http://crotchroses.livejournal.com/ (
crotchroses.livejournal.com) wrote in
discedo_logs2011-08-24 02:15 pm
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Entry tags:
and are we out of sight; will our world come tumbling down? [CLOSED]
Who:
crotchroses and
spiffingtea
Where: Also the streets of Dissimulo
When: A while after nightfall; August 24th
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Someone woke up and he's confused and very unhappy with the state of his hair, his memories and just everything. The solution: Angleterre.
The Log: [France has not felt this awful in decades. The only thing that seems to keep him moving is his own stubborn will--and even that will run out in short order. His coughs are violent and the dried tears on his face run tracks through the dirt covering it. Stumbling, he clutches constantly at both his chest and his hair with trembling hands. The coughing is intensely painful and he falters, swaying like a drunk.
There's certain to be creatures out at night, so he skirts the buildings as quietly as he can--which is difficult, given his condition and cough, but muffling noise with a handkerchief wasn't beyond his current strength. That's dwindling too, in spades.
But he continues walking anyway. It's the only way he can go on: One step at a time.
One step, then another. He trips over loose debris but catches his balance until another wave of coughing hits him and he's forced to lean against a dark, nearby wall as the coughs shake and rattle his body.
One step, then another. He refuses to collapse, but so distraught at what he has seen on the network and at the memories that have flooded back, France finds that wandering almost blind with pain and exhaustion to be a better option than lying in a ditch like some kind of useless failure.
Weren't Arthur and Alfred here in this city?]
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Where: Also the streets of Dissimulo
When: A while after nightfall; August 24th
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Someone woke up and he's confused and very unhappy with the state of his hair, his memories and just everything. The solution: Angleterre.
The Log: [France has not felt this awful in decades. The only thing that seems to keep him moving is his own stubborn will--and even that will run out in short order. His coughs are violent and the dried tears on his face run tracks through the dirt covering it. Stumbling, he clutches constantly at both his chest and his hair with trembling hands. The coughing is intensely painful and he falters, swaying like a drunk.
There's certain to be creatures out at night, so he skirts the buildings as quietly as he can--which is difficult, given his condition and cough, but muffling noise with a handkerchief wasn't beyond his current strength. That's dwindling too, in spades.
But he continues walking anyway. It's the only way he can go on: One step at a time.
One step, then another. He trips over loose debris but catches his balance until another wave of coughing hits him and he's forced to lean against a dark, nearby wall as the coughs shake and rattle his body.
One step, then another. He refuses to collapse, but so distraught at what he has seen on the network and at the memories that have flooded back, France finds that wandering almost blind with pain and exhaustion to be a better option than lying in a ditch like some kind of useless failure.
Weren't Arthur and Alfred here in this city?]