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capeandcowllogs2009-05-25 07:57 pm
phobiaasphyxia.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2009-05-25 07:57 pm
(no subject)
WHO: Jonathan Crane ( phobiaasphyxia ) and Ruka ( gallitrap )
WHERE: Random Bus-stop number 4
WHEN: Around five-pm, May 25th
WARNINGS: Mind fucking of the highest order
SUMMARY: Ruka just wants to go home. Jonathan has other plans.
FORMAT: Quicklog or paragraph.
[ We have a Crane dressed in civilian clothing -- nice workshirt, tie, pants, etc -- and he's waiting for the bus. How much harm could he do? ]
WHERE: Random Bus-stop number 4
WHEN: Around five-pm, May 25th
WARNINGS: Mind fucking of the highest order
SUMMARY: Ruka just wants to go home. Jonathan has other plans.
FORMAT: Quicklog or paragraph.
[ We have a Crane dressed in civilian clothing -- nice workshirt, tie, pants, etc -- and he's waiting for the bus. How much harm could he do? ]
no subject
[ It makes sense — even though there were thousands of living creatures dying every day when Godzilla was angry, who among the heroes had actually done something about it? She had tried reasoning, and it had worked for a little while... but no one else seemed to take action until it was personal, or until people were hurt. They hadn't done anything... ]
[ It makes sense — but... ]
What about me? I've always been different... marked, before anyone else could see it. I'm one of them ... aren't I?
no subject
No. You are merely a pawn in their games, either too weak too be threatened or too good to be seen as a threat.
They will never accept your way: that of peace, and tranquility, and caring for those who have fallen, as the way the world ought to be. It is simply antithesis to their views of white and gray and black.
No, you are too innocent for this world, heroine.
Far, far too innocent.
no subject
[ The voice is strong, and powerful, and wraps around her in the darkness. It is like fire and smoke and the cold press of glass pushing down. She wonders if this is the voice of the Dragon whose mark is, even in this not-realm, trying to burn down through her marrow. ]
Then, why am I here? I am the claw, who stands firm. I protect. I can't not protect. I am marked. There is no choice for me.
[ No choice in any path; her oaths were made when she was only three years old, chaining her heart and her mind to the world of spirits. She had neglected them, and their world had nearly been destroyed. Before she had come here, it was protect both worlds, or watch both be consumed by decay, by destruction and death for all things. ]
[ But in this place, this world, there were no spirits to defend, no dark gods to vanquish. What, then, was the use of being a Signer in a place like this? What use was there doing any good here? Nothing lasted... Her shields could protect no one, and her sight only caused her pain. She only seemed to get in the way, when no one else would do the defending properly. Everyone else was more powerful than she, stronger and braver and being heroes by choice. What could she do in the face of that? ]
This isn't my world. Is my mark worthless here? Am I——?
/gives crappy tags
[ A pressure, now, faint but there, scraping against her temple. The voice is loud -- so very, very loud, rattling through her bones, screaming through her, so loud -- and every word that comes with it is like being struck across the face. ]
/fails to see crappiness
No!
[ With every fragment of her being she screams, screams out denial, a harsh and high note of negation, of refusal, of the only name worth crying. She is being crushed by the pressure, by the overwhelming power of that voice, and so many others chiming in from her own memory. She feels the world decay beneath her feet, and so many voices chiming the same thing. She cries, and screams to be rescued — like she has been so many times before, calling for the only person who could ever help her, ever protect her, ever save her from any darkness or doubt. ]
[ She screams, and is met with silence. ]
[ She is silent, even in her sobbing. ]
[ She is alone. ]
We can end this here.