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Entry tags:
- !event,
- 2064 rom: turing,
- dangan ronpa: hajime hinata,
- dangan ronpa: kiyotaka ishimaru,
- dangan ronpa: kokichi ouma,
- dangan ronpa: shuichi saihara,
- elsword: clamor ventus,
- elsword: noah ebalon,
- fate: sherlock holmes,
- hanako-kun: nene yashiro,
- mo dao zu shi: meng yao,
- my hero academia: shoto todoroki,
- red dead redemption: arthur morgan
May event/tdm
Golden Week (closed to current characters)
On the 28th, Aiko Okane's body is returned to the auditorium, rotten and still thawing when the first student walks in upon her and screams themselves hoarse. She is swiftly removed and the auditorium is closed for the rest of the day for deep cleaning, the smell of disinfectant lingering for days after. In honor of the late student council president, a gorinto is later set up on one of the windowsills in the art room, stones perpetually damp and causing those who touch it to experience vivid flashbacks of flashing strobe lights so bright it's nauseating, a spinning room, hands covered in soot, a shadow moving from behind a bookcase, sharp pain in the back of the head—-
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
05/06 06:00 (open to all)
You open your eyes.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
05/08 16:27 (open to all)
After school on the 8th, when Clamor is headed up the second floor stairwell to the clocktower, he'll find that the door doesn't push in easily, as if there were something blocking it. A harder push and he dislodges something heavy, dark red blood pouring out from the open door to soak through his shoes and those of anybody nearby as the world spins and pitches and falls apart.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
OOC
- ✽ This event log doubles as a TDM, with new characters experiencing the recurring feeling of drifting in (school life) and out (canon life) of sleep up until they "open their eyes," after which they will have full awareness and come to their senses. Pre-established cr is possible to some extent, as a varying degree of familiarity may remain, but all characters will be strangers to one another unless they know each other in canon.
- ✽ A new closed prompt will go up on the 10th for auction results and body investigation, and on the 31st for the student council assembly.
- ✽ After the 8th, any blood spilled in the school will result in characters in the vicinity seeing its transformation into a dilapidated version of the same building. Nearby npcs turn into shadows, while nearby pcs are brought into the other world together. Finding a mirror and breaking it will return the character to where they originally were, as if no time had passed.
- ✽ The layout of the transformed school is exactly the same as the original, with inaccessible locations remaining inaccessible. The exception is the auditorium which has been replaced by a void, and fully stepping into the void will result in permadeath and a drop from the game. TDM characters may step into the void as their "exit" any time during the month, but if they are apped into the game, that death will not be considered canon.
- ✽ Applications are always open on a rolling basis. The player cap is currently set at 40, but will lowered to 30 in June.
Zero | Drakengard 3
A. 5/06
[A normal life, on a normal day, at a normal school. These were not things that Zero had ever experienced in her lifetime. Every time she would curl up in the fetal position next to the campfire, she would feel like she was experiencing an out of body experience to another universe...and frankly it pissed her off. This wasn’t normal irritation...it was advanced irritation. Amplified by the fact that every time she was spirited away to this fatberg, the irritants just seemed to multiply.
It wouldn’t have been so bad, if she wasn’t on the receiving end of these “practical jokes”, especially when it came to food. But god help the next unlucky bastard to cross her after the bavarian cream donut she was eating was not filled with cream, but with miracle whip.
So after chucking that abomination at an unsuspecting victim, she was determined to utterly obliterate those little shadow shits. Their snickering only fueled her fire more.] “You think this is funny?! You won’t be laughing when I hang you shits from the window by your innards. I’ll kill every last one of you!”
B. 5/08
[Depressing as it may be, there was a desire for Zero to throw herself into the void and disappear. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? A rare quiet passed through her mind at the thought of oblivion, only to be replaced with the clamour of guilt masked by vulgarity.
No matter how deep this was, it had nothing on the depths of her responsibility...and lack of self worth; so for that reason it was just a shit hole. Literally. This thought left Zero sneering down into the darkness with her one good eye. She couldn’t help but feel that the damn flower and this inky blackness shared a sort of kinship. The thought was honestly nauseating.
But what was not nauseating, was the smell of cooking food. Food motivated the intoner immensely, and so she proceeded to hunt the source of whatever was being made. The first person she ran into with any sort of food item would likely be robbed of it, and interrogated as to where it came from. Speaking of which…] “Hey you!”
Wildcard
[Toss whatever at me. I have been out of rp for awhile but decided to dip back in a bit. Feel free to PM.]
