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discedo_logs2008-06-22 12:40 am
timid-dementia.livejournal.com) wrote in discedo_logs2008-06-22 12:40 am
"I think there's something on your back..." [In Progress]
Who: Chrona, Vash, and Celena.
Where: In Chrona's apartment (Marshall 115).
When: Mid-afternoon.
Rating: PG-13 for Ragnarok's foul mouth~
Summary: For reasons still unknown to him, Chrona's blood-weapon, Ragnarok, has finally shown his face after fifteen days of being repressed within him. He's hungry, peeved, and currently lacks his powers just like Chrona does -- and thanks to his outbursts over the communications network, has attracted the attention of the worrysome. Oh god.
the log:
"Oh no, oh n-no... people are coming over because of you... I don't like people, l-look what you did..."
The desolate, cramped space known simply as Room 115 seemed all the more crowded, its thick blanket of dust kicked and aggrivated by the constant pacing of its lone occupant. Shuffling nervously back and forth across the creaking floorboards Chrona bit his lip, gaze downcast and even hollower than usual, back bent over at a ridiculous angle, nose parallel to the ground. It wasn't as if he needed to stoop so low, though the huge monstrosity looming out from the center of his frail spine seemed to be the general cause of his disdain.
"Pfft," Ragnarok spat bitterly, leaning an inky elbow atop his symbiote's trembling skull, psychotic cross-eyes leering at the door as if to will it open. "Bring 'em on, I say. Don't you think I deserve to meet people too, after all the time I've been stuck in your damn bloodstream?" His waif of a host simply cowered in response, giving a meek, halfhearted nod and scuttling over to seat himself tentatively on the edge of the rickety bed.
The seconds ticked by, Chrona's porcelain visage overcast with gloom and apprehension, the freakish blood-borne creature jutting awkwardly from behind him seeming utterly bored, twirling and pulling at the frail boy's hair as he waited for his guests to arrive.
Where: In Chrona's apartment (Marshall 115).
When: Mid-afternoon.
Rating: PG-13 for Ragnarok's foul mouth~
Summary: For reasons still unknown to him, Chrona's blood-weapon, Ragnarok, has finally shown his face after fifteen days of being repressed within him. He's hungry, peeved, and currently lacks his powers just like Chrona does -- and thanks to his outbursts over the communications network, has attracted the attention of the worrysome. Oh god.
the log:
"Oh no, oh n-no... people are coming over because of you... I don't like people, l-look what you did..."
The desolate, cramped space known simply as Room 115 seemed all the more crowded, its thick blanket of dust kicked and aggrivated by the constant pacing of its lone occupant. Shuffling nervously back and forth across the creaking floorboards Chrona bit his lip, gaze downcast and even hollower than usual, back bent over at a ridiculous angle, nose parallel to the ground. It wasn't as if he needed to stoop so low, though the huge monstrosity looming out from the center of his frail spine seemed to be the general cause of his disdain.
"Pfft," Ragnarok spat bitterly, leaning an inky elbow atop his symbiote's trembling skull, psychotic cross-eyes leering at the door as if to will it open. "Bring 'em on, I say. Don't you think I deserve to meet people too, after all the time I've been stuck in your damn bloodstream?" His waif of a host simply cowered in response, giving a meek, halfhearted nod and scuttling over to seat himself tentatively on the edge of the rickety bed.
The seconds ticked by, Chrona's porcelain visage overcast with gloom and apprehension, the freakish blood-borne creature jutting awkwardly from behind him seeming utterly bored, twirling and pulling at the frail boy's hair as he waited for his guests to arrive.