the miles are way too long

[saviorexe]

WHO: Markus, Ardyn, V & various
WHERE: All around.
WHEN: The first half of IC November.
WHAT: This is basically a catch-all log for my characters.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: None, will add if any crop up.

[Closed starters below! If you want a thread, just hit me up at aurajen and we can figure something out!]

Comments

[gasping]

To watch.

[ to learn, to observe, to try and be useful for once in a way that isn't pure violence and power. she's struggling to learn that aspect of things; in retrospect, perhaps the fighting rings with its bloodshed wasn't exactly the best place to practice those kind of skills.

her voice is taut, overly so, like a string on a bow tightened past its stretching point, her shoulders ramrod straight as she stiffens in place. the temptation is stronger here, but she manages to hold herself back. only just — and only as the fight comes to a messy end with the collapse of the losing opponent onto the mat of the ring. ]

This is a mess.

[verselet]

[He watches as the body crumples to the ground, wondering if the man is conscious at all. He looks like he's been through a meat grinder and back, and medical attention will likely be needed.

Caroline's voice, however, is somehow more poignantly striking -- gone so taut and tense -- than the sight before him. (V's seen plenty of violence in his time, or at least, in the memories he still harbors of another life.)]

To watch. [A question implied at the end of that, a question mark rather than a period. But then V turns, waving a path that they could weave through the crowd to leave, if they wanted.] To what end?

[gasping]

I don't know.

[ if leaving is an option, it's one she takes without much hesitation. there's an urgency to it — easy to assume, given the literal everything about her, that it's from fear — though she doesn't bother to elaborate. just books it outside as fast as her long legs will carry her, past the crowd and the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat and drink and into the outer alleyway, where brick untouched by the day's sun is cool against her skin as she leans up against it.

there's a measured purpose to caroline's breathing now, in and held and then released between pursed lips, reminiscent of a woman in a lamaze class cramming the material a week before her due date. ]

This was a bad idea.

[ to him, not to him; it's said out loud out of habit more so than striking conversation. ]