Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Who: Soma Peries(Marie Parfacy) (hailthesunlight) & Hallelujah Haptism (bloody_hymn).
When: Midnight!
Where: Rec building halls + arcade
Rating: Let's go with R
Summary: Soma and Halle do not get along. At all.
Warnings: ...there will be blood?
He had been thinking far too much about everything. The retarded situation with Allelujah, the girl and the rest of Celestial Being, slowly (Or, rather, not so slowly) realizing that he didn't exactly want to leave this place... but at the same time, anything that he could want to do was impeded by the arrival of Allelujah and that girl.
Muscles tensing, he moved his body quickly, slamming his fist into the punching bag again. It rocked with a creaking noise form where it was suspended, and he quickly followed it, body dropping to bring his other hand forward in a low blow to it. he tossed the curtain of hair from his gray eye for a moment, inwardly cursing the occasionally lack of depth perception, before following it again in a succession of strikes.
It had never been so infuriating back home. He was content to not exist, taking over occasionally in battle, and exercising all the cruelty he needed to on the battlefield: Ripping mobile suits apart, listening to their screams and all of it with no reciprocation. It was a war. He was expected to kill. But here... here they would just come back. And there was no way of setting it up to destroy people and have it not found out about.
He swore under his breath, teeth clenching as he slammed his knee into the yielding object. It wasn't even the same, beating this object. it didn't cry out or beg or plead or bleed or crack or crush. it just swung back into place infuriatingly. Just like all the people here. There were no scars, no proof left of his existence and will towards them. Everything just reverted back, as though he had never been there or existed to cause the harm at all.
Fuck it. He spat at the infuriating object, deciding that Lockon's musing on his journal was bullshit. The gym was worthless. Absently rubbing his reddened knuckles, he stepped out into the hallway of the rec building.
He was better off just sleeping and trying to ignore Allelujah's new obsession.
When: Midnight!
Where: Rec building halls + arcade
Rating: Let's go with R
Summary: Soma and Halle do not get along. At all.
Warnings: ...there will be blood?
He had been thinking far too much about everything. The retarded situation with Allelujah, the girl and the rest of Celestial Being, slowly (Or, rather, not so slowly) realizing that he didn't exactly want to leave this place... but at the same time, anything that he could want to do was impeded by the arrival of Allelujah and that girl.
Muscles tensing, he moved his body quickly, slamming his fist into the punching bag again. It rocked with a creaking noise form where it was suspended, and he quickly followed it, body dropping to bring his other hand forward in a low blow to it. he tossed the curtain of hair from his gray eye for a moment, inwardly cursing the occasionally lack of depth perception, before following it again in a succession of strikes.
It had never been so infuriating back home. He was content to not exist, taking over occasionally in battle, and exercising all the cruelty he needed to on the battlefield: Ripping mobile suits apart, listening to their screams and all of it with no reciprocation. It was a war. He was expected to kill. But here... here they would just come back. And there was no way of setting it up to destroy people and have it not found out about.
He swore under his breath, teeth clenching as he slammed his knee into the yielding object. It wasn't even the same, beating this object. it didn't cry out or beg or plead or bleed or crack or crush. it just swung back into place infuriatingly. Just like all the people here. There were no scars, no proof left of his existence and will towards them. Everything just reverted back, as though he had never been there or existed to cause the harm at all.
Fuck it. He spat at the infuriating object, deciding that Lockon's musing on his journal was bullshit. The gym was worthless. Absently rubbing his reddened knuckles, he stepped out into the hallway of the rec building.
He was better off just sleeping and trying to ignore Allelujah's new obsession.