[Active/Open] - ATTIC BELONGS TO SENSEI YES
Characters: Nozomu, and whoever
Setting: THE ATTIC
Time: 001 Night
Summary: Nozomu... runs to the attic. And stays there.
Warnings: Sensei might actually be IC now.
Nozomu ran. He ran - wood clacking frantically - through horrifically decorated hallways of red, of pink and white. He ran, narrowly avoiding scraping into table edges or tripping over himself, and as he ran:
"The mafia! I never realized it before, but - they were definitely tracking me through my cell phone usage! I had it out when I was brought here! Furthermore, all those debts, and the wishes I made as a small child! I should never have downloaded that song, I had only lost the CD, I should have looked harder! All those candy wrappers I littered! The number of times I lied when someone asked for me on the phone! Now they're going to gouge - "
Somehow, miraculously, he reached the one place that wouldn't constantly, grotesquely remind him that he was trapped here. Well, not really trapped, he might be able to escape if he wanted. But he didn't really know his way home from wherever-this-place-was, not that he had looked outside - he would have remembered a place as big as this if it existed anywhere near him. And his rope was still missing, so maybe it had been kept around here somewhere. And he really, kind of, didn't want to teach tomorrow.
But, this new room was comfortable. It was quiet, and dark, and reminded him of being poor, which he liked. It was full of dust, he liked that too - he liked old things. Most of all it was warm, the seemingly third-and-last floor of the house, and he figured he should close the door behind him so the accented-Italian gang-members would have a lesser chance of looking for him here. And, here - there seemed to be a few empty boxes, he was falling all over them, so if he really needed to hide...
Setting: THE ATTIC
Time: 001 Night
Summary: Nozomu... runs to the attic. And stays there.
Warnings: Sensei might actually be IC now.
Nozomu ran. He ran - wood clacking frantically - through horrifically decorated hallways of red, of pink and white. He ran, narrowly avoiding scraping into table edges or tripping over himself, and as he ran:
"The mafia! I never realized it before, but - they were definitely tracking me through my cell phone usage! I had it out when I was brought here! Furthermore, all those debts, and the wishes I made as a small child! I should never have downloaded that song, I had only lost the CD, I should have looked harder! All those candy wrappers I littered! The number of times I lied when someone asked for me on the phone! Now they're going to gouge - "
Somehow, miraculously, he reached the one place that wouldn't constantly, grotesquely remind him that he was trapped here. Well, not really trapped, he might be able to escape if he wanted. But he didn't really know his way home from wherever-this-place-was, not that he had looked outside - he would have remembered a place as big as this if it existed anywhere near him. And his rope was still missing, so maybe it had been kept around here somewhere. And he really, kind of, didn't want to teach tomorrow.
But, this new room was comfortable. It was quiet, and dark, and reminded him of being poor, which he liked. It was full of dust, he liked that too - he liked old things. Most of all it was warm, the seemingly third-and-last floor of the house, and he figured he should close the door behind him so the accented-Italian gang-members would have a lesser chance of looking for him here. And, here - there seemed to be a few empty boxes, he was falling all over them, so if he really needed to hide...