I've Waited for Too Long -- Castle Oblivion[Closed]
There was something passive about knowing that there was another soul in the Castle other than himself and his Superior besides the usual inhabitants. The space didn’t seem as empty, yet he knew very well that the man in question was far from welcome in his eyes. It was enough produce a kind of half sneer on his face as he lay back on his bed in his room.
His.
Heh, but it really wasn’t. He still considered himself a guest in these walls. He couldn’t really claim anything as his, because he knew he had no right to. The Notes in his lap lay forgotten, partially blotted with red ink spots and small messages of his own to the creator of these humorous theories. It was enough to drive anyone to a fit of giggles, but Axel was as calm as ever.
Lethargically, the redhead let his gloved fingers press up against his temples and rubbed them gingerly, before letting his free hand wander to the journal that lay beside him. He casually flipped it open and slowly began to read the contents inside, seemingly indifferent too all the words resided within.
…
But then he blinked, and carefully sat up to a sitting position.
He quietly read Riku’s latest entry over and over, eyes narrowing as his mind began to fit puzzle pieces together despite several missing. Yet he was able to grab at them through the darkness, setting them where they needed to be. One would agree that the latter’s words were odd if they understood the situation.
Waving all crude words aside, Axel slammed the book shut and pocketed it in his coat. There was something wrong with this little scene, and the redhead didn’t feel to watch and wait it out anytime soon.
Humor was left only for the Aftermath.
Without another word he was consumed in a cyclone of flames; papers fluttering back from his bed and scattering amongst the floor.
He waited a little too long for them to come back.
His.
Heh, but it really wasn’t. He still considered himself a guest in these walls. He couldn’t really claim anything as his, because he knew he had no right to. The Notes in his lap lay forgotten, partially blotted with red ink spots and small messages of his own to the creator of these humorous theories. It was enough to drive anyone to a fit of giggles, but Axel was as calm as ever.
Lethargically, the redhead let his gloved fingers press up against his temples and rubbed them gingerly, before letting his free hand wander to the journal that lay beside him. He casually flipped it open and slowly began to read the contents inside, seemingly indifferent too all the words resided within.
…
But then he blinked, and carefully sat up to a sitting position.
He quietly read Riku’s latest entry over and over, eyes narrowing as his mind began to fit puzzle pieces together despite several missing. Yet he was able to grab at them through the darkness, setting them where they needed to be. One would agree that the latter’s words were odd if they understood the situation.
Waving all crude words aside, Axel slammed the book shut and pocketed it in his coat. There was something wrong with this little scene, and the redhead didn’t feel to watch and wait it out anytime soon.
Humor was left only for the Aftermath.
Without another word he was consumed in a cyclone of flames; papers fluttering back from his bed and scattering amongst the floor.
He waited a little too long for them to come back.