[Closed; Finished]
Who: Honda Kiku - blood_ofthe_sun (Closed)
Where: Not to far from the Prison.
When: Close to curfew.
Summary: Kiku is unsure of where exactly he stands.
Rating: Eh PG?
Other: fsdfdgdgs
Fingers gently compressed the thin sheet of paper-digits sliding across to flatten it as he slowly looked up away from his little project to the sky above. A small mound of the paper waterfowl was building up beside him where he sat on a bench. It was still cold outside yes, but being equipped the gifts he was given, did well to fight of the cool air of winter. He was seated outside - not to far from the Prison he called ‘home’. In fact it was still in eye sight if he turned his head to the right to see it.
So he had one day to finish these cranes before shogatsu… This one would certainly not be as grand as his last New Years back home. Such an important holiday to him… but what did it truly matter when it came from a place already scorched, dead and dry? Fingertips ceased they’re folding…merely holding the half made crane in his hands as his shadowed eyes closed partially while his face continued to aim up to the sky.
“I can’t make soba……” he mumbled under his breath before allowing his face to finally aim back down as he proceeded to finish making the crane he was on. Perhaps though he would be able to at the least go out and view the coming new year’s sun rise… at least that was one tradition he could still do while wearing this metal collar around his neck that symbolized so much besides the obvious.
With a soft touch the neck of the crane was made and the bird sat upon his open palm- propping his elbow to the wood his eyes gazed at the little artistic design as his thoughts swirled quietly in the confines of his mind.
Who was he to them?
When it came down to it all... was he not just another enemy? In all honesty-was he not the very main reason Alfred had joined the war? Back home? Perhaps-here he was alone. Gently the crane was set atop the pile of inanimate birds. Why did he put faith in that ‘heroic’ blond who didn’t understand him in the slightest sense? When only pain came from it…and pain to Hercules as well and those who cared for the blond glasses wearing blond.
Knuckles kneaded into his cheek as he leaned his head against his fist-elbow propped upon the table as two free fingers gave a small flick to the crane upon the top of the stack causing it to tumble down the rest of the birds.
“Foolish…”.
But was it really?... Perhaps… he himself was no better then this city. For the things he had done things that were still fresh in memory. Why… This city treated they’re POWs better then he treated those he had captured. Killing… torturing… even for those who surrendered to him…He had turned his cold eyes away from them.
“Very foolish…” he nodded, “To trust someone that made so many wounds to you…America-san”. He whispered to himself, eyes cast to the crane that had fallen, resting upon its side.
Yes. He was alone here. No matter how much he pretended things were truly different now…it would not uplift the heavy feeling of sinking isolation. He would do what he had to do in order to be free, in order to survive. Suspicions twisted about his mind, who was to say what Alfred would do once they were free? If ever such a day came…. Ah Arthur had said it well hadn’t he?
"Whatever quarrels we had do not matter now, if they must be attended too then let us wait to do so after we have gained our freedom again. For now I am prepared to let them go in the preference of surviving our current situation."
So clean and proper… dimly the lips painted a faded smile, it was unfortunate things were how they were. He could not allow himself to trust Arthur’s words no more than Alfred’s foolish heroism.
He pushed up-hands collecting the forty or so paper cranes into his arms, pausing to reach over and collect the one that had tumbled away from the rest. With the small birds intact he began to make his way back to the Prison, back to the white walled cell with its cold air of an unfixed heating system.
“Shi wa yasuku, sei wa katashi…”.
Where: Not to far from the Prison.
When: Close to curfew.
Summary: Kiku is unsure of where exactly he stands.
Rating: Eh PG?
Other: fsdfdgdgs
Fingers gently compressed the thin sheet of paper-digits sliding across to flatten it as he slowly looked up away from his little project to the sky above. A small mound of the paper waterfowl was building up beside him where he sat on a bench. It was still cold outside yes, but being equipped the gifts he was given, did well to fight of the cool air of winter. He was seated outside - not to far from the Prison he called ‘home’. In fact it was still in eye sight if he turned his head to the right to see it.
So he had one day to finish these cranes before shogatsu… This one would certainly not be as grand as his last New Years back home. Such an important holiday to him… but what did it truly matter when it came from a place already scorched, dead and dry? Fingertips ceased they’re folding…merely holding the half made crane in his hands as his shadowed eyes closed partially while his face continued to aim up to the sky.
“I can’t make soba……” he mumbled under his breath before allowing his face to finally aim back down as he proceeded to finish making the crane he was on. Perhaps though he would be able to at the least go out and view the coming new year’s sun rise… at least that was one tradition he could still do while wearing this metal collar around his neck that symbolized so much besides the obvious.
With a soft touch the neck of the crane was made and the bird sat upon his open palm- propping his elbow to the wood his eyes gazed at the little artistic design as his thoughts swirled quietly in the confines of his mind.
Who was he to them?
When it came down to it all... was he not just another enemy? In all honesty-was he not the very main reason Alfred had joined the war? Back home? Perhaps-here he was alone. Gently the crane was set atop the pile of inanimate birds. Why did he put faith in that ‘heroic’ blond who didn’t understand him in the slightest sense? When only pain came from it…and pain to Hercules as well and those who cared for the blond glasses wearing blond.
Knuckles kneaded into his cheek as he leaned his head against his fist-elbow propped upon the table as two free fingers gave a small flick to the crane upon the top of the stack causing it to tumble down the rest of the birds.
“Foolish…”.
But was it really?... Perhaps… he himself was no better then this city. For the things he had done things that were still fresh in memory. Why… This city treated they’re POWs better then he treated those he had captured. Killing… torturing… even for those who surrendered to him…He had turned his cold eyes away from them.
“Very foolish…” he nodded, “To trust someone that made so many wounds to you…America-san”. He whispered to himself, eyes cast to the crane that had fallen, resting upon its side.
Yes. He was alone here. No matter how much he pretended things were truly different now…it would not uplift the heavy feeling of sinking isolation. He would do what he had to do in order to be free, in order to survive. Suspicions twisted about his mind, who was to say what Alfred would do once they were free? If ever such a day came…. Ah Arthur had said it well hadn’t he?
"Whatever quarrels we had do not matter now, if they must be attended too then let us wait to do so after we have gained our freedom again. For now I am prepared to let them go in the preference of surviving our current situation."
So clean and proper… dimly the lips painted a faded smile, it was unfortunate things were how they were. He could not allow himself to trust Arthur’s words no more than Alfred’s foolish heroism.
He pushed up-hands collecting the forty or so paper cranes into his arms, pausing to reach over and collect the one that had tumbled away from the rest. With the small birds intact he began to make his way back to the Prison, back to the white walled cell with its cold air of an unfixed heating system.
“Shi wa yasuku, sei wa katashi…”.