[COMPLETE]
Who: Schuldig and anyone who feels like dropping in.
When: Evening/Night
Where: in the city
Rating: PG-13 since Schuldig tends to curse.
Warnings: None
Summary: The telepath is not impressed.
Darkness everywhere and the sea water rushing in. Those were the last two things he remembered. Schuldig groaned as he struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the cracked brick wall. He winced at the slick-slimy feel of the stone but standing on his own wasn't happening just yet. What the hell? Had he cracked his head after fighting with Balinese?
The voices that had been at bay began rushing in. Schuldig braced himself, mentally and physically, as the wave slid over him. The hard hit never came. Frowning, Schuldig cast around for minds, those he could reach lighting up like blips on a screen in his mind. Where were the rest? Within this whole city he could reach less minds than he could at five hundred feet in Tokyo.
"What is going on?" he muttered to himself, trying again. His telepathy wasn't having difficulties. There simply wasn't as many minds for him to reach as there should have been.
More importantly, there was no mental blindspot where Crawford should have been, no writhing mass of bloodied madness should have been, and no calm surface of Nagi.
Twenty minutes later and communication with some of the inhabitants of this place found Schuldig in a much better mood. So, he was in Hell. Not everyday he ended up there. What he needed was more information. These people, for the most part, really believed they had died and ended up here. Schuldig could think of much worse places to be once dead.
Cigarette smoke teased at his senses, the German turning on his heel to grin at the man walking by with the precious tobacco.
"How about you give those to me?" Schuldig suggested. Forcefully.
A few minutes later, cigarette pack in pocket along with a lighter, the telepath waved to the confused looking man. "For everyone's best interest, I think you should forget meeting me. I bet you left your smokes at work, didn't you?"
Of course the man did. He could actually see them in his mind sitting on his desk. Damn his forgetfulness.
Schuldig grinned, sparked a cigarette and slid it between his lips as he looked around. A minute later, Schuldig set off down the alleyway, humming to himself. He rather liked this new tune he'd picked up from someone's head.
"Try to make me go to rehab, I say no, no, no..."
Who needed iPod when they had iTelepathy?
When: Evening/Night
Where: in the city
Rating: PG-13 since Schuldig tends to curse.
Warnings: None
Summary: The telepath is not impressed.
Darkness everywhere and the sea water rushing in. Those were the last two things he remembered. Schuldig groaned as he struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the cracked brick wall. He winced at the slick-slimy feel of the stone but standing on his own wasn't happening just yet. What the hell? Had he cracked his head after fighting with Balinese?
The voices that had been at bay began rushing in. Schuldig braced himself, mentally and physically, as the wave slid over him. The hard hit never came. Frowning, Schuldig cast around for minds, those he could reach lighting up like blips on a screen in his mind. Where were the rest? Within this whole city he could reach less minds than he could at five hundred feet in Tokyo.
"What is going on?" he muttered to himself, trying again. His telepathy wasn't having difficulties. There simply wasn't as many minds for him to reach as there should have been.
More importantly, there was no mental blindspot where Crawford should have been, no writhing mass of bloodied madness should have been, and no calm surface of Nagi.
Twenty minutes later and communication with some of the inhabitants of this place found Schuldig in a much better mood. So, he was in Hell. Not everyday he ended up there. What he needed was more information. These people, for the most part, really believed they had died and ended up here. Schuldig could think of much worse places to be once dead.
Cigarette smoke teased at his senses, the German turning on his heel to grin at the man walking by with the precious tobacco.
"How about you give those to me?" Schuldig suggested. Forcefully.
A few minutes later, cigarette pack in pocket along with a lighter, the telepath waved to the confused looking man. "For everyone's best interest, I think you should forget meeting me. I bet you left your smokes at work, didn't you?"
Of course the man did. He could actually see them in his mind sitting on his desk. Damn his forgetfulness.
Schuldig grinned, sparked a cigarette and slid it between his lips as he looked around. A minute later, Schuldig set off down the alleyway, humming to himself. He rather liked this new tune he'd picked up from someone's head.
"Try to make me go to rehab, I say no, no, no..."
Who needed iPod when they had iTelepathy?