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niteo_nix2012-03-26 07:47 am
pierrot-fais.livejournal.com) wrote in niteo_nix2012-03-26 07:47 am
[text] and then [accidental video]
l5jgv-'
[ One might easily identify this as a sign of a new user -- and new arrival -- given the extended period of slow, confused exploration of the PDA's miniature keypad conducted in almost pitch darkness. But if one were to guess who, in the midst of a baffled adjustment to one's unfamiliar surroundings, would have time to sit down and play with a weird piece of technology, those who know the white-haired arrival might not have guessed Allen Walker.
But really, messing with this peculiar thing and indulging his passing curiosity is all that's standing between him and panic. It's a fine distraction, really.
One that loses its sparkle when what amounts to a very fancy, miniaturized typewriter offers absolutely no answers.
In his frustration, Allen vents his opinion where he thinks it won't matter. ]
clever, but it's still rubbish
[ And presses something that he'll later learn is called 'enter' in a unique method revealed by a brief clip of unintentional video recording; by way of the toe of his boot connecting with the device as a white-haired young man kicks it in a fit of pique.
He can't have kicked it too hard, nor has it landed against anything too unforgiving, as it's still running a few moments before the video cuts out. ]
[ One might easily identify this as a sign of a new user -- and new arrival -- given the extended period of slow, confused exploration of the PDA's miniature keypad conducted in almost pitch darkness. But if one were to guess who, in the midst of a baffled adjustment to one's unfamiliar surroundings, would have time to sit down and play with a weird piece of technology, those who know the white-haired arrival might not have guessed Allen Walker.
But really, messing with this peculiar thing and indulging his passing curiosity is all that's standing between him and panic. It's a fine distraction, really.
One that loses its sparkle when what amounts to a very fancy, miniaturized typewriter offers absolutely no answers.
In his frustration, Allen vents his opinion where he thinks it won't matter. ]
clever, but it's still rubbish
[ And presses something that he'll later learn is called 'enter' in a unique method revealed by a brief clip of unintentional video recording; by way of the toe of his boot connecting with the device as a white-haired young man kicks it in a fit of pique.
He can't have kicked it too hard, nor has it landed against anything too unforgiving, as it's still running a few moments before the video cuts out. ]
[video | private]
[Tim's here with his maker because he is the awesome and power Timcanpy. He's awesome he knows, no need to stare at him like that young mas-- WHY HELLO THERE! HOW YOU DIN INDEED! Tim breaks out the largest toothy grin he can manage without losing his cigarette. Other Tim was a bit smaller but.. Still the most handsome creature to ever exist!]
[video | private]
You didn't just-- Tim's muscling in for a closer look at the PDA, but Allen cups the winged golem with one hand and pushes him gently (but firmly) out of his way, narrowed eyes on the monitor. ]
I didn't think you could be even more infuriating than the real thing, but you managed somehow.
I'm only saying this once! You aren't real, so sod off!
[video | private -> Action!]
I'm not real..? I'm not real?!
[A moment later, there's a large shadow looming over the teen and an empty bottle in the man's hand. In the way only Cross can manage, the bottle comes down on Allen's head, shattering at the contact.]
GO TO HELL IDIOT APPRENTICE!
[Action!] 1/3
Ti--
[ CRASH.
Reflexively clutching at his smarting head as pieces of shattered glass tinkle to the ground, Allen looks up from his crouch with an offended grimace--
[Action!] 2/3
The exorcist's period of shock, during which he is heedless of the fact that he might just be bleeding a little, passes by as the smaller Timcampy zooms excitedly in wide loop-the-loops around both Master and the larger (and terribly magnificent) golem.
He's here.
Cross Marian, the man who plucked him from the wreckage of a life without Mana and seemed to delight in making the apprenticeship that followed a living hell. The man who repeated Mana's own words to him just when he needed them most. Terrible and untouchable and invincible (and dead) and here.
Like he had been all along. ]
[Action] 3/3
His younger master, on the other hand, can't sort out what he feels so he just indulges all of them, all out of turn and with fists clenched in hair and around bits of glass crushed between ruddy, heavy, deformed fingers. ]
That. Hurt.
[ So did a lot of things, and this was nothing, it wasn't half as bad as what Cross could do but why was he here and why was he wearing bandages? ]
[Action]
Cross just scoffs at at his apprentice, tossing the neck of the broken bottle over his shoulder. Not like littering mattered here. He reached out, brushing glass shards from white hair and frumpy clothing.]
You look disgusting. What have you been doing? Dragging yourself through filth on purpose?
[Action]
The rumpled and somewhat glass-dusted exorcist seated on the ground isn't wearing anything particularly notable, just a pair of worn boots, slacks, a long-sleeved shirt that is... probably more a nightshirt than something one should be wearing outdoors in a post-apocalyptic ruin of a city.
In late winter/early spring.
Hurt was gradually making way for that slow-growing shock and realization; it was taking root now, really sinking in, that Cross might not be some elaborate hallucination at all.
Sorry, this takes a little while. ]
... How--