[She doesn't know when she started walking. Maybe days. Maybe weeks. Maybe a few centuries. The distinction doesn't matter, really, she's not sure why it would. The only thing on her mind is... is...
Well, there's something she should be thinking about, she's quite certain of that. Something she's forgetting in this bleached landscape of sand and heat. There's been nobody for so long, she's started wondering if she might be the last person on this Earth.
So when she sees another, her eyes widen in surprise, recognition, and clarity. This is reality, as close to reality as it really matters, and the vultures are circling, looking to feast on the flesh off her bones.]
I don't suppose you could point me in the direction of civilization? The desert does not quite agree with me, I'm afraid.
[She speaks in a rather exaggerated fancy turn of phrase, like she's trying to put forward the image high class lady. Except her grammar is pretty bad and she has a noticable lisp, so it's mostly just adorable.]
II. Fear
[She was getting her bearings, going for a walk, when it all... well, transformed. The ivory lined walls of a place she doesn't recognize, crowded on all ends by people walking next to her, all in the same identical uniform, and none of them even spare her a glance.]
What in the... hello?!
[And they... push her. Push through her, walking over her, as if she weren't there.]
Excuse me! I'm - [Another shove. This time someone looks at her, just to display open disgust. She's about to get angry, about to scream at them, but her mouth has been sewed shut so how could she? She looks forward, for help, and only one person is looking at her, with the expression of someone looking at their old doll and finding it's very existence an embarassing reminder of a past she left behind.]
Go to class now, Satoko. I don't want to play with you right now.
[The face... it's of someone she knows really quite well. And the eyes turn away from her, to her new dolls, interchangable faces who never mattered in the slightest, and all Satoko can do is mindlessly walk amongst a sea of meaningless set-pieces.
Of course, in the real world, she's on her hands and knees screaming one word.]
RIIIIIKAAAAA!!!!!
III. THE BULL
[She wants to ride. Why? She can't bring herself to care right now. All she knows is that she wants it more than anything in the world.
She stands amidst the salloon, her arms crossed as she watches it skeptically, analyzing. There's no sense in rushing. She will turn her victory into a certainty.
Although, if anyone's close enough to approach her, she will turn to them, the intensity of her expression lesssened considerably and replaced with a mischevious grin.]
Ah, do you plan on riding the bull, by chance?
IV. WILDCARD
[Have a different idea? Contact me either on this journal or on plurk at ectoplasmfear and we can discuss. Or alternatively just drop one below and I'll adapt.]
Satoko Hojo | Higurashi When They Cry
[She doesn't know when she started walking. Maybe days. Maybe weeks. Maybe a few centuries. The distinction doesn't matter, really, she's not sure why it would. The only thing on her mind is... is...
Well, there's something she should be thinking about, she's quite certain of that. Something she's forgetting in this bleached landscape of sand and heat. There's been nobody for so long, she's started wondering if she might be the last person on this Earth.
So when she sees another, her eyes widen in surprise, recognition, and clarity. This is reality, as close to reality as it really matters, and the vultures are circling, looking to feast on the flesh off her bones.]
I don't suppose you could point me in the direction of civilization? The desert does not quite agree with me, I'm afraid.
[She speaks in a rather exaggerated fancy turn of phrase, like she's trying to put forward the image high class lady. Except her grammar is pretty bad and she has a noticable lisp, so it's mostly just adorable.]
II. Fear
[She was getting her bearings, going for a walk, when it all... well, transformed. The ivory lined walls of a place she doesn't recognize, crowded on all ends by people walking next to her, all in the same identical uniform, and none of them even spare her a glance.]
What in the... hello?!
[And they... push her. Push through her, walking over her, as if she weren't there.]
Excuse me! I'm - [Another shove. This time someone looks at her, just to display open disgust. She's about to get angry, about to scream at them, but her mouth has been sewed shut so how could she? She looks forward, for help, and only one person is looking at her, with the expression of someone looking at their old doll and finding it's very existence an embarassing reminder of a past she left behind.]
Go to class now, Satoko. I don't want to play with you right now.
[The face... it's of someone she knows really quite well. And the eyes turn away from her, to her new dolls, interchangable faces who never mattered in the slightest, and all Satoko can do is mindlessly walk amongst a sea of meaningless set-pieces.
Of course, in the real world, she's on her hands and knees screaming one word.]
RIIIIIKAAAAA!!!!!
III. THE BULL
[She wants to ride. Why? She can't bring herself to care right now. All she knows is that she wants it more than anything in the world.
She stands amidst the salloon, her arms crossed as she watches it skeptically, analyzing. There's no sense in rushing. She will turn her victory into a certainty.
Although, if anyone's close enough to approach her, she will turn to them, the intensity of her expression lesssened considerably and replaced with a mischevious grin.]
Ah, do you plan on riding the bull, by chance?
IV. WILDCARD
[Have a different idea? Contact me either on this journal or on plurk at