Koumei Ren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dishevelment) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552015-11-03 04:08 pm
dishevelment) wrote in interstellar55552015-11-03 04:08 pm
Entry tags:
Locked in a Room
Who: Everyone stuck in Pride HQ
What: This load of crap.
When: Nov. 1-5
Where Pride HQ
Warnings: Pg-13 minimum because Carnies. Tag if it gets over that.
Everyone got the same call-- and now we're all stuck in HQ with no hint of release in sight.
The reason? No one knows.
How are you coping?
What: This load of crap.
When: Nov. 1-5
Where Pride HQ
Warnings: Pg-13 minimum because Carnies. Tag if it gets over that.
Everyone got the same call-- and now we're all stuck in HQ with no hint of release in sight.
The reason? No one knows.
How are you coping?
OTA
Nov. 1
[He couldn't sleep that night-- not when he kept seeing strange images in his dreams. A map was spread out before him-- an atlas of the world with the continents and oceans formed in a way that was wholly unfamiliar. The focal point was a land that could have been Asia, but a feeling in his gut told him that the names were different. The Kanan Plains. Rakushou. Balbadd...
Surrounding him were various others. Soldiers, clad archaic armor, and robed advisors filled the spacious tent that was lit only by the filtered sunlight and scattered torches. Banners were set up with the care and precision of someone who had spent a lifetime doing this task. It was like a scene out of a Three Kingdoms drama... except for two huge, monsterous looking men who seemed to be asking a question that he couldn't quite make out, in a way that was almost endearing--]
[Koumei could be found burying himself among the pillows within Cosmic Indulgence's penthouse, refusing to move. Clearly, his chronic insomnia was starting to get to him-- his dreams were becoming more and more bizarre.]
B
Nov. 2-5
[Boredom makes a caged bird do absurd things. In Koumei's case, he's chain-smoking to no end, to the point where the scent of his cigarettes was caught in his clothes and his hair. With him at almost all times are scraps of paper-- ostensibly to write out song lyrics, though he can be found sketching various birds from memory (particularly pigeons) and scribbling out a strange symbol in the margins of his handiwork while his mind drifts.
Clearly, he needs to sleep....but, somehow, he can't force it to come.]
B - early in the week?
What's that?
[Ugh talking ugh morning hangover voice.]
Sure!
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A
Like checking on his bandmates. Just in case. Finding Nariko tied up at the carnival had not been a good experience. He wanted to ward off damage before it happened
to his peopleto those under his protectionto the people who mattered.So here he was, with a bottle of water settling down by Koumei's head. ]
Are you all right?
A
A
A
A
November 3rd.
[What kind of level it happens to be isn't worth specifying. 'Cabin fever'/'not taking care of yourself'/'emotional despondence'. It's ... Something not good. That's the point she's making while plucking the cigarette buts out of his hair.] How did these even get here.
[If there's any definition of a question that doesn't really need answering it's that one.]
November 3rd.
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B, maybe the 2nd? i am hella late
When he finds Koumei, the first thing out of his mouth isn't a hello, but rather- he holds his nose.]
Dude, you smell like a chimney!
Hah, it's okay. We're all suffering here.
yeah i sorta saw your plurk earlier and went "shit"
I'll always make room for you, though <3
you're too good to me
You're just awesome
there's a wooper emote for that compliment i'm sure
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OTA - Language, possible violence, possible drug/alcohol use
That sure is Xanxus being escorted through the doors of the HQ. And those sure are a brace of police officers. He looks like he's gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson. His expression is between pissed off and really really pleased with himself.
The cops don't remove the handcuffs until he's well inside. They leave him with a "he's your problem now". Looks like someone bailed his sorry ass out of the clink, and just in time for him to get locked up again. At least it's not a prison cell...not that this makes him any happier.
The next 4 days
The next four days in a exercise in what hell must be like. For one, his alcohol has been taken away from him. For two, he's coming down off a high and since the cops took it all. So that makes him extra titchy and irritable.
Then the Gestapo comes for him.
Anyone in the vicinity will get the pleasure of seeing three beefcakes punching each other in the face for fun and profit before he's finally dragged off to god knows where.
He'll be there a LOOOONG time.
