Vanitas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
showmeanguish) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thoughtformed2013-06-16 06:54 pm
showmeanguish) wrote in thoughtformed2013-06-16 06:54 pm
Entry tags:
open log
WHO: Vanitas and YOU?
WHAT: The abomination beyond all hope of redemption has landed amongst you.
WHEN: Afternoon, June 16th.
WHERE: Various spots around the city, as he observes and checks out his new surroundings.
WARNINGS: Some violence and Vriska's potty mouth.
Is that movement, out of the corner of your eye? Blink, and you might miss the dark figure standing at the mouth of that nearby alley, or rooftop, or street corner.
Vanitas had awoken in the hospital almost two days earlier, but because of his... "special" temperament and abilities, had had to be extensively assessed before they'd finally allowed him to leave. Guess they looked down on unleashing dozens of Unversed within the hospital grounds. But hey, how was he supposed to know that? And it wasn't like they'd actually killed anyone.
Yet.
In any case, he'd been released. Which should have made him happy, but instead he found himself even more frustrated.
He felt cold. His connection to Ventus' feelings and emotions had somehow, inexplicably, been severed. He'd noticed it in the hospital, but now that he was out, the absence was even more profound and disconcerting. Like suddenly being blind, or deaf, or dumb in one, sudden blow. He'd never gone without that extra chatter in the back of his mind, and losing it made him feel oddly out-of-sorts. Which bugged him more than he'd like to admit, because if anything he should feel relieved by it.
More importantly, though, it meant that he couldn't sense Ventus if he was, in fact, on this world. Which had left him with little other choice but to do some investigating and hunting on his own. He just had to be here, somewhere.
But the more he looked, the more alarmed he became, even if the mask he wore hid his expression from view. There was no use panicking, but the words he'd been given upon waking up kept repeating themselves over and over in his head.
You were fictional. We cannot send you back to where you came from.
"Stupid," the word's somewhere between a mutter and a hiss, as he turns away from yet another street corner, and stalks in the opposite direction.
WHAT: The abomination beyond all hope of redemption has landed amongst you.
WHEN: Afternoon, June 16th.
WHERE: Various spots around the city, as he observes and checks out his new surroundings.
WARNINGS: Some violence and Vriska's potty mouth.
Is that movement, out of the corner of your eye? Blink, and you might miss the dark figure standing at the mouth of that nearby alley, or rooftop, or street corner.
Vanitas had awoken in the hospital almost two days earlier, but because of his... "special" temperament and abilities, had had to be extensively assessed before they'd finally allowed him to leave. Guess they looked down on unleashing dozens of Unversed within the hospital grounds. But hey, how was he supposed to know that? And it wasn't like they'd actually killed anyone.
Yet.
In any case, he'd been released. Which should have made him happy, but instead he found himself even more frustrated.
He felt cold. His connection to Ventus' feelings and emotions had somehow, inexplicably, been severed. He'd noticed it in the hospital, but now that he was out, the absence was even more profound and disconcerting. Like suddenly being blind, or deaf, or dumb in one, sudden blow. He'd never gone without that extra chatter in the back of his mind, and losing it made him feel oddly out-of-sorts. Which bugged him more than he'd like to admit, because if anything he should feel relieved by it.
More importantly, though, it meant that he couldn't sense Ventus if he was, in fact, on this world. Which had left him with little other choice but to do some investigating and hunting on his own. He just had to be here, somewhere.
But the more he looked, the more alarmed he became, even if the mask he wore hid his expression from view. There was no use panicking, but the words he'd been given upon waking up kept repeating themselves over and over in his head.
You were fictional. We cannot send you back to where you came from.
"Stupid," the word's somewhere between a mutter and a hiss, as he turns away from yet another street corner, and stalks in the opposite direction.
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