A New Journal for Laharl [Completed]
Character(s): Laharl
Content: Laharl goes to get a new journal after smashing his old one and thinks about his current situation.
Setting: Auntie Unde's I would think...
Time: Evening Week 7
Warnings: None.
"I need a new one," Laharl snapped at the shopkeeper as he dropped the remains of his journal on the counter. Mangled and crushed, it had met a terrible fate by his own hand.
The shopkeeper looked horrified. The city was utterly obsessed with the journals. How one could let such a thing happen to one was unthinkable! There was also the worry of what exactly had happened to cause such destruction. The woman, however, didn't question him him about it.
"H-how horrible! You must have a new one. What colour would you like?"
Colour? Laharl didn't honestly care, but with the option there he did pause a moment to glance at some of the ones displayed, "Guh, I don't really care, but... well... that one."
He pointed to a platinum coloured one. She soon handed him it, insisting he take it free of charge. He wasn't about to argue.
Soon he was making his way back towards the hotel, every townsfolk giving him a wide berth as he passed. They especially did after he'd made the mistake of glancing back at the post to see what had happened after he'd killed his previous journal.
"Well... I... see I was correct there. I think I'll... go back to work then. Farewell!"
It took a LOT of willpower not to chuck his brand new journal half across the city at that point. Laharl just cried out in frustration, shoving it into the safety of his scarf.
Why was his Old Man such a fool?
He had run away. AGAIN!
And that bothered Laharl.
Why? It had never really bothered him when he just knew Vyers as Mid-Boss. In fact, he'd been generally glad when his self-proclaimed rival ran off with his stupid excuses. Mid-Boss was just a reoccurring annoyance.
But it was different now. Vyers was his old man.
Everyone as always looked up to King Krichevskoy and admired him as the Overlord, but Laharl had never seen what was so great about him. He'd hated his Dad, in fact. He was meant to after all! He was a demon. But, maybe there were other reasons too. Perhaps it had started when his mother died. His old man had been off creating a new canyon for the Netherworld with his grief, while Laharl had been left to deal with the aftermath on his own. Maybe that was when the rift first appeared.
He could only remember hating him from that point, along with everything else.
That is, until he'd found out the truth. His Father had gone to fight the legendary Overlord Baal and used all his strength to seal the Overlord away. And... died. It had suddenly become harder to hate him. And it had all occurred while Laharl had been in a poisoned sleep. Heh, sleeping through his own Father's death. It wasn't exactly his fault, but...
Wait. No, Etna said his Old Man died and then she'd poisoned him. Probably that drink he'd vaguely remembered drinking before he'd slept...
So, that meant he'd been awake when his Old Man had gone to fight Baal?
Why hadn't his Old Man told him he was going to do that?! ...Then again, it wasn't like he would have cared then. Then again maybe his Father had tried to. He might not have even paid attention or... What about that conversation? When his Old Man had asked him if he loved him? Could... that have been...
Laharl's head spun at these realizations. He wasn't sure how he felt about any of it right now, but it certainly didn't help the current matters any. Dammit, why was things so complicated.
With a sigh, the Overlord made his way back to the hotel.
Content: Laharl goes to get a new journal after smashing his old one and thinks about his current situation.
Setting: Auntie Unde's I would think...
Time: Evening Week 7
Warnings: None.
"I need a new one," Laharl snapped at the shopkeeper as he dropped the remains of his journal on the counter. Mangled and crushed, it had met a terrible fate by his own hand.
The shopkeeper looked horrified. The city was utterly obsessed with the journals. How one could let such a thing happen to one was unthinkable! There was also the worry of what exactly had happened to cause such destruction. The woman, however, didn't question him him about it.
"H-how horrible! You must have a new one. What colour would you like?"
Colour? Laharl didn't honestly care, but with the option there he did pause a moment to glance at some of the ones displayed, "Guh, I don't really care, but... well... that one."
He pointed to a platinum coloured one. She soon handed him it, insisting he take it free of charge. He wasn't about to argue.
Soon he was making his way back towards the hotel, every townsfolk giving him a wide berth as he passed. They especially did after he'd made the mistake of glancing back at the post to see what had happened after he'd killed his previous journal.
"Well... I... see I was correct there. I think I'll... go back to work then. Farewell!"
It took a LOT of willpower not to chuck his brand new journal half across the city at that point. Laharl just cried out in frustration, shoving it into the safety of his scarf.
Why was his Old Man such a fool?
He had run away. AGAIN!
And that bothered Laharl.
Why? It had never really bothered him when he just knew Vyers as Mid-Boss. In fact, he'd been generally glad when his self-proclaimed rival ran off with his stupid excuses. Mid-Boss was just a reoccurring annoyance.
But it was different now. Vyers was his old man.
Everyone as always looked up to King Krichevskoy and admired him as the Overlord, but Laharl had never seen what was so great about him. He'd hated his Dad, in fact. He was meant to after all! He was a demon. But, maybe there were other reasons too. Perhaps it had started when his mother died. His old man had been off creating a new canyon for the Netherworld with his grief, while Laharl had been left to deal with the aftermath on his own. Maybe that was when the rift first appeared.
He could only remember hating him from that point, along with everything else.
That is, until he'd found out the truth. His Father had gone to fight the legendary Overlord Baal and used all his strength to seal the Overlord away. And... died. It had suddenly become harder to hate him. And it had all occurred while Laharl had been in a poisoned sleep. Heh, sleeping through his own Father's death. It wasn't exactly his fault, but...
Wait. No, Etna said his Old Man died and then she'd poisoned him. Probably that drink he'd vaguely remembered drinking before he'd slept...
So, that meant he'd been awake when his Old Man had gone to fight Baal?
Why hadn't his Old Man told him he was going to do that?! ...Then again, it wasn't like he would have cared then. Then again maybe his Father had tried to. He might not have even paid attention or... What about that conversation? When his Old Man had asked him if he loved him? Could... that have been...
Laharl's head spun at these realizations. He wasn't sure how he felt about any of it right now, but it certainly didn't help the current matters any. Dammit, why was things so complicated.
With a sigh, the Overlord made his way back to the hotel.