notabluesbro | 23rd Confession [Voice/Action]

Entry tags:

23rd Confession [Voice/Action]

[Fine, he tells himself—he might as well check out the journal; while he's normally on top of things (you never know what crazy shit's gonna go down), he's been pretty laid back, he'll admit. It's been calm, despite the last event. He's managed to just relax and take it as a small vacation, or some sort of half-assed blessing. Yeah, he'll go with that.

And now, to pester the new people.]

[VOICE]

Welcome to Luceti, all you new people out there—do I have some samurai out there? Gunslingers? How about the ever-popular pirate? I swear, I've never seen so many in one place before. [Granted he'd never seen a pirate in his life prior to Luceti, but eeeeh, whatever.] I'm starting to notice this place has just about every type of person around. Well, except for people the size of mountains. I imagine it wouldn't be very comfortable being around this rough terrain, actually.

[a thoughtful hum] I imagine some of you are from the usual interesting places... space? The desert? Worlds full of dragons or monsters or swords that're way too big to be lugging around?

[and a beat]

And don't forget to speak to your local spirit, around here. Just avoid the fire one—he's a real bastard.

[FILTERED TO VASH // 70 PERCENT UNHACKABLE]

Hey, how the hell long has it been since we've had a drink? I think I'm feeling game for a few rounds. Unless you're too busy having hair contests with porcupines.

[So it goes, things feel a little more normal again. He prefers it; the days where his cross sits unused in the corner of his room are pleasant ones, to say the least. Granted, poor Amelia's stuck in there house now thanks to the hideous hand she'd been dealt in the last shift. He makes sure to check in with her in the apartment to see if she's settling well enough, before giving himself a breather outside on the path with cross in hand. As much as he enjoys the whole 'not using it' thing, he's gotta keep himself sharp.

You never know, right?

By the time he's done at the battle dome, chipping away at the usual horde of 50 or so moving targets ~~that totally look like bandits,~~ he's ready to get on home and hit the hay. Uneventful, for the most part. It's one of those times where the clock seems to be at 7 in the morn' one moment and then 11:30 at night the next.

He slips into his room after dinner, and smokes on a cigarette as he gets ready to end one day and start the next.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's late, Milly's in her big yellow PJs and she's just about to go and fix herself a cup of hot milk before bedtime when she notices that the light is still on in Wolfwood's room. She taps on the door and pushes it open, pretty sure he won't mind her coming in unnanounced.]

Mr. Priest? I was going to make some hot milk, would you-

[And the words on the tip of her tongue stop dead as she sees that he is without a shirt and his entire lower torso is riddled with vivid, angry scars, and suddenly she feels a terrible stab of grief hit her in the same place and the gasp that escapes is completely unbidden and unwanted.]

[Wolfwood hardly expects anyone to pop in at this hour, so when he turns toward the creaking door—he doesn't even consider the situation until her words stop into that gasp of surprise...]

[Shit. Shit.

Shirt still grasped in hand, he ducks his chin thoughtfully, not bothering to go and try to hide anything. It's, uh, pretty much useless, anyway. Still, he's having a hard time replying to that look you're giving him. So, he just looks back with a frown, waiting for anything beyond that sound.

But his look turns apologetic, all the same.]

Edited 2011-05-09 10:26 (UTC)

[Milly thinks and feels sometimes that she's living in a wonderful dream, even after all this time. How could this place be bad, if it brings good people back into her life who she thought had been gone forever? Sometimes she can even pretend, for a moment, when she's slipped her hand in Wolfwood's, or he's calling her Honey (strange how a shared joke between them has now become an endearment, a petname, his for her) and they're sharing a sunset... sometimes she can pretend that all that stuff that happened before she arrived here is the dream, a horrible nightmare, and this is the reality.

But the reality is carved into Nicholas D. Wolfwood's flesh, plain as day for anyone to see, etched in brilliant scarlet against comparatively pale flesh. How could anyone, anyone, bear such injuries and expect to live?

He must have died in such pain.

Milly's hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide and glistening against her will. Silly, silly Milly! She lets her hand fall, steeling herself, and forces herself to look away, to look up, up into his face which is perfect to her. He's still perfect to her, in every single way, but... but he was broken. Torn to bits and left alone in a chapel where Mr. Vash had found him and-

Her eyes dart back to his poor, ruined body and she can't bear it. She can't take this quiet stillness. She can't take that apologetic look on his face because it's not his fault. It's not his fault that someone tore him from them, from her. He's alive and he's here and he's hurting and-

Milly's bare feed pad across the distance between them, not so very far in the grand scale of things but still, a distance none the less, and comes to stand in front of him, her eyes lowered.]

Do they hurt?

[When did her voice get so tiny? Meryl is able to roar like a lioness at times, powerful and assertive even at the worst of times. Milly would give anything to have that sort of confidence in her tone when she's feeling unsure, and now she's not because she doesn't know what she can do to make this better.

Why is he looking at her like he's sorry? She should be apologising to him. She should have never let him leave her, she should have been awful and selfish and held onto him and never, never let him go.

She should have been there beside him when he died.]

[action]

Re: [action] 1/2

Re: [action] 2/2 |D

Re: [action] 1/2

Re: [action] 2/2

voice

Re: voice

Re: voice

Huh, Vash has probably been kicked out of his room for Amelia hasn't he?

But of course! Well. Maybe. Hey, the couch is nice, amirite?

I'm totally moving into your room after that thread above and making it a no smoking area!

voice

Re: voice

voice

no subject

no subject