He comes apart, a tricky spindle and a faltering top - and he’s been waiting long enough for the spinning to come to a halt. Because… well, constantly revolving around a point that has no end is pointless, and maybe all his innate optimism is, too.
It’s too early for harsh decisions, but they won’t stop scraping out the walls of his head - the rapid regeneration still a vivid recollection - one he doubts ever plans on abandoning him. The way razor-edged teeth tore through his every wall as if he were even less than human (even less than a keyblade wielder, and even less than all he’d worked up to) hasn’t left him alone, much less faded completely. This evening, it’s a bit more of a graphic reminiscence than anything else.
Fitting.
All things considered, the only thoughts he’s brimming with are equally so.
Each mirage that forced him forward in the Haunted Escape is still very much a prevalent vision, but after a brief trip into The River Lethe… not so much else is. Having trouble recalling just what came before he was consumed by a ghoul and then reborn - before defeating a dragon with the boy behind the door to their room… is maddening. Where did he start off?
Doesn’t he have someplace he should return to? Something he should be fighting for?
Déjà vu is a quick shove off the edge; shards of glass he’s been toeing around for some time now that take this opportunity to stand and pierce his skin. The flow of adrenaline makes Komaeda’s identity near-indistinguishable. No longer is he an ally or a close friend, someone Sora wants to save and hold high above several other priorities. Rather, he’s an involved party to this disorienting mess.
And he wants it to make sense - really, he does. He wants to understand where he’s supposed to be and who he’s supposed to be looking out for… why his cheeks ache when he tries to smile in a warm greeting and why it just doesn’t feel like it belongs. But he can’t, and it doesn’t ease onto his face after a few seconds. There is no time for an ‘I’m back’, no typicalities or conventional small talk. (Not that they’ve ever been simplified to that much, as Komaeda’s both stimulating and easy to talk to - that much, he’s fully capable of remembering.)
When the door’s shut behind him, nothing stands between himself and his assigned roommate. No furniture, no movement - and silence blankets them in the fragmented seconds before signals of excruciating pain run up to his mind as if belated. Unable to process the idea that he isn’t really reliving the sensation of being consumed, the brunet succumbs to a quake of his shoulders and ducks his head.
The 'k—' is a gnash of teeth and a subconscious warning. Apparently, not one that Komaeda registers.
“Please, don’t…”
Please don’t kill me? Please don’t come any closer? Please don’t leave?
But he does come closer. Whether it’s motivated by confusion or a desire to understand further, Sora doesn’t know… but he doesn’t see his eccentric confidant. All he can see is black in surges of three, flashing and demeaning the Trinity. Teeth, bright red weapons, and water. Lots of water.
Only when his palms have called the Keyblade does Sora come back from the episode, still plagued by a paroxysm of tremors. Just in time to hear the strained gasp from his friend’s lungs, the weapon shoved in one way and out another.
All he can taste is bile, bitter in the back of his throat. "No— no,” comes the choked-out refusal of an unsparing truth. He can’t pull it out, can’t even think about moving as the other starts to go limp. Cold.
It isn't something he can rip out like a band-aid. "I’m - I didn’t mean… It can’t be real, there’s no… It can’t…"
"Y-you’ll come back, okay? And I’ll make it up to you!"
They slide down and he keeps to his knees, hands shaking even now. "I’ll make it right — you have to believe me."
her parents were always off seas attending business meetings and actually….a lot of time was also spent going from doctor to doctor trying to find their daughter a solid cure. they would take her every once in awhile when something would seem promising, but for the most part they left her with her grandparents. And for the most part, she spent her days alone. It was hard making friends and even harder keeping them….so instead she drew inward and electronics became the closest friends she had.
It had been a long enough day for Elphaba, and she was more than ready to hide away in her room and get some rest. She had made little progress in looking for a way out, and though she had yet to give up hope, she was getting more and more frustrated. Between her inability to remember how she arrived, not knowing whether or not anyone else from Oz had been brought over somehow, having no way out, and no knowledge about whether or not she would ever be able to leave, Elphaba was ready to blow. And when she nearly tripped over a loose stone in the path she was taking back to the hotel area. When that happened, it seemed to be the proverbial straw to her back.
She felt her rage and fear and hopelessness well up inside of her until it finally burst forth, similar to the way it had when separated from her sister at her first day at Shiz. Flags around her whipped around in the generated wind, a few nearby bushes had leaves or small branches blow off of them, some nearby lights flickered or went out entirely, and the short (but powerful) gust managed to go a few good feet around her on all sides, before finally halting and stopping their (albeit minor) damages. When she realized what had happened, she looked all around her to see whether or not she had managed to hurt anyone.
When she saw a man with wild, light-coloured hair standing relatively nearby, she approached him to get a better look, wanting to be sure her outburst had not caused anyone harm.
