Revolution 2.02 - Action/Phone; Dated August 18-20
[It wasn't a surprise, per se, that the milk was bad news, but after seeing Mao's bizarre delusion on Tuesday as well as getting gunned down by a hallucinating Yuna later that day, as well as the calls going out about it, it was clear the milk had some pretty horrific side effects. And, having been made the father of the household, this meant that it was Wilhelm's duty to protect those under his roof from said effects.
And that's precisely what he meant to do.
For the following three days of the event, although not on the last day, Wilhelm will be getting up early enough to try and intercept anyone else from getting the milk and drinking it himself. The results, and interactions with him, are as follows.]
August 18th
[Hey, what's up family. You might notice that the kitchen and restroom cabinets are kind of being quietly gone through by dad. Who is shivering from pain while he tries to keep his body under control. He knows finding something to actually get ride of the effects of the poison inside his body is unlikely, but it would be nice if he could at least find some goddamn painkillers.
Eventually, too weak to move much more, he'll be collapsing on the couch in the front room, blankly staring in front of him. Conscious, and alive, but just barely.]
August 19th
[After his lovely death the day before, today's milk isn't so bad. Comparitively at least. Hey housemates, feel free to notice that dad is going through everything in the house meticulously, rearranging it to his own preference.
And when I say he's going through everything? I mean everything. This includes going into everyone else's rooms and rearranging what's there according to his own system.
After he finishes that, or gets as close as he can to it, he'll be heading to the phone.]
Phone
For as wonderful as mankind is, as talented and powerful as you are? There are times when you sicken me.
Your race has one of the greatest gifts of all: the potential for personal growth. To become more then a sum of your parts. This is a gift few things possess; most must stay as they are, and have always been? But you? All things you might want could eventually be within your reach because of this potential.
And yet, so few of you actually move towards it, grasp it, make it yours. You're far happier with simply allowing others of your race, a select few, do the movement for you and reaping those benefits, when every man could in the end make a difference if they but tried.
It's quite frustrating to watch.
August 20th
[Well, after his daily dose of milk, dad can be found by the kitchen sink, leaning over it. His mouth is open, slow, thin trickles of blood proceeding from it and running to the sink. He has one of his palms open in front of him. And every minute or so, something starts to come out of his mouth. Something sharp, and gleaming, and blood-coated. Slowly, the razor falls out of his mouth and into Wilhelm's palm, and the man puts it with the small pile he's already started of them in the sink.
He doesn't know exactly how many razor blades are inside of him, but he knows he can still feel them. And luckily for him, he has his telekinesis to help get them out.]
And that's precisely what he meant to do.
For the following three days of the event, although not on the last day, Wilhelm will be getting up early enough to try and intercept anyone else from getting the milk and drinking it himself. The results, and interactions with him, are as follows.]
August 18th
[Hey, what's up family. You might notice that the kitchen and restroom cabinets are kind of being quietly gone through by dad. Who is shivering from pain while he tries to keep his body under control. He knows finding something to actually get ride of the effects of the poison inside his body is unlikely, but it would be nice if he could at least find some goddamn painkillers.
Eventually, too weak to move much more, he'll be collapsing on the couch in the front room, blankly staring in front of him. Conscious, and alive, but just barely.]
August 19th
[After his lovely death the day before, today's milk isn't so bad. Comparitively at least. Hey housemates, feel free to notice that dad is going through everything in the house meticulously, rearranging it to his own preference.
And when I say he's going through everything? I mean everything. This includes going into everyone else's rooms and rearranging what's there according to his own system.
After he finishes that, or gets as close as he can to it, he'll be heading to the phone.]
Phone
For as wonderful as mankind is, as talented and powerful as you are? There are times when you sicken me.
Your race has one of the greatest gifts of all: the potential for personal growth. To become more then a sum of your parts. This is a gift few things possess; most must stay as they are, and have always been? But you? All things you might want could eventually be within your reach because of this potential.
And yet, so few of you actually move towards it, grasp it, make it yours. You're far happier with simply allowing others of your race, a select few, do the movement for you and reaping those benefits, when every man could in the end make a difference if they but tried.
It's quite frustrating to watch.
August 20th
[Well, after his daily dose of milk, dad can be found by the kitchen sink, leaning over it. His mouth is open, slow, thin trickles of blood proceeding from it and running to the sink. He has one of his palms open in front of him. And every minute or so, something starts to come out of his mouth. Something sharp, and gleaming, and blood-coated. Slowly, the razor falls out of his mouth and into Wilhelm's palm, and the man puts it with the small pile he's already started of them in the sink.
He doesn't know exactly how many razor blades are inside of him, but he knows he can still feel them. And luckily for him, he has his telekinesis to help get them out.]