(no subject)
Characters: Stoneface/Sam Vimes (stonyfaced) and Blood/Yachiru (pinkhairechild
Date/Time: October 6th/late afternoon, early evening
Location: Blood's home, then Stoneface's home
Rating: PG-13 for inner monologue cursing
Summary: Ghost has disappeared, and it's Stoneface's job to be the bringer of bad news to his younger sister. I will also be making another thread in here for a solo log for Stoneface to read the letter that was left behind.
Stoneface had woken up to find himself covered in tattoos. On his left cheek bone, there was a bottle neatly labeled XXX on its side with a noose slipping out of the rim instead of liquor, and the bottom of the noose touched the neat writing that wound its way around his neck, proclaiming in bold letters: REVOLUTION.
He fingered it absently as he stared in the mirror, grim in the knowledge that he knew exactly what these tattoos were telling him. On his chest, there were bars (of a jail cell; he had seen enough to recognize that much) and within those bars, there was the silhouette of something large and ominous with beady red eyes. Upon closer inspection, the silhouette somewhat resembled a canine, and there was a badge on its monstrous canine, inscribed with the tiniest markings of 144. There were thick lines drawn from his temples and winding across his arms until they reached the centres of his palms, where he was met with the image of a gavel on his right and a truncheon on his left.
He grimaced. Subtlety was not this place's strong point. There were more tattoos on him, he was sure of it, but he turned away from the mirror for the time being. So there were markings on him. It was the Sphere's doing, so why pay them any mind? He would be lying if he tried to say that it wasn't disturbing, but a few scary pictures on his body wasn't going to stop him from doing his job. The bloody things weren't exactly palatable, but damned if he was going to yield to something like that.
But some of his men would, he'd bet his non-existant badge on that one. Stoneface donned his regular clothing and went out on patrol, daring those who eyed him cautiously to say something along his way to the Park. The rain was only beginning, and it misted pleasantly off of his helmet, and despite the rain it appeared that Ghost had seen fit to spend the bulk of the morning in a tree.
Which was one way to do it, he supposed. He lifted one hand in the air - the one with the gavel on it, he noted - in a friendly sort of way and called out, "I'd get off of there if I were you, lad. It's starting to rain. Besides, you should be at the stall or else Bastet'll have your hide."
Ghost looked down at him, probably about to deliver some smartass comment or another as was their usual, and then he was gone.
Stoneface's brow wrinkled as he stared up, not entirely willing to admit to himself what he just saw and spinning half a dozen half-assed explanations for what he had just seen. Stupidly, he walked around the tree as if Ghost would suddenly appear out of nowhere to laugh at what a gullible old man he was, but he knew the lad better than that. You didn't joke about those things. Still in a state of denial, he scaled the tree to where Ghost was sitting as further confirmation and touched the branch.
Still warm.
He sat on it, then exhaled heavily. "Shit."
Ghost was gone. Not dead, just gone, like so many others. His breathing shallow, he jumped down from the tree, span around and rammed his fist into it. "Shit! No!"
Not now! Not yet! Not another loss, not so soon after escaping one, not before he had a chance to get his things in order, not before he said something besides the fact that he had to get back to work. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ever going to be ready. Not for Ghost. Not again.
He slammed his fist into the tree again before clearing his mind, trying to think calmly, trying to think rationally in a world that could be described as anything but. He stared helplessly at his bloody knuckles and swore, shaking his fist out. There would be time to do everything he wanted to do later, to release the rage that made him want to leap off one of the islands and scream at the Gods for doing it wrong. He had responsibilities, and those came first. Stoneface meant more than just himself, these days. He was a symbol, he was a leader, and more than anything, he had to keep his back straight while those around him crumpled, as he knew they would.
He had no time for remorse. He knew this was coming, just as he knew that soon, it would be Bastet, Justice, Kazahana, Sky, Bridge, even Blood. Maybe him. But you kept on moving, because frankly, you didn't have a choice. It was either that, or drown in your own despair.
He would tell Justice, Bastet and Sky in person before going to see Blood, he decided. Bastet and Justice had already lost so much and Justice had gone almost completely silent in the past few months, but he was the most worried about Sky. He was still so young, so fired up, so deeply affected by what went on around him. And then, thinking about this, his heart sank further into his stomach, realizing that those four were the only ones he knew of that had made a big enough imprint in Ghost's life to tell personally.
That hurt.
Nevertheless, he jammed his helmet further down on his head, kept his back straight and his gait steady as he began walking towards the Housing district, readying himself to tell the news before the truth of it really registered in his mind.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, gaze steely. "Here we go."
