All is lost again, but I'm not giving in (Open/Active)
Characters: Ace, Sora, Anyone
Setting: Blue Kitchen
Time: Dawn Day 16
Summary: Ace finds himself making sandwiches as day breaks.
Warnings: It's Ace, but I don't know if his normal warning will work for this.
His eyes were blank.
Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was simply that he has been pushing too many emotions through his head for too long and it had left him hollow, maybe he had simply stopped caring at all at some point during the night, and his mind was still recovering.
For whatever reason, he didn’t exactly seem to be present.
Early dawn lit the kitchen with an almost ghostly light. Most sane people were probably unconscious. Monsters were gone, now it was time to collapse into beds and sleep for the week of daytime.
But for some reason, this man was in the kitchen. Celebrating the ability to use the stove again without fear of the burning man appearing on top of him? Maybe. Making breakfast? Also a possibility, he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something, much like he couldn’t remember the last time he slept for more than an hour at a time.
Whatever reason had called him here, he was quiet. There was no soft litany of words as he moved around, to remind him of what he was doing, no delighted cheerful banter, trying to draw a companion into conversation.
He was alone.
Grilled cheese wasn’t exactly breakfast food either, but that was what he was making. Every move slow and methodical, nothing without purpose.
Oddly, though the kitchen was empty aside from the man, there were two plates.
The sandwiches were flipped, dead eyes staring at the bread as though perhaps the answers he sought were somehow hidden within them.
But the only noise was the soft burble of the soup in the pot and a warm hiss as the bread toasted.
There were no answers here.
Setting: Blue Kitchen
Time: Dawn Day 16
Summary: Ace finds himself making sandwiches as day breaks.
Warnings: It's Ace, but I don't know if his normal warning will work for this.
His eyes were blank.
Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was simply that he has been pushing too many emotions through his head for too long and it had left him hollow, maybe he had simply stopped caring at all at some point during the night, and his mind was still recovering.
For whatever reason, he didn’t exactly seem to be present.
Early dawn lit the kitchen with an almost ghostly light. Most sane people were probably unconscious. Monsters were gone, now it was time to collapse into beds and sleep for the week of daytime.
But for some reason, this man was in the kitchen. Celebrating the ability to use the stove again without fear of the burning man appearing on top of him? Maybe. Making breakfast? Also a possibility, he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something, much like he couldn’t remember the last time he slept for more than an hour at a time.
Whatever reason had called him here, he was quiet. There was no soft litany of words as he moved around, to remind him of what he was doing, no delighted cheerful banter, trying to draw a companion into conversation.
He was alone.
Grilled cheese wasn’t exactly breakfast food either, but that was what he was making. Every move slow and methodical, nothing without purpose.
Oddly, though the kitchen was empty aside from the man, there were two plates.
The sandwiches were flipped, dead eyes staring at the bread as though perhaps the answers he sought were somehow hidden within them.
But the only noise was the soft burble of the soup in the pot and a warm hiss as the bread toasted.
There were no answers here.