[open] fallout
Characters: Yazoo (nightmarevelvet) & whoever wishes to see ground zero
Location: Casualty Communal, Second Floor
Rating: PG perhaps?
Time: November 14th-ongoing
Description: following a battle and an explosion, Yazoo is sentenced to community service... repairing all that damage they caused the night before. This could take a while.
Yazoo perched on a pile of rubble in the ruins of what used to be Casualty Communal room 2-K. A guard stood on the far side of the room from him but maintained a direct line of sight to the remnant. Yazoo had barely escaped being kept in jail for his part in the all of this, so the guard was there to make sure he served as he was instructed. While the Death Scythe's actions in the previous night's battle seemed to have no repercussions from the remnant-Weapon's perspective, Kadaj had been taken away. Yazoo himself had been sentenced to "community service". It was his punishment to repair the damage done by the fight. Internally, Yazoo scoffed at the injustice.
It had been one of the longest nights in Yazoo's memory. It was this room, Kadaj's room, where he'd been at his brother's side every night since his arrival in Death City. He'd instead spent the night in his own room, alone. Sleep was still an unusual experience for Yazoo, even though he'd been begun to do so on a regular basis, and he hadn't slept well being separated again from Kadaj. His youngest brother was injured, and Yazoo couldn't tell for certain how badly. He hadn't been allowed to see Kadaj since they'd been brought before the authorities. It worried him to a distracting degree, but still Yazoo maintained his stoic mask. He would not let such a thing that plagued his mind to show to others. It was his burden, and he would not give them the satisfaction. The fact remained that Yazoo had failed to protect Kadaj from harm, and it stripped all sleep and hunger from him. Fatigue wore at his body. Yazoo shrugged it off with a look of complete and utter detachment.
While he looked around the room, Yazoo's analytical mind could see the damage to load-bearing structures, the more easily remedied damage to the door and overhead lights (et cetera), crumbling walls, score marks from gunfire and burns from magical fire. Identifying the problems, Yazoo could ascertain a way to repair these issues-- but he'd never done such a thing himself. Why would he have needed to? He had a gunman's hands and wasn't the sort to do manual labour. He was at something of a loss. The remnant said nothing, completely in his own thoughts.
Yazoo began to look for an opportunity to slip away from his watchful guard, but the man had one single purpose: not to let the silver-haired man out of his sight. So it was Yazoo's lot to figure out what he was going to do about this situation. He had not only the guard to worry about, but since their battle appeared to have gained a lot of attention, there was no telling who might wish to view the scene.
Location: Casualty Communal, Second Floor
Rating: PG perhaps?
Time: November 14th-ongoing
Description: following a battle and an explosion, Yazoo is sentenced to community service... repairing all that damage they caused the night before. This could take a while.
Yazoo perched on a pile of rubble in the ruins of what used to be Casualty Communal room 2-K. A guard stood on the far side of the room from him but maintained a direct line of sight to the remnant. Yazoo had barely escaped being kept in jail for his part in the all of this, so the guard was there to make sure he served as he was instructed. While the Death Scythe's actions in the previous night's battle seemed to have no repercussions from the remnant-Weapon's perspective, Kadaj had been taken away. Yazoo himself had been sentenced to "community service". It was his punishment to repair the damage done by the fight. Internally, Yazoo scoffed at the injustice.
It had been one of the longest nights in Yazoo's memory. It was this room, Kadaj's room, where he'd been at his brother's side every night since his arrival in Death City. He'd instead spent the night in his own room, alone. Sleep was still an unusual experience for Yazoo, even though he'd been begun to do so on a regular basis, and he hadn't slept well being separated again from Kadaj. His youngest brother was injured, and Yazoo couldn't tell for certain how badly. He hadn't been allowed to see Kadaj since they'd been brought before the authorities. It worried him to a distracting degree, but still Yazoo maintained his stoic mask. He would not let such a thing that plagued his mind to show to others. It was his burden, and he would not give them the satisfaction. The fact remained that Yazoo had failed to protect Kadaj from harm, and it stripped all sleep and hunger from him. Fatigue wore at his body. Yazoo shrugged it off with a look of complete and utter detachment.
While he looked around the room, Yazoo's analytical mind could see the damage to load-bearing structures, the more easily remedied damage to the door and overhead lights (et cetera), crumbling walls, score marks from gunfire and burns from magical fire. Identifying the problems, Yazoo could ascertain a way to repair these issues-- but he'd never done such a thing himself. Why would he have needed to? He had a gunman's hands and wasn't the sort to do manual labour. He was at something of a loss. The remnant said nothing, completely in his own thoughts.
Yazoo began to look for an opportunity to slip away from his watchful guard, but the man had one single purpose: not to let the silver-haired man out of his sight. So it was Yazoo's lot to figure out what he was going to do about this situation. He had not only the guard to worry about, but since their battle appeared to have gained a lot of attention, there was no telling who might wish to view the scene.