Date/Time: October 6th/late afternoon, early evening
Location: Blood's home, then Stoneface's home
Rating: PG-13 for inner monologue cursing
Summary: Ghost has disappeared, and it's Stoneface's job to be the bringer of bad news to his younger sister. I will also be making another thread in here for a solo log for Stoneface to read the letter that was left behind.
Stoneface had woken up to find himself covered in tattoos. On his left cheek bone, there was a bottle neatly labeled XXX on its side with a noose slipping out of the rim instead of liquor, and the bottom of the noose touched the neat writing that wound its way around his neck, proclaiming in bold letters: REVOLUTION.
He fingered it absently as he stared in the mirror, grim in the knowledge that he knew exactly what these tattoos were telling him. On his chest, there were bars (of a jail cell; he had seen enough to recognize that much) and within those bars, there was the silhouette of something large and ominous with beady red eyes. Upon closer inspection, the silhouette somewhat resembled a canine, and there was a badge on its monstrous canine, inscribed with the tiniest markings of 144. There were thick lines drawn from his temples and winding across his arms until they reached the centres of his palms, where he was met with the image of a gavel on his right and a truncheon on his left.
He grimaced. Subtlety was not this place's strong point. There were more tattoos on him, he was sure of it, but he turned away from the mirror for the time being. So there were markings on him. It was the Sphere's doing, so why pay them any mind? He would be lying if he tried to say that it wasn't disturbing, but a few scary pictures on his body wasn't going to stop him from doing his job. The bloody things weren't exactly palatable, but damned if he was going to yield to something like that.
But some of his men would, he'd bet his non-existant badge on that one. Stoneface donned his regular clothing and went out on patrol, daring those who eyed him cautiously to say something along his way to the Park. The rain was only beginning, and it misted pleasantly off of his helmet, and despite the rain it appeared that Ghost had seen fit to spend the bulk of the morning in a tree.
Which was one way to do it, he supposed. He lifted one hand in the air - the one with the gavel on it, he noted - in a friendly sort of way and called out, "I'd get off of there if I were you, lad. It's starting to rain. Besides, you should be at the stall or else Bastet'll have your hide."
Ghost looked down at him, probably about to deliver some smartass comment or another as was their usual, and then he was gone.
Stoneface's brow wrinkled as he stared up, not entirely willing to admit to himself what he just saw and spinning half a dozen half-assed explanations for what he had just seen. Stupidly, he walked around the tree as if Ghost would suddenly appear out of nowhere to laugh at what a gullible old man he was, but he knew the lad better than that. You didn't joke about those things. Still in a state of denial, he scaled the tree to where Ghost was sitting as further confirmation and touched the branch.
Still warm.
He sat on it, then exhaled heavily. "Shit."
Ghost was gone. Not dead, just gone, like so many others. His breathing shallow, he jumped down from the tree, span around and rammed his fist into it. "Shit! No!"
Not now! Not yet! Not another loss, not so soon after escaping one, not before he had a chance to get his things in order, not before he said something besides the fact that he had to get back to work. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ever going to be ready. Not for Ghost. Not again.
He slammed his fist into the tree again before clearing his mind, trying to think calmly, trying to think rationally in a world that could be described as anything but. He stared helplessly at his bloody knuckles and swore, shaking his fist out. There would be time to do everything he wanted to do later, to release the rage that made him want to leap off one of the islands and scream at the Gods for doing it wrong. He had responsibilities, and those came first. Stoneface meant more than just himself, these days. He was a symbol, he was a leader, and more than anything, he had to keep his back straight while those around him crumpled, as he knew they would.
He had no time for remorse. He knew this was coming, just as he knew that soon, it would be Bastet, Justice, Kazahana, Sky, Bridge, even Blood. Maybe him. But you kept on moving, because frankly, you didn't have a choice. It was either that, or drown in your own despair.
He would tell Justice, Bastet and Sky in person before going to see Blood, he decided. Bastet and Justice had already lost so much and Justice had gone almost completely silent in the past few months, but he was the most worried about Sky. He was still so young, so fired up, so deeply affected by what went on around him. And then, thinking about this, his heart sank further into his stomach, realizing that those four were the only ones he knew of that had made a big enough imprint in Ghost's life to tell personally.
That hurt.
Nevertheless, he jammed his helmet further down on his head, kept his back straight and his gait steady as he began walking towards the Housing district, readying himself to tell the news before the truth of it really registered in his mind.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, gaze steely. "Here we go."