5/08
My name is Mary Ann, not "you".
[ What a terribly informal manner of greeting another. Whatever happened to how d'you do and shake hands? ]
Re: 5/08
"Oh, really?"
[A beat.]
"I don't fucking care."
[It was almost delivered comically. Eye then darted to the lemon art the girl was carrying.]
"Give me that."
5/06
I wouldn't do that if I was you, you'll get in the way of the investigation.
( what investigation is he talking about? well the one that everyone's been trying to figure out — it just seems like adding pointless bodies on top of one that's steadily being figured out sounds too messy. though, from the way the female was speaking moments ago, she's probably the type who also doesn't care. even if she doesn't, there's a part of komaeda that does considering he wants to watch their hope grow from this predicament that they're in. he doesn't see what can be hopeful about killing these students, and luckily for them, that's their only saving grace of why komaeda's willing to keep them alive. )
They're stepping stones just like you, so you should make friends.
Re: 5/06
"Huh?"
[Exactly, what investigation was he talking about?]
"I don't pay attention to shit like that."
[Which wasn't a lie. An investigation seemed far too complicated for someone like her. She would rather just slaughter those involved and then, well, it would be dealt with.
The notion of friendship plastered a disgusted look on her face. Anyone would be able to tell that the concept seemed very foreign to her. Her sharp tone would break through the tense silence.]
"...I don't have friends. I never have. I sure as hell don't plan on making any. If these little bastards stand in my way, I'll kill them. If you stand in my way, I'll kill you too."
[Eye glanced at the boy again, covered in her discarded food. Yet somehow, she still found the mental gymnastics to blame him for being covered in goo.]
"Looking at your face makes me want to puke."
no subject
( though there's a smile on his face as he says that, he slowly crosses his arms as he looks at the group of students who have gotten on her nerves. maybe it's just their luck komaeda is here to be the annoying person that he is, or maybe he's lucky because he gets to talk to her. the things she says, and how she acts really doesn't bother him, instead, he blinks slow as if trying to understand what she's getting at. )
Even if you say that, I can't find any joy in your empty words.
( he's talking about her threat, by his appearance, he should already be dead — white hair that shouldn't be on a living human, pale skin, just a visible sickness to him. things such as death means so little to him, but he still takes out his time in search of it while he's living along the way. the worst part is that his luck always finds a way to keep him alive, no matter how much he does to put himself in a life or death situation — this might be one of those times. she speaks it easily to him that she's probably done this before in her life, and while komaeda would welcome it if her hope was as bright as he thought it to be — ) .
Because a hopeless death by you would fill me with despair... ( and he laughs softly. ) so I'll pass, thanks!
no subject
[Seriously, why was she always required to do things she wasn't qualified for?
Like trying to understand fucking idiots. It was like karma was simply pronounced "fuck you". Which admittedly, it probably was for her.
Although her words were savage, she had yet to act, which was a bit uncharacteristic of her. This was due to the fact that he was the only one who could possibly give any sort of answers so far. She might be brash, but she wasn't that stupid...usually. That said she would give a brief chance for this butt jockey to answer her inquiries.]
"Argh! What are you even talking about?! Cut the puzzle talk bullshit. I couldn't care less about your feelings. Tell me where I am and what is going on."
no subject
( his bones. the idea sounds like actual bliss for him, but it'll only do anything for him if it comes from strong hope. he doesn't find her hostility towards them to help anyone but herself — it's selfish. when it comes to hope, it's to use it to lead everyone towards a certain path, even if there needs to be sacrifices along the way. if he becomes one of the many along with the others here, then it'll work out since they're meant to feed the soil and help those with hope grow — sadly, any spilled blood now is just a waste in the dirt. feed it too much, and everything will die. )
...
( he pauses, looking at her to read the expression she wears, and he does appear pretty serious. )
You're in a school, and... that part you have to find out for yourself.
no subject
Ariochan actual cannibal. This kid was a weird one, almost deranged in a legitimately unsettling way. It gave her sort of the creeps, much like Three.]"School."
[The word was said almost like it was poison. Even so, it was probably the most tame thing she had said recently. It was too bad that was shattered by the next action.
Her prosthetic arm would reach out and grab the boy by the collar, attempting to shove him into a nearby wall.]
"I what? Care to try that again? Speak, before I throw your goddamn body into that fucking void."
[Her free hand would gesture in the general direction of the auditorium that many seemed to be wary of.]
