harinezumikouken Member
Bloodstarved Beast
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 4143 (0.95 / day)
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- harinezumikouken 12 yrs ago
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Most Recent Posts
**“Everyone… we’re free from danger. Demeter is hurt so please let them recover… otherwise, feel free to go about and do things however you want for now. There’s a Mess Hall, Training Room, yadda yadda… yadda… you get the jist… Just don’t anywhere that you’re not supposed to,”** spoke Lorenzo on the intercom.
Looking down from the ceiling, relief washed over Esther and she exhaled a held breath. Frowning, she still had many questions she wanted to ask the good Doctor. Where were their rooms? Where were the restrooms and showers? Where was ANYTHING for that matter? Did the ship have any directory to show them the way? How soon could they begin their formal military training? These and many other questions buzzed around in her head. Frustrated with the entire depressing situation, she shook her head and forced the questions out of her mind. She'll have to settle with asking the good Doctor later when she would see him again. Whenever that would eventually happen.
Looking at the other pilot candidates, she sighed. Deciding that a little stroll around the ship was in order, she wandered off and away from the group. She figured she didn't make many friends with her prior actions and no one would want anything to do with her. At least this would give her a chance to explore a bit. She hoped the stroll would get her mind off of things to help clear her weary mind and heavy heart. So many lives lost against the Cruxi. Things had gone to hell quickly. Even a comrade had gotten hurt in the process. As soon as she could find her room, she would pay her respects to the fallen and maybe try and schedule an impromptu visit to Demeter to see if...she? He? Whatever. If Demeter was recovering well.
Unable to fully push some of her biting questions away, she wondered when she could hit the gym, range, or maybe even see her assigned Framework. She pondered the thoughts briefly and tapped at her chin with a finger, eyes on the ceiling above.
Kuhaku arrived at his assigned room, wearing a deep scowl still. As he reached for the doorknob to the room, he had half a mind to just kick and force it open in anger. But, no. That would be rather rude and immature of him to do such a thing. Deflating a bit, his ears sagged and tail swept slowly near his feet. His expression relaxed a little. Looking to his side, he saw the laundry bag he had set there earlier. Before all the craziness with Michelle had started. He had been so close to resting in his room. Ah, well.
Grabbing the laundry bag of his freshly cleaned clothes, he quietly opened the door and entered. Not paying much mind to anyone else in the room, he slipped on his undergarments and removed his towel from his waist. Folding the towel neatly, he quickly put away all of his things. Swiftly hopping into his bed, he burrowed into the sheets and curled underneath them. He was in another strange, new place and that realization didn't make him feel very much comfortable. Then again, he was hardly ever comfortable with his placement in life. Sighing, he balled himself into a sleeping fetal position and wrapped his tail around one of his legs.
He hoped he would be able to sleep at least somewhat restfully. Closing one eye and leaving the other half-lidded, he relaxed his body and cleared his mind. Thankfully, he quickly drifted off into a light slumber.
This is saddening.
Still in, boss.
Lugubrious said
What a terrific dry spell! Hopefully now that the guild is back online, and the holidays are over, we can forge onward.
This.
The Irish Tree said
...Holy shit, the RPG didn't crash for once...
Awesome gif.
Marx said
Gnar, I'm still in this as well. It's been pretty hard to find RPG up long enough to get to posting lately though and the holiday season certainly isn't making things any easier. If you want to make a post to move things along a bit I have no complaints.
It's recently been stable.
Lucius Cypher said
I don't think It's necessary, but if Hari wants to do it I'll try to find time to join up.
Sure, I'm down.
His laundry done, his body clean and showered, Kuhaku was quietly making his way back to his room. Receiving the typical and expected odd looks from various students as he walked along in his towel. It was annoying. Hadn't they ever seen towels before? Idiots. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he blinked when he saw someone he recognized. It was Michelle, the Cat Faunus he had met before. That's right, she was appointed leader of her Hunter team, wasn't she? He was about to wave at her in greeting and maybe offer a personal congratulation to her, but then...
