[Open and Incomplete]
Who: Schuldig and whoever (Open)
When: Tonight
Where: Sunde
Rating: TBA
Warnings: None yet
Summary: Schuldig loves his Sunde, oh yes he does. So that's where he's at, getting drunk and watching jubblies bounce.
His head hurt. The bitch-kitty of a migraine he'd had upon awakening from death hadn't retreated much as of yet. If he was ever forced to kill himself again, he was aiming for the heart or anywhere but the brain. In his mind's eye, he could imagine all sorts of horrible things like bits of lead still stuck in there. Impossible, yes, but Schuldig had a fantastic imagination.
Either way, headshots were out for the future.
Nodding to the tender, he poured himself two fingers of scotch and took a sip. He would have liked whiskey (not whisky), but getting drunk again wasn't a great idea. The hangover had not mixed well with the migraine. Sparking a cigarette, the telepath leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
The minds of those around him were there, always there, whispers and nudgings on his conscious thought to listen to them. He followed down the mental circuit of his connections, studying them and then moving to the minds they brought him to. True enough, he could find anyone he needed to in Purg anyways, except for those blocked to him. His connections merely made it easier and kept him appraised of their condition, much like televisions spitting static in a distant room. Assuring himself of their well-being, Schuldig opened his eyes.
A draw was taken from his cigarette as he studied the ceiling. The music and flickering candlelight made his headache pulse on the edge of sickness, but it was comforting as well. He toyed with the idea of stepping outside for a few minutes, but was willing to be that would bring either Kuro or Sylar lurking after him. Maybe.
Sighing, he set his glass on the table and rubbed at his temples with his free hand, willing the headache to receed some.
When: Tonight
Where: Sunde
Rating: TBA
Warnings: None yet
Summary: Schuldig loves his Sunde, oh yes he does. So that's where he's at, getting drunk and watching jubblies bounce.
His head hurt. The bitch-kitty of a migraine he'd had upon awakening from death hadn't retreated much as of yet. If he was ever forced to kill himself again, he was aiming for the heart or anywhere but the brain. In his mind's eye, he could imagine all sorts of horrible things like bits of lead still stuck in there. Impossible, yes, but Schuldig had a fantastic imagination.
Either way, headshots were out for the future.
Nodding to the tender, he poured himself two fingers of scotch and took a sip. He would have liked whiskey (not whisky), but getting drunk again wasn't a great idea. The hangover had not mixed well with the migraine. Sparking a cigarette, the telepath leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
The minds of those around him were there, always there, whispers and nudgings on his conscious thought to listen to them. He followed down the mental circuit of his connections, studying them and then moving to the minds they brought him to. True enough, he could find anyone he needed to in Purg anyways, except for those blocked to him. His connections merely made it easier and kept him appraised of their condition, much like televisions spitting static in a distant room. Assuring himself of their well-being, Schuldig opened his eyes.
A draw was taken from his cigarette as he studied the ceiling. The music and flickering candlelight made his headache pulse on the edge of sickness, but it was comforting as well. He toyed with the idea of stepping outside for a few minutes, but was willing to be that would bring either Kuro or Sylar lurking after him. Maybe.
Sighing, he set his glass on the table and rubbed at his temples with his free hand, willing the headache to receed some.