[Week 14 | Day 5] [Solo] Nothing So Fancy As a Death March (backdated)
Who: Misa Amane (lovesickkiller )
Status: Closed, complete.
Style: Third person present.
Where: Raisato
When: Week 14, Day 5
Summary: Misa haz Death Note, takes happy stroll among the refugees.
There’s a certain lightness to her step as she walks through the street, nearly skipping. It’s a sharp contrast against the haggard faces of the other refugees lining the street, shuffling about with their eyes to the ground or focused on the strange, perky blonde without a mark on her forehead. Misa certainly isn’t looking her best, eyes sallow and not a hint of makeup to cover it; but she feels her best.
The Death Note is still cool where it sits firmly against her stomach, tied in place beneath her robe by a well placed obi. Maybe she should walk more sedately, least she risk it falling out, but she can’t help the restless energy the book’s touch brings her; it feels like a kiss. Besides, she had practiced walking around her temporary room this way before leaving, and is confident that it’s secure.
A smile makes its way to her lips. A god is smiling on her, after all. It reminds her of home.
Her eyes flick to the left, then the right, taking in the sharp red text floating above the heads in the crowd. She stops to concentrate on certain faces, selected randomly, and memorizes the appearance and name before moving on. If they give her an odd look, so what? They’re staring at her already anyway. But it doesn’t bother her; Misa is used to being followed by throngs of adoring fans, after all. A curious or distrustful glare isn’t so different if she doesn’t care what sort of expression they’re making.
She hopes that it will be enough. The god made it seem like they were supposed to kill other arrivals, not locals, but there’s only so many of the other outsiders whose names are clear before her. A tiny frown at that. But it’s okay- she has her Death Note, and however impaired she still has her eyes. She can dispose of as many as she can, and then turn to these people once she’s done.
Or perhaps combine the two.
A contemplative tap of her finger against her lower lip. Heart attacks would certainly be suspicious, as would be offing nearly everyone who gave her a full name; there hadn’t been much overlap between the names she could see and those who were intentionally vague.
Well, she’ll just have to get creative.
Status: Closed, complete.
Style: Third person present.
Where: Raisato
When: Week 14, Day 5
Summary: Misa haz Death Note, takes happy stroll among the refugees.
There’s a certain lightness to her step as she walks through the street, nearly skipping. It’s a sharp contrast against the haggard faces of the other refugees lining the street, shuffling about with their eyes to the ground or focused on the strange, perky blonde without a mark on her forehead. Misa certainly isn’t looking her best, eyes sallow and not a hint of makeup to cover it; but she feels her best.
The Death Note is still cool where it sits firmly against her stomach, tied in place beneath her robe by a well placed obi. Maybe she should walk more sedately, least she risk it falling out, but she can’t help the restless energy the book’s touch brings her; it feels like a kiss. Besides, she had practiced walking around her temporary room this way before leaving, and is confident that it’s secure.
A smile makes its way to her lips. A god is smiling on her, after all. It reminds her of home.
Her eyes flick to the left, then the right, taking in the sharp red text floating above the heads in the crowd. She stops to concentrate on certain faces, selected randomly, and memorizes the appearance and name before moving on. If they give her an odd look, so what? They’re staring at her already anyway. But it doesn’t bother her; Misa is used to being followed by throngs of adoring fans, after all. A curious or distrustful glare isn’t so different if she doesn’t care what sort of expression they’re making.
She hopes that it will be enough. The god made it seem like they were supposed to kill other arrivals, not locals, but there’s only so many of the other outsiders whose names are clear before her. A tiny frown at that. But it’s okay- she has her Death Note, and however impaired she still has her eyes. She can dispose of as many as she can, and then turn to these people once she’s done.
Or perhaps combine the two.
A contemplative tap of her finger against her lower lip. Heart attacks would certainly be suspicious, as would be offing nearly everyone who gave her a full name; there hadn’t been much overlap between the names she could see and those who were intentionally vague.
Well, she’ll just have to get creative.