"Uh, I, I uh, I..." Again with the s-stuttering and s-stammering.
What was with this girl?
Her face was oddly red too.
Does she have a circulation problem?
Then, she fainted and collapsed to the ground.
Ears and tail standing straight up in alarm, he looked around to see if anyone else was the cause for her collapse. A few students gasped and muttered amongst themselves, giving Kuhaku evil looks. They didn't possibly think it was his fault, did they? Why wasn't anyone coming to her aid? Imbeciles, all of them. Quickly padding over to her, he pressed two fingers against her neck to feel for a pulse. He lowered his ears to her lips to listen for her breath. Good, she was still alive and breathing. Standing up, he looked at the other students and scowled at them when they were just content with gossiping and bystanding. Growling, he determined he would be the one to have to take matters into his own hands. What could he do, leave her and seek help of a faculty member? No, that would look worse on him. Knowing the other knuckleheaded students, they would be content with standing around her abandoned body to do lord knows what. Well, he could only think of taking matters into his own hands literally.
But, that would mean touching another person.
He couldn't well ask someone else to carry her or even ask someone else to seek medical assistance.
He sighed, his ears and tail drooping.
Making sure the knot on his towel was tight, he quietly apologized to Michelle for what he was about to do.
He'll have to apologize again later when she came to.
He hoped her condition wasn't serious.
Better make haste.
Quickly kneeling down, he slipped his arms underneath her upper back/neck and the back of her thighs/knees to scoop her up into his arms. Holding her close, he looked around at the other students and was about to ask where the nearest Infirmary was but, they exploded into more loud gossiping as they continued to watch him and Michelle. So damned annoying. Oh, well. He'll find it on his own, he supposed. Ears twitching and nose sniffing, he relied on his natural sense of direction to lead him on the right path. Now the only problem that remained was how to explain the entire situation to the medical staff.
He groaned. What a pain.
He hoped Michelle wouldn't mind him having touched her.
He'll apologize to her later, feeling rather uncomfortable.
"Uh, I, I uh, I..." Again with the s-stuttering and s-stammering.
What was with this girl?
Her face was oddly red too.
Does she have a circulation problem?
Then, she fainted and collapsed to the ground.
Ears and tail standing straight up in alarm, he looked around to see if anyone else was the cause for her collapse. A few students gasped and muttered amongst themselves, giving Kuhaku evil looks. They didn't possibly think it was his fault, did they? Why wasn't anyone coming to her aid? Imbeciles, all of them. Quickly padding over to her, he pressed two fingers against her neck to feel for a pulse. He lowered his ears to her lips to listen for her breath. Good, she was still alive and breathing. Standing up, he looked at the other students and scowled at them when they were just content with gossiping and bystanding. Growling, he determined he would be the one to have to take matters into his own hands. What could he do, leave her and seek help of a faculty member? No, that would look worse on him. Knowing the other knuckleheaded students, they would be content with standing around her abandoned body to do lord knows what. Well, he could only think of taking matters into his own hands literally.
But, that would mean touching another person.
He couldn't well ask someone else to carry her or even ask someone else to seek medical assistance.
He sighed, his ears and tail drooping.
Making sure the knot on his towel was tight, he quietly apologized to Michelle for what he was about to do.
He'll have to apologize again later when she came to.
He hoped her condition wasn't serious.
Better make haste.
Quickly kneeling down, he slipped his arms underneath her upper back/neck and the back of her thighs/knees to scoop her up into his arms. Holding her close, he looked around at the other students and was about to ask where the nearest Infirmary was but, they exploded into more loud gossiping as they continued to watch him and Michelle. So damned annoying. Oh, well. He'll find it on his own, he supposed. Ears twitching and nose sniffing, he relied on his natural sense of direction to lead him on the right path. Now the only problem that remained was how to explain the entire situation to the medical staff.
He groaned. What a pain.
He hoped Michelle wouldn't mind him having touched her.