When he comes back, he looks like someone just shit in his cheerios. He won't really talk to anyone. He'll just go right to the bar. Doesn't matter if he's supposed to be "banned". He's crawling into a bottle for the rest of the evening.
He'll be in the drink for the rest of the time. Probably pass out where he sits unless someone makes him move.
Sometime later in the week
And, by the look in his eyes, it seemed like he hadn't slept properly in days.
....but, his steady diet of caffiene wasn't helping matters either-- especially when he ordered yet another Coke from the bar. He had lost track of how many he had ordered that day...not that he cared.
The lack of sleep was what left him unsteady on his feet, not the drinks. One way or another he ends up bumping into Xanxus in the bar-- literally-- and staring at the wild man with eyes that didn't seem to fully comprehend his surroundings for a moment before he glanced down at the mess.]
....Sorry, [he mumbled, lamely. As if that fixed anything.]
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Luci + Openish [CW: Violent Imagery/Drug Mentions]
[Being dragged back to Pride in the middle of her night was a serious drag. She'd been charming the pants (literally) off of this darling young woman and her adorable twink-ish boyfriend when her security had her surrounded and whisked out of the club without any preamble or explanation. Her fans seemed devastated, and Luci did hate to disappoint them, but what could she do when Pride yanked on her leash?]
[She frowns all the way back to Pride, and it happens when she closes her eyes briefly in the back of the towncar--
'1-2-3-4...'
'No Luci, we mustn't!!'
The window shatters, she's barefoot and climbing into the sill, staring out at another building yards away.
'Good evening.'
Then bullets. So many bullets, and screams of 'DIE LUCIFER!!' The artillery incinerates inches from her chest, and she can feel herself smiling.
'Hey, you guessed my name.'
Two snaps, one from each of her hands. The shooters' heads explode.
Luci's eyes snap open and she remembers. She felt this way at the awards party. Something batshit insane clawing at the back of her head, and it had slipped away after she'd talked with Nariko. And now it's happening again.]
[She looks at the driver and her security nonchalantly-- nothing seems wrong to them. Luci looks out the window again, and she knows she'll only be seeing those shooters and their heads coming clean off their shoulders for a while.]
[When she's ushered in to the Junkyard Carnival suite, there is, of course, no sign of Xanxus. That's almost comforting-- as completely insane as whatever happened to her just now was, Xanxus would always rather be arrested than be told to leave whatever party he was at.]
[In the morning, Luci stays shut up in her room with a notebook, her phone, and a coffee. She tells herself she's working out whatever trip she had into a song while they can't leave the headquarters. She's really staring at a blank page and wondering what the episode means.]
[Nov. 2nd - 5th]
[Not being able to perform sends Luci into a depressed stupor. Before a string of shows, it feels like she has a beehive building up inside of her, and singing her lungs out lets it escape and fills her with energy. The letdown of not being able to perform means she's spending a lot of time in her room, trying to forget her random brain-attack. She thinks about finding some cocaine, but it doesn't do for her what it does for literally everybody else, and she's not dumb enough to just snort more.]
[When the muscle comes for Alec and Xanxus, she does exit her room to see what the fuss is. She knows they've been more irate and outlandish than usual, but not to the point of needing some ex-mob goons to straighten them out. Her brain tells her not to let these meatheads have her bandmates-- but her legs just won't move. She crawls back into bed after they go, like she can't bear to live with herself for watching it happen and doing nothing. When had she become so... obedient?]
[She focuses on the EP, on writing, on keeping the buzzing at bay by letting it out somehow. But she's not okay. Drinking doesn't make it okay, showering doesn't make it okay, distracting herself doesn't make it okay.]
[There's something wrong with her. And if she says anything, she'll be the next one manhandled into Lesedi's office.]
((OOC: She'll be in the Carnie suite, maybe making a half-hearted attempt to have fun at a Pride HQ bar, running on a treadmill, or you can text her! No doubt due to the Revenge EP plan, she's given everybody her cell number.))
2nd
Silence for the moment and then...something glass shattering against the far wall.
Finally silence again]
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OTA - murder-ish cw, alcohol cw, terry is an awful angsty baby cw
[There's a lot of noise coming from Terry's room. He's usually more considerate than that, but he's angry and hungover and tired and it's the only way he knows how to chase out whatever's going on in his mind.]
