[closed]
Who: Senji and Priscilla ... :D
When: Friday /predates KINDA
Where: Senji's apartment
Format: Paragraph
What: A dead girl breaks into his apartment... it goes about as well as anyone would expect.
Warnings: V-violence and bad language? It's Senji, idk. also, tl;dr intro.
It's late when he returns to his apartment - late or early, he's not entirely sure and doesn't especially care either way. Ever since he'd found Priscilla's corpse dumped so unceremoniously into the ruins (and left there by him, equally as unceremoniously) he'd only returned here a handful of times, and only when strictly necessary. The rest of the time was spent keeping busy - in his courtyard, in the ruins themselves, following old hunting paths that had been carved out in wood or stone or forging new ones, albeit with considerably fewer cuts to mark them. Anything at all to avoid all the bullshit and mourning and accusations, or even worse, the sympathy - are you all right? do you need this...? - like he was responsible for it one way or the other, or like it mattered that some girl got herself killed.
Of course it didn't. And anyway, a little self-imposed solitary confinement never hurt anyone, not when all it does is give one time to reflect. To remind you that everyone and everything is crazy, and that the world doesn't even pretend to play fair. That was the lesson from back home, and it hadn't changed a bit since coming to Anatole.
(Back in Deadman Wonderland, at least, they had people to do that shit for you, and rooms designed just for that kind of reflection. Here, Senji would have to do it all himself. So fucking inconvenient, it almost makes him homesick.)
Which is why when he presses his hand against the door to his apartment and something's off, he's not entirely taken by surprise. There are alarm bells going off before he totally realizes what's wrong - the door's not as snug as it was when he left it, for one thing. It's also a little bit broken. He gives a little muttered "fuckin' great," as he tests the handle, which doesn't quite work the way it should, until he gives up and brings his elbow down against the door hard enough to swing it open.
Inside, it's dark.
With one hand still holding onto the door frame he leans in, and everything seems in order - there isn't much there for someone to take, if anyone was stupid enough to rob him to begin with. But the feeling creeping up his spine still doesn't go away, and even the air seems wrong, so by the time he finally steps inside to investigate there's already a long, red gash torn along his skin, and then another one.
"All right, I fucking hate hide and seek, just so we're all clear on this." As he moves through the rooms without even turning the lights on nothing's really out of place, and he decides that burglar wouldn't be so bad, actually, if he could catch them in the act; that crazy Undertaker would be good too, if a little weirder than he'd like, but the killer-- now that would be even better.
But in the last room, the bedroom, that's where he sees... not what he's looking for, actually. Something small and pale curled up in the corner, almost glowing in the darkness, and the weird feeling that had been crawling along his spine earlier freezes him in place when he sees it.
When: Friday /predates KINDA
Where: Senji's apartment
Format: Paragraph
What: A dead girl breaks into his apartment... it goes about as well as anyone would expect.
Warnings: V-violence and bad language? It's Senji, idk. also, tl;dr intro.
It's late when he returns to his apartment - late or early, he's not entirely sure and doesn't especially care either way. Ever since he'd found Priscilla's corpse dumped so unceremoniously into the ruins (and left there by him, equally as unceremoniously) he'd only returned here a handful of times, and only when strictly necessary. The rest of the time was spent keeping busy - in his courtyard, in the ruins themselves, following old hunting paths that had been carved out in wood or stone or forging new ones, albeit with considerably fewer cuts to mark them. Anything at all to avoid all the bullshit and mourning and accusations, or even worse, the sympathy - are you all right? do you need this...? - like he was responsible for it one way or the other, or like it mattered that some girl got herself killed.
Of course it didn't. And anyway, a little self-imposed solitary confinement never hurt anyone, not when all it does is give one time to reflect. To remind you that everyone and everything is crazy, and that the world doesn't even pretend to play fair. That was the lesson from back home, and it hadn't changed a bit since coming to Anatole.
(Back in Deadman Wonderland, at least, they had people to do that shit for you, and rooms designed just for that kind of reflection. Here, Senji would have to do it all himself. So fucking inconvenient, it almost makes him homesick.)
Which is why when he presses his hand against the door to his apartment and something's off, he's not entirely taken by surprise. There are alarm bells going off before he totally realizes what's wrong - the door's not as snug as it was when he left it, for one thing. It's also a little bit broken. He gives a little muttered "fuckin' great," as he tests the handle, which doesn't quite work the way it should, until he gives up and brings his elbow down against the door hard enough to swing it open.
Inside, it's dark.
With one hand still holding onto the door frame he leans in, and everything seems in order - there isn't much there for someone to take, if anyone was stupid enough to rob him to begin with. But the feeling creeping up his spine still doesn't go away, and even the air seems wrong, so by the time he finally steps inside to investigate there's already a long, red gash torn along his skin, and then another one.
"All right, I fucking hate hide and seek, just so we're all clear on this." As he moves through the rooms without even turning the lights on nothing's really out of place, and he decides that burglar wouldn't be so bad, actually, if he could catch them in the act; that crazy Undertaker would be good too, if a little weirder than he'd like, but the killer-- now that would be even better.
But in the last room, the bedroom, that's where he sees... not what he's looking for, actually. Something small and pale curled up in the corner, almost glowing in the darkness, and the weird feeling that had been crawling along his spine earlier freezes him in place when he sees it.