He'll apologize to her later, feeling rather uncomfortable.
Whatever bravado she had regained from her anger quickly drained from her, along with the color in her face. It left when she saw the defeated expressions on the group of lab-coats gathered around the good doctor. She had seen that look before. She knew it all too well.
It was another moon-lit night, the lights in the house were all out as per usual. A younger Esther silently watched from the shadows, her eyes peering around the doorway into the kitchen. Her father sat at the table, not having noticed her. One of her father's handguns sat on the kitchen table in front of him, a loaded magazine next to it. From where he sat, she couldn't quite see his entire face. But, she could see enough to see the pained look in his eyes. A mixture of desperation, of loss and defeat. A man who had lost too much and couldn't handle it. A man who barely clung to life. A man backed into a corner. She could tell he was hurting. She could tell he was cold and alone.
Slowly, his bionic arm lifted and reached for the magazine to grab it. He looked it over, turning it in his artificial hands and felt its weight. The servos in his hand whirring quietly as he moved. His other hand grabbed the handgun and brought it into the light. Esther nearly gasped when she saw it. She recognized it as his favorite handgun out of all the ones they owned. It was an ancient model, back when guns relied on expanding gases from powder filled ammunition to operate. Something called a Colt Model 1911. It was a .45 caliber, if she remembered correctly. It was his favorite because it was presented to him for his valiant service in the military as a gift. More for show than anything, but still a functioning weapon. He never fired it and always kept it in its display case. It was a beautiful work of art, too. With engravings covering it and a latin phrase on its slide.
He loaded the magazine and grabbed the slide, racking it back to chamber a round. For a moment, he stared at it. He had sat there for quite some time in complete silence. Esther stood watching, curiously wondering what he was doing. With a click, he swept the manual safety off. Gently placing his finger on the trigger he then brought it up to his head. He then pressed the cold, metal end of its barrel against his temple and shutting his eyes. Eyes widening, Esther absently reached out toward him, taking a step into the kitchen. Into the moonlight through the windows.
"D-...!" was all she could squeak out.
Gasping in shock, she brought her hand back in to clasp over her mouth.
Her father opened his eyes and turned in his chair to see her standing in the doorway in her pajamas.
Tears welling in her eyes, she couldn't understand what her father was doing.
She just wanted to help him.
To understand his pain.
To maybe alleviate some of the unseen burden that he carried with him each and every day.
Her father lowered the gun and stood.
Fear gripping her from having been discovered in her spying, she spun and broke off into a sprint back to her room.
Leaping into bed, she pulled the covers over her head and curled into a ball. Her hands still glued over her mouth to prevent her from making any noise. Fat tears freely streaming from her eyes as she trembled underneath the sheets. Who was she kidding? Her father definitely saw her. She could hear his heavy footsteps and the noise of his artificial limbs moving as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom. As she shook in terror and confusion her father slowly pulled the door shut, closing it. Saying nothing to her.
Walking back to his room, he remembered he still held his gun loosely in hand. Bringing it back up to look at it, he ejected the magazine and placed it back in its display case after sweeping the manual thumb safety back on. Though, he left the single round he chambered. As Esther heard him climb into his bed, she couldn't help but ask herself, how close was she to losing her father this night?
But, this was different. The lab-coats squeezed the triggers to their weapons and took their own lives, one after another. Had she not intervened the many times she did with her father, would he have been able to do what these strangers did so easily? Or, so it seemed easy to her. Would she even still have a father to this day? She felt herself growing sick again. Startled from her thoughts as Avacramdt leapt over them, she watched as the Framework fended off the Cruxi that had broken through the forcefield. Whoever the pilot was, he/she fought the Cruxi well, she thought. But, with their protection crumbling around them, now wasn't the time to admire a fellow pilot's combat skills. When the soldiers came to usher them to safety, she quietly obeyed. Looking back at the forlorn Dr. Lorenzo and the dead lab-coats around him, she couldn't help but wonder if she contributed to their deaths as she did to the Spartan named Felix. She would never forget them. Any of them.
