No One Knows How To Say [Active, Open?]
Characters: Machi Tobaye, Kazuhiko Yukimi, Portgas D. Ace, Alphonse Elric
Setting: Moving around, but mostly Ira (Trophy Room)
Time: Night 14
Summary: Machi, Yukimi and Ace retrieve the envelopes Machi hid in the piano. Then they obtain some ammo. Suddenly, Al!
Warnings: Angst, pain, bitterness, possibly some language? Fail OP might be edited later. :>
At best, Machi's mood could be described as 'grim.'
At worst, it was probably 'dangerous.'
Somewhere in between, there was 'focused.' He limped down the hall, a grotesque, pale figure; his legs were twisted and bent, his shoulder slightly off--both sets of long bones in his left leg buckled weirdly, the shin of his right leg jointed again a few inches beneath the knee, and though he could lock some of them, the muscles had not completely developed for all of them and he could feel more building... his jaw tightened slightly. He carried his gun openly, though so far there had been nothing but eyes--hundreds of them, blinking yellow pairs in every corner and shadow, paranoid and harmless, at least for now. Machi had other things on his mind. The envelopes rested safely in the pocket his overshirt, having been retrieved from the piano before he, Yukimi, and Ace had headed forward into the new house.
The pianist was not ashamed--at this point shame was forgotten, all but impossible to muster even had he wanted it, but he was nervous, on edge--paranoid even, and he kept an eye out for anything or anyone. Until now, the longest excursion he'd made from the room had been down the hall to the bathroom, where it was easy enough to avoid people, to wait until the halls were clear. Now he had little way to avoid strangers, and he was left with the scent of chill and human bodies and gun metal...
The existence of the new house, its presence and portent, its appearance without his knowledge made Machi less than thrilled--if anything, it was the greatest contributer to his current mood. He could not sit through this now, had to get up and investigate, explore. Learn.
Anything he could do was better than nothing.
Setting: Moving around, but mostly Ira (Trophy Room)
Time: Night 14
Summary: Machi, Yukimi and Ace retrieve the envelopes Machi hid in the piano. Then they obtain some ammo. Suddenly, Al!
Warnings: Angst, pain, bitterness, possibly some language? Fail OP might be edited later. :>
At best, Machi's mood could be described as 'grim.'
At worst, it was probably 'dangerous.'
Somewhere in between, there was 'focused.' He limped down the hall, a grotesque, pale figure; his legs were twisted and bent, his shoulder slightly off--both sets of long bones in his left leg buckled weirdly, the shin of his right leg jointed again a few inches beneath the knee, and though he could lock some of them, the muscles had not completely developed for all of them and he could feel more building... his jaw tightened slightly. He carried his gun openly, though so far there had been nothing but eyes--hundreds of them, blinking yellow pairs in every corner and shadow, paranoid and harmless, at least for now. Machi had other things on his mind. The envelopes rested safely in the pocket his overshirt, having been retrieved from the piano before he, Yukimi, and Ace had headed forward into the new house.
The pianist was not ashamed--at this point shame was forgotten, all but impossible to muster even had he wanted it, but he was nervous, on edge--paranoid even, and he kept an eye out for anything or anyone. Until now, the longest excursion he'd made from the room had been down the hall to the bathroom, where it was easy enough to avoid people, to wait until the halls were clear. Now he had little way to avoid strangers, and he was left with the scent of chill and human bodies and gun metal...
The existence of the new house, its presence and portent, its appearance without his knowledge made Machi less than thrilled--if anything, it was the greatest contributer to his current mood. He could not sit through this now, had to get up and investigate, explore. Learn.
Anything he could do was better than nothing.