all things must pass
Forward-dated to 8PM, Oct. 30 '10 so I have a bigger break between writing this and Edgeworth's upcoming post.]
[It's getting late; Trowa has had far too busy a day, socially, and the overall events have taken a pretty hard toll on his desire to be anywhere but tucked safely away in his apartment, where there is nobody and nothing to put any more stress on him--only a rat, a soft couch, and his latest repair project.]
[Where we come in to the story, then, is the beginning of a video feed where Trowa is sitting on said couch, having set the comm on the small coffee table to record while he busies himself first with taking off the rollerblades, and then the long metal cuffs covering his forearms. While doing this, he starts the verbal portion of the entry like so:]
I have never celebrated Halloween.
It seems strange for people always in costume to want to wear another one.
But it's... [A pause consisting mostly of a rare, brief smile as he picks up one of the skates to get a better look at it in the dim lighting.] ...it's not that bad.
[Trowa sets it down again, getting up onto his feet; he leans forward and reaches for the communicator. Just as his fingers brush its side, however, he pulls back to cover his eyes with a forearm, making a pained sound as he's temporarily blinded by a sudden massive, bright yellow, crackling flare of light completely filling the room to the point that only faint, shadowy outlines remain visible. When it fades, the view is pitch black.]
[...What's this--little pinpricks of light slowly forming in the darkness? They look almost like... stars. They're absolutely everywhere; look carefully, in fact, and you might even be able to pick out some constellations.]
[But where is Trowa?]
[Wait! There, a few feet away. It's possible to just make out the red from his costume's shirt and the part of his face that his bangs don't cover. He's laying still, his arms at his sides and his eyes closed. It looks like he might be saying something, but it's only his mouth moving--no words are coming out.]
[Feed will continue running until it times out or someone turns it off.]
[[OOC// As you may have guessed, Trowa has NOT actually been exPorted! His biggest fear, however? Finding himself returned to canon point at the end of getting blown away by Wing Zero's Twin Buster Rifle, as doing so would mean losing everything about himself to amnesia brought on by the trauma of near-asphyxiation. On a happier note, as this is one of the last remaining hurdles left for him to conquer, he will have a blessedly smooth next few months now :D ]]
[It's getting late; Trowa has had far too busy a day, socially, and the overall events have taken a pretty hard toll on his desire to be anywhere but tucked safely away in his apartment, where there is nobody and nothing to put any more stress on him--only a rat, a soft couch, and his latest repair project.]
[Where we come in to the story, then, is the beginning of a video feed where Trowa is sitting on said couch, having set the comm on the small coffee table to record while he busies himself first with taking off the rollerblades, and then the long metal cuffs covering his forearms. While doing this, he starts the verbal portion of the entry like so:]
I have never celebrated Halloween.
It seems strange for people always in costume to want to wear another one.
But it's... [A pause consisting mostly of a rare, brief smile as he picks up one of the skates to get a better look at it in the dim lighting.] ...it's not that bad.
[Trowa sets it down again, getting up onto his feet; he leans forward and reaches for the communicator. Just as his fingers brush its side, however, he pulls back to cover his eyes with a forearm, making a pained sound as he's temporarily blinded by a sudden massive, bright yellow, crackling flare of light completely filling the room to the point that only faint, shadowy outlines remain visible. When it fades, the view is pitch black.]
[...What's this--little pinpricks of light slowly forming in the darkness? They look almost like... stars. They're absolutely everywhere; look carefully, in fact, and you might even be able to pick out some constellations.]
[But where is Trowa?]
[Wait! There, a few feet away. It's possible to just make out the red from his costume's shirt and the part of his face that his bangs don't cover. He's laying still, his arms at his sides and his eyes closed. It looks like he might be saying something, but it's only his mouth moving--no words are coming out.]
[Feed will continue running until it times out or someone turns it off.]
[[OOC// As you may have guessed, Trowa has NOT actually been exPorted! His biggest fear, however? Finding himself returned to canon point at the end of getting blown away by Wing Zero's Twin Buster Rifle, as doing so would mean losing everything about himself to amnesia brought on by the trauma of near-asphyxiation. On a happier note, as this is one of the last remaining hurdles left for him to conquer, he will have a blessedly smooth next few months now :D ]]