shut the window cw: prompt, careless disregard for the concept of 'death' as a permanent state
[ For all the chaos of arrival, the introductions, the oddity of uniformity of clothing, of all things- Ochre felt rather at home in the tower. Chances of death, of torture and change, those were, well.
He hadn't gotten used to them, but he'd learned to live with them.
Basically everything ached, the slow burn of the fever wrecking him with a slow torture he'd not gotten used to, but still, he figured out that there was likely some end game goal here.
When the note arrives, it takes him a while to pick it up, and then longer to crawl back to where he'd left his phone. ]
take the meds
[ Ochre- actually has no idea who's on the other end of the line, who else is alive, but. He's died before, both in the last place, and back home. He's got this. ]
know your place cw: prompt
[ Screw waiting.
Ochre gives one message out to the rest of the network before he leaves his room. He ran out of food a while ago, and he doesn't have patience to wait for a response.
If they didn't want people breaking down the doors, they should have left more than a day's worth of food. ]
The hell's it so cold for?
[ It takes him three steps of freedom before he goes back into his room, snagging his blanket for warmth. If anyone says shit, he can just beat them up, it's too cold for this crap.
The kitchen's easy to find, and Ochre starts rummaging through the cupboards, looking for anything that hadn't been portioned out to the rooms already.
He doesn't make much of an effort to keep the noise down, having already found and stolen a chair, dragging it along with him as he digs for food, never letting it leave his arm's reach. It's nothing like the shield he'd used before, or even the folding chairs he's more used to, but the wood looks solid, so it'd be good enough to keep people off his back. ]
Kanji Tatsumi | Persona 4 | CRAU
cw: prompt, careless disregard for the concept of 'death' as a permanent state
[ For all the chaos of arrival, the introductions, the oddity of uniformity of clothing, of all things- Ochre felt rather at home in the tower. Chances of death, of torture and change, those were, well.
He hadn't gotten used to them, but he'd learned to live with them.
Basically everything ached, the slow burn of the fever wrecking him with a slow torture he'd not gotten used to, but still, he figured out that there was likely some end game goal here.
When the note arrives, it takes him a while to pick it up, and then longer to crawl back to where he'd left his phone. ]
take the meds
[ Ochre- actually has no idea who's on the other end of the line, who else is alive, but. He's died before, both in the last place, and back home. He's got this. ]
know your place
cw: prompt
[ Screw waiting.
Ochre gives one message out to the rest of the network before he leaves his room. He ran out of food a while ago, and he doesn't have patience to wait for a response.
If they didn't want people breaking down the doors, they should have left more than a day's worth of food. ]
The hell's it so cold for?
[ It takes him three steps of freedom before he goes back into his room, snagging his blanket for warmth. If anyone says shit, he can just beat them up, it's too cold for this crap.
The kitchen's easy to find, and Ochre starts rummaging through the cupboards, looking for anything that hadn't been portioned out to the rooms already.
He doesn't make much of an effort to keep the noise down, having already found and stolen a chair, dragging it along with him as he digs for food, never letting it leave his arm's reach.
It's nothing like the shield he'd used before, or even the folding chairs he's more used to,
but the wood looks solid, so it'd be good enough to keep people off his back. ]