(no subject)
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05/06 zero my beloved
Clearly he's not the only one on the brink here, because he hears an all too familiar voice (and crass as ever, he might add) flying off the handle. It might make him feel good, knowing some sad sap is having a worse time -- buuut considering it's Zero, he knows her threats are genuine.
And he isn't complaining about that. Although he's definitely fucking complaining right now.
Idly, he thinks it's weird that Zero's here in this same promnesia situation with him, but why wouldn't she be? He was already with her. From what he can remember, at least. It's all foggy. Like they're supposed to be here, but not at all.
He turns the corner to see what's up, only to feel something intangible yank hard on the back of his goddamn tie. He knows it's some weird trick or magical bullshit, because it sends him into a flail to get whatever it is off of him -- not that it works, because he's promptly released, nearly knocking his head right into the nearby vending machine's corner.
Luckily (although he doesn't consider himself lucky at all right now), he's able to narrowly throw his hands forward to stop that from happening. He's just an inch away from having his face busted, and his pulse has shot up. ]
Fuck! [ He spits, backing up more toward the center of the room. You know, so he can attempt to see whoever's snickering at nearly turning him into some ugly fool (and so he can notably be away from anything else he might get tripped into). ]
-- Can you like, really kill them, Z? 'Cause that would be grand right about now.
[ There's an edge of irritation to his voice, but it'd be nice if Zero could handle this. She's good at killing. Hell, she could kill with her bare hands if she wanted to, considering she's kind of an animal.
Dito himself doesn't really have anything of use, which brings to the forefront of his mind that creepy sensation of how wrong this is. Where the fuck is his spear?
Maybe he could find a pen around here or something. That might be fun. ]
Re: 05/06 zero my beloved
With an expression that was confusion adjacent, but not quite exuding that she cared, Zero would turn around to see... no one?
Great, ANOTHER FUCKING TRICK--
She would kill them! Obliterate every single one of them! The next one of these taint toolbags to merely look at her was going to be torn limb from limb with her bare hands--
Oh wait, she had to look down.
And a scoff was the closest thing that Dito would receive to a smile from the intoner. Not that his crazy ass would want something like that anyway. If it wasn't some sadistic display, it was unlikely he would be interested.
"-- Can you like, really kill them, Z? 'Cause that would be grand right about now." The comment earns a vexed scoff.]
"If it were that easy I would have done it by now."
[The words are growled in her usual venomous manner, never betraying how unsettled Zero truly felt about this situation. How did he even get here? If he had made it here, did her dummy dragon make it here as well?]
no subject
Ugh...this sucks. I've had a damn headache since I got here.
[ His attention turns more back toward Zero, although he can't particularly say he ever feels safe around her. More like the opposite. But hey, at least it's entertaining.
Even though nothing about this situation is very entertaining. Although the fact that Zero is dressed differently (like himself) makes him blink for a second before he tilts his head with his own scoff. At least it's not just him. God, seeing Zero in this situation would be so much funnier if he weren't pissed off and in the same boat right now. ]
And what's up with our clothes, anyway? I mean, it's gotta be another shitty prank if you ask me. Talk about tasteless!
[ Probably something Five would be into, honestly.
His brow furrows as he closes his eyes with a scowl while he thinks, even if his head is still throbbing dully -- it's doubly good he didn't end up hitting it on that bigass vending machine. He assumes it's more or less useless to assume Zero knows what's going on any more than he does. Especially considering she's more of a "kill her way to a solution" type.
Dito likes that, though. ]
no subject
[Zero herself seemed to also be suffering from a similar symptom, which was as annoying as it sounded. It only further served to vex her more, which was the worst possible outcome for her enemies or anyone who stood in her way.
Her brow furrowed at the mention of the clothes, which she had paid little attention to until now. She also thought it seemed like something Five would be into, and although she could say much about Five's depravity, Zero's singular millimeter of respect for Dito's abuse at the hands of her sister, prevented her from voicing anything of the sort. At least until he got annoying.
That said, if he had been here longer, he needed to speak up; and quickly. Zero didn't take kindly to information being withheld.]
"What have you found out?"
[If he needed incentive, she contemplated having him being the one to test that "void". That wouldn't be an idle threat and he knew it...]
no subject
[ He unfolds his arms if only so he can toss them out in a shrug. He's gotta bitch!!! ]
But now that you mention it... I can't actually remember. It's like my head's been screwed with, too. Huh...
[ He looks toward the floor as he racks his brain about it, hand moving to hold his own chin.
