having such weird lines of thought.
"Guess it's nice that there are decent places to live, seeing as we're gonna be stuck here and all." Isamu pulled his legs up onto the couch in front of him, wrapping his arms around them. "You don't mind me grabbing a spot nearby, do you?" He already knew the answer, and he wouldn't be moving regardless, but at least asking gave him some semblance of being polite."