(no subject)
WHO: Grimmjow Jeagarjaques (carnal_sexta), Rinali Li (unchosen_queen)
WHEN: 27th March 1952 [Afternoon]
WHERE: Midgard Rooftops
FILTER: Open to all.
WHAT: Grimmjow takes time out to reflect think about things for the first time since arriving here. Rinali joins him on the roof.
NOTES: It may surprise you that he can be quite coherent and deep. At rare, once-in-a-blue-moon times, anyway.
STATUS: Completed.
The Sun shone down from the zenith of blue, almost clear skies. Small, thin stretches of white cascaded across the expanse of blue, drifting along with the occasional breeze, traversing the skies like a fleet of boats slowly sailing across the ocean.
For someone who had spent most of his life wandering in perpetual night, Grimmjow could really appreciate the day time. He had watched the Sun rise for what felt like the first time in his entire life this morning, and it... calmed some of the restlessness he had been feeling since arriving in this unknown place. The feeling of the Sun on his face was almost novel, and his skin was actually heated and warm from the rays of light it could bask in and absorb. It might have been windy, and it might be warmer than it felt, but it was... a nice feeling, nonetheless.
There was no one else on the Midgard roof - at least, not yet. Grimmjow was not expecting anyone, but he would not really be surprised if someone did show up in this communal space anyway. He was alone, just as he always had been, just like old times - it never bothered him. He liked the solitude - he liked to be able to stand here, alone, like this; close his eyes and feel the wind weaving through his clothes, making the ends of his open shirt flap away almost as if it were lashing against him violently, and blowing against his cheek.
It felt like he had been moved from one glided cage to another, but... this place seemed better. No doubt, there was nothing to kill, nothing much to do to feed his thirst for blood, and he was adamant that all the people here were under constant surveillance. But he felt that the leash was looser - much looser than it had been wandering Las Noches. He could do anything with his time, and he did not have to answer directly to anyone. He had a job, but he had gone looking for it by choice, not because he had to get on his knees and grovel at the feet of some arrogant man with a superinflated ego.
He had room to breathe, room to be himself - but it had come with a cost in regard to his past life.
A life he cared little for.
But at least, back then, he had a purpose. As much as he hated to admit it, he accepted that he was created to be a soldier, to shed blood and kill, and eventually to die for a cause that meant nothing to him. He did not have to fight for that kind of reason, but at least fighting had not been pointless.
Here... Here, he was his own king once again, and he had yet to find a purpose.
WHEN: 27th March 1952 [Afternoon]
WHERE: Midgard Rooftops
FILTER: Open to all.
WHAT: Grimmjow takes time out to reflect think about things for the first time since arriving here. Rinali joins him on the roof.
NOTES: It may surprise you that he can be quite coherent and deep. At rare, once-in-a-blue-moon times, anyway.
STATUS: Completed.
The Sun shone down from the zenith of blue, almost clear skies. Small, thin stretches of white cascaded across the expanse of blue, drifting along with the occasional breeze, traversing the skies like a fleet of boats slowly sailing across the ocean.
For someone who had spent most of his life wandering in perpetual night, Grimmjow could really appreciate the day time. He had watched the Sun rise for what felt like the first time in his entire life this morning, and it... calmed some of the restlessness he had been feeling since arriving in this unknown place. The feeling of the Sun on his face was almost novel, and his skin was actually heated and warm from the rays of light it could bask in and absorb. It might have been windy, and it might be warmer than it felt, but it was... a nice feeling, nonetheless.
There was no one else on the Midgard roof - at least, not yet. Grimmjow was not expecting anyone, but he would not really be surprised if someone did show up in this communal space anyway. He was alone, just as he always had been, just like old times - it never bothered him. He liked the solitude - he liked to be able to stand here, alone, like this; close his eyes and feel the wind weaving through his clothes, making the ends of his open shirt flap away almost as if it were lashing against him violently, and blowing against his cheek.
It felt like he had been moved from one glided cage to another, but... this place seemed better. No doubt, there was nothing to kill, nothing much to do to feed his thirst for blood, and he was adamant that all the people here were under constant surveillance. But he felt that the leash was looser - much looser than it had been wandering Las Noches. He could do anything with his time, and he did not have to answer directly to anyone. He had a job, but he had gone looking for it by choice, not because he had to get on his knees and grovel at the feet of some arrogant man with a superinflated ego.
He had room to breathe, room to be himself - but it had come with a cost in regard to his past life.
A life he cared little for.
But at least, back then, he had a purpose. As much as he hated to admit it, he accepted that he was created to be a soldier, to shed blood and kill, and eventually to die for a cause that meant nothing to him. He did not have to fight for that kind of reason, but at least fighting had not been pointless.
Here... Here, he was his own king once again, and he had yet to find a purpose.