(56//01) Not Who He Once Was--A Return to Adstringendum
[A voice; a familiar voice to many, no less. Oliver; though it is rough, so perhaps Wyatt, instead.]
Hypocrite
[The video feed flickers on about the time the word is said, and for a moment, it seems as though it may be a voice-only post. Then, the video kicks in properly.
Whoever it is came into the city somewhere with a street lamp, indicating he is probably in the Northwest Quarter. Though it's night time, and raining, he doesn't seem to react to the conditions around him at all, not even to push wet hair from his face.
He is naked, though the fluffy tail over his lap prevents any real indecency. One hand is held out a bit, arm across his chest, as though he slapped someone; but no one is there. He's kneeling, and seems completely confused for a moment. The image is a 3/4 profile, and his right ear is visible. It quivers, folds back then perks forward, only to lower quickly, as though he doesn't know where it belongs. There is no clothing visible, though a red ribbon is tied in a bow on his tail, and a red collar with a long, golden chain at his neck. The chain swings loose, for the moment.
A ragged breath, one that might make some of those who knew Oliver before worry.
And then a scream, surprising in that it seems to be full of anger and rage and hate, even though he still doesn't show any signs of these emotions in his face or movements. And then, he makes a fist with his right hand and begins to punch the concrete of the sidewalk upon which he is currently kneeling. At the second punch, there's blood. After the fourth punch, it's clear he isn't really holding back because even on the PCD a crunch and crack is heard. At the seventh, his hand stops working right, and he has to make it into a fist with the other. After it strikes the ground, he doesn't move for a very long time, merely struggles a little with his breathing.
For a while, only rain can be heard.]
I'm sorry.
[His voice is weak, now, trembling worse than his ear. He bends in half at a languid pace, until his forehead is against the wet ground. He doesn't seem to care about the clearly broken, and certainly bloody, hand which he just destroyed.]
I'm so sorry.
Please.
Please.
Mistress, let me come back. I won't...I won't...
I'm sorry.
[A half sob, and his ear flicks. And then, save the continued sound of his increasingly laboured breathing and the storm, nothing. No words, no movement, and no response to the PCD, either...only the rain.]
((OOC: Okay. So. This is predated to sometime Early Morning, Monday, Adstring time. This is so insomniacs who wouldn't be online but would be up can post to it.
I have been catching up on past tags with the old Oliver and with Minato around dealing with stuff, and that will continue.
Oliver will not respond to this post for a while; it has been planned that Wyatt will be taking him to Unohana's clinic, so if Wyatt-mun can post something to that effect, maybe, before bed, and all.
Any OOC questions can be asked here, too, if you have them. Night, folks. x_X))
Hypocrite
[The video feed flickers on about the time the word is said, and for a moment, it seems as though it may be a voice-only post. Then, the video kicks in properly.
Whoever it is came into the city somewhere with a street lamp, indicating he is probably in the Northwest Quarter. Though it's night time, and raining, he doesn't seem to react to the conditions around him at all, not even to push wet hair from his face.
He is naked, though the fluffy tail over his lap prevents any real indecency. One hand is held out a bit, arm across his chest, as though he slapped someone; but no one is there. He's kneeling, and seems completely confused for a moment. The image is a 3/4 profile, and his right ear is visible. It quivers, folds back then perks forward, only to lower quickly, as though he doesn't know where it belongs. There is no clothing visible, though a red ribbon is tied in a bow on his tail, and a red collar with a long, golden chain at his neck. The chain swings loose, for the moment.
A ragged breath, one that might make some of those who knew Oliver before worry.
And then a scream, surprising in that it seems to be full of anger and rage and hate, even though he still doesn't show any signs of these emotions in his face or movements. And then, he makes a fist with his right hand and begins to punch the concrete of the sidewalk upon which he is currently kneeling. At the second punch, there's blood. After the fourth punch, it's clear he isn't really holding back because even on the PCD a crunch and crack is heard. At the seventh, his hand stops working right, and he has to make it into a fist with the other. After it strikes the ground, he doesn't move for a very long time, merely struggles a little with his breathing.
For a while, only rain can be heard.]
I'm sorry.
[His voice is weak, now, trembling worse than his ear. He bends in half at a languid pace, until his forehead is against the wet ground. He doesn't seem to care about the clearly broken, and certainly bloody, hand which he just destroyed.]
I'm so sorry.
Please.
Please.
Mistress, let me come back. I won't...I won't...
I'm sorry.
[A half sob, and his ear flicks. And then, save the continued sound of his increasingly laboured breathing and the storm, nothing. No words, no movement, and no response to the PCD, either...only the rain.]
((OOC: Okay. So. This is predated to sometime Early Morning, Monday, Adstring time. This is so insomniacs who wouldn't be online but would be up can post to it.
I have been catching up on past tags with the old Oliver and with Minato around dealing with stuff, and that will continue.
Oliver will not respond to this post for a while; it has been planned that Wyatt will be taking him to Unohana's clinic, so if Wyatt-mun can post something to that effect, maybe, before bed, and all.
Any OOC questions can be asked here, too, if you have them. Night, folks. x_X))