Comments | stedelweisslogs: agreed my sin's the same;

duoduoduoduo in stedelweisslogs

agreed my sin's the same;

May 20, 2009 00:33

Day: 38
Characters: duoduoduoduo, heavy_bangs, quatrew, dr_youknowwho
Summary: Tongueless Wonder and Ye Banged One rush off to try to save Quatwizzler from therapy with Dr. You-Know-Poo.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: In the evening.
Status: Closed & inc.

( my sins I'll claim )

† trowa barton, † voldemort, † quatre winner, † duo maxwell

Comments 11

quatrew May 20 2009, 05:56:05 UTC

Quatre sat on the chair in cell number twenty-nine, trying to make heads or tails of what was about to happen. He was a little overwhelmed that friends that he'd only met in the past six days were willing to speak out against Voldemort choosing him for therapy. He was also more than a little nervous. Voldemort seemed to be able to choose how to most effectively hurt his "patients--" more like "victims," if you asked the young pilot. Duo was silenced, probably for the rest of his life; Trowa would have to keep that clown mask on if-- no, when-- they got out of here; and he had even done something that Harry was still uncomfortable talking about after a week ( ... )

heavy_bangs May 21 2009, 20:51:13 UTC

He didn't take the time to put on his mask. If he was too late, what scars Quatre saw tonight.

Trowa was a fast thinker, but at the moment, thoughts were difficult to come buy. His anger was laced with pure fear, a sickening pit of terror that spread from inside his gut through his limbs, to the very tips of his fingers. He ran towards Quatre's room, barely even able to form thoughts about what he would do to the doctor if he dared touch Quatre.

Trowa's body wasn't yet ready to run. Every quick push of pressure off his heels caused heat and pain to shoot up in his body, colliding against the anger and fear to blot out whatever remaining thoughts were left in his head. He moved with a protective instinct, a soldier fighting whatever bit of a cause he had left.

His fellow pilots. His friends. Quatre. There was little left for Trowa, little that was left unbroken, unshattered, and he couldn't let Voldemort touch--

-- Trowa didn't even have a name to call his own. Duo and Quatre and Heero were all that he had left, and with Heero and ( ... )

duoduoduoduo May 24 2009, 05:46:54 UTC

He saw Quatre sitting quietly on his chair, and relief swelled painfully in his chest. They'd beaten staff to the punch. That didn't mean anything yet, though, and that was why the relief was so painful, because tension followed close behind, a tension that shot down his arms like blood through his veins and curled Duo's calloused hands into fists. Quatre was safe only for now, for however long "now" lasted ( ... )

quatrew May 24 2009, 06:14:54 UTC

Duo and Trowa both arrived within seconds of each other, in a very big hurry. He smiled at Duo who had entered first, followed by Trowa... who was without his mask? His smile morphed into a look of more concern than shock, though both colored the gasp he involuntarily took upon seeing the scar.

He would look at it more closely later. For now, there was something much more urgent to deal with. Quatre rose from his chair as Duo started to investigate the bed. "No good; it's bolted," he told Duo. He glanced at his two friends as Duo pointed toward the door.

"You want to run?" Quatre guessed at the meaning of the braided pilot's motions. "Where would we run to?" In the few trips he'd taken outside of the room, he knew intercoms were everywhere. They would not be able to escape unnoticed, and Quatre didn't know the layout of the asylum well enough to find a decent hiding spot ( ... )

heavy_bangs May 25 2009, 09:54:40 UTC

It was Duo's lack of words that made Trowa resist panic. Remembering what the staff here could do, did do to Maxwell, kept Trowa on track. His eyes followed Duo's hands, his grunts, and his gaze across the room. Something to take apart the furniture ( ... )