we are mass-murderers now.

it's just a trigger! pull it with your ego! pull it until you're ruthless!

[luxturbia]

A vampire’s keen senses end up being both a blessing and a curse. When presented with a scenario where the sense of smell is abused like this, stress rises. Laito didn’t particularly enjoy perfumes as much as one would expect, and he certainly didn’t enjoy multiple perfume aromas bombarding his nostrils as they did now. How do people do perfume shopping when they could barely ascertain one smell from the other?

Who knows. Oh well, he found someone he could drag into the hell that is ‘This place reeks and I want out’ club. Candidly did Laito rub his nose with a smile—he has to look at least SOMEWHAT presentable and friendly.

♪ ･･･ “Time moves too quickly for anyone to keep track nowadays. Ah, well, I can’t find my way out. I was–“ In mid-sentence, he clears his throat. “–hoping you would know which way the exit is?”

The store isn’t even that big. Well, the perfume section isn’t, anyways.

♪ ･･･ “How anyone could, ah, stand the smell of this place for so long is beyond me.~ I can barely last a second…~”

[orangemeister]

TO REPEAT: good grief, it stinks. Allelujah feels like gagging, but he suspects that the motion will draw attention to him and, really, that’s the absolute last thing he wants to do right now, especially considering the odd new acquaintance he’s just made.

...Best not to cause a scene.

<<You know, you could have just left this area... Ah, anyway.>> He inhales deeply -- through the mouth, thankfully -- and sighs. It’s a moot point, because he realizes that he’s definitely not going anywhere so long as this guy is sticking around. Perhaps he should be more assertive, but -- well, that’s really not his style.

<<I thought it was through this way, but apparently not.>> The guy’s being somewhat overly dramatic, but Allelujah ignores it and goes on. <<I suppose we could try and find our way out together -- anything is probably better than just standing here.>>

Especially when he feels like he’s scrunching his nose so hard it’ll break.

[orangemeister]

@vitiiatcs

He constantly thinks about that moment, finds himself at times unable to think about anything else in this city even when his own survival is on the line. The fact that he wasn’t witness to the event makes no difference in the gravity of it -- one of his comrades is dead and it makes everything they’ve been doing feel so much like useless effort, even if Allelujah knows better. It’s just...

There’s nothing he could have done to stop him. But letting go seems so --

Shaking his head doesn’t make the feelings of regret and perhaps impending depression go away, but it does give him enough to refocus and realize he’s about knocked out some poor bystander in his miserable, self-centered trance.

<<I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.>>

<<Ah, you’ll have to forgive me. Being here is the last thing I needed to happen right now... You can understand, right? But I’m rambling to a stranger. Sorry, I’ll be on my way.>>

If that wasn’t the most awkward impression to make on someone, he’s not sure he could have done so if he had tried harder. Embarassing.

[luxturbia]

♪ ･･･ “A-aah, the odor here is… … … overpowering.”

♪ ･･･ “If only cutting through the perfume aisle wasn’t the only means of exiting the store, hm? Nfu♪ I know you’re listening. Once you’ve hit adulthood, it becomes OK to talk to strangers, you know.”

@orangemeister

[orangemeister]

It stinks here. He’d just wanted to see if the stores here had anything resembling what the ones on the surface did back home -- they did, albeit far less advanced in some aspects and in a currency he didn’t possess -- and had meant to slip out. Instead, there was this guy blocking the way...

...just one of those situations where it felt too awkward to do anything but hide away and wait. Were it not for the other noticing him, Allelujah might have gotten out without incident.

<<I guess it is somewhat childish to stay hidden and not say anything. Sometimes I forget I’m no longer a child.>> His tone is somewhat bitter on the final word, he realizes.

<<Though I’m wondering why you’ve spent so long standing in the middle of the aisle. Surely it doesn’t smell that good here?>>

[orangemeister]

@gaogaopower

He’s been fiddling with the model set -- obviously, it’s Kyrios, miniaturized and useless, but Allelujah isn’t sure what to do with himself, at least not yet. Supposedly he’s got an apartment waiting for him somewhere, but the city seems to be in obvious disarray, so he’s in no hurry to be leaving this little outdoor café set-up anytime soon. It’s thus far been one of the only places relatively untouched by chaos.

Not that he isn’t used to disorder and destruction everywhere, but -- well, he’d like a break. 

It’s been fairly quiet until he spots the girl running around and the sight worries him. Surely she can’t be even in her teens, and yet she’s out and about alone like nothing is wrong. It’s gotten him in trouble before, helping others outside the mission plan, but Allelujah feels like he just can’t let her walk off alone.

<<...Hey, miss?>>

<<Don’t you have somewhere safer to go than -- >> Well, really, nowhere here is safe, when you get down to it, but he can’t say that. <<It’s dangerous out here, you know.>>

[charaznable]

[orangemeister]

autisticstevonnie:

a summary of gundam 00 in 2 screenshots

[orangemeister]

<<Even in comparison to home...>>

<<...this place somehow still seems like an even bigger disaster.>>

[orangemeister]

dynaames:

orangemeister

“Allelujah?”

the name of his comrade was voiced when he came upon the other meister on the sidewalk. it was by chance he’d happened upon him; in such a large city, seeing someone by chance was practically impossible, but his luck in that matter was always pretty generous. relief hit him first, though hesitation and worry followed closely behind.

“You’re looking kind of lost.”

though no sooner had the words left his mouth did he realize the problem with being so casual. if this was not the same Allelujah as before…then seeing Neil alive and well would come as a bit of a shock. unless, of course, he was here from a time in which he wasn’t dead– in which this awkward motion of scratching the back of his neck was unnecessary.

he opted to keep his mouth shut until further notice.

