that's why you sleep with one eye open
Who: deathlessness, fragmentsoflucy, and later proxysearch
When: Starting mid-day on April 25th.
Where: The warehouses near the docks, moving to police station.
Summary: Shinji goes to meet with the famous Urick with only a vague idea of what is going to be waiting for him or what's to come.
Warnings: Shinji and everything that comes with him. Struggle, guilt, disturbing conversation, etc.
[Wisps of smoke from his cigarette follow Shinji as he makes his way through the city and toward the desolate, dreary warehouses that line one edge of the island, overlooking the lapping sea that doesn't offer any sort of escape. One hand is shoved into his pocket, while the other lays against his ribs in a primitive sling. It had been splinted and taken care of the night that they'd gone to Outer Heaven, after Re-l made it very clear to them that there's more than meets the eye in her regard. Since then, the injured arm had stayed in the binding, and he hadn't said a word about it. It doesn't matter to him one way or another if the bones healed incorrectly; as long as he can use it in the future, as long as his finger can still pull a trigger, that's the extent of his concern.
There are more important things to be concerned with, after all. His sharp eyes watch his destination with a suffocating focus, his blood tingling in his veins the way it did when danger is afoot. There's a good chance that he won't come out of this alive, or free. It makes a lopsided grin twist his lips and his head lull to the side, as if weighed down on one side by the expression. There's a gun tucked into his waistband, the metal pressing into the small of his back, but there's only so much that that can do. He's injured, and up against forces greater than him.
Somehow this feels like home.
A shoulder to the rusted door brings enough of a gap for him to slide through. There's a twittering inside his head, like a ringing of the ears, that tells him Kazuhiko is uneasy. A gaze is cast around the large space, streaked with dusty beams of light and encircled with rubble. For the moment, he can't see the person he's here to meet, and his gaze scans over the nooks and crannies, waiting for movement. His breathing is bated just slightly as he speaks aloud.]
You're the one who's better with this kind of thing, Amamiya.
[An instant of emptiness fills his entire being, eyes losing their light, until it returns and a new consciousness takes in the scene around him. Not to say that Kazuhiko isn't accustomed to awakening in places when he couldn't remember ever arriving, but the paper that was crushed up in his pocket had told him early this morning the reason why he is here. His shoulders straighten, losing the casual demeanor of Shinji, but not the confidence. A stern expression purses his lips into a line as a pair of glasses are slipped from his inside coat pocket and rested on his face. This is for Yaha. Strangely, the touched elf is a subject that himself and Shinji seem to agree on more than they do most things. For once, Kazuhiko is prepared for whatever sacrifice is to come, but a conviction takes hold; he'll do this his way, rather than allow Shinji to manage the situation. A hollow voice rings out, calling for the man he's heard so much about, but never spoken to:]
Hello. I am here.
When: Starting mid-day on April 25th.
Where: The warehouses near the docks, moving to police station.
Summary: Shinji goes to meet with the famous Urick with only a vague idea of what is going to be waiting for him or what's to come.
Warnings: Shinji and everything that comes with him. Struggle, guilt, disturbing conversation, etc.
[Wisps of smoke from his cigarette follow Shinji as he makes his way through the city and toward the desolate, dreary warehouses that line one edge of the island, overlooking the lapping sea that doesn't offer any sort of escape. One hand is shoved into his pocket, while the other lays against his ribs in a primitive sling. It had been splinted and taken care of the night that they'd gone to Outer Heaven, after Re-l made it very clear to them that there's more than meets the eye in her regard. Since then, the injured arm had stayed in the binding, and he hadn't said a word about it. It doesn't matter to him one way or another if the bones healed incorrectly; as long as he can use it in the future, as long as his finger can still pull a trigger, that's the extent of his concern.
There are more important things to be concerned with, after all. His sharp eyes watch his destination with a suffocating focus, his blood tingling in his veins the way it did when danger is afoot. There's a good chance that he won't come out of this alive, or free. It makes a lopsided grin twist his lips and his head lull to the side, as if weighed down on one side by the expression. There's a gun tucked into his waistband, the metal pressing into the small of his back, but there's only so much that that can do. He's injured, and up against forces greater than him.
Somehow this feels like home.
A shoulder to the rusted door brings enough of a gap for him to slide through. There's a twittering inside his head, like a ringing of the ears, that tells him Kazuhiko is uneasy. A gaze is cast around the large space, streaked with dusty beams of light and encircled with rubble. For the moment, he can't see the person he's here to meet, and his gaze scans over the nooks and crannies, waiting for movement. His breathing is bated just slightly as he speaks aloud.]
You're the one who's better with this kind of thing, Amamiya.
[An instant of emptiness fills his entire being, eyes losing their light, until it returns and a new consciousness takes in the scene around him. Not to say that Kazuhiko isn't accustomed to awakening in places when he couldn't remember ever arriving, but the paper that was crushed up in his pocket had told him early this morning the reason why he is here. His shoulders straighten, losing the casual demeanor of Shinji, but not the confidence. A stern expression purses his lips into a line as a pair of glasses are slipped from his inside coat pocket and rested on his face. This is for Yaha. Strangely, the touched elf is a subject that himself and Shinji seem to agree on more than they do most things. For once, Kazuhiko is prepared for whatever sacrifice is to come, but a conviction takes hold; he'll do this his way, rather than allow Shinji to manage the situation. A hollow voice rings out, calling for the man he's heard so much about, but never spoken to:]
Hello. I am here.