["Join some super hero army?" More distortion here. "You've got to be kidding"]
[Reverb? No. He bangs a little on the drumpad in frustration. "I'm your son!" Play the whole thing as it is, maybe he can figure out what's missing. "What are you so afraid of anyway..." It needs thrust, drive.]
[He looks down at the knife in his chest, horrified, "You're afraid..." Maybe it's the percussion, maybe it just... Maybe it needs... "...Afraid you're gonna kill me." A kick. Something to really drive the anger home. The rage.]
[He plays it again, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. It doesn't make sense, it doesn't--]
["Okay. I'll go."]
Nov 2-5;
[Terry's usually pretty chill, pretty relaxed. Someone has to hit his buttons to get him mad.]
[Not so much lately. Ever since Carnivalgate he's been tense, frustrated. Coiled up like a particularly inefficient timebomb ready to go off at any time. Being on lockdown doesn't improve that any, and being unable to perform means he has no outlet for that tension. Occasionally over the days, he bangs away at his music but more than that he spends a lot of time in the bars in HQ and getting "lost" in the building. Getting hauled off to see Lesedi after a couple of days seems to curb how often he goes missing, but he's still surly, not getting enough sleep, and seemingly perpetually hungover.]
[And on the 5th he's going to be extra pissy after having to cancel a couple of things. Happy birthday loser.]
anytime between the 2nd and 5th
[He's not as gracious about this as he probably should be. While the look he gives Terry isn't exactly hostile, it's not apologetic either, and in fact seems somewhere along the lines of "why were you standing where I was trying to walk." He frowns faintly.]
...hey, watch it.
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Nov. 5
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Nov 1
... but of course he'll check up on him. ]
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[He does a quick lap of the club, says hi to a couple people, then takes the barstool next to Terry. He waits for a second, resting his elbows on the bar with his arms crossed in front of him, and then gives Terry a brief smile.]
Alright then?
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Nov 4th
[She sits on her barstool with a drink, and sees Terry come in. Company doesn't seem remiss-- she waves a little to him, though it lacks her usual headstrong overture.]
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Somewhere mid afternoon/night on the fifth.
This means Yuffie's idea of a birthday hello is quiet ridiculous and involves coming up behind him in the bar and grabbing him by the shoulders from behind. If he was paying attention before her surprise moment he would've caught the bartender eyeing something over Terry's shoulder then going back to work, as Yufffie had sush-ed the poor man and he knew to ignore the Carnies when they were up to trouble. Dangling off of one arm is a bag, and Yuffie looks like she is far far too pleased to be attempting to startle the heck out of him.]
Happy Birthday!
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OTA - bracket style also fine.
He can smell it more than he can see it. Sharp. Coppery. Blood, something tells him. No, someone tells him. The man is covered in blood, standing over Alec, barely seen in the moonlight except for where the light glints on eyes and slick...
Alec starts, one violent twitch as he stands at the bar. He wasn't asleep: he's still on his feet. There isn't anyone standing over him; there's hardly anyone as tall as he is in the whole place. No one's covered in blood. He needs to stop imagining things and calm down. Drink less, or drink more. Either way, he tells himself, he has to stop letting what happened at the little funhouse bother him. That's what they want. They want to unsettle him so that his music suffers and they get to keep their place on the Pride ladder.
... but there was someone covered in blood, how else would he know how that smells...
The rest of the time period, at any given bar in the building or the Carnie suite
Alec has been subdued, but it's not a relief to any of those who watch his moods. It's a tense sort of quiet, because he's holding so much hate in that his skinny body might rip apart. He doesn't like the building being locked down. He doesn't like the booze in the apartment. He doesn't like the clubs in the building. He doesn't like the song he wrote. He doesn't like his band. He doesn't like any of the other bands. He doesn't like his shoes. He really, really, doesn't like the mental image that he hasn't been able to escape, no matter what he pours down his throat or screamed out of it.
He likes the drink in his hand, and the one that will replace it.
NOV 2
He's settling in when Alec starts, and obviously it catches his eye. He hesitates before he says anything - this is Alec after all - but what the hell, Maxxie's feeling self-destructive anyway.
