this is how we live
Characters: Edel and Alexander
Where & When: Almost evening at the Gilded Castle!
Rating & Why: Let's say PG13 because icon and trains of thought being what they could be.
Summary: HELLO, BEST FRIEND. MIND IF I OOZE BLOOD AND SNOT ALL OVER YOUR NICE CLEAN FLOOR?
Sometimes there was little else a person could do in the face of frustration but laugh or cry. Alexander was not partial to tears - hadn't been so for a long, long time. Tears are for when your fingers crumble under the weight of molded stone and metal, but only if you're young enough to get away with it. Nineteen was well beyond that point, and in any case, his fingers were already smashed to bits and broken pieces! So what excuse could he have to come slinking back to the castle sniveling and sniffling like a child?
None. And so, with crying being a non-option, all Alex could ever do was laugh. Laugh each time the very air rejected his motions and sent him to the ground without a chance of breath. He hated Splendor more and more with each fall, more and more with the deep breaths that drew in the sick scents of all the things he ought to have been killing, not thriving amongst. He wanted to scream. He did, several times, but it was hardly enough.
So all he could do was smile and chuckle against the burning sensation that came from a bubbling gash on his lip. His nose throbbed, perhaps broken, he didn't bother to check; one too many direct hits with those absurd and (to his mind) uncalled for walls preventing him from doing what came naturally. Frustrating.
It would be, perhaps, easier, had he the chance to get a decent night's sleep. But only complete exhaustion won him that, and as he climbed the stairs to the higher floors of the castle, there was still energy in his legs, still unsatisfied. His teeth clicked each time he inhaled through his mouth, periodically wiping his nose against the bloodflow. If the stuff would just clot and block it all up there, then it would be a great help, he thought, but barring that...
He stopped before the certain door and gave it the once-over, glancing down at the door handle. His good finger and thumb flexed like the pincer of an insect as the thought of simply slicing the whole damn thing to shreds fluttered to mind. But, no, that would just cause a great deal of hysteria and get in the way of what he wanted.
--For the moment, that is; Edel was nowhere near capable of giving Alex what he really wanted, but. For the moment...
His forehead hit the wood with a dull thunk. "Edeeeeeeel," he moaned. "Open the door, please?"
Where & When: Almost evening at the Gilded Castle!
Rating & Why: Let's say PG13 because icon and trains of thought being what they could be.
Summary: HELLO, BEST FRIEND. MIND IF I OOZE BLOOD AND SNOT ALL OVER YOUR NICE CLEAN FLOOR?
Sometimes there was little else a person could do in the face of frustration but laugh or cry. Alexander was not partial to tears - hadn't been so for a long, long time. Tears are for when your fingers crumble under the weight of molded stone and metal, but only if you're young enough to get away with it. Nineteen was well beyond that point, and in any case, his fingers were already smashed to bits and broken pieces! So what excuse could he have to come slinking back to the castle sniveling and sniffling like a child?
None. And so, with crying being a non-option, all Alex could ever do was laugh. Laugh each time the very air rejected his motions and sent him to the ground without a chance of breath. He hated Splendor more and more with each fall, more and more with the deep breaths that drew in the sick scents of all the things he ought to have been killing, not thriving amongst. He wanted to scream. He did, several times, but it was hardly enough.
So all he could do was smile and chuckle against the burning sensation that came from a bubbling gash on his lip. His nose throbbed, perhaps broken, he didn't bother to check; one too many direct hits with those absurd and (to his mind) uncalled for walls preventing him from doing what came naturally. Frustrating.
It would be, perhaps, easier, had he the chance to get a decent night's sleep. But only complete exhaustion won him that, and as he climbed the stairs to the higher floors of the castle, there was still energy in his legs, still unsatisfied. His teeth clicked each time he inhaled through his mouth, periodically wiping his nose against the bloodflow. If the stuff would just clot and block it all up there, then it would be a great help, he thought, but barring that...
He stopped before the certain door and gave it the once-over, glancing down at the door handle. His good finger and thumb flexed like the pincer of an insect as the thought of simply slicing the whole damn thing to shreds fluttered to mind. But, no, that would just cause a great deal of hysteria and get in the way of what he wanted.
--For the moment, that is; Edel was nowhere near capable of giving Alex what he really wanted, but. For the moment...
His forehead hit the wood with a dull thunk. "Edeeeeeeel," he moaned. "Open the door, please?"