Death the Kid (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
symmetrophile) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caughtinanetwork2012-11-23 05:10 pm
symmetrophile) wrote in caughtinanetwork2012-11-23 05:10 pm
[video]
That's much better, but...
[So says a certain young man dressed in stark monochrome, dark hair interrupted by three parallel lines of white running along only one side of his head, as he regards what appears to be a colorful ball -- the sort of toy meant for felines to caper after, once catnip has been placed inside.
Residents of a certain villa may recognize their foyer.
It's looking significantly tidier, or rather like someone had artfully arranged but one side of it, and proceeded to arrange the other side in a spookily precise mirror image. Even various cat toys found scattered around the premises have been doled out to each corner of the foyer in a bilaterally symmetrical fashion.
Someone even went through the trouble of dusting and sweeping. It veritably sparkles. Death the Kid's hair is a little disheveled, in the way of one who had little choice but to let damp hair dry as it would.
Indeed, the young grim reaper had stood there in the plaza since yesterday afternoon waiting to drip-dry, unable to abide by the thought of moving around while his wet clothes insisted on sticking to him, horrifyingly askew. He has standards.]
What do I do? It's almost perfect, but I can't simply place this in one corner.
[This is sort of stressing him out.]
I'll just have to acquire another that matches this precisely! Residents of this house! Where is the nearest market?
[This, while addressing the starfish communicator held in the other hand, until the reaper's golden eyes dart a brief, distressed glance at his own creased (and still uncomfortably damp) suit.]
...No, I should first change into something suitable. But I can't just leave this unfinished!
[Ahh, he can't decide, what should he do? WHAT SHOULD HE DO??? At last, he decides to stow the catnip ball away, and black, crackling tendrils of skull-capped shadow spirits away the toy out of sight.]
First things first--where can I launder and dry my clothing? Don't delay in supplying in answer, this is essential, I'm filthy.
[So says a certain young man dressed in stark monochrome, dark hair interrupted by three parallel lines of white running along only one side of his head, as he regards what appears to be a colorful ball -- the sort of toy meant for felines to caper after, once catnip has been placed inside.
Residents of a certain villa may recognize their foyer.
It's looking significantly tidier, or rather like someone had artfully arranged but one side of it, and proceeded to arrange the other side in a spookily precise mirror image. Even various cat toys found scattered around the premises have been doled out to each corner of the foyer in a bilaterally symmetrical fashion.
Someone even went through the trouble of dusting and sweeping. It veritably sparkles. Death the Kid's hair is a little disheveled, in the way of one who had little choice but to let damp hair dry as it would.
Indeed, the young grim reaper had stood there in the plaza since yesterday afternoon waiting to drip-dry, unable to abide by the thought of moving around while his wet clothes insisted on sticking to him, horrifyingly askew. He has standards.]
What do I do? It's almost perfect, but I can't simply place this in one corner.
[This is sort of stressing him out.]
I'll just have to acquire another that matches this precisely! Residents of this house! Where is the nearest market?
[This, while addressing the starfish communicator held in the other hand, until the reaper's golden eyes dart a brief, distressed glance at his own creased (and still uncomfortably damp) suit.]
...No, I should first change into something suitable. But I can't just leave this unfinished!
[Ahh, he can't decide, what should he do? WHAT SHOULD HE DO??? At last, he decides to stow the catnip ball away, and black, crackling tendrils of skull-capped shadow spirits away the toy out of sight.]
First things first--where can I launder and dry my clothing? Don't delay in supplying in answer, this is essential, I'm filthy.
2/2
no subject
[ so take that. ]
If you're a friend of hers, stop lurking in the foyer like a stalker and go sit in the living room like a normal person.
no subject
[He is going to insist. INSIST.]
There is only one front entrance to this house, this is the best possible location to wait for someone!
Besides, all the other potential methods of entry aren't as centrally placed as this one, it's not just impolite, it would be ugly!
no subject
[ Seriously, Kid, who does that. ]
Take off your shoes and go sit on the damn couch.
no subject
[Abruptly:] No, thank you.
If I remove my shoes, I'll break my personal symmetry. I simply can't allow that, I'll have to wait for her here.
[He's a stubborn little pain in the ass, Bon.]
no subject
[ Bon disappears for a just a moment before he comes back with a chair from the kitchen table. He sets it down where he was standing before and promptly sits, arms folded over his chest and legs crossed. ]
We'll wait.
no subject
Kid stays where he is and waits.
Seriously, if there was a contest about how long a guy could stand perfectly still with barely a twitch more significant than the necessity called "blinking", Kid could win first prize.
Except waiting, in this case, gives him ample time to observe Bon.
And the chair he's sitting in.
And the fact that the left hind leg appears to be lacking the slender felt pad attached to the other four, meant to keep it from gouging the floor if the unwary simply drag the chair around. He tries to pull his gaze away, and with a truly herculean effort, manages.
The twinge of wrong starts, like a familiar itch between the proverbial shoulderblades of thought, like something you just can't reach back and scratch easily.
Why is there only one felt pad missing? What happened to the fourth one?
No, they're waiting for Maka.
Wrong. It's so wrong.
Distract yourself already!]
Ah. [He endures the awful prickle of anxiety crawling over his skin with as much dignity as he can muster.] That's right, I never asked you for your name.
no subject
--which gets interrupted at the words. ]
Ryuji Suguro.
[ So weird saying it in western order ugh. ]