"Little too much?" he asks, nodding at the alcohol.
There's a touch of genuine concern in his expression, mixed in with his usual put-off frown whenever he interacts with someone who so stubbornly insists on being an asshole.
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Let's do the thing! End of the da-- of the NIGHT, Nov. 5
Most of the time, he practices. The majority of the time, with the drums, until the rhythms and ever melodies he aims for are perfect, in tempo and activity and volume.
After the unexpected realization at the night of the kidnapping, with something new, too. He's gone out and looked for a knife, instinctively picking a particular one which, once he was on his own and had a chance to work through handling it, got a good balance and convenient heft. But that's... Even practicing with that only takes so much of his energy away. So he wanders around the tower.
He doesn't drink much, but he also makes sure to appear in various places and not let people know he's way too sober. It's easy, when he's quiet, and makes an excuse to go to the next place when another round of drink is cheerfully suggested.
That's how he runs into Alec. Who looks even thinner than usual, and is so very drunk that there is not even a glimmer of recognition when the green eyes look up at him. Richard's eyes narrow, and his strong fingers wrap around the long fingers as they try to raise another drink to his lips. ]
I think this is enough for you for tonight.
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let's say the 4th
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Nov 4th
I just saw this because I am made of failure and eaten notifs.
IS COOL 83
OTA
[It's so bright and safe. That's what hits her first. She's safe and there's a heartbeat tip-tapping right into one side of her head. She feels it through her whole body and smiles, reaches out to take h-- They bring her back to home sweet home with virtually no warning. One second she was dancing the night away, taking pictures with fans, giving people something to talk about and then security was flanking her on the dance floor. The bells ring, they go on and on and match the way her hair is being petted. Up-down, up-down, a rhythm, a heartbeat, those bells. Every nerve in her body is alive with rapture and clarity and she is so in lo--
Nariko understands why she has to stay inside, and it's probably a good idea. She's not okay. There's something wrong with her Nariko isn't okay anymore. Everything's just a blur of colors and sensations and she can't stop crying.
The kiss is both sudden and expected. The love that follows it is the most natural thing in the world. They aren't free
But she feels safer here. Really. Anyone who saw her coming in wouldn't have missed how she cried, had to be physically dragged into her band's suite. Nariko couldn't hold herself up, she couldn't function, maybe she drags herself there or security dumps her on the couch? But either way Nariko curls into a ball and clutches her head, her crying is apparently endless.
but they are together.
... Until it's not. Given a few hours the painful sense of loss and abandonment and love and power will leave her. The name she can't say won't feel like a vice around her throat but a dull pressure at the back of her head. Either way, Nariko Lunae isn't okay, and she is there and she is someone, but she doesn't feel like herself anymore. The dead eyed staring around what is meant to be her home proves it. But she is herself. She will be herself. She'll be okay
And nothing else matters.
Right?]
Nov. 2-5
[She's better the next day. Really.
... Okay, no, that's bullshit. She looks like a bus has run her over, and all she can seem to do is make strange music. Which, okay, they're known for having out there tunes, for making it work! But this feels even stranger than their usual brand of strange. The stuff without voices, the really deep intricacies? All that is Garnet and Terry and Koumei and Richard and everyone that isn't her. Nariko just sings. She just emotes. But now all of this wordless, undefinable stuff is coming out of her and it's scary.
But there's no stopping it. Any moment where she isn't guzzling coffee or alcohol or running on the treadmill or trying to find an excuse to end up in someone's bed is spent writing. She's almost always cradling her guitar in her lap, or at a keyboard. She is almost always around the halls with a notebook, bouncing one leg and staring off into something her brain won't go near. Who knows if she should be grateful. Who knows if she should be sad.
What matters is that Nariko is around and if they're going to be stuck she's going to try and make the best of it.
There's nothing else she can do.]
Nov. 3
[Terry comes back from Lesedi's office, and his first instinct is to get a beer and hole up in his room, picking away at his own stuff. But stood in the middle of the penthouse that feels... Wrong. A lot of thoughts (why did feeling scared feel so wrong?) but he wants to think about someone else. He knocks on Nariko's door; she's been the most out of sorts, far as he can tell.]