"Are you alright? That didn't do anything to you, did it?"
The situation is awful, in simplest terms. A bad taste lingers in Cyril's mouth as he strolls through the eerie amusement park, lights fluorescent and abandoned at this time of night. Silence fills the amusement park completely, the sound of his clicking boots resonating in his own ears.
The more he walks, the more it seems like some sort of joke. Really, suddenly being transported into twisted amusement park, it was if it were something from his novels. Not to say Cyril was not used to waking up in foreign places, oh no. That was hardly the case! While the mercenary was based mostly in Melbourne, travel was not uncommon, and neither was waking up in bloodied rooms with hideous flooring. In short, he's seen some freaky shit--but being trapped in an amusement park? Honestly.
He halts at an odd looking theme park, before him stands a large and impossibly cliche gate. Though, despite it looking like an exact replica from eery cheesy horror movie, it isn't hard to feel the different atmosphere that surrounds the area. It's strong and haunting, pulling Cyril in step by step unconsciously.
The gates close behind him immediately, go figure. The strong hitting aura that hit him before entering is twenty times more prominent now, engulfing him almost completely. There's a small click of his tongue before he steps further, soon enough he finds himself in a maze.
A sharp turn right and he's met face to face with something--or someone? Ghostly, with unblinking eyes. He doesn't flinch but dark eyes do widen--staring deep into pale greys.
"So," Cyril starts after a few moments of silence, not doing much about the lack of distance between the two.
"Are you a part of this haunted shit hole, or? Suits ya'."
Yukine never really thought about his people watching tendencies. After all, it
seemed less rude to stare at the antics of others in his spare time when their
eyes flicked over him as if he was simply part of the scenery. Would he call
that a perk of being dead? Not really. He'd rather be called rude than be
forgotten moments after a conversation ended. Regardless, he found himself
in a strange situation one warm afternoon.
He seemed to be having a staring contest.
When the teenager first arrived at the plaza's fountain, a thick book tucked at
his hip and a bag slung over his shoulder for the groceries he intended on
buying later, he took his usual, solitary seat. He spent a little time picking his
way through the book, but the inevitable moment came where someone's
voice caught his interest. From there, his attention was taken by the inhabitants
of the square: the guys that seemed to know his roommate, and the tall man
he once thought looked like a clown with his strange hair color, and so on,
and so on ----
His gaze connected with the gray eyes of a boy that looked to be around his
age (maybe). At first, he assumed it was a fluke. He wasn't being looked at,
but rather looked through. Time ticked away in the long moments of mutual
staring. Yukine blinked first... and then his limbs moved of their own accord.
A hand tugged his bag from the heated cement and his legs propelled himself
upwards. He strode across the plaza, only to come to a sudden stop in front
of the boy.
" Hey, " Yukine began, a seasoning of suspicion layered over his otherwise
neutral tone, " What're you staring at me for? "
Great first impression. Mmhm.
His skin flushed with an embarrassed heat at the accusatory words and his
frame shifted uncomfortably.
✩ Are they adapting well to the situation? Do they hate it here? Are they enjoying themselves? Why or why not?
Tsukiyama never fails to adapt. He flexible and patient and actually he’s excited to try out a new place. See what kind of novelties he can dig up here. There’s always a certain excitement to a new place and he definitely feels it.
☪ Do you predict a great change in your muse in the near future? (ie. Have they visited the Haunted Escape, or are they roomed with someone potentially detrimental/positive that’s a contrast to their personality?)
no no change. he’ll always be the same. especially when he finds kaneki ken.
✲ How does your muse and their roomie get along? Impossible to stand? Easy to get along with?
nah they’ll get along….or at least tsukiyama will get along. probably. they have yet to meet but when they do, tsukiyama will be on his best behavior promise..
✩ Are they adapting well to the situation? Do they hate it here? Are they enjoying themselves? Why or why not?
um she’s relatively good at adapting. she keeps a level head (for the most part) but this place gives her the creeps and rn she hasn’t found any of her friends so yeah she’s kind of freaking out. she’s not a fan of roller coasters or haunted places…..so this park is just perfect for her……..i can’t see her really enjoying herself especially at first tbh. too much stress and ugh just no.
❂ What do they miss most about where they were before? Does your character believe they can make a stable life here?
answered here!
∇ Will your muse try to escape, or do they not mind going with the flow? Have they already tried to, and failed? Do they view this fate as in an optimistic or pessimistic light? Do they care at all?
she has already tried to escape. and she probably will continue trying to find a way out. she’d rather be home ok. well…she’s definitely not optimistic about this place. maybe if it wasn’t so creepy and mysterious maybe if she could come and go as she pleased maybe if wasn’t haunted??? she would like it better. but you know. whatever. gathers her friends around her. she’s ok for now.
