My love is vengeance
Who: Jo and Otto
When: Wednesday, November 24th
Where: Otto's house
What: Otto is emo after the breakup with Feliciano. Jo finds out just how much it has affected him.
Warning: Drunkenness, violence against a poor, poor door
Jo: "Hey....Hey, Otto, a-are you okay in there? Otto? Y-You haven't come out of your room in a while..."
Otto: [There is a bump like flesh hitting wood and angry-sounding German, then:] ...Johanna? [Otto's voice sounds like he hasn't used it in days]
Jo: Y-Yes? Otto? A-Are you okay in there?
Otto: [Silence, then the door opens a crack to reveal an icy blue eyes peering out, bags from lack of sleep and the intense stench of alcohol.] ...Does it look like I am okay?
Jo: [She took a large step back, shocked.] O-Oh god, Otto....
Otto: [Those eyes narrow, then he snorts cynically.] God indeed. Like He's helping here.
Jo: [The girl steps forward slightly to push on the door, silently asking he open it.] H-Hey, you need to come out of there. I-Its not healthy, Otto...
Otto: [Otto does not resist, and the door opens to reveal that he's in a wrinkled white tank top and military slacks. He is leaning against the door frame for support, and a half-full bottle of hard German liquor is clutched in his hand that was obscured by the door. A few other bottles are strewn on the floor behind him, and the sheets have been torn off of his bed to cover the chest in the corner.]
Jo: [Her nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed.] You need a shower too.
Otto: [Eyes narrow more, and his tone is cold, clipped and angry.] What I need is none of that. But I am aware.
Jo: [She flinched.] O-Otto, calm down, y-you're just going through a bit of a hard time right now.
Otto: A bit? A bit? [He doesn't shout. No. He doesn't even raise his voice. But the tone is so cold, so intense that the anger is palpable nonetheless.] You have no idea.
Jo: D-Do not take that tone with me. [She tries to add force to that tone but it fails miserably, coming out shaky and sad instead.] Just...c-calm down and we can...t-talk about this.
Otto: What is there to talk about? [He takes a long swig of the liquor and coughs as he goes to set it down, glaring at the wall behind her.] D-do you even have any idea what happened?!
Jo: No, b-but I can assume. [She looked hesitant but continued anyway.] I-Is it....Feliciano?
Otto: Ja. [He's breathing deeply, clutching the door with white-knuckled hands to steady himself.] Yes.
Jo: [She gulped and took a shaky breath, a tad frightened by the man in front of her.] W-Well, lets uh...go downstairs a-and um...I-I'll make you eggs or something. O-Or try, I don't seem to have much luck in the cooking department. [She chuckled, but it was mirthless and dead.]
Otto: [His eyes turn towards her, and though they are still hard, weariness and despair can be seen in them. The accompanying anger and bitterness, though, is overwhelming. At least it doesn't seem to be directed at her though.] ...no. I have no need for food right now. Perhaps at a later time.
Jo: [She bit her lip and nodded.] A-Are you sure? I-Its....Trust me Otto, w-when bad things happen, you can't just keep them inside. O-Or they just....fester a-and rot and.....b-before you know it, there's not fixing it.
Otto: There's no fixing this either, it seems. [His eyes are shadowed as he stretches himself up to his full height, his voice low and cold.] Such advice doesn't help this situation! He broke his word, and there's nothing that can be done about that! [He seems to be cracking the door a bit, the wood bending in towards the hollow part between them as a result of his tight grip.]
Jo: [Their height difference was so much more apparent here. Otto, nice, kind, awkward Otto, was actually frightening here. Legitmately scary.] S-Stop it, Otto, you're frightening me. [She shrunk against the wall, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.] G-Getting angry isn't going to fix anything! You must know this, you're a smart man!
Otto: Not angry towards you. [He grumbled, heaving and finally releasing the door.] Anger help in the past. Es konzentriert sich fur das toten. [Voice cold, but... almost expectant there.] (Translation: It focuses for killing.)
Jo: A-Anger pointed at anyone won't help you. [She, herself, was getting mad at this point, her face flushing in frustration.] And drinking yourself into a stupor won't help either!
Otto: Wrong! [His hand slams down onto the door in subconscious movement attached to the rage, splitting the wood where it hit.] If you don't like it, don't like it. But it works.
Jo: [The sudden movement and the crack of wood illicited a small scream from Johanna and her eyes closed out of instinct and her hands raised to protect her face. As he spoke again, her eyes cracked open, wide in terror and her voice didn't seem to come to her at first. Her head started to shake back and forth.] I-I am out of here. Y-You- O-Otto, y-you cannot- Th-This is just- [she turned and walked towards her room.] I
I-I'm leaving! C-call when you're sober and maybe I'll come back!
Otto: [Otto reared back at the scream, eyes wide and his other hand coming up to cover his sensitive ears. It seemed for a moment that the sound had broken through his drunken anger to find his more sensible nature, but then his eyes narrowed again.] I-I... [He murmured to himself, and slammed the broken door shut back in front of him.]
