[he doesn't bother with any false cheer this time, or an attempt at any other personable inflection. He leaves it to fall at its natural hollow monotone, speaking somewhere near the journal but not directly to it. It's monologue time.]

The new year--a time for reflection and promises... and comically well-timed, it seems. At least, now I think I ( Read more... )

[if there was anything that would draw Legato from his quiet hiding place, it would be this. A dizzying flood of life, dozens of unwelcome new presences, all pouring into town at once.

So, he heads to the streets, quietly wandering the avenues and watching. Listening. They're everywhere, crowds of them, making his skin crawl. Finally he finds a ( Read more... )

[exhaustion is an inadequate word. The utter extent in which he had spent himself combating Vash, the complete mental weariness of having his personality dragged and twisted for two weeks, goes far beyond exhaustion. There is a part--mostly likely a large part--of him that clings to it, not wanting to regain consciousness at all.

When he finally ( Read more... )

[all at once, everything makes sense. His rifle disappears, he is rightfully reunited with his infamous white coat, and his powers return in an intoxicating rush. The absurdity of the change, the sheer awful ridiculousness of it, burns and burns and burns...

He grabs the journal, voice low and cold with anger...]

Wasn't that an entertaining little ( Read more... )

[after waking with a start, Legato lays there in the dark for a long time. He has so much on his mind, he quickly realizes that there really is very little hope of going back to sleep. So, eventually he gropes around in the shadows until he finds his journal. It begins recording, but there is another minute or so of hesitant silence before he ( Read more... )

[it's cold. Colder than Legato is used to it being during the daytime. He knows what is coming, of course-- he knows enough about how the world is supposed to be to know that a snowy winter is logically on its way. So, he's wandering through town today, still looking a little haggard from his recent rough recovery, inspecting the selection of ( Read more... )

[it's the first day that he's really been able to move, and he's not wasting the opportunity. Pushing himself carefully up in bed, he opens the journal and props it in front of him. There is a clear view of blue hair, tired-looking gold eyes, and bandages across his upper torso. He puts up no filters, gives no preface, just speaks into the journal ( Read more... )

[today is moving day. Things have been going well; he's finally beginning to feel at home. It really is such a nice feeling. So, after a little scouting, he decides to treat himself to a new apartment. He gathers up his things-- only a change of clothes and a few books tucked under one arm --and he sets off from the third Community building, to the ( Read more... )

[it had been a very surreal week. First with the storms and rain--something he would likely never get entirely used to--and now residents teleporting madly around. So far, he'd managed to seemingly hide from it, for the most part. Staying inside to help lessen the dizzying effects of unwillingly sensing dozens of minds blink away and reappear ( Read more... )

[Legato hadn't exactly been hiding since his arrival. He'd been...waiting.

Waiting for this delusional dream to end, waiting for someone to try and remove him from the apartment he'd claimed as 'his', waiting for something--anything--to make sense. ...Waiting for instruction, perhaps.

When he finally realizes that waiting is turning out to be ( Read more... )