The halls of Ambrosia were never too quiet, some form of a fuck up walking up and down them often. In this case, it was a regular. Someone who couldn't sit still; couldn't stay in one place. Shiroyama Yuu, his empty eyes boring holes into the carpet as he walked, the irises currently fixated on the glowing flame that his antique, silver lighter produced every time he flicked it open.
flick. swoosh. flick. swoosh.
He didn't care that it was late. Dark out, even. He didn't sleep a lot; his frail, too thin body often hurt too much to sleep, and the nightmares of taunting were never too far behind the unlucky times when he could in fact fall into sleep's claws. God, what he would do for a cigarette now. Something to burn his lungs like the fire he held in his hand could burn the outside world. If only everything in this place wasn't non-flammable...
flick. swoosh. flick. swoosh. thud.
The tall brunette looked up at the sound of rapping against the wall, spotting a figure not too far down the dark hallway. He granted him merely a second or two of notice, before dropping his eyes to his lighter again. Whoever it was, he didn't give a duck. It was probably another new kid, another face swarming the halls of Ambrosia, blood on his hands, and spit running down his shirt.
Still too quiet for his tastes even as he gagged up an empty stomach and acidic bile (waves of nausea receding as the scent passed), these ugly carpeted halls and he'd only just gotten here (the silence getting to him; thick and suffocating more than the sickness); nice blast of Sex Pistols would change that well enough and the resulting cacophony and shitfits would prove entertaining if he could find a nice perch. Find a way into the air vents in the building housed any. His fingers itched for any secret, hidden nook or cranny to hide his swarthy body. Itched for the nuisances to be made; each muted heartbeat whispering troubletroubletrouble.
He was a magician with a slight of hand trick, trigger hand merely a receptacle to palm a thin hand rolled cigarette from his thin pocket tin, to his lips; between his fingers if he thought there were reproving footsteps on the horizon. Merely another cunt to mess the halls and replaced the almost stale length back between his lips. Thank the gods for his mother. Poor bitch. But what was a magician without his tools?
Worthless.
"Prick~" Reita crooned in such tasteful greeting, cigarette bobbing between his lips, for the empty wraith stalking the hallway going the opposite way as their points of motion connected then passed. As close to socialisation as he'd get, continuing his slouch in eager search for a fucking way out even if he had to punch out a few bricks himself.
Recognition hit the elder straight in the head, beating at the broken memories. Bored eyes rolled upwards to glare at the voice's owner. It was the kid. The new one, like he'd said. But the Aster kid. Why was he in Ambrosia's halls? In the same moment he'd thought that, he'd decided he didn't give a fuck.
As he passed, Yuu subconsciously stuck his foot out a few inches more than usual, faintly kicking the other's leg out from under him. A smirk played along his lips as he turned to look down at the other, flipping the lighter shut a final time for the moment. His voice rumbled in his throat in as close to laughter as he'd ever get.
"Watch where you're going, fuck up," he drawled out darkly, eyeing the troublemaker. "You look like a typical punk; let me tell you what, in these halls, you wouldn't last a second if you got unlucky enough for someone to choose to wander out of their room at night."
With a lazy, thin hand, he pointed a few doors down. "Why don't you go say good morning to Miki, mn?" he challenged, eyes falling observantly on the cigarette between the other's lips.
It was the last thing he had been expecting; therefore his balance (the purposeful slouch) wasn't enough to keep him on two feet, stumbling barely half a step before falling to bended knee; pitch and planes shifting as he overlapped, momentarily unravelled and struck by such fury (and fear)[waiting for laughter] his head spun [merely hearing incoming thunder]. Reita narrowed his eyes into thin slits; wove a dangerous gaze as he hauled himself up with sore bones that protested the movement.
“Watch where you spazz, retard, or you'll break a leg acting like that,” he hissed, tongue running against the corner of his mouth before he crossed the fabric bandage against it; half intending to spit in the skinny fuckers face. “I could stand the challenge. Looks like I came out at the right time. Gonna show me what you can do?”
