[Thread] Some days, my soul's confined and out of mind.
Who: Shikamaru and Nill.
Where: Terra, the apartment.
When: Friday, after this and this.
Summary: Yosuke's missing, presumed dead.
Rating: R, I guess.
Other: RAGE.
Their search had led them to the scene of the crime, faster than even Shikamaru had expected but still too slow to have done anything to prevent what had occurred. When they reached the park they found only a great, gaping hole in the earth. Leaning over its edge, Shikamaru had been able to see, nauseating and surreal, the level of Abyss far below them. He understood what had happened. Enough, at least. He hadn't guessed that Yosuke could possibly survive the fall, that he was even still fighting the battle against his assassin down there in Abyss, so Shikamaru turned away from the blast area that he assumed was Yosuke's gravesite, took Nill by the hand, and silently led her home.
A day later, after a night without sleep, Shikamaru was sitting on his bed. He hadn't said a word to anybody, not even Nill. What was there to say? He'd fucked up again. He was a miserable fucking failure as a friend and here he was, the survivor yet again while another person close to him had to die alone. His best friend. And what had they just promised each other? He couldn't even do that much for Yosuke.
The small television in the bedroom was on, had been on since he'd gotten home even though he knew it could be days before the auction aired. If there was enough of a body left to auction. Shikamaru's gaze alternated between the screen and Yosuke's bed, but he wasn't really seeing either. Not that he was crying. He wasn't crying. Only staring. His hands gripping the trench knives that the other Shikamaru had left him, that he'd pried away from his corpse's fingers. And just who did he plan to use those knives on? He didn't even know.
Where: Terra, the apartment.
When: Friday, after this and this.
Summary: Yosuke's missing, presumed dead.
Rating: R, I guess.
Other: RAGE.
Their search had led them to the scene of the crime, faster than even Shikamaru had expected but still too slow to have done anything to prevent what had occurred. When they reached the park they found only a great, gaping hole in the earth. Leaning over its edge, Shikamaru had been able to see, nauseating and surreal, the level of Abyss far below them. He understood what had happened. Enough, at least. He hadn't guessed that Yosuke could possibly survive the fall, that he was even still fighting the battle against his assassin down there in Abyss, so Shikamaru turned away from the blast area that he assumed was Yosuke's gravesite, took Nill by the hand, and silently led her home.
A day later, after a night without sleep, Shikamaru was sitting on his bed. He hadn't said a word to anybody, not even Nill. What was there to say? He'd fucked up again. He was a miserable fucking failure as a friend and here he was, the survivor yet again while another person close to him had to die alone. His best friend. And what had they just promised each other? He couldn't even do that much for Yosuke.
The small television in the bedroom was on, had been on since he'd gotten home even though he knew it could be days before the auction aired. If there was enough of a body left to auction. Shikamaru's gaze alternated between the screen and Yosuke's bed, but he wasn't really seeing either. Not that he was crying. He wasn't crying. Only staring. His hands gripping the trench knives that the other Shikamaru had left him, that he'd pried away from his corpse's fingers. And just who did he plan to use those knives on? He didn't even know.