O P E N
Title: With Teeth
Characters: Allen Walker forsakenpierrot, OPEN
Location: Library
Rating: N/A
Summary: I'm not dead yet take that schoolsdafl;jsdfk And Allen Walker had been declared enemy to pencils everywhere.
Day/Time: Day 70 because 69's almost over now anyway aaaaugh
There had been a lack of people coming to the library as of late; or maybe it was just him, because he certainly wasn’t getting enough sleep to function anywhere near properly, and who the hell knew what he was missing when he dozed off to sleep in the middle of work.
Tap tap tap and the sharp end of the pencil made a splendid picture of nothing on the almost blank paper in front of him, the myriad of tiny, miniscule dots that had been stabbed into the sheet a perfect reflection of his own mind: nigh-complete dullness. And yet every single marring was made with painstaking labor, as if it actually meant something-which it didn’t, of course, but it was always nice to live in denial every now and then. It was such a pity that he didn’t care.
The soft, yielding eraser tip now absently clenched between his teeth and to be presently mauled by habit; a lock of colorless hair twined around his index finger as ponderous eyes roved over the desk, seeking out something to occupy him with no real motive.
Gray eyes landed on a stapler-no, too generic-and then on a mug-too…unusable..?-and pale lips pulled down into a frown as he finally noticed there were very few things on the desk he could actually make something out of, because everything else was either book parts or books or work-related things and he certainly wasn’t about to waste any money by destroying ‘useful’ items and buying replacements before anyone noticed. He didn’t have to worry about food costs as much now, yes, but there were still other things that greedily clamored for his wallet, and God help him if he ever ran out.
Absently rolling the pencil to the other corner of his mouth and spitting out a small piece of the eraser that had come loose, Allen slumped over the desk, giving the leg of the chair opposite of him a half-hearted kick when his boot bumped against the crossbar. The wooden furnishing skid back a couple of inches before tipping dangerously and wavering on its legs, and stumbled back to more or less its original position.
The pencil now had a beautiful set of teeth marks imbedded into it.
Characters: Allen Walker forsakenpierrot, OPEN
Location: Library
Rating: N/A
Summary: I'm not dead yet take that schoolsdafl;jsdfk And Allen Walker had been declared enemy to pencils everywhere.
Day/Time: Day 70 because 69's almost over now anyway aaaaugh
There had been a lack of people coming to the library as of late; or maybe it was just him, because he certainly wasn’t getting enough sleep to function anywhere near properly, and who the hell knew what he was missing when he dozed off to sleep in the middle of work.
Tap tap tap and the sharp end of the pencil made a splendid picture of nothing on the almost blank paper in front of him, the myriad of tiny, miniscule dots that had been stabbed into the sheet a perfect reflection of his own mind: nigh-complete dullness. And yet every single marring was made with painstaking labor, as if it actually meant something-which it didn’t, of course, but it was always nice to live in denial every now and then. It was such a pity that he didn’t care.
The soft, yielding eraser tip now absently clenched between his teeth and to be presently mauled by habit; a lock of colorless hair twined around his index finger as ponderous eyes roved over the desk, seeking out something to occupy him with no real motive.
Gray eyes landed on a stapler-no, too generic-and then on a mug-too…unusable..?-and pale lips pulled down into a frown as he finally noticed there were very few things on the desk he could actually make something out of, because everything else was either book parts or books or work-related things and he certainly wasn’t about to waste any money by destroying ‘useful’ items and buying replacements before anyone noticed. He didn’t have to worry about food costs as much now, yes, but there were still other things that greedily clamored for his wallet, and God help him if he ever ran out.
Absently rolling the pencil to the other corner of his mouth and spitting out a small piece of the eraser that had come loose, Allen slumped over the desk, giving the leg of the chair opposite of him a half-hearted kick when his boot bumped against the crossbar. The wooden furnishing skid back a couple of inches before tipping dangerously and wavering on its legs, and stumbled back to more or less its original position.
The pencil now had a beautiful set of teeth marks imbedded into it.