[open log] hey, I'm the blood in your veins; I'm the cold when it rains.
Who: Raven and angst you
What: people keep dying. The old man is depressed.
When: After the news of Amaterasu's death.
Where: Buying flowers, and then room 3-30
Warnings: BACK IN THE DAYYYY I mean. Baww. Emo.
Format: whatever you want, no need to match mine.
I'm the truth to your lie.'>
Youmu's garden was full of flowers but cut ones seemed more appropriate for the occasion, and Raven certainly wasn't going to take a knife to all her hard work. He didn't have any sweet nothings to shower on the cashier at the shop this time, just a solemn expression and a handful of credits.
He headed back from the shop district, stepping around groups of people automatically. Even with all the danger and killings lately, it seemed people still had things to laugh and joke about. He didn't begrudge them; he wasn't sure he felt much besides tired at the moment.
The first time someone in his brigade had died, they'd all mourned, leaning on each others' shoulders, lighting a flare for the young man whose body was never retrieved. The second was similar. Then they started to go numb. Three, four, five through seven all at once. The later ones were given nothing but an exhalation of breath, maybe a curse, and then a "keep moving!"
At that point, they all just felt empty. He was reaching that point again, stumbling along with little purpose, his movements stiff and automatic. He'd been overjoyed when Youmu had returned, despite her memory loss...but there was no guarantee there would be any more miracles. The miracle he'd received. A dead man with survivor's guilt--how ironic.
The door to his room, as if sensing his mood, was silent as it slid open for him. He stopped short in the doorway, his eyes caught by a familiar flash of color somewhere in his unkempt living quarters. The flower he'd bought months before, still as pristine as ever in the vacuum-sealed glass tube it rested in, petals a vibrant red. It was no fire lily, but similar enough. The color was still as breathtaking.
He walked over and picked it up, his fingers trembling slightly, almost disappointed that all he felt was smooth, cool glass instead of a living stem.
"Casey...you'll look after 'em all for me, wontcha...?"
He frowned slightly, then before he could change his mind, opened his hand, letting it fall. The glass shattered on the floor, making the door protest loudly, but he ignored it and knelt down to pick the flower up from among the broken pieces, and placed it in the bouquet he was carrying.
What: people keep dying. The old man is depressed.
When: After the news of Amaterasu's death.
Where: Buying flowers, and then room 3-30
Warnings: BACK IN THE DAYYYY I mean. Baww. Emo.
Format: whatever you want, no need to match mine.
I'm the truth to your lie.'>
Youmu's garden was full of flowers but cut ones seemed more appropriate for the occasion, and Raven certainly wasn't going to take a knife to all her hard work. He didn't have any sweet nothings to shower on the cashier at the shop this time, just a solemn expression and a handful of credits.
He headed back from the shop district, stepping around groups of people automatically. Even with all the danger and killings lately, it seemed people still had things to laugh and joke about. He didn't begrudge them; he wasn't sure he felt much besides tired at the moment.
The first time someone in his brigade had died, they'd all mourned, leaning on each others' shoulders, lighting a flare for the young man whose body was never retrieved. The second was similar. Then they started to go numb. Three, four, five through seven all at once. The later ones were given nothing but an exhalation of breath, maybe a curse, and then a "keep moving!"
At that point, they all just felt empty. He was reaching that point again, stumbling along with little purpose, his movements stiff and automatic. He'd been overjoyed when Youmu had returned, despite her memory loss...but there was no guarantee there would be any more miracles. The miracle he'd received. A dead man with survivor's guilt--how ironic.
The door to his room, as if sensing his mood, was silent as it slid open for him. He stopped short in the doorway, his eyes caught by a familiar flash of color somewhere in his unkempt living quarters. The flower he'd bought months before, still as pristine as ever in the vacuum-sealed glass tube it rested in, petals a vibrant red. It was no fire lily, but similar enough. The color was still as breathtaking.
He walked over and picked it up, his fingers trembling slightly, almost disappointed that all he felt was smooth, cool glass instead of a living stem.
"Casey...you'll look after 'em all for me, wontcha...?"
He frowned slightly, then before he could change his mind, opened his hand, letting it fall. The glass shattered on the floor, making the door protest loudly, but he ignored it and knelt down to pick the flower up from among the broken pieces, and placed it in the bouquet he was carrying.