"How did they die?"
"...From my mistakes."
Just what sick Hell had she gotten herself into?
It was another moon-lit night, the lights in the house were all out as per usual. A younger Esther silently watched from the shadows, her eyes peering around the doorway into the kitchen. Her father sat at the table, not having noticed her. One of her father's handguns sat on the kitchen table in front of him, a loaded magazine next to it. From where he sat, she couldn't quite see his entire face. But, she could see enough to see the pained look in his eyes. A mixture of desperation, of loss and defeat. A man who had lost too much and couldn't handle it. A man who barely clung to life. A man backed into a corner. She could tell he was hurting. She could tell he was cold and alone.
Slowly, his bionic arm lifted and reached for the magazine to grab it. He looked it over, turning it in his artificial hands and felt its weight. The servos in his hand whirring quietly as he moved. His other hand grabbed the handgun and brought it into the light. Esther nearly gasped when she saw it. She recognized it as his favorite handgun out of all the ones they owned. It was an ancient model, back when guns relied on expanding gases from powder filled ammunition to operate. Something called a Colt Model 1911. It was a .45 caliber, if she remembered correctly. It was his favorite because it was presented to him for his valiant service in the military as a gift. More for show than anything, but still a functioning weapon. He never fired it and always kept it in its display case. It was a beautiful work of art, too. With engravings covering it and a latin phrase on its slide.
He loaded the magazine and grabbed the slide, racking it back to chamber a round. For a moment, he stared at it. He had sat there for quite some time in complete silence. Esther stood watching, curiously wondering what he was doing. With a click, he swept the manual safety off. Gently placing his finger on the trigger he then brought it up to his head. He then pressed the cold, metal end of its barrel against his temple and shutting his eyes. Eyes widening, Esther absently reached out toward him, taking a step into the kitchen. Into the moonlight through the windows.
"D-...!" was all she could squeak out.
Gasping in shock, she brought her hand back in to clasp over her mouth.
Her father opened his eyes and turned in his chair to see her standing in the doorway in her pajamas.
Tears welling in her eyes, she couldn't understand what her father was doing.
She just wanted to help him.
To understand his pain.
To maybe alleviate some of the unseen burden that he carried with him each and every day.
Her father lowered the gun and stood.
Fear gripping her from having been discovered in her spying, she spun and broke off into a sprint back to her room.
Leaping into bed, she pulled the covers over her head and curled into a ball. Her hands still glued over her mouth to prevent her from making any noise. Fat tears freely streaming from her eyes as she trembled underneath the sheets. Who was she kidding? Her father definitely saw her. She could hear his heavy footsteps and the noise of his artificial limbs moving as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom. As she shook in terror and confusion her father slowly pulled the door shut, closing it. Saying nothing to her.
Walking back to his room, he remembered he still held his gun loosely in hand. Bringing it back up to look at it, he ejected the magazine and placed it back in its display case after sweeping the manual thumb safety back on. Though, he left the single round he chambered. As Esther heard him climb into his bed, she couldn't help but ask herself, how close was she to losing her father this night?
But, this was different. The lab-coats squeezed the triggers to their weapons and took their own lives, one after another. Had she not intervened the many times she did with her father, would he have been able to do what these strangers did so easily? Or, so it seemed easy to her. Would she even still have a father to this day? She felt herself growing sick again. Startled from her thoughts as Avacramdt leapt over them, she watched as the Framework fended off the Cruxi that had broken through the forcefield. Whoever the pilot was, he/she fought the Cruxi well, she thought. But, with their protection crumbling around them, now wasn't the time to admire a fellow pilot's combat skills. When the soldiers came to usher them to safety, she quietly obeyed. Looking back at the forlorn Dr. Lorenzo and the dead lab-coats around him, she couldn't help but wonder if she contributed to their deaths as she did to the Spartan named Felix. She would never forget them. Any of them.
"How did they die?"
"...From my mistakes."
Just what sick Hell had she gotten herself into?
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