[Thread] Living Ectoplasm
Characters: Ou Johann Krauss, Open
Where: Cemetery
When: Night
Summary: Without anything better to do, Johann goes out wandering around on his own.
Warnings: None.
Johann had his friends here and that was good. But to say the spirit didn't miss his own would have been a lie. And though he hadn't known them long, he considered those in the B.P.R.D. back in his homeworld great friends to have to be without. It was hard. And if that wasn't enough, he missed his research.
He had gotten far on his personal projects, his hobbies of woodwork and reading. But it was not quite the same as the research he did back home. And he could not do the former at night within the apartment. So he usually stayed in the common room, quietly reading a book or simply pondering things, or went out when all else (mostly) were sleeping.
Tonight he headed for the cemetery. It was odd, but he missed the dead things almost as much as he missed the living friends he had. They were apart of him; he apart of them. And yet he was neither.
He walked the gravesites with out-stretched hands, his mind following the gestures, hovering, waiting, searching--looking for anything to chat with that was no longer amongst the living. Surely they were here of all places....
Where: Cemetery
When: Night
Summary: Without anything better to do, Johann goes out wandering around on his own.
Warnings: None.
Johann had his friends here and that was good. But to say the spirit didn't miss his own would have been a lie. And though he hadn't known them long, he considered those in the B.P.R.D. back in his homeworld great friends to have to be without. It was hard. And if that wasn't enough, he missed his research.
He had gotten far on his personal projects, his hobbies of woodwork and reading. But it was not quite the same as the research he did back home. And he could not do the former at night within the apartment. So he usually stayed in the common room, quietly reading a book or simply pondering things, or went out when all else (mostly) were sleeping.
Tonight he headed for the cemetery. It was odd, but he missed the dead things almost as much as he missed the living friends he had. They were apart of him; he apart of them. And yet he was neither.
He walked the gravesites with out-stretched hands, his mind following the gestures, hovering, waiting, searching--looking for anything to chat with that was no longer amongst the living. Surely they were here of all places....