[Active/Open]
Characters: Mello, Sanji
Setting: Ground Floor West Hallway
Time: Day 017
Summary: Mello and Sanji meet again for the first time after Sanji's death
Warnings: Cursing is very likely.
With the passing of each night, Mello was beginning to find that he welcomed the sunrise more and more with every day. The first morning he had spent at the house, he had been quite relieved that the eyes hiding in every shadow the previous night were gone, as it made the house slightly less creepy. The second morning, it was the disappearance of the damn plague of vicious monsters that he was glad for, as it made the house quite a bit less dangerous. By this point, though, he'd gotten used to those sorts of external troubles enough that they didn't really bother him as much anymore. What did bother him was the fact that whatever fucker ran this place-- whoever the hell they were-- was messing with his head.
Having been tied to that girl had been bad enough. Mello was sure that alone had screwed him up, but it had gotten much worse when they had been untied during the middle of the night. Although he assumed it would have been great to see the end of that whole string fiasco, it had brought him nothing but distress. For the remainder of the night, he had felt incredibly lost-- possibly even depressed-- without the girl. This was exceptionally odd because, while Patchouli wasn’t necessarily terrible, he hadn’t exactly enjoyed being tied to her. And apart from that, Mello wasn’t even one to form such strong attachments to people in the first place. So why the hell had it bothered him so ridiculously much to finally be away from her? It wasn’t like him; he didn’t know how, but he was starting to get the feeling that they-- whoever-- were controlling his thoughts, and he didn’t fucking like it. He hated them. And for the first time since he had gotten here, Mello truly wanted to destroy them.
He couldn’t have been happier to find that, upon the arrival of the new day, he was able to think rather normally again. He was himself again; that was good enough, even if his circumstances hadn’t improved in any other way. The house was still a broken down shithole, and, for some reason, he was still abnormally edgy and suspicious of everything around him, even though it was daytime-- but at least he was finally able to forget about the whole string incident.
And, since he was no longer burrowing through the snow-- or distracted by having been tied to someone-- Mello finally decided to, at last, change out of the horrid rags he had been wearing and make himself look at least somewhat presentable. Thus, he had gone into that bathroom with all the dolls and taken a fucking bath, washed his hair, and changed into normal-- if absurdly tight leather clothing even could be considered normal-clothes. Unfortunately, however, his bath had not been as long as he would have preferred; the dolls made him fucking nervous as hell, and he didn't like how that one in the middle was looking at him, so he washed himself, got dressed, and got the fuck out of that room as fucking quickly as he possibly could. He had somehow managed to reach the hallway all the way on the other end of the house before it even occurred to him that he was full out sprinting, and he broke down into a walk in attempt to make it seem a bit more like nothing stupid had just happened.
Setting: Ground Floor West Hallway
Time: Day 017
Summary: Mello and Sanji meet again for the first time after Sanji's death
Warnings: Cursing is very likely.
With the passing of each night, Mello was beginning to find that he welcomed the sunrise more and more with every day. The first morning he had spent at the house, he had been quite relieved that the eyes hiding in every shadow the previous night were gone, as it made the house slightly less creepy. The second morning, it was the disappearance of the damn plague of vicious monsters that he was glad for, as it made the house quite a bit less dangerous. By this point, though, he'd gotten used to those sorts of external troubles enough that they didn't really bother him as much anymore. What did bother him was the fact that whatever fucker ran this place-- whoever the hell they were-- was messing with his head.
Having been tied to that girl had been bad enough. Mello was sure that alone had screwed him up, but it had gotten much worse when they had been untied during the middle of the night. Although he assumed it would have been great to see the end of that whole string fiasco, it had brought him nothing but distress. For the remainder of the night, he had felt incredibly lost-- possibly even depressed-- without the girl. This was exceptionally odd because, while Patchouli wasn’t necessarily terrible, he hadn’t exactly enjoyed being tied to her. And apart from that, Mello wasn’t even one to form such strong attachments to people in the first place. So why the hell had it bothered him so ridiculously much to finally be away from her? It wasn’t like him; he didn’t know how, but he was starting to get the feeling that they-- whoever-- were controlling his thoughts, and he didn’t fucking like it. He hated them. And for the first time since he had gotten here, Mello truly wanted to destroy them.
He couldn’t have been happier to find that, upon the arrival of the new day, he was able to think rather normally again. He was himself again; that was good enough, even if his circumstances hadn’t improved in any other way. The house was still a broken down shithole, and, for some reason, he was still abnormally edgy and suspicious of everything around him, even though it was daytime-- but at least he was finally able to forget about the whole string incident.
And, since he was no longer burrowing through the snow-- or distracted by having been tied to someone-- Mello finally decided to, at last, change out of the horrid rags he had been wearing and make himself look at least somewhat presentable. Thus, he had gone into that bathroom with all the dolls and taken a fucking bath, washed his hair, and changed into normal-- if absurdly tight leather clothing even could be considered normal-clothes. Unfortunately, however, his bath had not been as long as he would have preferred; the dolls made him fucking nervous as hell, and he didn't like how that one in the middle was looking at him, so he washed himself, got dressed, and got the fuck out of that room as fucking quickly as he possibly could. He had somehow managed to reach the hallway all the way on the other end of the house before it even occurred to him that he was full out sprinting, and he broke down into a walk in attempt to make it seem a bit more like nothing stupid had just happened.