Twenty-Third Lap (Dream. And video too, I guess?)
[[There's a cell with someone laying in the bed. The cell is in an empty field with nothing on it. Just a white expanse, stretching out for as far as the eye can see. In the cell is a bed where someone's laying in it, staring at the ceiling. It's hardly a bed, though. A single crummy pillow on a chunk of pleather-covered foam with a thin blanket, which isn't even being used.
He's wearing a thin, white cotton t-shirt, and grey cotton pants. He's barefoot, his feet are calloused, and maybe even a little bruised. Once he rolls over and looks out of the cell, it's evident that he looks dead-tired.
He stands up and approaches the cell door, reaching out to touch it. Suddenly, a figure appears outside of the door. A man in a white lab coat. He slaps the youth's hand away.]]
You should know better than to misbehave. You're never going to get out of here, you know.
[[The youth just gives a tired glare, and turns around, leaning on the cell door. The man suddenly disappears into dust. Once more, he turns around, staring out of the cell.
It's Richezza, of course. He just shakes his head, running his fingers through his purple hair. Grabbing one of the bars, he lightly thunks his head against the metal shaft, sighing lightly. He doesn't say anything, but he just stares out, looking tired. And maybe a little sad.
Come bother him. It looks like he needs it.]]
He's wearing a thin, white cotton t-shirt, and grey cotton pants. He's barefoot, his feet are calloused, and maybe even a little bruised. Once he rolls over and looks out of the cell, it's evident that he looks dead-tired.
He stands up and approaches the cell door, reaching out to touch it. Suddenly, a figure appears outside of the door. A man in a white lab coat. He slaps the youth's hand away.]]
You should know better than to misbehave. You're never going to get out of here, you know.
[[The youth just gives a tired glare, and turns around, leaning on the cell door. The man suddenly disappears into dust. Once more, he turns around, staring out of the cell.
It's Richezza, of course. He just shakes his head, running his fingers through his purple hair. Grabbing one of the bars, he lightly thunks his head against the metal shaft, sighing lightly. He doesn't say anything, but he just stares out, looking tired. And maybe a little sad.
Come bother him. It looks like he needs it.]]