[CLOSED]
Who: Mello (heresygrenade) and Matt (onetoignite)... and Salty the dog.
When: Backdated to a bit before this post.
Where: In the ruins, poking around.
Format: Paragraph.
What: Mello investigates corpses with a metal dog. If you saw the video Matt posted, you know what they find.
Warnings: Language and gore? >_o
Mello's never liked summer.
It's hot, it's sticky, it's full of annoying fucking noise and people wandering around because, fuck, it's all hot and sticky so why not run around and get hotter and stickier. It's kind of shit, but what can you do - no matter how much you hate it, it still comes round every single year, like clockwork and then, like clockwork, it ends a few months later. As it happens, the weather is starting to shift now - the nights are coming earlier, the mornings coming later, and the air itself is coming loose, this slow release of pressure that makes the upper side of Anatole infinitely less annoying, infinitely more tolerable.
More tolerable still in the ruins.
Mist. Strange though it may be, he's always been comfortable with it. Still, today his nerves are on end, because he saw that little warning from Arthur and because that bastard never did show them what the hell it was he was staring and and proclaiming disgusting. And Mello, being Mello, finds it impossible to let that kind of thing lie. So here he is, in the mist, stepping through broken down walls and crumbled columns, keeping the mossy green water from getting on his shoes, trailed by the light footsteps of a most unusual companion.
He stops by a flattened wall, presses his fingers against the rusty-brownish red splatters there.
"Christ." He mutters the name, and brings his gloved hand up, closer to his face. There are flakes of red there, highlighted against the black leather surrounding every finger. "Got this?"
He moves aside to let that metal dog come closer.
When: Backdated to a bit before this post.
Where: In the ruins, poking around.
Format: Paragraph.
What: Mello investigates corpses with a metal dog. If you saw the video Matt posted, you know what they find.
Warnings: Language and gore? >_o
Mello's never liked summer.
It's hot, it's sticky, it's full of annoying fucking noise and people wandering around because, fuck, it's all hot and sticky so why not run around and get hotter and stickier. It's kind of shit, but what can you do - no matter how much you hate it, it still comes round every single year, like clockwork and then, like clockwork, it ends a few months later. As it happens, the weather is starting to shift now - the nights are coming earlier, the mornings coming later, and the air itself is coming loose, this slow release of pressure that makes the upper side of Anatole infinitely less annoying, infinitely more tolerable.
More tolerable still in the ruins.
Mist. Strange though it may be, he's always been comfortable with it. Still, today his nerves are on end, because he saw that little warning from Arthur and because that bastard never did show them what the hell it was he was staring and and proclaiming disgusting. And Mello, being Mello, finds it impossible to let that kind of thing lie. So here he is, in the mist, stepping through broken down walls and crumbled columns, keeping the mossy green water from getting on his shoes, trailed by the light footsteps of a most unusual companion.
He stops by a flattened wall, presses his fingers against the rusty-brownish red splatters there.
"Christ." He mutters the name, and brings his gloved hand up, closer to his face. There are flakes of red there, highlighted against the black leather surrounding every finger. "Got this?"
He moves aside to let that metal dog come closer.