( yami bakura ) ≠ shadow 07 ≠ video [LOBO EVENT]
[ It was the worst kind of attack, one that crept up from nowhere. He couldn't strike back at it, couldn't guard himself against the intrusion. By the end of the first day he'd felt listless, dredging up only a bit of energy to poke some fun at the fatalistic messages being passed over the 'berries. When he'd realized (something which had seemed to take a monumental feat to put together) even that had lost its interest, he stopped eating the food, thinking perhaps it was poisoned.
It hadn't helped.
Trying to force his mind to stay on track, he fell back to some of the methods he'd used to occupy himself when he'd been in the Ring for three millennia. By the end of the second day, even the simplest counting exercises ("nine houses lived by in nine cats who were chasing nine mice who were eating nine bags of grain") had dissolved into a jumble of useless numbers and a vague wondering of what he'd even been doing.
He'd managed to reclaim a few brief spikes of lucidity when he'd drawn the blade of his knife over the back of his arms (not near the veins, just flesh wounds, enough to bleed and hurt but not to seriously harm) in wandering lines of red. But it wasn't enough to keep him anchored and now the little knife lay discarded and forgotten on the bed next to him, along with a smattering of bloody stains on the sheets.
Bakura is sitting in his room with his back to the wall, limbs slack and staring blankly at nothing in particular. The video feed activates a couple of times for a few minutes before timing out, but Bakura never changes position. ]
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((OOC: Future dated to Tuesday evening. Bakura's lapsed into a mostly catatonic state and won't be answering his 'berry. Open to anyone hanging around 21A too if they want to bandage up his arms or draw mustaches on him once their effects start getting reversed? He's not going to really start coming around until sometime on Friday.))
It hadn't helped.
Trying to force his mind to stay on track, he fell back to some of the methods he'd used to occupy himself when he'd been in the Ring for three millennia. By the end of the second day, even the simplest counting exercises ("nine houses lived by in nine cats who were chasing nine mice who were eating nine bags of grain") had dissolved into a jumble of useless numbers and a vague wondering of what he'd even been doing.
He'd managed to reclaim a few brief spikes of lucidity when he'd drawn the blade of his knife over the back of his arms (not near the veins, just flesh wounds, enough to bleed and hurt but not to seriously harm) in wandering lines of red. But it wasn't enough to keep him anchored and now the little knife lay discarded and forgotten on the bed next to him, along with a smattering of bloody stains on the sheets.
Bakura is sitting in his room with his back to the wall, limbs slack and staring blankly at nothing in particular. The video feed activates a couple of times for a few minutes before timing out, but Bakura never changes position. ]
--
((OOC: Future dated to Tuesday evening. Bakura's lapsed into a mostly catatonic state and won't be answering his 'berry. Open to anyone hanging around 21A too if they want to bandage up his arms or draw mustaches on him once their effects start getting reversed? He's not going to really start coming around until sometime on Friday.))