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paixaorpg2007-03-28 09:35 pm
isaacmustdie.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2007-03-28 09:35 pm
Rest and Reconsider (Complete)
Character: Karst
Content: Settling down in the hotel room, bathing, washing her stuff, and considering her next course of action.
Time: Afternoonish
Setting: A room of the Actua Are in N9
Warning: Some nongraphic nudity.
The dull golden glow through the window hinted that it was mid or late afternoon when Karst finally awakened. Half-blind with the departing last vestiges of sleep, the Proxian groped for and found the little black journal her life had come to focus on, flipping it open and checking the entry she'd made a little while ago, when she'd stirred for a few minutes and observed that it felt like she'd slept for a week.
No replies.
The next thing to attend to was her own self. Looking at the journal in her hands had brought with it the realization that she had slept in her gloves, boots, and leathers, and not only had that resulted in a few unpleasant pains and aches that could have been avoided, but now she rather strongly reeked of sweat and grime. Her stomach also inquired about her capacity for self-maintainance with a noisy disapproval, bringing to mind the bag and the last bit of food she'd acquired with the assistance of that Ed boy.
Thinking of one blonde Southerner brought two more back to mind, and now that Karst's mind wasn't fogged by frustration and confusion at finding herself in a new place, she stopped to reconsider her priorities as she'd stated them to her journal. Survival was in the right place, of course, the most important priority of all, and she peeled away her stinky boots and gloves and leathers, belatedly remembering to draw the curtains at the window to dissuade hormonal Southern men and boys.
She'd learned about sinks during her time in Paixao, basins and spouts where by turning a knob here, water came out there, and she wasted no time in cleaning first her own body and then her belongings, stretching the latter out to dry as she wondered what to make of her agenda.
Was going back to Weyard and a mission for revenge she couldn't possibly fulfill really that important? She wanted to scream Yes, YES! because denying the importance of her mission would be denying the importance of her older sister, and Karst's entire perception of the universe had revolved around Menardi.
But, said a little voice off to the side, a treacherous voice that Karst mentally associated with dark golden hair and deep blue eyes, Menardi raised you to be able to live even if she wasn't around anymore. Are you going to just throw away all her efforts and dishonor her that way?
And Karst's problems came back to light. She was dishonoring her sister's memory if she gave up her promise for revenge, and she was dishonoring her sister's memory if she fulfilled her promise for revenge. It was a fight where she lost no matter which side she fought for.
Content: Settling down in the hotel room, bathing, washing her stuff, and considering her next course of action.
Time: Afternoonish
Setting: A room of the Actua Are in N9
Warning: Some nongraphic nudity.
The dull golden glow through the window hinted that it was mid or late afternoon when Karst finally awakened. Half-blind with the departing last vestiges of sleep, the Proxian groped for and found the little black journal her life had come to focus on, flipping it open and checking the entry she'd made a little while ago, when she'd stirred for a few minutes and observed that it felt like she'd slept for a week.
No replies.
The next thing to attend to was her own self. Looking at the journal in her hands had brought with it the realization that she had slept in her gloves, boots, and leathers, and not only had that resulted in a few unpleasant pains and aches that could have been avoided, but now she rather strongly reeked of sweat and grime. Her stomach also inquired about her capacity for self-maintainance with a noisy disapproval, bringing to mind the bag and the last bit of food she'd acquired with the assistance of that Ed boy.
Thinking of one blonde Southerner brought two more back to mind, and now that Karst's mind wasn't fogged by frustration and confusion at finding herself in a new place, she stopped to reconsider her priorities as she'd stated them to her journal. Survival was in the right place, of course, the most important priority of all, and she peeled away her stinky boots and gloves and leathers, belatedly remembering to draw the curtains at the window to dissuade hormonal Southern men and boys.
She'd learned about sinks during her time in Paixao, basins and spouts where by turning a knob here, water came out there, and she wasted no time in cleaning first her own body and then her belongings, stretching the latter out to dry as she wondered what to make of her agenda.
Was going back to Weyard and a mission for revenge she couldn't possibly fulfill really that important? She wanted to scream Yes, YES! because denying the importance of her mission would be denying the importance of her older sister, and Karst's entire perception of the universe had revolved around Menardi.
But, said a little voice off to the side, a treacherous voice that Karst mentally associated with dark golden hair and deep blue eyes, Menardi raised you to be able to live even if she wasn't around anymore. Are you going to just throw away all her efforts and dishonor her that way?
And Karst's problems came back to light. She was dishonoring her sister's memory if she gave up her promise for revenge, and she was dishonoring her sister's memory if she fulfilled her promise for revenge. It was a fight where she lost no matter which side she fought for.