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kore_logs2013-05-21 02:11 pm
unsanguine) wrote in kore_logs2013-05-21 02:11 pm
Entry tags:
if i stay here, trouble will find me
WHO: Hal Yorke and yoooooou
WHAT: One very nervous, very cranky vampire just got here and I don't want to subject everyone to another intropost; pls be gentle. (Or don't. Or don't.)
WHEN: Day 73, eveningish
WHERE: In/around the woods, but probably not far enough in to encounter direwolves or tigers unless someone wants that, and lbr it would be pretty great.
NOTES: Warnings for excessive prissiness.
By his own declaration, Hal cannot live anywhere without central heating, carpets, and Radio 4. So why he has decided to begin the investigation of his new and less than voluntary surroundings in the woods would be anyone's guess, except--he can't do this alone. He's almost sure of it. Has to find someone or something familiar, something grounding before he tips over into the inevitable itch in his teeth, the jagged scraping edges revealed when his routines are flipped on their backs.
To all appearances he's just a pale young man in perhaps his mid-twenties, black jeans and short sleeved black shirt, more buttons done than necessary--in fact that's his general ambience, expression on down, he looks buttoned up, and obviously new.
Also obviously not an outdoorsy person at all, given the faint to ...less faint disgust that blotches his features when he's obliged to like, touch a tree or something else repellant and gross. If Tom is to be found anywhere in this Godforsaken wasteland (which to be fair, that tiny corner of South Wales also was, hence its suitability as a hiding place for Hal) it will be in the woods, he suspects. Retreat to what is normal, that's what most people would do. Hal would take refuge in normalcy too, were it to be had, but he doesn't think he can click his pen or spin the trusty domino in his pocket a single time further without going absolutely mad.
Every sound makes him jump; he is not sure whether that's nerves or hope, the latter of which is surely one of God's little jokes.
WHAT: One very nervous, very cranky vampire just got here and I don't want to subject everyone to another intropost; pls be gentle. (Or don't. Or don't.)
WHEN: Day 73, eveningish
WHERE: In/around the woods, but probably not far enough in to encounter direwolves or tigers unless someone wants that, and lbr it would be pretty great.
NOTES: Warnings for excessive prissiness.
By his own declaration, Hal cannot live anywhere without central heating, carpets, and Radio 4. So why he has decided to begin the investigation of his new and less than voluntary surroundings in the woods would be anyone's guess, except--he can't do this alone. He's almost sure of it. Has to find someone or something familiar, something grounding before he tips over into the inevitable itch in his teeth, the jagged scraping edges revealed when his routines are flipped on their backs.
To all appearances he's just a pale young man in perhaps his mid-twenties, black jeans and short sleeved black shirt, more buttons done than necessary--in fact that's his general ambience, expression on down, he looks buttoned up, and obviously new.
Also obviously not an outdoorsy person at all, given the faint to ...less faint disgust that blotches his features when he's obliged to like, touch a tree or something else repellant and gross. If Tom is to be found anywhere in this Godforsaken wasteland (which to be fair, that tiny corner of South Wales also was, hence its suitability as a hiding place for Hal) it will be in the woods, he suspects. Retreat to what is normal, that's what most people would do. Hal would take refuge in normalcy too, were it to be had, but he doesn't think he can click his pen or spin the trusty domino in his pocket a single time further without going absolutely mad.
Every sound makes him jump; he is not sure whether that's nerves or hope, the latter of which is surely one of God's little jokes.
no subject
...right, ominous crunching, which effectively stops Hal in the middle of whatever blistering witticism he's about to deliver regarding metal bears. He runs a hand down his face, as if to clear it of offending hair residue. "It would be too much to hope that I imagined that sound, wouldn't it."
Of course it would.
no subject
no subject
Of course in running he's then obliged to consider whether or not he leaves her behind; he more just ...blurs than runs. Once he'd have taken off without a second thought - that impulse hasn't gone away, he just tries to quell it - but then he may be surprised by how well she keeps up anyway.
Once he's out of the woods the noise doesn't seem to be following anymore; he doesn't, of course, appear to be out of breath. Just mussed, so he proceeds to straightening his clothes and hair in a wave of fastidiousness. ]
no subject
...What is it with vampires and their hair. [She touches a strand of her own self-consciously but then shakes her head. SHE DOESN'T CARE WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE. Or more cares what someone might think if she did care too much, in public. Ughhhh.] Are you. Even a vampire?