http://weisshaar.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
weisshaar.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2008-08-01 01:29 am
weisshaar.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-08-01 01:29 am
log; ongoing
When; July 31st, Evening.
Rating; no censorship here, kiddos.
Characters; Heine Rammsteiner [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
weisshaar[ & Badou Nails [arr_ilovemecigs]
Summary; Reunion for the fifth? sixth? (lost count) time between the eyepatch and white hair.
Log;
Almost invisible yet grooves quite clear, Heine's brows were knit into an x of hard-boiled irritation and preemptive speculation. Each time the one-eyed idiot came to the City, he had to find him, pick his useless body off whatever hole he was stuck in, and shelter him.
...well, the first one was here before he was, so he doesn't count. But every time after that, he remembered, how clamorous Badou was. Why is it that the City had to haul him when he didn't have any smokes?
"Tch." He punched the bottom-floor elevator button. The steel box shut its doors, shuddered, and descended six floors. The all-too cheerful arrival bell rang, and Heine marched out to the hall and towards the main door, which, of course, lacked an eyesore junkie. Realizing it'll be a while, the leather-donned boy slammed his back against a granite pillar, crossing his arms and ankles with exasperation.
Heine shut his eyes, and slowly--inevitably, he sunk into a sea of thought. What exactly was he so mad for? It's always been this way. There was no change in the biting, half-joking remarks the "partners" exchanged. Heine was a bastard, and Badou was an asshole. Same old, if you ask him. But maybe it was just that that pissed him off. Everything passed as if nothing had happened--and frankly, not much has--but it's been over a year since he's been here. Over and over again, he went through versions new and old of his world's respective personages. Why did they leave, and not him? What was keeping him here and not there, where, though he had a shittier lifestyle, he at least had some purpose? He didn't want to admit to this vague feeling of loneliness and deception, but this time--
This time, he considered, maybe killing someone he knew wouldn't be a bad idea.
Rating; no censorship here, kiddos.
Characters; Heine Rammsteiner [
weisshaar[ & Badou Nails [arr_ilovemecigs]Summary; Reunion for the fifth? sixth? (lost count) time between the eyepatch and white hair.
Log;
Almost invisible yet grooves quite clear, Heine's brows were knit into an x of hard-boiled irritation and preemptive speculation. Each time the one-eyed idiot came to the City, he had to find him, pick his useless body off whatever hole he was stuck in, and shelter him.
...well, the first one was here before he was, so he doesn't count. But every time after that, he remembered, how clamorous Badou was. Why is it that the City had to haul him when he didn't have any smokes?
"Tch." He punched the bottom-floor elevator button. The steel box shut its doors, shuddered, and descended six floors. The all-too cheerful arrival bell rang, and Heine marched out to the hall and towards the main door, which, of course, lacked an eyesore junkie. Realizing it'll be a while, the leather-donned boy slammed his back against a granite pillar, crossing his arms and ankles with exasperation.
Heine shut his eyes, and slowly--inevitably, he sunk into a sea of thought. What exactly was he so mad for? It's always been this way. There was no change in the biting, half-joking remarks the "partners" exchanged. Heine was a bastard, and Badou was an asshole. Same old, if you ask him. But maybe it was just that that pissed him off. Everything passed as if nothing had happened--and frankly, not much has--but it's been over a year since he's been here. Over and over again, he went through versions new and old of his world's respective personages. Why did they leave, and not him? What was keeping him here and not there, where, though he had a shittier lifestyle, he at least had some purpose? He didn't want to admit to this vague feeling of loneliness and deception, but this time--
This time, he considered, maybe killing someone he knew wouldn't be a bad idea.