☣ → [ CLOSED || COMPLETE ]
Characters: Heine Rammsteiner [bulletcarnage] & Kanda Yuu [kandescence]
Location: Various, beginning outside Kanda's room
Rating: PG
Time: The very ass-crack of dawn (possibly before the creepy fuckin' sun is fully up) on July 11
Description: After unfolding events (thread still incomplete) during the sand storm, Heine feels the need to track someone down.
So he was a weapon.
Somehow this was not as shocking to Heine as he might have expected it to be. In fact when he had actually changed it had all made shocking sense to him, as if he'd known the whole time. The truth was that he just hadn't give a damn; he'd just assumed he was whatever he was and since he hadn't changed forms he had presumed that meant he was a Meister until proven otherwise.
He had been proven otherwise.
Heine had not been able to sleep that night and it was certainly not due to the final echoes of the passing storm. After parting company with Badou, the white-haired man had made a swift retreat to his room and in turn to the bed where he had spent several restless hours twisting and turning, pacing and stopping. His mind had been racing with thoughts and he no idea how to put any of them to any kind of use--it wasn't often he was actually motivated by some kind of emotion, after all. His apathy was usually his key feature and it was only very particular individuals that stirred any kind of fiery energy within him.
Long nights laying awake were not unfamiliar to Heine, but somehow the hours melted into each other far more smoothly when Heine wasn't musing on anything aside from the usual low hum of his past inside his head. On this night it wasn't a low hum--it was a feverish buzzing that made the minutes seem like hours and the hours seem like days.
When there was the vaguest hint of morning light on the horizon, Heine on his feet, making swift work of dressing and leaving the apartment. He didn't even pause to see if the seraphim-esque girl he was presently rooming with was awake and he certainly wasn't considerate enough to leave her a note.
On this occasion, he knew he needed to see someone in particular and somewhere in the middle of the night he had decided it would have to be as soon as physically possible.
Heine didn't have time for things like stage-fright or nerves--he wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box--and instead let his fist land twice very evenly upon the door of the room opposite his own and waited.
Location: Various, beginning outside Kanda's room
Rating: PG
Time: The very ass-crack of dawn (possibly before the creepy fuckin' sun is fully up) on July 11
Description: After unfolding events (thread still incomplete) during the sand storm, Heine feels the need to track someone down.
So he was a weapon.
Somehow this was not as shocking to Heine as he might have expected it to be. In fact when he had actually changed it had all made shocking sense to him, as if he'd known the whole time. The truth was that he just hadn't give a damn; he'd just assumed he was whatever he was and since he hadn't changed forms he had presumed that meant he was a Meister until proven otherwise.
He had been proven otherwise.
Heine had not been able to sleep that night and it was certainly not due to the final echoes of the passing storm. After parting company with Badou, the white-haired man had made a swift retreat to his room and in turn to the bed where he had spent several restless hours twisting and turning, pacing and stopping. His mind had been racing with thoughts and he no idea how to put any of them to any kind of use--it wasn't often he was actually motivated by some kind of emotion, after all. His apathy was usually his key feature and it was only very particular individuals that stirred any kind of fiery energy within him.
Long nights laying awake were not unfamiliar to Heine, but somehow the hours melted into each other far more smoothly when Heine wasn't musing on anything aside from the usual low hum of his past inside his head. On this night it wasn't a low hum--it was a feverish buzzing that made the minutes seem like hours and the hours seem like days.
When there was the vaguest hint of morning light on the horizon, Heine on his feet, making swift work of dressing and leaving the apartment. He didn't even pause to see if the seraphim-esque girl he was presently rooming with was awake and he certainly wasn't considerate enough to leave her a note.
On this occasion, he knew he needed to see someone in particular and somewhere in the middle of the night he had decided it would have to be as soon as physically possible.
Heine didn't have time for things like stage-fright or nerves--he wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box--and instead let his fist land twice very evenly upon the door of the room opposite his own and waited.