...sober or not, I will be doing something about the cause of this...
When: Wednesday, November 24th
Where: Otto's house
What: Otto is emo after the breakup with Feliciano. Jo finds out just how much it has affected him.
Warning: Drunkenness, violence against a poor, poor door
Jo: "Hey....Hey, Otto, a-are you okay in there? Otto? Y-You haven't come out of your room in a while..."
Otto: [There is a bump like flesh hitting wood and angry-sounding German, then:] ...Johanna? [Otto's voice sounds like he hasn't used it in days]
Jo: Y-Yes? Otto? A-Are you okay in there?
Otto: [Silence, then the door opens a crack to reveal an icy blue eyes peering out, bags from lack of sleep and the intense stench of alcohol.] ...Does it look like I am okay?
Jo: [She took a large step back, shocked.] O-Oh god, Otto....
Otto: [Those eyes narrow, then he snorts cynically.] God indeed. Like He's helping here.
Jo: [The girl steps forward slightly to push on the door, silently asking he open it.] H-Hey, you need to come out of there. I-Its not healthy, Otto...
Otto: [Otto does not resist, and the door opens to reveal that he's in a wrinkled white tank top and military slacks. He is leaning against the door frame for support, and a half-full bottle of hard German liquor is clutched in his hand that was obscured by the door. A few other bottles are strewn on the floor behind him, and the sheets have been torn off of his bed to cover the chest in the corner.]
Jo: [Her nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed.] You need a shower too.
Otto: [Eyes narrow more, and his tone is cold, clipped and angry.] What I need is none of that. But I am aware.
Jo: [She flinched.] O-Otto, calm down, y-you're just going through a bit of a hard time right now.
Otto: A bit? A bit? [He doesn't shout. No. He doesn't even raise his voice. But the tone is so cold, so intense that the anger is palpable nonetheless.] You have no idea.
Jo: D-Do not take that tone with me. [She tries to add force to that tone but it fails miserably, coming out shaky and sad instead.] Just...c-calm down and we can...t-talk about this.
Otto: What is there to talk about? [He takes a long swig of the liquor and coughs as he goes to set it down, glaring at the wall behind her.] D-do you even have any idea what happened?!
Jo: No, b-but I can assume. [She looked hesitant but continued anyway.] I-Is it....Feliciano?
Otto: Ja. [He's breathing deeply, clutching the door with white-knuckled hands to steady himself.] Yes.
Jo: [She gulped and took a shaky breath, a tad frightened by the man in front of her.] W-Well, lets uh...go downstairs a-and um...I-I'll make you eggs or something. O-Or try, I don't seem to have much luck in the cooking department. [She chuckled, but it was mirthless and dead.]
Otto: [His eyes turn towards her, and though they are still hard, weariness and despair can be seen in them. The accompanying anger and bitterness, though, is overwhelming. At least it doesn't seem to be directed at her though.] ...no. I have no need for food right now. Perhaps at a later time.
Jo: [She bit her lip and nodded.] A-Are you sure? I-Its....Trust me Otto, w-when bad things happen, you can't just keep them inside. O-Or they just....fester a-and rot and.....b-before you know it, there's not fixing it.
Otto: There's no fixing this either, it seems. [His eyes are shadowed as he stretches himself up to his full height, his voice low and cold.] Such advice doesn't help this situation! He broke his word, and there's nothing that can be done about that! [He seems to be cracking the door a bit, the wood bending in towards the hollow part between them as a result of his tight grip.]
Jo: [Their height difference was so much more apparent here. Otto, nice, kind, awkward Otto, was actually frightening here. Legitmately scary.] S-Stop it, Otto, you're frightening me. [She shrunk against the wall, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.] G-Getting angry isn't going to fix anything! You must know this, you're a smart man!
Otto: Not angry towards you. [He grumbled, heaving and finally releasing the door.] Anger help in the past. Es konzentriert sich fur das toten. [Voice cold, but... almost expectant there.] (Translation: It focuses for killing.)
Jo: A-Anger pointed at anyone won't help you. [She, herself, was getting mad at this point, her face flushing in frustration.] And drinking yourself into a stupor won't help either!
Otto: Wrong! [His hand slams down onto the door in subconscious movement attached to the rage, splitting the wood where it hit.] If you don't like it, don't like it. But it works.
Jo: [The sudden movement and the crack of wood illicited a small scream from Johanna and her eyes closed out of instinct and her hands raised to protect her face. As he spoke again, her eyes cracked open, wide in terror and her voice didn't seem to come to her at first. Her head started to shake back and forth.] I-I am out of here. Y-You- O-Otto, y-you cannot- Th-This is just- [she turned and walked towards her room.] I
I-I'm leaving! C-call when you're sober and maybe I'll come back!
Otto: [Otto reared back at the scream, eyes wide and his other hand coming up to cover his sensitive ears. It seemed for a moment that the sound had broken through his drunken anger to find his more sensible nature, but then his eyes narrowed again.] I-I... [He murmured to himself, and slammed the broken door shut back in front of him.]
...sober or not, I will be doing something about the cause of this...