[INCOMPLETE] Kadaj, chaos.
Who: Kadaj and chaos.
When: Evening.
Where: The hospital.
Rating: At least PG-13, since, well, it's the hospital.
Warnings: Probable violence and creepy stuff.
Summary: Growing ever more curious about Purgatorium, chaos goes with Kadaj to see the hospital.
They walked in relative silence for a long time, save for boot-soles crunching in the compacted snow. This meeting of theirs had a tone very different from their last already, the tranquil midday spent in the forest a memory now. Tonight wasn't about rest or recovering oneself. Tonight, chaos pressed deeper out of concern and necessity and precious little desire.
He had considered that perhaps much of this was the simple fact of his incompatible nature here in action. Nothing had been right since he'd arrived. He walked through this world inseparable from the thoughts and feelings and awareness of his own, always connected--it was like watching a movie with the wrong soundtrack playing on in the background. Though never truly alone, and though his empathy remained as sharp as ever for Purgatorium's people, it did contribute to what chaos was steadily beginning to worry was a sense of isolation here.
That was why he was so grateful to Jenova, though she'd never given of herself to him by choice. Through her, he had found himself with a sudden rapport with this world and the people in it. Some more than others. It wasn't that Kadaj helped him to feel less alone in the world. That wasn't... the whole of it, anyway. Not even most of it.
He turned his head to the side as though observing their passing surroundings so Kadaj couldn't see the frown that passed over his face. This place was changing him. Embodying forces of chaos as he did, it should have come as no particular surprise that this could happen. Instead, though, it was bringing to light an uncomfortable realization of just how constant he had always been. He knew he could cope with it. Maybe, though--just maybe--he felt anxious for the uncertainty of the process.
Every so often the wind gusted a bitter chill against his face. He slowed after a time, perhaps picking up on Kadaj's own ideas. Perhaps picking up on something else entirely.
"We're close, aren't we?"
When: Evening.
Where: The hospital.
Rating: At least PG-13, since, well, it's the hospital.
Warnings: Probable violence and creepy stuff.
Summary: Growing ever more curious about Purgatorium, chaos goes with Kadaj to see the hospital.
They walked in relative silence for a long time, save for boot-soles crunching in the compacted snow. This meeting of theirs had a tone very different from their last already, the tranquil midday spent in the forest a memory now. Tonight wasn't about rest or recovering oneself. Tonight, chaos pressed deeper out of concern and necessity and precious little desire.
He had considered that perhaps much of this was the simple fact of his incompatible nature here in action. Nothing had been right since he'd arrived. He walked through this world inseparable from the thoughts and feelings and awareness of his own, always connected--it was like watching a movie with the wrong soundtrack playing on in the background. Though never truly alone, and though his empathy remained as sharp as ever for Purgatorium's people, it did contribute to what chaos was steadily beginning to worry was a sense of isolation here.
That was why he was so grateful to Jenova, though she'd never given of herself to him by choice. Through her, he had found himself with a sudden rapport with this world and the people in it. Some more than others. It wasn't that Kadaj helped him to feel less alone in the world. That wasn't... the whole of it, anyway. Not even most of it.
He turned his head to the side as though observing their passing surroundings so Kadaj couldn't see the frown that passed over his face. This place was changing him. Embodying forces of chaos as he did, it should have come as no particular surprise that this could happen. Instead, though, it was bringing to light an uncomfortable realization of just how constant he had always been. He knew he could cope with it. Maybe, though--just maybe--he felt anxious for the uncertainty of the process.
Every so often the wind gusted a bitter chill against his face. He slowed after a time, perhaps picking up on Kadaj's own ideas. Perhaps picking up on something else entirely.
"We're close, aren't we?"