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paixaorpg2006-06-02 07:30 am
death-lily.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2006-06-02 07:30 am
Entry tags:
Where is everyone? [COMPLETED]
Characters: Matsumoto Rangiku, Hitsugaya Toushirou, Ichimaru Gin, and any of the other Bleach-muns or characters who are itching to play, sorry for the lag who might be in the general area.
Content: Rangiku finally wakes up from apparent hibernation.
Setting: Right outside the Morem o Lisboa [M4].
Time: Technically Saturday, just a little past Friday midnight.
Warnings: None.
She wasn't sure whether she ought to be worried that she didn't remember exactly how she got upstairs, how she managed to pass out cold for over a day, but as Rangiku stepped out of the hotel lobby and out into the street the shinigami decided that at least for the moment, she didn't really care.
Her last recollections were set Thursday morning. She knew that much because her last journal entry was set at around that same time, and while the entry itself seemed written in an implied alright state of mind, she barely remembered lifting the pen to write it.
On the other hand, she wished that the images of that Thursday morning could have been jumbled, her thoughts disoriented, so that she could just dismiss them as another of the random and less than appealing dreams that had been plaguing her long since before she arrived in this city. But they weren't, and as clearly as she could see the lamps shining to illuminate the darkened street she could still recall the rain, and Gin, and Aizen, and what almost turned out to be a battle inside the hotel.
Glancing back briefly, she wondered where Urahara-san was. The reception desk was currently manned by some other person employed by the hotel. Come to think of it, she mused, I wonder where everyone else is as well.
Was Zaraki back? She wasn't sure. Rukia-san? The same. Kurosaki? Well, the answers were all defaulting back to the same one.
With a sigh, she settled down on the steps, glad to be shielded from the pitter-patter of rainfall intermingled with bits of snow that melted quickly when they fell into the palm of her hand. Hugging herself from the cold -- a sensation that she was going to have to get used to, she supposed -- she resigned herself to waiting. And silence.
Content: Rangiku finally wakes up from apparent hibernation.
Setting: Right outside the Morem o Lisboa [M4].
Time: Technically Saturday, just a little past Friday midnight.
Warnings: None.
She wasn't sure whether she ought to be worried that she didn't remember exactly how she got upstairs, how she managed to pass out cold for over a day, but as Rangiku stepped out of the hotel lobby and out into the street the shinigami decided that at least for the moment, she didn't really care.
Her last recollections were set Thursday morning. She knew that much because her last journal entry was set at around that same time, and while the entry itself seemed written in an implied alright state of mind, she barely remembered lifting the pen to write it.
On the other hand, she wished that the images of that Thursday morning could have been jumbled, her thoughts disoriented, so that she could just dismiss them as another of the random and less than appealing dreams that had been plaguing her long since before she arrived in this city. But they weren't, and as clearly as she could see the lamps shining to illuminate the darkened street she could still recall the rain, and Gin, and Aizen, and what almost turned out to be a battle inside the hotel.
Glancing back briefly, she wondered where Urahara-san was. The reception desk was currently manned by some other person employed by the hotel. Come to think of it, she mused, I wonder where everyone else is as well.
Was Zaraki back? She wasn't sure. Rukia-san? The same. Kurosaki? Well, the answers were all defaulting back to the same one.
With a sigh, she settled down on the steps, glad to be shielded from the pitter-patter of rainfall intermingled with bits of snow that melted quickly when they fell into the palm of her hand. Hugging herself from the cold -- a sensation that she was going to have to get used to, she supposed -- she resigned herself to waiting. And silence.
no subject
He endured the death grip of the woman for a few moments longer before his muffled voice finally announced, “Anytime now, Matsumoto.”