His trigger hand shot out of his pocket, quick reflexes and long, strong fingers wrapping tight around the papery skin of the others throat, a wild force behind him pushing the waifish creature back into the wall while his own jutting bones pressed sharp into the withered form. “But if they're all like you or your good friend, I don't think I have much to worry about.” Reita grinned menacingly but with inherent charm and twitched the cigarette between his lips before palming it away out of viewl; no good to him if it fell to sabotage. “I will. Why don't you lead the introduction. Then you can tell me how to get outside.”
"If I showed you what I could do, you'd be a very scared and haunted child," Aoi spoke waveringly, yet darkly; his empty eyes bore straight into Reita's as a thin hand shot up to hook wirey fingers beneath his "trigger hand." Using his fingers as a jack, he worked under his hand before using the other to shove him in the chest and off his frail frame. What he lacked in strength and substance, he made up for with knowledge. Aoi'd been in more fights that this kid could probably count; given he made it through kindergarten, which it didn't look like he did.
"Now why don't you go back to your own halls, freak?" He rolled his eyes, snapping his lighter open, the flame curling into view. It was habit, one he couldn't help at that. At the slight mention of Kouyou, however, he pushed off the wall, voice taking just a faintly darker tone. "Leave him alone. You can mess with me all you want, but you aren't allowed to take advantage of him."
Licking his dry lips, he stood straight, a hand moving to his pocket uncomfortably, in an attempt to keep from scratching at his skin as he often did. "As far as introductions, my name is Shiroyama Yuu. And getting outside? You have better luck getting out of solitary confinement, then getting out of here. I've been here since it started last year. There's no way out, big boy."
“Ooooh, you're a big scary guy. I'm shaking in my boots.” Reita let his hands slip away easily as it was jacked away, danced the step backwards from the other and rolled his eyes in a huge gesture, a sigh accompanying the action. Where was all the fun in being told this shit? He was tired of this guy already. All he wanted to do was laugh at him Nah, these Ambrosia kids were just pathetic. “I bet I'd be oh so terrified. Oh no. Please don't hurt me..” Reita pleased in a girlish, wheedling tone before his lips quirked into a wide grin.
“Nah man, If I stuck to my own halls, I'd get fat. Maybe you should get out around the other halls more, your looking a little plushy around the corners,” he teased, nonchalant and grinning; laughter bubbling under his tongue. “And hey... I'm not gonna take advantage of him. I'll make sure he enjoys every little thing he'll be askin' for more. Can't help my skills.” Letting it rise until it sounded loud amongst the trapping walls, sidestepping the other, and continuing his way down the hall.
No getting outside huh? So they were aiming for a shit load of fat, pale, patients then. “Hmm, guess I'm smokin' in the halls then. See ya, little man~” Stale cigarette back between his lips, lit with a flimsy club pack of matches; ash falling to the floor.
The halls of Ambrosia were never too quiet, some form of a fuck up walking up and down them often. In this case, it was a regular. Someone who couldn't sit still; couldn't stay in one place. Shiroyama Yuu, his empty eyes boring holes into the carpet as he walked, the irises currently fixated on the glowing flame that his antique, silver lighter produced every time he flicked it open.
flick. swoosh. flick. swoosh.
He didn't care that it was late. Dark out, even. He didn't sleep a lot; his frail, too thin body often hurt too much to sleep, and the nightmares of taunting were never too far behind the unlucky times when he could in fact fall into sleep's claws. God, what he would do for a cigarette now. Something to burn his lungs like the fire he held in his hand could burn the outside world. If only everything in this place wasn't non-flammable...
flick. swoosh. flick. swoosh. thud.
The tall brunette looked up at the sound of rapping against the wall, spotting a figure not too far down the dark hallway. He granted him merely a second or two of notice, before dropping his eyes to his lighter again. Whoever it was, he didn't give a duck. It was probably another new kid, another face swarming the halls of Ambrosia, blood on his hands, and spit running down his shirt.
