ext_284936 ([identity profile] beatitlikemj.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] discedo_logs2009-05-31 04:13 pm

Open Comment Log.

Who: Daisukenojo "Beat" Biito [this username], and anyone who wants to jump in! This is an OPEN comment log! ♥
Where: Wharf/Shipyard.
When: Sunday Afternoon [attacked by Sho Saturday Night].
Rating: PG-13, for mild violence.
Summary: Sho Minamimoto made good on his promise with Beat and beat the hell out of him. But, ever-stubborn, Beat just refuses to die. Anybody wanna lend a half-dead guy a helping hand?
the log:

Damn communicator. Damn Mamimeter. One just as useless as the other. He remembers clearly what had happened; the tattooed form of Leo Cantus fresh in his mind - which tells him obviously he’s okay in the end. … Well, as okay in the head as Beat gets. But the rest? Evidence of health is lacking. Cuts, bruises, claw marks, singes, and burn marks mar his entire body, tearing holes in familiar clothing. Hell. Maybe getting Shiki to make that armor a little quicker would’ve been … uh, wise.

But when is Beat ever wise? He’s known this was coming. He should know when to keep his mouth shut. There’s no way in hell he can take down an Officer without a pact with someone. It wasn’t even them that had defeated him along the Shibuya River. It was Joshua, which is only a painful reminder to him that he’s … pretty much Useless (with a capital U!) without Phones or Rhyme, and … well, Shiki and him hardly ever talk anymore.

It’s a breaking moment for him. A spot of determination on his face as he holds his communicator in one hand as it trails against concrete and brick with horrible scraping sounds, not even marring its seeming indestructible surface. His other hand clings onto his shoulder as blood spills over thickly from between his fingers, feeling so hot against his skin and staining both shirts.

He grits his teeth and hisses. Fighting off pain was never an easy job for anyone, but Beat’s pride is stopping him from calling for help. But he’s getting dizzy and his mind’s going a little hazy, evident in a mumbled curse under his breath that has him slouching against the wall.

And … sliding. No. … Sliiiiiding, drifting. NO! The afternoon seems so warm that it’s both comforting and suffocating, and all he wants to do is sleep. He eventually slides to a seated position, grunting and unclenching his shoulder, staring at the stain on his palm with a distant interest. Maka comes to mind briefly, and Hayner, and … just everyone.

“Damn, I’m such’a burden, ain’t I?” he laughed out through a cough, wiping the dried blood from his nose on his forearm, tilting his head back against the wall behind him.


[ So, I kinda ran with some mental images. Sorry about the length. XD ]

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