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discedo_logs2008-04-08 11:11 am
too-green-eyes.livejournal.com) wrote in discedo_logs2008-04-08 11:11 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Razer, Open
Where: Marshall Street Apartments
When: Right after Razer was led over!
Rating: PG-13, I guess.
Summary: Razer is confused and injured, but at least he's made it to the apartments. Now what?
the log:
The thick blue lining of his poor jacket had been ripped out back in the church to serve as a bandage around his wounded leg, but that didn't seem to bother Razer too much right now. He just sat there, humming to himself and debating what to do.
The funny thing was, injured or not, Razer was currently more relaxed than he'd been in a good long time. Now, he was hell-knows-where surrounded by...people? Yes, people. They were wrong, eyes a little too small and a little too dark, hair a little too dull in most cases, features too subtle and ears far too short, but they were most certainly people nonetheless. Just...not the kind Razer was used to.
In any case, he was hell-knows-where surrounded by some kind of alien people with an unhealing wound in his leg just shorter than the span of his hand, in pain and confused and completely lost as to what to do next, but he still felt more relaxed--really, truly relaxed--than he had in years.
It concerned him, his inability to access the eco that made his eyes so green, but being without his eco his empathic abilities were completely gone, and that was a welcome change. He'd been so young when he was saturated, he couldn't honestly remember a time when he couldn't taste emotions and sensations when he breathed; the sudden relief was like being shaded from the harshest sunlight after years of just standing there to burn.
He would get it back eventually--soon, he thought, these people could probably use a healer and he really didn't want to be completely useless--but for now it was a welcome reprieve.
...The staring was getting annoying, though. Nothing would change that. At least he was used to some level of staring; he knew these people stared for different reasons than the ones back home, but he could handle it easily enough. He would just...be annoyed in silence. At least until he had a chance to talk with whomever was in charge, or close to in charge, or just someone the veteran racer recognized. Torn and Keira were around here somewhere, that just figured. Opposing team only.
"Although," he muttered to himself, twirling an unlit cigarette--he didn't dare smoke with his eco out of whack, it could really hurt him--around in his long fingers, "it looks as though we are all on the same team now."
Where: Marshall Street Apartments
When: Right after Razer was led over!
Rating: PG-13, I guess.
Summary: Razer is confused and injured, but at least he's made it to the apartments. Now what?
the log:
The thick blue lining of his poor jacket had been ripped out back in the church to serve as a bandage around his wounded leg, but that didn't seem to bother Razer too much right now. He just sat there, humming to himself and debating what to do.
The funny thing was, injured or not, Razer was currently more relaxed than he'd been in a good long time. Now, he was hell-knows-where surrounded by...people? Yes, people. They were wrong, eyes a little too small and a little too dark, hair a little too dull in most cases, features too subtle and ears far too short, but they were most certainly people nonetheless. Just...not the kind Razer was used to.
In any case, he was hell-knows-where surrounded by some kind of alien people with an unhealing wound in his leg just shorter than the span of his hand, in pain and confused and completely lost as to what to do next, but he still felt more relaxed--really, truly relaxed--than he had in years.
It concerned him, his inability to access the eco that made his eyes so green, but being without his eco his empathic abilities were completely gone, and that was a welcome change. He'd been so young when he was saturated, he couldn't honestly remember a time when he couldn't taste emotions and sensations when he breathed; the sudden relief was like being shaded from the harshest sunlight after years of just standing there to burn.
He would get it back eventually--soon, he thought, these people could probably use a healer and he really didn't want to be completely useless--but for now it was a welcome reprieve.
...The staring was getting annoying, though. Nothing would change that. At least he was used to some level of staring; he knew these people stared for different reasons than the ones back home, but he could handle it easily enough. He would just...be annoyed in silence. At least until he had a chance to talk with whomever was in charge, or close to in charge, or just someone the veteran racer recognized. Torn and Keira were around here somewhere, that just figured. Opposing team only.
"Although," he muttered to himself, twirling an unlit cigarette--he didn't dare smoke with his eco out of whack, it could really hurt him--around in his long fingers, "it looks as though we are all on the same team now."