( ooc | nbd, i'm pretty sure i was slower, djfsjs. and aaa, thank you!! your writing is so lovely. ♥ )
[ there's no rationale to it — just the nascent, expectant fear that he might be left behind in the disconsolation of the halls without another passing glance. fear echoing like some kind of feverish delirium sluicing all the way down to his hands, mapped along his aorta, the pulse-point of his trepidation more telling than his gaze spilling out of the darkness. inexorable. ]
It's a little too late for me, anyways. I've already seen what's down there.
[ his head's still ringing strangely from the encounter in the basement, peril cast in the semantics of a shining, upturned face, the incomprehensible accusation rising from the throat of his younger facsimile, and the blood — sanguine, lurid under the white-hot glare, fingers spanning with every intention to latch onto him until makoto clumsily stumbled out of the hallway with leaden feet, bent double and one misstep from dry-retching on the steps.
instead makoto swallows the crowding doubts whole, pivoting past heine and down the leftmost corridor, the windows and the thunderstorm upending itself outside already melting from sight. it's a while longer until he breaks the brittle silence while idling in the landing, scrutinizing his trainers with some kind of perturbed focus before reluctantly meeting the other man's line of sight. ]
I've already checked most of the floors before that. I think the only place I haven't looked yet is the top floor. If we take the elevator, it should lead us right to the top.
[ it's eerie how much heine resembles rin, in a sense; ferocity generously ringing his eyes, sharper with his neck craned, molten even when bathed in the warping gloom. self-conscious, makoto attempts to dispel the cold membrane of fear shivering its way to him by preemptively gesticulating to the half-opened entryway situated just adjacent to the elevators. ]
no subject
[ there's no rationale to it — just the nascent, expectant fear that he might be left behind in the disconsolation of the halls without another passing glance. fear echoing like some kind of feverish delirium sluicing all the way down to his hands, mapped along his aorta, the pulse-point of his trepidation more telling than his gaze spilling out of the darkness. inexorable. ]
It's a little too late for me, anyways. I've already seen what's down there.
[ his head's still ringing strangely from the encounter in the basement, peril cast in the semantics of a shining, upturned face, the incomprehensible accusation rising from the throat of his younger facsimile, and the blood — sanguine, lurid under the white-hot glare, fingers spanning with every intention to latch onto him until makoto clumsily stumbled out of the hallway with leaden feet, bent double and one misstep from dry-retching on the steps.
instead makoto swallows the crowding doubts whole, pivoting past heine and down the leftmost corridor, the windows and the thunderstorm upending itself outside already melting from sight. it's a while longer until he breaks the brittle silence while idling in the landing, scrutinizing his trainers with some kind of perturbed focus before reluctantly meeting the other man's line of sight. ]
I've already checked most of the floors before that. I think the only place I haven't looked yet is the top floor. If we take the elevator, it should lead us right to the top.
[ it's eerie how much heine resembles rin, in a sense; ferocity generously ringing his eyes, sharper with his neck craned, molten even when bathed in the warping gloom. self-conscious, makoto attempts to dispel the cold membrane of fear shivering its way to him by preemptively gesticulating to the half-opened entryway situated just adjacent to the elevators. ]
Unless you think the stairs might be better?