Nariko? [His voice is soft like it hasn't been in a little while.] It's Terry. Alright if I come in?
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Nov 4
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Nov. 1
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Nov. 4
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Nov 2nd
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Nov 2
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Nov. 4th
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OTA
[Yuffie's dreams aren't really bad. That's the strangest part of them. She wakes up several times that night and finally just stares out the window. She's sitting there in the chair she's dragged over, impossibly quiet for the longest time, watching the sky and wondering what exactly feels so wrong. She doesn't know. It feels like every time she closes her eyes there is a bright light that's impossible to escape. She doesn't know what it is, but the images drive her to sketching them against the glass.
A huge, looping snake like creature. It makes her smile. It's beautiful. Her drawing can't even begin to match how it looks in her dreams. It somehow makes her proud and happy and want to cry all at once. But dreams are weird like that, right?
That done, she wraps her arms around her knees, and stares up and out, trying to figure out what is making her so uneasy. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she thinks the stars are all wrong. She shakes it off. What sort of silly thought is that?
Stars can't be wrong.
Yuffie doesn't sleep the rest of the night. ]
Nov. 2-5
[After that first night, Yuffie keeps waking up with her dreams flooding green and blue, sometimes they make her her smile but mostly she just wakes up with a sense of ominousness. Like something's coming, and she can't escape it. She takes to bothering everyone, the other carnies are mostly in a quiet mood so she moves to everyone else from desk clerks to waiters.
She keeps stealing and turning the objects back in like she's found them or returning them to the pockets she took them from, her bad mood making her more terrible habits reappear in new and interesting ways. She keeps shooting tiny bits of paper out of straws or flinging small objects at people as well, a bit like she's trying to prove her own aim to herself, though when she's distracted from it she mostly seems to shrug it off, like this isn't odd at all and like she's not attempting to drive most of the Pride staff into the mad house.
Yuffie is also often found in the gym, attempting round offs and handstands and things that most would expect from someone who had spent most of their young life in gymnastics classes. Each time she falls, or executes something less than perfectly she loops back around and does it again until she gets it right with a drive most would expect from an overzealous drill instructor.
Other than that she can be found in the Carnie's suite, practicing her guitar on the stairs or attempting to get some kind of sleep that isn't riddled with strange things she doesn't understand. Yuffie's getting sick of all of it, and it clearly shows.]
Nov. 3
It was a simple, almost inconsequential item, but the little paper fan that he kept tucked deep in the pockets of his ostensibly vintage jackets was missing and Koumei felt strangely insecure without it.
Surely he misplaced it in his insomniac haze. Not even his usual remedies were working now.....he might have to hit the harder stuff just to have an effect.
Yuffie might spot him wandering around Pride HQ, searching high and low for said fan. Perhaps it's underneath that lavish sofa in the lounge? Or maybe high up in some decorative plant that someone had placed in the hallway to add a little calming influence on the otherwise chaotic and wild population?
Or, perhaps Yuffie herself might have it-- a fact that is unknown to the disheveled Pianist of Cosmic Indulgence?]
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Nov 2
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NOV 4
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Nov 3rd
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Jamie Hemeros | Flashstep
That is an excellent question.
[October 31 - open to anyone who might be out drinking with him, and to bandmates at the penthouse]
His little donnybrook with Maxxie and the subsequent fallout hasn't put him in a good mood, and this is on top of his usual volatility and unusually frayed temper from the hazing. He's still pretty asschafed come the thirty-first, when the official word comes through that all of Pride HQ is officially on lockdown. Which just makes everything Worse.
He's been trying, unsuccessfully, to pick up chicks at some bar in town, and he's been drinking enough to be a handful. As he's escorted firmly away from any chance of scoring and back to enforced quarantine at the Flashnest, the pissiness is bound to come seeping slowly back, in fits and spurts - but in the meantime, he might just be tolerable. Booze takes the edge off some of his cantankerousness - meaning, basically, that he's just a different kind of obnoxious, more talkative and effusive than usual. Depending on who he's with, the night may end in another sad shoving match.
