⚙ 18 }} Epilogue
[Well, that was a nightmare. To hell with the other people - Giriko could care less about them. They weren't the issue; no, the issue was the memories that were coming back of that day, at first slow, but soon crisp, clear, and utterly shattering. It took a lot for Giriko to open up to others, to let them into his life, to trust them, and in turn, offer his odd sense of care and protection in return for their acceptance.
Blinded by rage and hallucinogens, he had cut down two of the closest people he had in Mayfield. Goddamn it, he wasn't supposed to slack off anymore, this wasn't what he wanted at all. Why the fuck did nothing ever work out right?
Was he doing something wrong?
--Nah.
Still, the dismissal didn't make the overwhelming sickness, the feeling of filth no away, nor the weakness, nor the shame. He couldn't quite place the feeling, but it somehow felt familiar - it wasn't at all like when Arachne died, that wasn't his fault. No, this was something different, like something from a far off, distant dream.
The house will find several bottles of whiskey missing from around the house, a MIA mamapapa, and a telephone wire running under the door to the locked master-bedroom. The shower is running.]
[To anyone who answers the phone: you'll notice the distinct sound of running water in the background.]
[Filtered to Justin, Russia, Maka.]
Not a goddamned word about what happened, you got that?
[Filtered to Arachne; hackable by Theta.]
--Oi, you there? It's been awhile, and, well. Shit, this is hard to say, is all. That don't mean anything, right? Right?
I guess, well. I worry, is all.
You doin' okay?
[[OOC: As always, comments will be by ladysawsaw for the purposes of icons.]]
Blinded by rage and hallucinogens, he had cut down two of the closest people he had in Mayfield. Goddamn it, he wasn't supposed to slack off anymore, this wasn't what he wanted at all. Why the fuck did nothing ever work out right?
Was he doing something wrong?
--Nah.
Still, the dismissal didn't make the overwhelming sickness, the feeling of filth no away, nor the weakness, nor the shame. He couldn't quite place the feeling, but it somehow felt familiar - it wasn't at all like when Arachne died, that wasn't his fault. No, this was something different, like something from a far off, distant dream.
The house will find several bottles of whiskey missing from around the house, a MIA mamapapa, and a telephone wire running under the door to the locked master-bedroom. The shower is running.]
[To anyone who answers the phone: you'll notice the distinct sound of running water in the background.]
[Filtered to Justin, Russia, Maka.]
Not a goddamned word about what happened, you got that?
[Filtered to Arachne; hackable by Theta.]
--Oi, you there? It's been awhile, and, well. Shit, this is hard to say, is all. That don't mean anything, right? Right?
I guess, well. I worry, is all.
You doin' okay?
[[OOC: As always, comments will be by ladysawsaw for the purposes of icons.]]