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Who Ichigo Kurosaki and you
Where The Doll Bathroom
When Day 002
What Ichigo arrives - angry, confused, and generally displeased.
Ichigo could think of a lot of things he didn’t like. When he thought about it, he’d probably be able to count all of the things he did like on both hands. Some things he liked more than others, like most people and like most people, he could say one of the things that bothered him most was not knowing. The haze of confusion that accompanied it, the anxiety that rippled through your muscles or the perhaps even the... strange thread of curiosity that pulled you along - Ichigo wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that bothered him most. He just knew that it did and that in itself, he mused, was enough.
His lips twisted in a scowl at the thought, fingers flexing as his hand closed tighter around the phone in his hands. It gave a faint creak in warning - as if to remind him of its presence - and he seemed to hear it, grip relaxing just the slightest. But the tension in the rest of his body didn’t change, didn’t ease from his muscles in the least. “Dammit,” he cursed faintly with the realization, head turning to glance over his shoulder - determined to catch sight of something, anything familiar. But with the realization that even in that direction, there was nothing, another curse passed his lips in the form of something that was, perhaps, just a step above a growl.
“I don’t remember any of this,” he murmured to himself, taking a second to sweep his hand back to tuck the device back in to the safety of his pocket. The now free hand lifted, pressing to the wall, fingers curling. A beat and his hand lifted only for it to slam against the spot it had previously rested against, rattling the door nearest him as a sharp noise of irritation left him. “I don’t have time for this,” he continued to himself, shaking his head firmly as he drew in a quiet breath. A last ditch attempt to calm himself before he pushed himself farther away from the wall near him, hand dropping - though not low enough to bounce off a clothed side.
Another breath as he straightened, fingers flexing at his sides before he took another step forward - towards the door nearest him. He wasn’t sure where it led to, he idled, but looking for an answer, a way out of this strange confusion he’d found himself mixed up in was better than standing there not knowing. His hand closed around the knob, lingering there for a few seconds before finally -- he turned it, pushing the door, the mahogany eyes narrowing uncertainly. He stayed rooted in his place for a few seconds, eyes sweeping the strange bathroom before he stepped in to it. A quick glance around the room was enough to tell him that he didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to think about what kind of person could design such a strange place.
Ichigo lingered for a few seconds longer, eyes trained on one of the dolls on the shelf - on the strange stare that seemed fixated on a spot on the wall just past one shoulder. Another thing he didn’t like, he decided, lips curling in disapproval. But as the orange-haired youth stood there, he was suddenly aware of the strange feeling creeping down his spine. The shallow burn of someone’s gaze on his back. His lips rolled back in a sneer and he whirled, frustration on the tip of his tongue.
“The hell are you staring a--” Angry brown eyes stared back at him in the mirror but in the corner of his eye, he could see it. The accusing, lifeless gaze fixated on him in the looking glass.
Where The Doll Bathroom
When Day 002
What Ichigo arrives - angry, confused, and generally displeased.
Ichigo could think of a lot of things he didn’t like. When he thought about it, he’d probably be able to count all of the things he did like on both hands. Some things he liked more than others, like most people and like most people, he could say one of the things that bothered him most was not knowing. The haze of confusion that accompanied it, the anxiety that rippled through your muscles or the perhaps even the... strange thread of curiosity that pulled you along - Ichigo wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that bothered him most. He just knew that it did and that in itself, he mused, was enough.
His lips twisted in a scowl at the thought, fingers flexing as his hand closed tighter around the phone in his hands. It gave a faint creak in warning - as if to remind him of its presence - and he seemed to hear it, grip relaxing just the slightest. But the tension in the rest of his body didn’t change, didn’t ease from his muscles in the least. “Dammit,” he cursed faintly with the realization, head turning to glance over his shoulder - determined to catch sight of something, anything familiar. But with the realization that even in that direction, there was nothing, another curse passed his lips in the form of something that was, perhaps, just a step above a growl.
“I don’t remember any of this,” he murmured to himself, taking a second to sweep his hand back to tuck the device back in to the safety of his pocket. The now free hand lifted, pressing to the wall, fingers curling. A beat and his hand lifted only for it to slam against the spot it had previously rested against, rattling the door nearest him as a sharp noise of irritation left him. “I don’t have time for this,” he continued to himself, shaking his head firmly as he drew in a quiet breath. A last ditch attempt to calm himself before he pushed himself farther away from the wall near him, hand dropping - though not low enough to bounce off a clothed side.
Another breath as he straightened, fingers flexing at his sides before he took another step forward - towards the door nearest him. He wasn’t sure where it led to, he idled, but looking for an answer, a way out of this strange confusion he’d found himself mixed up in was better than standing there not knowing. His hand closed around the knob, lingering there for a few seconds before finally -- he turned it, pushing the door, the mahogany eyes narrowing uncertainly. He stayed rooted in his place for a few seconds, eyes sweeping the strange bathroom before he stepped in to it. A quick glance around the room was enough to tell him that he didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to think about what kind of person could design such a strange place.
Ichigo lingered for a few seconds longer, eyes trained on one of the dolls on the shelf - on the strange stare that seemed fixated on a spot on the wall just past one shoulder. Another thing he didn’t like, he decided, lips curling in disapproval. But as the orange-haired youth stood there, he was suddenly aware of the strange feeling creeping down his spine. The shallow burn of someone’s gaze on his back. His lips rolled back in a sneer and he whirled, frustration on the tip of his tongue.
“The hell are you staring a--” Angry brown eyes stared back at him in the mirror but in the corner of his eye, he could see it. The accusing, lifeless gaze fixated on him in the looking glass.