[November 1 through 5 - open to all of Pride HQ]
As their confinement wears on, however, pure ire gives way to a nervous tension that leaves him feeling like he's waiting for something to happen, and he can't tell if it's something wonderful or disastrous. Rather than being confrontational and overbearing like he usually is, Jamie instead becomes reclusive, almost avoidant, largely distracted when approached but snappish if provoked. He still paces incessantly, however, never lingering for very long in any one spot, either around the penthouse or anywhere else in the building. Preoccupied as he is with whatever it is he can feel hanging over his head, he's prone to stepping on toes - literally as well as figuratively - jostling passersby, or just staring for uncomfortably long periods in people's general direction, and when alerted to these breaches of etiquette, tends to respond with something along the lines of: "Sorry, what?"
[November 5, evening - open to bandmates]
He's been faring a little better the past few days, but sleep still doesn't come as easily as it used to, and Jamie tends to conk out periodically throughout the day. During the later hours of their fifth day of lockdown, he dozes off at one end of the couch - maybe while staring at the TV or watching one of the guys play a videogame - and has what seems to be a very intense dream.
the sky is the biggest thing he has ever seen, and moving swiftly across it is a tiny speck - an aircraft containing his - -
something goes wrong and he doesn't know what but the sleek aerodynamic shape is hurtling downward, nosediving toward the ground, and then -
there is a massive impact, an explosion of dust and then of flame, and he is seized with a feeling of terror and horror so intense that
they follow him into the waking world and he jerks upright with a noise that's not quite a shriek but isn't too far removed. For a minute or so he seems completely caught up in the aftermath of whatever it was he saw - wild-eyed, pale, limbs trembling as he takes shallow, shuddering breaths.
Nov 3rd
"Not. That. I. Give. A. Shit. But. You're. In. The. Women's. Locker. Room," she says, casting a sideways glance at the more self-conscious female percussionist from some other Pride band, blushing to her ears and gripping her towel around her like a lifeline. Jamie's blind intrusion into the area outside the gym doesn't bother Luci, but she imagines other women may take objection to it.
oh my god
Hi Jamie 8]
hi naked Lucifer
You say that like half of Pride hasn't seen it before
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Nov. 5th
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November 5
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OTA
[Pinkie's dreams aren't bad. Pinkie's dreams are full of parties.
Well, not parties. Not the kinds of parties she usually goes to, with no light and loud music and lots of booze and people pressed all up close. Here is different, and she's different too. Somehow it feels perfectly natural, to be down on all fours, moving with ease and grace, blowing up balloons and strewing streamers even though her hands are gone.
The air is full of the smell of her baking. She's never baked anything before - she's never really thrown a party before. Clubbing with people isn't the same thing. If you asked her awake, Pinkie would probably say that it'd be too much work to do all on her own. But in the dream, she's just happy and excited.
Her friends are coming.]
November 2 - 5
[Well, we're all trapped in here. No need to sit around being all mopey, right?
Pinkie can be found variously:
A) Riding a rolling chair around the hallways at high speeds
B) Hanging out in the bars, not really getting drunk but totally bouncing around humming
C) Leaving trays of freshly baked brownies in strategic locations
Have fun with that.]
Hallways
He sits up a little dazedly and looks from the chair to Pinkie and back again. "What - what the hell," he says finally. He sounds more surprised than angry, as though the collision just interrupted a really intense contemplation on the inner workings of Pop-Tarts or something.
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Hallways
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[Maxxie's been avoiding the Flashstep penthouse a little bit over the past week. His fight with Jamie left him in an awful mood and he's trying to distance himself from the band while he cools off. The lockout makes this a bit challenging, but Pride HQ is a big place. The morning after they get called back, Maxxie grabs a quick breakfast at the penthouse and then seeks out one of the cafes on the lower levels.]
[He gets a coffee and sets himself up in a corner on a bench that he can stretch his legs out on. He's admittedly not doing much, just alternating between staring at his phone, staring out the window, and drinking his coffee, but it's about the same thing he would do any other morning off from work. He doesn't usually look so forlorn, though.]
[nov 3//bar//night]
[He may have had a bit too much tonight.]
