http://the-pink-pyro.livejournal.com/ (
the-pink-pyro.livejournal.com) wrote in
paixaorpg2008-05-26 03:28 pm
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Entry tags:
Welcome to the Id? [Active]
Character(s): Dilandau and friends
Content: Arrival in Paixao
Setting: Joutenheim Gate
Time: Afternoon
Warnings: Erm... I'm not really sure... it'll kinda depend on who he meets...
The world seemed to blur. The battleground became strange and nebulous. Dilandau could feel himself being pushed back, away, into darkness. No! He didn’t want to go there! He didn’t want to be alone! And still, everything around him was fading into darkness, even as he struggled to keep his hold on the world around him.
Suddenly, the darkness vanished. Dilandau felt himself blinded by the sudden brightness and lifted his arms, as though to guard his face, shrinking back. He cracked his eyes open again, peaking out at the scene around him. It wasn’t the scorched battlefield he’d been in before. It hadn’t been burned black by fire and stained red by blood. It was immaculate. He lowered his arms slowly, staring around him at beautifully painted domes and elaborate sculptural gateway under which he stood. It pictured a battle between two silent titans.
‘Name?’ someone asked next to him and Dilandau jumped, reaching for his sword and turning on the person. The person who had asked was a small, blond woman, who looked entirely unthreatening as she gazed at him over a counter and waited, pen poised to write. He stared at her. ‘What is your name?’ she asked again.
‘... Dilandau Albatou, Red-Iron Army, Dragon Slayers, 47802...?’ he responded quietly, the words coming out as more of a question than a statement in his confusion.
The woman wrote on her clipboard and then smiled at him politely. ‘Thank you. Welcome to Paixao,’ she said.
He stared at her in confusion a moment longer before somebody else spoke behind him. ‘Here’s your journal and some pamphlets on the city.’
Dilandau rounded on the new speaker, half drawing his sword, before staring blankly at the handful of folded papers and shiny, pink box he was being offered. He stared silently for a moment, before this blond person pushed the things at him again and said in an impatient-but-trying-to-be-polite voice, ‘Move along. You’re holding up the line.’
He walked into the enclosed dome area as he was told, with not so much a conscious decision as the programmed obedience of a soldier. Inside, everything was even brighter and more cheerful. The buildings were painted with bright, elaborate motifs and the undersides of the domes were each masterpieces. More blond people milled about this way and that, bustling past him and conducting their business. Dilandau wondered vaguely if this was Austuria. The architecture was frivolous enough and he thought he recalled that Austuria had a lot of blonds. Although, not this many, he didn't think...
The people around him were just milling past, looking unperturbed by his presence, and Dilandau began to chew on his lip nervously. He did not know where he was. He did not know these people. He did not know what to do. Despite the sword at his side, he felt vulnerable and helpless. He began to tremble, as he cast his gaze around, looking for some kind of answer.
'... Jajuka...?' he whined.
Content: Arrival in Paixao
Setting: Joutenheim Gate
Time: Afternoon
Warnings: Erm... I'm not really sure... it'll kinda depend on who he meets...
The world seemed to blur. The battleground became strange and nebulous. Dilandau could feel himself being pushed back, away, into darkness. No! He didn’t want to go there! He didn’t want to be alone! And still, everything around him was fading into darkness, even as he struggled to keep his hold on the world around him.
Suddenly, the darkness vanished. Dilandau felt himself blinded by the sudden brightness and lifted his arms, as though to guard his face, shrinking back. He cracked his eyes open again, peaking out at the scene around him. It wasn’t the scorched battlefield he’d been in before. It hadn’t been burned black by fire and stained red by blood. It was immaculate. He lowered his arms slowly, staring around him at beautifully painted domes and elaborate sculptural gateway under which he stood. It pictured a battle between two silent titans.
‘Name?’ someone asked next to him and Dilandau jumped, reaching for his sword and turning on the person. The person who had asked was a small, blond woman, who looked entirely unthreatening as she gazed at him over a counter and waited, pen poised to write. He stared at her. ‘What is your name?’ she asked again.
‘... Dilandau Albatou, Red-Iron Army, Dragon Slayers, 47802...?’ he responded quietly, the words coming out as more of a question than a statement in his confusion.
The woman wrote on her clipboard and then smiled at him politely. ‘Thank you. Welcome to Paixao,’ she said.
He stared at her in confusion a moment longer before somebody else spoke behind him. ‘Here’s your journal and some pamphlets on the city.’
Dilandau rounded on the new speaker, half drawing his sword, before staring blankly at the handful of folded papers and shiny, pink box he was being offered. He stared silently for a moment, before this blond person pushed the things at him again and said in an impatient-but-trying-to-be-polite voice, ‘Move along. You’re holding up the line.’
He walked into the enclosed dome area as he was told, with not so much a conscious decision as the programmed obedience of a soldier. Inside, everything was even brighter and more cheerful. The buildings were painted with bright, elaborate motifs and the undersides of the domes were each masterpieces. More blond people milled about this way and that, bustling past him and conducting their business. Dilandau wondered vaguely if this was Austuria. The architecture was frivolous enough and he thought he recalled that Austuria had a lot of blonds. Although, not this many, he didn't think...
The people around him were just milling past, looking unperturbed by his presence, and Dilandau began to chew on his lip nervously. He did not know where he was. He did not know these people. He did not know what to do. Despite the sword at his side, he felt vulnerable and helpless. He began to tremble, as he cast his gaze around, looking for some kind of answer.
'... Jajuka...?' he whined.