http://mangetsu-no-uta.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
mangetsu-no-uta.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2007-11-09 01:34 pm
mangetsu-no-uta.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-11-09 01:34 pm
Log: Ongoing
When; November 9
Rating; G
Characters; Kouyama Mitsuki![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mangetsu_no_uta and whomever would like to find the poor lost kid
Summary; After a few days spent wandering the City, Mitsuki could really use a friend. And some food and shelter.
Log;
It was just a dream, right? That was what she'd told herself at first, when she'd found herself not among familiar sights and sounds but rather in a strange City that bristled with lights and noise and an otherworldliness the 12-year old hadn't really understood, even though she could feel it's presence.
But... were dreams supposed to be so real? Were they supposed to pulse with an eerie beat that sang like a ticking clock inside her head? Or for that matter, was one supposed to be able to feel in a dream? Because she did feel, she could feel the hard cold of the bench she'd curled up on for the last couple of nights, the dull ache in her belly as it protested the lack of food, even the tightening of her throat as her weakened condition proclaimed it's distate for the mounting abuses the City was heaping on her small person.
Things would have been easier, had she a place to live, some little bit of shelter from the elements. She knew there were abandoned rooms, the only person she'd spoken to at all since she got here -- over the computer that she'd found beside her -- had pointed her to a guide of sorts, for those who came to this realm. But even then, Mitsuki had no way of knowing which ones were vacant and which were occupied, and the outcome -- walking in on some hapless person -- didn't seem too appealing.
Drawing thin legs up to her chest, she looped arms around her knees again and re-commenced staring at the jumble of people who persisted in their comings and goings through the square, the only sound the soft chiming of the fountain at her back -- seeing as the strange rhythmic ticking went away a good bit when people were around, according to the guide. If what it had said was really true, then maybe her friends were here somewhere. All she could really do was wait.
Rating; G
Characters; Kouyama Mitsuki
mangetsu_no_uta and whomever would like to find the poor lost kid Summary; After a few days spent wandering the City, Mitsuki could really use a friend. And some food and shelter.
Log;
It was just a dream, right? That was what she'd told herself at first, when she'd found herself not among familiar sights and sounds but rather in a strange City that bristled with lights and noise and an otherworldliness the 12-year old hadn't really understood, even though she could feel it's presence.
But... were dreams supposed to be so real? Were they supposed to pulse with an eerie beat that sang like a ticking clock inside her head? Or for that matter, was one supposed to be able to feel in a dream? Because she did feel, she could feel the hard cold of the bench she'd curled up on for the last couple of nights, the dull ache in her belly as it protested the lack of food, even the tightening of her throat as her weakened condition proclaimed it's distate for the mounting abuses the City was heaping on her small person.
Things would have been easier, had she a place to live, some little bit of shelter from the elements. She knew there were abandoned rooms, the only person she'd spoken to at all since she got here -- over the computer that she'd found beside her -- had pointed her to a guide of sorts, for those who came to this realm. But even then, Mitsuki had no way of knowing which ones were vacant and which were occupied, and the outcome -- walking in on some hapless person -- didn't seem too appealing.
Drawing thin legs up to her chest, she looped arms around her knees again and re-commenced staring at the jumble of people who persisted in their comings and goings through the square, the only sound the soft chiming of the fountain at her back -- seeing as the strange rhythmic ticking went away a good bit when people were around, according to the guide. If what it had said was really true, then maybe her friends were here somewhere. All she could really do was wait.
no subject
Mentally stilling the hand not carrying her bag of groceries (it had been about to attempt to run through hair she didn't have, an old tic she hadn't yet shaken), she smiled at Mitsuki. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Evey Hammond." Introductions would make the girl feel more at home than a biting demand for information.
As she spoke, she gave the girl a proper once-over. If she'd been waiting for her friends, she might well have neglected to get settled into the City properly--the weather was turning chill lately, and if Mitsuki had spent the last few nights outside...hungry, cold, and alone was no way for a twelve year old to live. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"
((OOC: Shhh, you saw nothing above--I wasn't tired and miscomprehending, never. ^_-))
no subject
Three days alone in the city, and just a kid. Hmph. That couldn't have been much fun. Jordan could tell the other woman, she had announced herself as Evey Hammond, thought the same thing. "Jordan Sullivan," she said after Evey introduced herself.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other; it might have made her look impatient, but it was because she was wearing high-heeled shoes and they really weren't that comfortable. If the girl needed a place to stay, Jordan would be more than happy to drag her home -- not only would it annoy the hell out of Perry (she knew he couldn't say no, and even if he wanted to he wasn't allowed), but as much as she hated to admit it she missed her son.
Jordan stole another glance at Evey. She looked like your typical nicey-nice 'here, let me hold the door for you and donate half of my salary to your charity!' person. Dammit. Kids always liked the nicey-nice types.