"RYUUZAKI" (L - Death Note) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ryuuzaki) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
animus_network2012-02-12 04:51 pm
ryuuzaki) wrote in animus_network2012-02-12 04:51 pm
Entry tags:
Voice (and then some)
[People who have talked to L before might recognize the voice, but it sounds softer, more weary, less self-assured.]
I have two questions. If you're willing to cooperate, you can answer either of them, or both.
The first: What were you doing in the moments just prior to waking up here?
The second: Has anyone been sent back to where they came from more than once?
[ACTION: CAFETERIA]
L sits in the cafeteria, with enough breakfast food around him for at least three people. This leans towards sweeter foods, but he's having a few eggs, too: he can't afford to be picky right now. There's also a lot of hot cocoa and juice. Since he doesn't look healthy, and you might or might not have witnessed him being dragged off for a collar checkup the other day, maybe you feel like saying hello. Maybe you just want to accuse him of unchecked gluttony... but you might notice that he doesn't look like he's been eating or sleeping much at all lately, even for him.
--
If you've been around for a while, you might have seen this guy before: white shirt, blue jeans, feet often pushed into worn tennis shoes that he toes off as soon as he sits--oddly--in a chair, his feet on the seat. If you've talked at all, he introduced himself as Ryuuzaki. Maybe you've seen him around, most likely in the cafeteria or in the library. The collar, which is orange, seems to annoy him.
When he first appeared in the Tower a few months back, he was lanky, with bad posture, but the best word to describe his current appearance is "haggard." He was thin before; now he's emaciated. He had shadows under his eyes; now they're caverns.
If you're his roommate, in 2-02, you'll notice that he's been missing from his bed for days at a time, and sometimes, after a few days' absence, he's there all day. He spent Monday sleeping. Anyone might have seen him on Tuesday, when the Tower attendants grabbed him on his way to breakfast and dragged him off for the collar checkup he'd missed; he struggled against them, but was helpless, calming a little only when he understood why they were trying to restrain him. He hadn't realized what day it was. He disappeared again for a few days, then spent Saturday morning eating prodigious quantities of breakfast food and the remainder of the day asleep.
In truth, he's been spending time in the shattered wreck of his own world: three days, four, maybe six at most, never by choice... it's hard to keep track of the time. Always Tokyo, never Paris or Seattle or Moscow or Melbourne. Sometimes--rarely--he can find a few dusty bottles of drinkable water in the husk of what was once a kombini, but that's when he's lucky, and sometimes he dreads finding anything to drink, because he's noticed that if he finds them within two days, it means that he will tend to be trapped in the ruins longer without any real food. Either two days of thirst, or a much longer period of hunger with very little to eat. "Lucky" is an intensely relative term.
He stays awake as long as he can, losing track of time, trying to catch some reference to what happened to the world to make it this way. There are no plants, no stars in the sky... he wonders if it's nuclear winter, or if there's even any bacterial life apart from what he carries with him. When he can't stay awake any longer because his body has taken all it can stand, the oncoming crash of numb exhaustion is partly welcome, partly terrifying: it has come to mean either that he'll wake up in the Tower again, where he can eat and where sleeping is easier and more comfortable, or that he'll never wake up at all.
This is the second day in a row that he's woken up in a bed in the Tower. A two-day streak like this hadn't happened in a while, and now it's happening twice in one week. His own gratefulness irritates him. He should go get breakfast while he can; on days when he's here and awake, he tends to eat as much as he can possibly stomach. He's beginning to develop a very real fear that if this continues, he'll die of malnutrition.
[OOC note: Sort of a reintroduction, since I've been sick and hiatused for quite a while and this was about the best I could do to explain such a long absence without him dying of starvation or something: half autopilot, half constantly being kicked back to Wasteland World.
If you're going for action... do go ahead and assume that if your character talked to him before, he gave you his name, even if we didn't make it to that point in the thread. If you'd rather not assume that much, just let me know; also please let me know whether or not he got your character's name. He'll reintroduce himself anyway, if your character asks.