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He was a magician with a slight of hand trick, trigger hand merely a receptacle to palm a thin hand rolled cigarette from his thin pocket tin, to his lips; between his fingers if he thought there were reproving footsteps on the horizon. Merely another cunt to mess the halls and replaced the almost stale length back between his lips. Thank the gods for his mother. Poor bitch. But what was a magician without his tools?
Worthless.
"Prick~" Reita crooned in such tasteful greeting, cigarette bobbing between his lips, for the empty wraith stalking the hallway going the opposite way as their points of motion connected then passed. As close to socialisation as he'd get, continuing his slouch in eager search for a fucking way out even if he had to punch out a few bricks himself.
Reply
Recognition hit the elder straight in the head, beating at the broken memories. Bored eyes rolled upwards to glare at the voice's owner. It was the kid. The new one, like he'd said. But the Aster kid. Why was he in Ambrosia's halls? In the same moment he'd thought that, he'd decided he didn't give a fuck.
As he passed, Yuu subconsciously stuck his foot out a few inches more than usual, faintly kicking the other's leg out from under him. A smirk played along his lips as he turned to look down at the other, flipping the lighter shut a final time for the moment. His voice rumbled in his throat in as close to laughter as he'd ever get.
"Watch where you're going, fuck up," he drawled out darkly, eyeing the troublemaker. "You look like a typical punk; let me tell you what, in these halls, you wouldn't last a second if you got unlucky enough for someone to choose to wander out of their room at night."
With a lazy, thin hand, he pointed a few doors down. "Why don't you go say good morning to Miki, mn?" he challenged, eyes falling observantly on the cigarette between the other's lips.
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“Watch where you spazz, retard, or you'll break a leg acting like that,” he hissed, tongue running against the corner of his mouth before he crossed the fabric bandage against it; half intending to spit in the skinny fuckers face. “I could stand the challenge. Looks like I came out at the right time. Gonna show me what you can do?”
His trigger hand shot out of his pocket, quick reflexes and long, strong fingers wrapping tight around the papery skin of the others throat, a wild force behind him pushing the waifish creature back into the wall while his own jutting bones pressed sharp into the withered form. “But if they're all like you or your good friend, I don't think I have much to worry about.” Reita grinned menacingly but with inherent charm and twitched the cigarette between his lips before palming it away out of viewl; no good to him if it fell to sabotage. “I will. Why don't you lead the introduction. Then you can tell me how to get outside.”
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"Now why don't you go back to your own halls, freak?" He rolled his eyes, snapping his lighter open, the flame curling into view. It was habit, one he couldn't help at that. At the slight mention of Kouyou, however, he pushed off the wall, voice taking just a faintly darker tone. "Leave him alone. You can mess with me all you want, but you aren't allowed to take advantage of him."
Licking his dry lips, he stood straight, a hand moving to his pocket uncomfortably, in an attempt to keep from scratching at his skin as he often did. "As far as introductions, my name is Shiroyama Yuu. And getting outside? You have better luck getting out of solitary confinement, then getting out of here. I've been here since it started last year. There's no way out, big boy."
Reply
“Nah man, If I stuck to my own halls, I'd get fat. Maybe you should get out around the other halls more, your looking a little plushy around the corners,” he teased, nonchalant and grinning; laughter bubbling under his tongue. “And hey... I'm not gonna take advantage of him. I'll make sure he enjoys every little thing he'll be askin' for more. Can't help my skills.” Letting it rise until it sounded loud amongst the trapping walls, sidestepping the other, and continuing his way down the hall.
No getting outside huh? So they were aiming for a shit load of fat, pale, patients then. “Hmm, guess I'm smokin' in the halls then. See ya, little man~” Stale cigarette back between his lips, lit with a flimsy club pack of matches; ash falling to the floor.
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