Alucard (Adrian F. Tepes) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
superdrowningskills) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thebastion2014-06-15 09:09 pm
superdrowningskills) wrote in thebastion2014-06-15 09:09 pm
Entry tags:
Day 199 - Exposition and Rockbell
Who: Alucard or Ghaleon, and anybody
Open: Open!
When: Day 199, mid-morning for one, noonish for the other.
Where: Near the kitchens, or around the Bastion
What: Alucard's awake and hungry, and Ghaleon doesn't feel like being in the hospital anymore.
Format: Preferably action.
Warnings: probably none for Alucard; sass, and mentions of death from Ghaleon
[Alucard is a man who likes to sleep. He actually likes to sleep even more than he likes to eat.
Just as he likes to sleep, Alucard is also one who can sleep heavily enough that he appears dead, and for long periods. As such, he sometimes finds himself in that predicament that some people experience where they wake up and are unsure of what day it is. In his case though, the problem is... a tad more extreme.
Hence the somewhat odd question he asks of whomever he encounters near the kitchens (What? He's hungry):]
What is the current year?
---------
[A full day confined to a bed, and Ghaleon finds he's had enough of sitting still. Between the work the boy doctor had done and his own spells, surely the damage had been healed enough to not risk reopening a wound as long as strenuous activity is avoided. Perhaps it's a bit of an unnecessary risk... but a place like this is no good for thinking deeply on the world. And so off he went.
Making his escape out the front door of the hospital, Ghaleon thinks once again that fate is an odd thing. Here he was, a man who was supposed to have been days and a thousand years in the grave, walking across the grass of the town at the end of the world. He'd been prepared to die (again) to allow the true heroes their best chance at saving the world he loved so dearly, and yet somehow he is again the last relic of a time and place now lost forever.
In any other situation, the sheer irony of it all would have been enough to make him laugh. As is, he's sure that he may cry when he has a place he can do so where no-one can see.
And now? Now he just wants to explore; perhaps find someone who can help him find something that would perhaps be more appropriate to wear around humans than a hospital gown. The mazoku doesn't particularly care himself, but humans do seem to have a bit of a thing about having a minimum amount of clothing they're comfortable with others wearing. Perhaps it's different with the apparent mixing of cultures here... but he sincerely doubts it.]
Open: Open!
When: Day 199, mid-morning for one, noonish for the other.
Where: Near the kitchens, or around the Bastion
What: Alucard's awake and hungry, and Ghaleon doesn't feel like being in the hospital anymore.
Format: Preferably action.
Warnings: probably none for Alucard; sass, and mentions of death from Ghaleon
[Alucard is a man who likes to sleep. He actually likes to sleep even more than he likes to eat.
Just as he likes to sleep, Alucard is also one who can sleep heavily enough that he appears dead, and for long periods. As such, he sometimes finds himself in that predicament that some people experience where they wake up and are unsure of what day it is. In his case though, the problem is... a tad more extreme.
Hence the somewhat odd question he asks of whomever he encounters near the kitchens (What? He's hungry):]
What is the current year?
---------
[A full day confined to a bed, and Ghaleon finds he's had enough of sitting still. Between the work the boy doctor had done and his own spells, surely the damage had been healed enough to not risk reopening a wound as long as strenuous activity is avoided. Perhaps it's a bit of an unnecessary risk... but a place like this is no good for thinking deeply on the world. And so off he went.
Making his escape out the front door of the hospital, Ghaleon thinks once again that fate is an odd thing. Here he was, a man who was supposed to have been days and a thousand years in the grave, walking across the grass of the town at the end of the world. He'd been prepared to die (again) to allow the true heroes their best chance at saving the world he loved so dearly, and yet somehow he is again the last relic of a time and place now lost forever.
In any other situation, the sheer irony of it all would have been enough to make him laugh. As is, he's sure that he may cry when he has a place he can do so where no-one can see.
And now? Now he just wants to explore; perhaps find someone who can help him find something that would perhaps be more appropriate to wear around humans than a hospital gown. The mazoku doesn't particularly care himself, but humans do seem to have a bit of a thing about having a minimum amount of clothing they're comfortable with others wearing. Perhaps it's different with the apparent mixing of cultures here... but he sincerely doubts it.]
Ghaleon
The Calamity catch you with your pants down?
no subject
That, my dear, depends entirely on if a bodysuit can be considered pants.
no subject
[Not that either of these is more pants-like than the other, but it's important for a mental image.]
no subject
Form-fitting. Coveralls are useful for certain tasks, but hardly a flattering fashion statement. Such a shame that mine was beyond salvage by the time I arrived.
no subject
no subject
[He sounds kind of pleased about that actually. Pants? Who wants to wear pants on a warm day?]
no subject
I'm Anya, by the way.
no subject
[Well, perhaps he's incorrect about the "young" part, but there's no real way to tell if you don't know what species someone is, and who doesn't like being told they have a youthful appearance?]
no subject
Thank you! I hope you're not carrying plague because it would be a shame if we all died before getting to know each other better.
no subject
[At least from him, anyhow.]
no subject
And not in the fun way.