I'll do proper action with smalltext in the event someone wants to talk to him in the cafeteria; I'm leaving the formatting out here, so that this will be easier to read.]
I have two questions. If you're willing to cooperate, you can answer either of them, or both.
The first: What were you doing in the moments just prior to waking up here?
The second: Has anyone been sent back to where they came from more than once?
[ACTION: CAFETERIA]
L sits in the cafeteria, with enough breakfast food around him for at least three people. This leans towards sweeter foods, but he's having a few eggs, too: he can't afford to be picky right now. There's also a lot of hot cocoa and juice. Since he doesn't look healthy, and you might or might not have witnessed him being dragged off for a collar checkup the other day, maybe you feel like saying hello. Maybe you just want to accuse him of unchecked gluttony... but you might notice that he doesn't look like he's been eating or sleeping much at all lately, even for him.
--
If you've been around for a while, you might have seen this guy before: white shirt, blue jeans, feet often pushed into worn tennis shoes that he toes off as soon as he sits--oddly--in a chair, his feet on the seat. If you've talked at all, he introduced himself as Ryuuzaki. Maybe you've seen him around, most likely in the cafeteria or in the library. The collar, which is orange, seems to annoy him.
When he first appeared in the Tower a few months back, he was lanky, with bad posture, but the best word to describe his current appearance is "haggard." He was thin before; now he's emaciated. He had shadows under his eyes; now they're caverns.
If you're his roommate, in 2-02, you'll notice that he's been missing from his bed for days at a time, and sometimes, after a few days' absence, he's there all day. He spent Monday sleeping. Anyone might have seen him on Tuesday, when the Tower attendants grabbed him on his way to breakfast and dragged him off for the collar checkup he'd missed; he struggled against them, but was helpless, calming a little only when he understood why they were trying to restrain him. He hadn't realized what day it was. He disappeared again for a few days, then spent Saturday morning eating prodigious quantities of breakfast food and the remainder of the day asleep.
In truth, he's been spending time in the shattered wreck of his own world: three days, four, maybe six at most, never by choice... it's hard to keep track of the time. Always Tokyo, never Paris or Seattle or Moscow or Melbourne. Sometimes--rarely--he can find a few dusty bottles of drinkable water in the husk of what was once a kombini, but that's when he's lucky, and sometimes he dreads finding anything to drink, because he's noticed that if he finds them within two days, it means that he will tend to be trapped in the ruins longer without any real food. Either two days of thirst, or a much longer period of hunger with very little to eat. "Lucky" is an intensely relative term.
He stays awake as long as he can, losing track of time, trying to catch some reference to what happened to the world to make it this way. There are no plants, no stars in the sky... he wonders if it's nuclear winter, or if there's even any bacterial life apart from what he carries with him. When he can't stay awake any longer because his body has taken all it can stand, the oncoming crash of numb exhaustion is partly welcome, partly terrifying: it has come to mean either that he'll wake up in the Tower again, where he can eat and where sleeping is easier and more comfortable, or that he'll never wake up at all.
This is the second day in a row that he's woken up in a bed in the Tower. A two-day streak like this hadn't happened in a while, and now it's happening twice in one week. His own gratefulness irritates him. He should go get breakfast while he can; on days when he's here and awake, he tends to eat as much as he can possibly stomach. He's beginning to develop a very real fear that if this continues, he'll die of malnutrition.
[OOC note: Sort of a reintroduction, since I've been sick and hiatused for quite a while and this was about the best I could do to explain such a long absence without him dying of starvation or something: half autopilot, half constantly being kicked back to Wasteland World.
If you're going for action... do go ahead and assume that if your character talked to him before, he gave you his name, even if we didn't make it to that point in the thread. If you'd rather not assume that much, just let me know; also please let me know whether or not he got your character's name. He'll reintroduce himself anyway, if your character asks.
I'll do proper action with smalltext in the event someone wants to talk to him in the cafeteria; I'm leaving the formatting out here, so that this will be easier to read.]
[voice in perpetua]
[text]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[All he is willing to anyways.]