But it's all like a blackout memory. He huffs through his nose indignantly. ]
It's all way too familiar, but I've definitely never been to this shithole before. Half the doors in this place won't even budge!
[ But now that he's got Zero around... ]
Heh. Think you can kick 'em down, Z?
[ If anyone should toe the line with the potential repercussions of fucking around and finding out with what appears to be a lame haunted building, he thinks it should probably be Zero. She can handle it! ]
no subject
[Goddamn he was so noisy. However, as soon as he mentioned the doors, Zero's head snapped in the direction of a pair of them. The looming double doors seemed to be sealed shut, which would do nothing to deter her. Instead she fully intended to brute force them open. As she approached, she gave another look to Dito.
"What, you're telling me you can't break down some doors?"
[Her tone was mocking as usual, as she turned back to the obstacle before her. Instead of checking anything, she would back up a few paces, and get a running start to try and get enough force to kick open the doors. Doors that definitely are not opening...meaning she hit that door with all of her force. As she fell to the ground in silence, Dito would know that it was merely the calm before her inevitable shit storm.]
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B. 5/08
[ Hyde states with a piece of meat within his mouth, sliding down and slapping upon the floor the moment he meets eyes with her. Though its obvious the one on the pan frying away with seasonings, has yet to be touched by his mouth. ]
WHATS UP BABE???? YOU LOOKIN KINDA NICE TO BET STUCK IN A SHITY PLACE LIKE THIS!!!??
[ You could almost see the dog tail wag, the dog ears twitching upon his head - except hes not a dog so. ]
Re: B. 5/08
"I didn't ask to be stuck here, dumbass. Give me that."
[And like that she would attempt to swipe the delicacies of his frying pan. Food acquired. Or so she thought.]
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[ He tries to save it and take it from her, hes cooking right now! Insistent on disallowing her to steal the meal at least until it was done - btw it is probably human meat so a fair warning to that. ]
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That said, no man would tell her what she can and can't do! So in a display of sheer willpower, she placed her prosthetic hand on the boys head and held him back as she opened her mouth and took a bite out of the meat in question. It didn't immediately register that something was off about it, that realization came later. As she slowly chewed the mystery meat, she found it not very appealing, and would spit it out.]
"What the fuck is that?! Who let you touch anything?!"
[She screeched as she gestured to the half chewed discarded meat. She had joked with Mikhail that she would eat people but...]
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Could be the meat, don't blame me fucker. Never really practiced with real people meat before - it's my first time. Aw look at that the two of us having a first together.
[ Hyde presumes, coming closer to her to watch each expression along the rather beautiful pale face. He had never, seen anything like the likes of her. He cannot help but presume she is a servant from the locks of charming white hair lining along the pale doll like skin. The flower on her eye was an added beautiful touch. ]
The names Berserker, what's good?
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5/06
So, yeah, he wasn't expecting having a donut thrown at his face.
And it hits like a fucking rock? Hello? ]
Tch -- ! [ And that vulgar language -- he can't say that it's new to him, but's way too early to be hearing that right now. He's taking off his glasses, clicking his tongue as he retrieves a handkerchief to wipe off the lens. ] If you're going to respond like that of course they're going to keep up their piss poor behavior, watch your mouth.
Re: 5/06
A slow turn to gaze at ol'four eyes as she canted her head. Her crass tone softening.]
"Oh, is that so?"
[And just like that, her "polite" manner would regress back into her normal attitude. Single eye narrowed as she begun to close the gap between them, but not silently.]
"If you don't shut your mouth, the next thing to come out of it will be your goddamn teeth!"
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His eyes narrow, staring down at her before they shift to the side. He lifts his shoulders and shrugs, canting his head one way before he dares to speak: ] You're going to lose the people who messed with your food if you decide to waste all your time on me.
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He wasn't bad looking, she could see that, but it was these types that always had nothing going on upstairs. Just take Cent for example.]
"Oh, you don't say..."
[Her tone was sarcastic, surprising that she didn't tack on the title of "captain obvious" to him.]
"I'm not blind, dumbass."
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[ Waving a hand, Hajun takes a step back to finally give himself air to breathe; somehow this woman had the presence of someone stronger than him, whether that just be physically or mentally doesn't matter.
Plus, he'd rather avoid any attempts of her swinging at his face out of annoyance. ]
Plus, I couldn't help but notice you're staring... Have I caught your attention for something else? [ Like has she not met someone as hot as him... understandable! Have a nice day. ]
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