[ Accidental Video ]
[ The video feed flickers on just as Fakir sits down on the end of his bed with a sigh.
He looks rather... exhausted, given the sweat on his brow and tussled state of his hair.
After running one hand through his dark locks, he reaches for his beside table where a black-covered book lays and grabs it, flipping through the pages idly. ]
How long are you gonna keep this up, huh?
[ The voice, surprisingly, seems to be coming from the book itself -- and Fakir promptly drops the object to the floor with a yelp of surprise, staring down at it with something between shock and horror on his features. ]
What the hell?!
[ The book... snorts? ]
Ya oughta' clean up your language a bit too, but that's neither here nor there. I've had to put up with this 'routine' of yours for days on end now and it's gettin' a bit annoyin' y'know?
[ The dark-haired young man scowls down at the open book. ]
...Goddamn curses. Talking books... Either shut up or I'll throw you in the closet.
[ The text still lying down on the floor with its pages spread makes a huffy noise. ]
Jeez. I'm only tellin' you this for yer own good. You're gonna wear a hole in that floor if you keep up the pacin'. And you should cut it down with all the sword swingin' too. It'd do ya a world of good if you just quit runnin' away from your problems.
[ Fakir's brows draw together angrily as he gets to his feet. And he looks about ready to kick the talking novel. ]
I'm not running away from anything! Mind your own damn business!
[ The books sighs. ]
Yeah, righ'. I dunno who ya think you're foolin'. How many times have ya picked me up only to pretend to read before puttin' me back down again? If you were actually readin', you'd have been through my pages a dozen times by now. I can tell that ya ain't focusin' on anything.
[ The young man stubbornly looks away, crossing his arms over his chest, giving no verbal response. ]
C'mon. I've heard ya mumblin' in here to yourself plenty of times. Don'tcha think you should just talk to her?
[ With that, Fakir seems to snap. Releasing a noise almost like a snarl, he snatches the book from the floor and hastens to stuff it in his closet, just like he'd earlier threatened. ]
Wait---! Jus' listen! It's for your own--
[ SLAM. ]
[ And the feed times out. ]
[ ooc: Using the "If these walls could talk" curse~! And yes, that is the book speaking. It has the purple text, while Fakir's is normal. ...And no, Fakir didn't realize that this was recording. Yet. ]
He looks rather... exhausted, given the sweat on his brow and tussled state of his hair.
After running one hand through his dark locks, he reaches for his beside table where a black-covered book lays and grabs it, flipping through the pages idly. ]
How long are you gonna keep this up, huh?
[ The voice, surprisingly, seems to be coming from the book itself -- and Fakir promptly drops the object to the floor with a yelp of surprise, staring down at it with something between shock and horror on his features. ]
What the hell?!
[ The book... snorts? ]
Ya oughta' clean up your language a bit too, but that's neither here nor there. I've had to put up with this 'routine' of yours for days on end now and it's gettin' a bit annoyin' y'know?
[ The dark-haired young man scowls down at the open book. ]
...Goddamn curses. Talking books... Either shut up or I'll throw you in the closet.
[ The text still lying down on the floor with its pages spread makes a huffy noise. ]
Jeez. I'm only tellin' you this for yer own good. You're gonna wear a hole in that floor if you keep up the pacin'. And you should cut it down with all the sword swingin' too. It'd do ya a world of good if you just quit runnin' away from your problems.
[ Fakir's brows draw together angrily as he gets to his feet. And he looks about ready to kick the talking novel. ]
I'm not running away from anything! Mind your own damn business!
[ The books sighs. ]
Yeah, righ'. I dunno who ya think you're foolin'. How many times have ya picked me up only to pretend to read before puttin' me back down again? If you were actually readin', you'd have been through my pages a dozen times by now. I can tell that ya ain't focusin' on anything.
[ The young man stubbornly looks away, crossing his arms over his chest, giving no verbal response. ]
C'mon. I've heard ya mumblin' in here to yourself plenty of times. Don'tcha think you should just talk to her?
[ With that, Fakir seems to snap. Releasing a noise almost like a snarl, he snatches the book from the floor and hastens to stuff it in his closet, just like he'd earlier threatened. ]
Wait---! Jus' listen! It's for your own--
[ SLAM. ]
[ And the feed times out. ]
[ ooc: Using the "If these walls could talk" curse~! And yes, that is the book speaking. It has the purple text, while Fakir's is normal. ...And no, Fakir didn't realize that this was recording. Yet. ]