ultraje | rosimar | trial room > dorm > living room | attn: johannes
Honestly, Rosimar had little feel except anger after each death. So much death, so much life being wasted away at such a pace. Were they down to nearly half of what they were before now? Where had they gone wrong?
At the beginning he had been defiant, but naive. Definitely naive. He thought there could be a way out and that, for some reason, he would be the one to find it. Such foolish thinking. Then he had gone on to become hopeless, to throw up in the trial room, to cry after coming out of the elevator. He had never imagined there would be such a change of temperament in him.
Well, now he was angry. Just plain, old-fashioned angry.
He didn't cry that night, but he wasn't complacent either. He lay on his bed facing the empty one across the room, gripping the bedsheets in his fists, digging his nails into the pillow.
And this continued even into the next day. When he was awake in the late morning he got out of bed, changed clothes and stormed towards the living room, where he hoped someone would be.
There had to be some change, as long as he willed it.
The hesitance brought out a stutter in his voice, but he tried to play it off as a part of his anger as he approached another student in the room. Johannes, was it...? Rosimar had never talked to them before, so this was a bit risky, but his frustration could have pushed him to do anything at that point.
"Would you like to join my rebellion? I know-- I know it's a bit late now, and we-- I don't really have a plan, but... I'm sick of this. Please."
Desperation crept up in his voice, stressing his tone. He would like to think he looked heroic, and defiant against all odds, but really he just looked like a trapped animal, willing to become a martyr at best.