Truth be told, after the incident with the cars, Allelujah’s been feeling more than a little stressed -- stressed is probably an understatement at this point, actually -- and even a familiar voice is enough to make him jump nearly out of his skin. 

Of course, after his heart is done trying to escape the confines of his rib cage, he realizes it’s just Lockon. Er, Lyle. It still doesn’t quite feel right calling him by the former name, even if it is his now. Even if -- hold on.

Something isn’t right here. Since when did Lockon wear an eyepatch -- ?

Lockon.

<<You... >> He stutters, hesitant to throw out questions like ‘are you Lyle or no’ and ‘didn’t you die in space,’ among other horrifically inappropriate lines of inquiry. It takes him a moment to clear his throat and formulate words again.

<<This probably sounds ridiculous... but please, humor me.>> A name he’s only heard once, in brief, after the man’s passing -- code names don’t really matter when you’re dead, right? -- but once was enough. <<Is your real name... Neil?>>

[orangemeister]

notyourwartoy:

It was pleasant weather, the night always felt refreshing after a dayâ&#128;&#153;s worth of sun bore down on her pale skin. Sitting on the greenest grass sheâ&#128;&#153;d ever known, her legs stretched out in the fine blades as she stared at the dark sky. People sat all around her and the feeling of being surrounded initially worried her, but her mind dismissed the memories of war boys watching her every move.

With her palms flat against the grass beneath her, she gently lowered her abdomen to the ground. When the grass tickled at her bare skin, her lips formed a strained smile out of sheer reflex. She soon brought both hands behind her head and settled them between the grass and her fiery tresses.

A turn to her right allowed her to look upon the boy nearby her, his attention not focused on her. Still, she needed someone to talk to in all of this even if for idle chatter.  â&#128;&#156;There arenâ&#128;&#153;t many stars to see. Is it always like this?â&#128;&#157;

It’s relaxing, somehow, to be out in the night air, even when the stars are drowned out by the city's overwhelming light -- it reminds Allelujah of being up there, not so much home as it is the one place where, perhaps, he's doing the only thing he is capable of doing. 

So. Here he is, uselessly staring up at the sky with his arms wrapped around his knees, wondering where within it -- or beneath it -- his comrades could be. What ends up disturbing him from this reverie is a voice, even and calm, and for once he's grateful to hear someone that isn't Hallelujah.

<<Is it...?>>

<<I don’t know, actually, I'm sorry. I haven’t been here very long, so I'm not the right person to ask -- wait, that means you’re new here, too? Kidnapped, I mean.>>

[orangemeister]

valhallaswell

Allelujah thinks he’ll never get accustomed to standard gravity, when he’s spent so long in space. It isn’t so much that his body can’t handle the added stress on his bones -- far from it, he knows, when he was redesigned with the harshness of space in mind -- no, it’s that, anywhere else, he feels out of place. That was why he’d really chosen to stay in space when his fellow Meisters had gone down to Earth for various reasons, hadn’t it?

There’s really never been any reason for him to be down on Earth outside the cockpit of a Gundam, and the four years he spent in isolation-torture cement the idea further. The problem is, now? Now, there’s nowhere to go running -- or maybe everywhere, depending on how you look at it, as Arios is out of commission, held somewhere.

The combined wrongness of everything here only serves to make him feel guilty, the bilious taste of self-doubt stuck in the back of his throat like a piece of bone caught, choking him. He expects to hear Hallelujah’s cruel mockery ringing in his head at any moment, but --

Now, somehow he’s wandered into the middle of a four-way intersection; the drivers, judging from the barrage of honking and shouting through opened windows, are none too happy. He’s not sure how he zoned out so badly from reality but --

<<S-Sorry! I’m... sorry!>>

At least he has the sense of mind to run off afterward, though he only makes it ‘round a corner and into an alley to slump backwards against a wall. Space is definitely better than this.

[orangemeister]

theoretically what if someone app'd halle and suddenly allelujah has to deal with his evil twin running amuck in Hive how would that work

ooc; i love how i wrote a bunch of stuff before i noticed the word theoretically (bc at citta i’d like 99% chance never let this happen) i feel like such a tool i’m so sorry –

but i gotta say, it’d be interesting. your repressed nightmarish alter-ego that keeps you alive, now in a separate body? that’s… that’s fucked up, man. truth be told, he’d probably be the one reacting to hallelujah (general torment and all that) before/if reaching any sort of reconciliation with what has basically been a very huge part of his psyche since childhood. tbh, whether he wants to admit it or not, hallelujah has kept him alive and he’s rather incomplete without him at this point. whether or not the other would view it the same is… another matter entirely.

hypotheticals, man.

[orangemeister]

nyxvuur:

For the sake of character development, feel free to ask me anything you would like to know or are unsure of about my muse.

[orangemeister]

soranevalke

It’s a disarming feeling, to be both on the ground experiencing natural gravity and sans escape route. As far as Allelujah can tell, all that he has to remind him of his mobile suit is a plastic baggy of parts that vaguely resembles Arios’ color scheme.

(He’s tempted to give putting it all together a try. Perhaps later.)

Despite what the scientists have told him -- and surprise, he doesn’t trust a word coming out of someone who considers themselves fellows to them for a heartbeat -- he still wonders if this experiment isn’t part of some greater trap that Celestial Being (or at least its Gundam Meisters) have fallen into somehow, been outmaneuvered and overpowered into. It’s a bit on the side of ‘conspiracy theory,’ admittedly, but not entirely farfetched.

His suspicion multiplies when he spots that brown hair from behind, paired with the unmistakable uniform, but that’s quickly overtaken by the need to dash after his retreating figure.

<<Setsuna! Hey, Setsuna!>>

[ornerycrab]

[art-of-wandering]