Bakura Ryou [獏良了] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shiromadoushi) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2011-03-03 02:34 pm
shiromadoushi) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-03-03 02:34 pm
[Semi Open] But as far as I can see you are still miles from me In your doorway
WHO: Bakura and anyone who would be in Hell Towers or coming to visit
WHERE: Hell Towers 10th
WHEN: All day Thursday
WARNINGS: Emo, reference to character death
SUMMARY: Bakura attempts to start dealing with the chaos that tore his world apart in his absence and come to terms with the state of his life.
FORMAT: Para to start, whatever people want after
The hardest part was the time that had passed. Passed for everyone else, but not for him. One moment, his world was fading to black, turning so so cold as his life was drained away, everything shutting down as he was pulled into the darkness once more.
And then he was in the Porter building. No soothing nothingness to cradle him, no whispering voices from times long ago, no feeling of a presence gently pushing him back, blocking his way from whatever it was waiting.
It hadn't felt real. No marks on his neck, nothing to indicate anything had happened. Only the sudden change of location. It was almost like it had been when he had worn the Ring. One moment sitting at his desk, working on his homework, the next, waking up in bed, still dressed. One moment heading back to his apartment, the next, inside the back room of the Black Crown.
One moment in his apartment, struggling to hang on to consciousness, the next, the Porter room.
It had taken him a while to even reach for the new comm, the shaking adrenaline and realization of just what had happened sending him crashing to his knees. And then the first voice to answer him, speaking words that made no sense to him.
Alastair would never...
But he had.
He didn't know what to think, what to feel, how to even respond. Something that should never have happened to him again, and yet, it had.
Don't be angry, don't be upset, he did it because you were killed, they just got in my way...
He'd stayed with Ben and Qui-Gon, not even coming up to his apartment. Not wanting to face it, not wanting to see...
He wasn't sure he even wanted to see now. The thought of the struggle that he had lost... what would it even look like? Trowa said he had prepared it, would it all be as if nothing had happened?
Was Alastair even back from the hospital...?
He stood outside the doorway, still in his indecision. The door was only inches away, but it may have been a mile.
He didn't know what to do. He couldn't hide away form it forever, he knew that at least. But nothing else was clear.
Not even who he could trust.
WHERE: Hell Towers 10th
WHEN: All day Thursday
WARNINGS: Emo, reference to character death
SUMMARY: Bakura attempts to start dealing with the chaos that tore his world apart in his absence and come to terms with the state of his life.
FORMAT: Para to start, whatever people want after
The hardest part was the time that had passed. Passed for everyone else, but not for him. One moment, his world was fading to black, turning so so cold as his life was drained away, everything shutting down as he was pulled into the darkness once more.
And then he was in the Porter building. No soothing nothingness to cradle him, no whispering voices from times long ago, no feeling of a presence gently pushing him back, blocking his way from whatever it was waiting.
It hadn't felt real. No marks on his neck, nothing to indicate anything had happened. Only the sudden change of location. It was almost like it had been when he had worn the Ring. One moment sitting at his desk, working on his homework, the next, waking up in bed, still dressed. One moment heading back to his apartment, the next, inside the back room of the Black Crown.
One moment in his apartment, struggling to hang on to consciousness, the next, the Porter room.
It had taken him a while to even reach for the new comm, the shaking adrenaline and realization of just what had happened sending him crashing to his knees. And then the first voice to answer him, speaking words that made no sense to him.
Alastair would never...
But he had.
He didn't know what to think, what to feel, how to even respond. Something that should never have happened to him again, and yet, it had.
Don't be angry, don't be upset, he did it because you were killed, they just got in my way...
He'd stayed with Ben and Qui-Gon, not even coming up to his apartment. Not wanting to face it, not wanting to see...
He wasn't sure he even wanted to see now. The thought of the struggle that he had lost... what would it even look like? Trowa said he had prepared it, would it all be as if nothing had happened?
Was Alastair even back from the hospital...?
He stood outside the doorway, still in his indecision. The door was only inches away, but it may have been a mile.
He didn't know what to do. He couldn't hide away form it forever, he knew that at least. But nothing else was clear.
Not even who he could trust.
ooer, i seem to have missed this. uhhhh, as late in the evening as is allowed for him to be
"Mm."
It was about as nonverbal as he could get while still acknowledging the greeting, nodding his head once to make it clear that he was returning it in a quieter fashion.
"Apartment up to spec?"
It wasn't so much fishing about for compliments as a lead-in for Bakura to make any requests he might have without Trowa needing to show too much of a feeling of concern.
Hrm... Pre Vector I guess? Since he's not at Matsuka's yet.
He paused, just looking at a spot at the edge of the living room where it met the kitchen before tensing and turning away, reaching up to rub at his neck. "Thanks."
that works
"It should be easy to replace. Don't worry about it."
The smell of death, while not as sharp to his human nostrils, was still something he recognized. Or maybe it wasn't a smell--something more of a sense, like the feeling that something terrible and dark had settled into the very walls, soaking in deep as blood on a carpet. Either way, the soldier in him knew, even though the human could no longer tell.
"What will you do?"
no subject
His eyes drifted back over to that spot before he forced himself to turn away, going to sit down at the kitchen table. "It's... still to soon," he continued, looking down at his hands as he traced over the scar on his hand. The gesture had gone from being something he did when thinking of the Ring to something he did to avoid thinking of anything unpleasant, it seemed.