"'Oh God oh God we're all gonna die'?" [Completed]
Character(s): Ivan
Content: he isn't feeling well and freaks out a little
Setting: Actua Are [J7]
Time: around the same as this thread
Warnings: It's long and more for my own reference than anything else? :D;;
Ivan didn't even make it to the lobby before he lost it. He'd meant to go outside for a minute, just to get some air, but... he was scared. He was all but certain the Organization knew where they were, it was only a matter of time before they came back again. They needed time, was what - for Laharl (and now Flonne, too) to get back their strength, for them to figure out where they were, to figure out where the rest of their friends were being held - but time wasn't something they were going to be allowed. They were all going to be captured, and worse, and there was nothing they could do about it!
But Laharl had taken so much more abuse than he had. If nothing else, Ivan wanted to keep it together for his benefit; he could tell the Overlord was struggling to keep his emotions in check, too. The thoughts of weakness and failure seemed to pummel his mind with an almost ironic degree of strength, wrecking his concentration.
That alone shouldn't have been an issue. But he hadn't meant to listen in on Laharl's thoughts in the first place, and when he'd realized he was doing it and tried to stop, they'd only gotten louder. That was what had prompted him to leave the room, in hopes that putting some distance between them would help.
Shortly said, it didn't. He took out his journal to fumble an apology for rushing out, but halfway through the message, he felt a sudden, painful jolt in his hands and dropped the journal with a yelp and a clatter.
"Owww..." Great, just great, this was all he needed, not only were they all gonna die and he couldn't stay out of his friends' heads but now he was shocking himself on top of everything. He ducked down to pick up the journal, but jerked away as another bolt jumped from his hand to the device. When he actually did grab it a second later, the screen was still on, but flickering and covered in weirdly-colored lines, and it smelled like something was burning inside.
Instead of standing back up, Ivan let himself slump against the hallway wall, eyes squeezed shut. (Of course, thanks to Reveal he could see more with his eyes closed than open anyway.) What was wrong with him? The sick feeling he'd been ignoring all morning had gone and gotten worse, too -
His eyes opened briefly in surprise as the realization hit him. Of course. He was sick. He'd never come down with anything that made him lose his grip on his Psynergy like this before, but it made sense as he thought about it. Wonderful. Okay then. He took a deep breath, wincing as a rogue spark hit him on the ear, then tried again. It suddenly occurred to him why most of the other psychics he'd met had been so big on meditation.
After a few minutes, the worst of it seemed to be past for now, even if he still felt wretched. Ivan pulled himself to his feet and fixed his waistcoat before heading back to the room. They were better off staying together, in any case. He tapped the broken journal's screen, a little disappointed. Especially if this thing was as broken as it looked...
Content: he isn't feeling well and freaks out a little
Setting: Actua Are [J7]
Time: around the same as this thread
Warnings: It's long and more for my own reference than anything else? :D;;
Ivan didn't even make it to the lobby before he lost it. He'd meant to go outside for a minute, just to get some air, but... he was scared. He was all but certain the Organization knew where they were, it was only a matter of time before they came back again. They needed time, was what - for Laharl (and now Flonne, too) to get back their strength, for them to figure out where they were, to figure out where the rest of their friends were being held - but time wasn't something they were going to be allowed. They were all going to be captured, and worse, and there was nothing they could do about it!
But Laharl had taken so much more abuse than he had. If nothing else, Ivan wanted to keep it together for his benefit; he could tell the Overlord was struggling to keep his emotions in check, too. The thoughts of weakness and failure seemed to pummel his mind with an almost ironic degree of strength, wrecking his concentration.
That alone shouldn't have been an issue. But he hadn't meant to listen in on Laharl's thoughts in the first place, and when he'd realized he was doing it and tried to stop, they'd only gotten louder. That was what had prompted him to leave the room, in hopes that putting some distance between them would help.
Shortly said, it didn't. He took out his journal to fumble an apology for rushing out, but halfway through the message, he felt a sudden, painful jolt in his hands and dropped the journal with a yelp and a clatter.
"Owww..." Great, just great, this was all he needed, not only were they all gonna die and he couldn't stay out of his friends' heads but now he was shocking himself on top of everything. He ducked down to pick up the journal, but jerked away as another bolt jumped from his hand to the device. When he actually did grab it a second later, the screen was still on, but flickering and covered in weirdly-colored lines, and it smelled like something was burning inside.
Instead of standing back up, Ivan let himself slump against the hallway wall, eyes squeezed shut. (Of course, thanks to Reveal he could see more with his eyes closed than open anyway.) What was wrong with him? The sick feeling he'd been ignoring all morning had gone and gotten worse, too -
His eyes opened briefly in surprise as the realization hit him. Of course. He was sick. He'd never come down with anything that made him lose his grip on his Psynergy like this before, but it made sense as he thought about it. Wonderful. Okay then. He took a deep breath, wincing as a rogue spark hit him on the ear, then tried again. It suddenly occurred to him why most of the other psychics he'd met had been so big on meditation.
After a few minutes, the worst of it seemed to be past for now, even if he still felt wretched. Ivan pulled himself to his feet and fixed his waistcoat before heading back to the room. They were better off staying together, in any case. He tapped the broken journal's screen, a little disappointed. Especially if this thing was as broken as it looked...