rakuen | 001 ♑ open log

Characters: Gamzee and roommates?
Format: Prose is what I'd rather use at the moment, but it can switch to action later.
This log is: Open
Location: Fortitude, Pale 2-A
Summary: Gamzee's not feeling well at all... are you really going to bug him?
Warnings: He'll probably be aggressive if your character speaks to him.

His head hurts.

No, 'hurts' isn't right. More like throbs. More like he's in agony, each second passing slowly and torturously. He wonders if his head is going to explode, if he's going to snap and break and shatter, wonders if he'll coat the walls with indigo. The bright of the sun, that motherfucking sun, makes him want to claw his own eyes out because it just won't leave, and it doesn't burn his skin but he wishes it would because then maybe he'd be put out of his misery.

It'd started slow, but the battles and the rush and blur of everything, the talking and yammering and nobody shuts the motherfuck up around here only made things worse. He's in his room, and thank the mirthful messiahs, it's empty, how painfully miraculous. He doesn't even want to think, doesn't want to feel, because with the headache comes a stomach ache -- and his muscles, they ache, too. It's strange and maybe it's just because of the shock -- but wouldn't that only be mental stress? It just feels like something's missing. Felt like that for a long while, since he got here, and he's not even sure how many days have passed but its been getting worse and worse, and now it's at its peak. Maybe it's just got to get worse before it gets better, but he doesn't think he'll make it to the 'get better' part.

So he's left to grab his PDA and a blanket, maybe two, okay three, and he doesn't care whos they are and just wraps himself in a cocoon. It's the first comforting feeling, with warm, suffocating walls wrapped around him, he's felt since he got here. Everything's too bright and now it's dark, and the burn and throb of his eyes and head slow. So he's in a quiet corner, praying the pain and the -- urge -- to just hurt someone leave. ( That's another thing he'd felt, anger, like that quick whip of irriational anger he'd felt upon learning he'd be a weapon the first week. But now it grows; and it does not leave, even though he hides it behind his friendly mask, just grows, threatening to consume him. )

He thinks he`ll stay hidden here for a while...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's something demented about miracles being tossed back in his face like this. He somehow kept his feet, but that may not necessarily be a good thing.

He was going to leave Nunnally all alone. So soon after they had found each other again. Suzaku would blame himself, he was sure. How could he have done anything?

He wasn't going to go down without a fight. He reached up and grabbed hold of one of Gamzee's horns and tugged it down to one side to throw off his balance.

Gamzee's world spins a moment, and his grip loosens significantly. Fuck horns and fuck all their sensitivity. He's got himself righted soon enough, though, and with a low growl of warning he slams Lelouch against the nearest wall, hopefully hard enough to knock his breath out for at least a moment. "Motherfucker. Seems you've still got fight in you, huh?" He gives a dry, forced laugh, before pulling Lelouch forwards and then slamming him back against the wall. If his head takes the brunt of the damage, Gamzee would be pleased.

The world spun after his head cracked on the wall a couple times. But he'd found some valuable information. He flailed his arm out to try to grab the horn again. This time it was harder, with the room spinning like this, to actually achieve his target.

He sees what Lelouch is trying to do and snarls, holding him at arm's length. "What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!" He releases his grip on Lelouch's shirt and grabs him this time by his neck, putting pressure on his windpipe. Anger was pounding through him, anger and disgust; it's so strong he's almost seeing red as he presses, presses and digs his nails into Lelouch's neck. His grip loosens a second after, however, something sneaking in and stopping him. His nails aren't pressing hard enough to draw blood now, but hard enough to cause pain.

Cutting some major artery or the other might be more merciful than what he was doing now. He couldn't breathe. He tugged at the hand that held his windpipe closed. He was no longer able to maintain any kind of poker face. He was obviously panicked. He knew he was going to die.

Gamzee watches, tightening his grip. A hungry look comes into his eye, and he smiles again. A wave of pleasure shoots through his spine and makes his head swim a moment as he stares into Lelouch's painicked eyes, and he chuckles breathily. "Hey, motherfucker, you scared?" He leans in, whispering near his ear: "Shh, hey, how's it feel?" He pulls away and laughs, laughs and laughs, loosening his grip enough for Lelouch to breathe. He wants him conscious. His laughter isn't humorless or dry anymore, because this is fucking hilarious. Putting the damn human in his place is hilarious and absolutely wonderful.

"Motherfucker." That's all he says before digging his nails in with all of his strength, digging and digging and twisting, and then ripping.

Choking. That's all he could do. His arms and legs kicked and twitched involuntarily as Gamzee tore into his throat. Blood flowed in a torrent from his neck over Gamzee's hands and down his front. His eyes were wide but soon faded to lifelessness. His body's protests stopped. Once he was released, his body would drop heavily onto the floor, then disappear, leaving a pool of crimson behind.

Gamzee stares down at the body a long while, thinking. When the body disappears, he simply blinks down at the pool of blood, before cackling and dipping a finger in.

He paints a large :o) on the wall where he'd pinned Lelouch before he leaves the room to wander.

001 ♑ open log

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