[Well, not may have. Maxxie's definitely too drunk. He's not usually sloppy, but he's been drinking since the middle of the afternoon since there's nothing else to do. He could be contributing to his band's song for the EP, and to be fair he did start drinking to see if he the alcohol would help him catch a little inspiration, but at some point that turned into going down to the bar for more drinks. It's bordering on obnoxious, how cheerful he is right now. At least he's not angry anymore, right?]
[nov 5//general//day]
[He's whistling for heaven's sake.]
[In an inexplicable 180 from his demeanour only four days before, Maxxie's bubbly again, and this time there is no alcohol in his system. He's heading back up to his penthouse from a nice lunch at one of the restaurants downstairs and there's a bounce in his step. He can't help but hum as he rides the elevator and wanders down the halls. It's almost irritating, how happy he is. But then, this is his usual disposition.]
[other]
[Pick your poison or hit me up for an alternative.]
sometime on the 4th?
[Jamie also doesn't like apologizing, because that implies he screwed up, and the feeling of frustrated shame and anger pertaining to that is another thing he can't really explain. Really, he wishes he'd never followed Maxxie out to the elevators that night and started the whole stupid thing, but what's done is done and all he can do now is try to smooth things over.
[He approaches Maxxie in the living room of the penthouse one morning, coming to stand nearby him. Close enough to talk normally, but not so close as to impinge on Maxxie's personal space. His greeting is, well...less than enthusiastic.]
...hey.
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nov 5 during the day
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Nov 5th
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Mostly OTA. Prose or brackets, either is fine!
OPTION A:
Oct 31st - wee hours of Nov 1st, Flashstep penthouse. Open to Flashstep or visitors!
[The night of Halloween was kind of weird, he'd been hoping to at least go out somewhere, if just to see other people in costumes. But they're called back, and he kind of slumps on the couch and with a bit of a pout tries to find something on the TV to watch. Preferably something Halloweeny. He settles on some type of really old zombie movie. It's in black and white. Sora watches it very intently, with his knees pulled up and his chin on top of them, eyes wide. If anyone comes in to sit next to him, he doesn't hear them at first. And unless they say something beforehand, he might actually be startled by seeing them there during a commercial break. There may be a yelp involved.]
OPTION B:
Nov 1-3, Flashstep penthouse balcony. Open to Flashstep or visitors!
[So there's a new addition to the boys' arsenal of stuff, something Sora specifically asked for, and it's a high-tech looking telescope that's been set up on the balcony off the main living area. He'll be there sometimes at night, at really any hour so long as it's dark and he can see different stars, background comets, things he doesn't even have names for.
He's fascinated by it all in a way that might border on obsession if it weren't for that fact that he's still Sora and gets easily distracted by other things. So while he doesn't spend hours upon hours out here, he spends lots of short periods of time, just coming out to look.]
OPTION C:
Nov 1-3, around Pride HQ. Open to all!
[Sora spends a lot of time wandering around the different places in the building, chatting to plenty of people he runs into. And maybe half-snooping, his curiosity about this whole lockdown thing running pretty high. But he's not the best at snooping, so one may find him attempting to peek around a corner with a pocket mirror as he watches and listens to some guards murmuring to one another.
There's still the background angst of knowing his band mates and friends are still upset about the hazing and that there's not really much of anything he can do about it, though he's tried. This tiny black cloud may be metaphorically visible to others as he's seen throughout the building over the course of the next few days, though depending on who it is, Sora may try to hide being upset (especially from band mates, he doesn't want to give them anything more to worry about). He can also be seen sitting places, doodling things on paper or napkins or really anything so long as it's not permanent.
A few times, he may actually wind up at another newbie band's penthouse door, giving a hesitant knock just because he's bored. That and he hasn't really spent any time visiting the other bands' places, he is a little curious what they're like. There are lots of people he hasn't met yet, either. Now seems like as good a time as any to do that, right? It's not like anyone's actually busy.]
OPTION D:
Anything you can think of? Open to all, catch him somewhere around the building, he'll probably be wandering.
A
"Whaddafuckyadoin'?"
Oh hey it's just Jamie, who is extremely hungover from his night of boozing it up before getting dragged back to HQ. This may or may not be worse than the actual undead.
masterpiece
i saw an opening and i took it
i'm so glad
"basically Donald now" oh my god
lmao oh you saw that
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B!
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