And there is no better part of me
Who: Axel, Roxas
When: June 4, evening
Where: Near the newcomer apartments
Summary: Not all reunions are happy, even between best friends
Warnings: FIGHTING and things lit on fire
Sleep had been elusive the night before. Axel's head had continued to feel as though someone had taken a hammer to his temples, despite liberal use of the old bottle of painkillers he'd found in his shabby apartment in the Towers. Without trying to force himself to rest, he'd spent the night on his back in bed, hands behind his head, watching the pattern the glow of streetlamps made on his ceiling and listening to the occasional cry of something inhuman echoing from the depths of the city.
It was not until around noon that the pain in his head finally subsided to a dull throb, as he wandered around the city, familiarizing himself with his new home. Now with twilight encroaching on the day, Axel could feel fatigue creeping heavily through his body; he'd sleep tonight, he supposed. Though he disliked the idea of hiding away at night, it was probably wise to follow the advice of his young keyblade-wielding acquaintances, at least until he had the run of this place better. It wasn't just unknown monsters to worry about; some monsters wore human faces. He ought to know.
And he was beginning to suspect one of them was tailing him right now.
It was nothing in particular that told him so, other than the itching feeling between his shoulderblades. Not at first--but later, heading back to the apartment, movement out of the corner of his eye was enough to tell him that his instinct was right. He made his way by a meandering route, taking the time to be sure. His follower wasn't particularly subtle, though Axel gave him points for effort. Still, if it was someone like Vexen or Zexion, this could get irritating quickly. He couldn't think of anyone else it could be, for that matter.
He hadn't tried summoning his weapons yet: fire or the chakrams. This seemed as good a time as any.
The single chakram he called came to his hand like it was born to it, and without wasting a beat Axel whirled toward the source of the movement and hurled the weapon. His aim was deliberately off--the point was to force his follower to reveal himself, not kill him.
For now, anyway.
When: June 4, evening
Where: Near the newcomer apartments
Summary: Not all reunions are happy, even between best friends
Warnings: FIGHTING and things lit on fire
Sleep had been elusive the night before. Axel's head had continued to feel as though someone had taken a hammer to his temples, despite liberal use of the old bottle of painkillers he'd found in his shabby apartment in the Towers. Without trying to force himself to rest, he'd spent the night on his back in bed, hands behind his head, watching the pattern the glow of streetlamps made on his ceiling and listening to the occasional cry of something inhuman echoing from the depths of the city.
It was not until around noon that the pain in his head finally subsided to a dull throb, as he wandered around the city, familiarizing himself with his new home. Now with twilight encroaching on the day, Axel could feel fatigue creeping heavily through his body; he'd sleep tonight, he supposed. Though he disliked the idea of hiding away at night, it was probably wise to follow the advice of his young keyblade-wielding acquaintances, at least until he had the run of this place better. It wasn't just unknown monsters to worry about; some monsters wore human faces. He ought to know.
And he was beginning to suspect one of them was tailing him right now.
It was nothing in particular that told him so, other than the itching feeling between his shoulderblades. Not at first--but later, heading back to the apartment, movement out of the corner of his eye was enough to tell him that his instinct was right. He made his way by a meandering route, taking the time to be sure. His follower wasn't particularly subtle, though Axel gave him points for effort. Still, if it was someone like Vexen or Zexion, this could get irritating quickly. He couldn't think of anyone else it could be, for that matter.
He hadn't tried summoning his weapons yet: fire or the chakrams. This seemed as good a time as any.
The single chakram he called came to his hand like it was born to it, and without wasting a beat Axel whirled toward the source of the movement and hurled the weapon. His aim was deliberately off--the point was to force his follower to reveal himself, not kill him.
For now, anyway.