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paixaorpg2008-04-13 12:51 am
dood-asplode.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2008-04-13 12:51 am
Entry tags:
Tired of Wall Art [Active]
Character(s): Keesling, King Mickey, Alice, Luffy
Content: Somebody finally un-stakes Keesling from the wall. Thank goodness.
Setting: Muspelheim gate
Time: Morning (after this thread - he's been on that wall all night)
Warnings: Um, a prinny has been staked to a wall here. Violence, I guess? :D;
It had been night when he'd died, Keesling remembered. It had been his seventh horrendous day that week. He remembered being publicly humiliated, having nowhere to turn...and then he remembered waking up the next morning in a body not his own, informed he had to atone for his sins, and meeting his squad. He remembered a razor had helped him along that turn of events.
But there was a difference between where he'd been then and where he was now. His death had been his own doing. Though it was shaped much the same way (a terrible day, humiliation, and blades), this - this situation he was in now - was not his fault.
That, of course, didn't change the fact that he was still staked to the wall in a relatively strange town, in so much pain he could barely think anymore and exhausted from standing stock-still all night - he couldn't lean at all, or the kunai keeping him against the wall would rip straight through his flippers. Not that they hadn't gone through his flippers already, but he just didn't want to make anything worse.
So he spent a sleepless night in a thick haze of pain, exhausted and tense all at once. The gate stayed open all night, but the guard never talked to him, never responded to his pleas for help. It was a very long time before the artificial sun rose - forever, to Keesling, and then forever again - and people began to stream through the gate again. Keesling shivered and whimpered as the motion pulled against the kunai in his flippers. He had to find somebody who wasn't blond. The blond people wouldn't help him.
"Help, dood," he finally managed, voice barely above a whisper. "Dood. Please. Dood."
[OOC: Description of injuries is as follows: one kunai in each flipper and each foot attaching him to the wall. Stab wounds in the left side and the stomach. About a half-dozen or so kunai stuck in the chest to form the shape of a heart. Covered in dripping pink paint. The poor prinny's been through the wringer. ^^;]
Content: Somebody finally un-stakes Keesling from the wall. Thank goodness.
Setting: Muspelheim gate
Time: Morning (after this thread - he's been on that wall all night)
Warnings: Um, a prinny has been staked to a wall here. Violence, I guess? :D;
It had been night when he'd died, Keesling remembered. It had been his seventh horrendous day that week. He remembered being publicly humiliated, having nowhere to turn...and then he remembered waking up the next morning in a body not his own, informed he had to atone for his sins, and meeting his squad. He remembered a razor had helped him along that turn of events.
But there was a difference between where he'd been then and where he was now. His death had been his own doing. Though it was shaped much the same way (a terrible day, humiliation, and blades), this - this situation he was in now - was not his fault.
That, of course, didn't change the fact that he was still staked to the wall in a relatively strange town, in so much pain he could barely think anymore and exhausted from standing stock-still all night - he couldn't lean at all, or the kunai keeping him against the wall would rip straight through his flippers. Not that they hadn't gone through his flippers already, but he just didn't want to make anything worse.
So he spent a sleepless night in a thick haze of pain, exhausted and tense all at once. The gate stayed open all night, but the guard never talked to him, never responded to his pleas for help. It was a very long time before the artificial sun rose - forever, to Keesling, and then forever again - and people began to stream through the gate again. Keesling shivered and whimpered as the motion pulled against the kunai in his flippers. He had to find somebody who wasn't blond. The blond people wouldn't help him.
"Help, dood," he finally managed, voice barely above a whisper. "Dood. Please. Dood."
[OOC: Description of injuries is as follows: one kunai in each flipper and each foot attaching him to the wall. Stab wounds in the left side and the stomach. About a half-dozen or so kunai stuck in the chest to form the shape of a heart. Covered in dripping pink paint. The poor prinny's been through the wringer. ^^;]
no subject
"Be quiet?" he replied quickly, the girl's sour greeting hardly giving the bull-headed pirate pause to reflect well on her. "It doesn't take two to bully little guys like him, but that's the way it usually goes." Bullies usually prefered superior numbers, didn't they? "And I do see him with one," he snapped back, pointing a finger.
The fact that Mickey still hadn't even acknowledged him wasn't helping; granted, the king knew it was more important to tend to the wounded, but ignorant of the situation still, Luffy lacked just enough information to remain dangerous. It still seemed like two people, one of them a member of a group Luffy had been after since his Paixaoan touchdown, were skewering a pink little penguin, then taking him down to likely inflict even more punishment upon. The young man in the straw hat was already cracking his knuckles soundly as he strode up towards them. Stepping away, the section of sidewalk he had landed on crumbled a little, tiny fragments falling from his sandal soles; judging by this, taking a split second to explain the situation seemed like the wisest course.