Night Haunter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
curzed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
unfinishedlibrary2025-11-07 11:03 pm
curzed) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2025-11-07 11:03 pm
late night reading
Who: Konrad Curze, Kaiisteron, later on: you?
What: Making Mistakes
When: sometime after 'night', it's obligatory (several days before Storytime)
Where: Somewhere in the Stacks, it's a big library. Probably time-out later. Maybe worse places.
Content warnings: Violence, daemons, primarchs, gratuitous bodily harm, the problems with uncontrolled powers, making a mess.
Sooner or later, someone in power is going to regret the group of misfits that have been taken here as Editors.
Like Konrad. He's been more or less behaving since arriving, aside from commandeering ALL cardstock of a particular color and texture, collecting singing bowls of a dozen sizes and leaving them in little clusters in the kitchen and bunks, and leaving a trail of fine, tiny glitter for several days on everything he touched. His efforts to find a way out of the Library are ongoing and unfruitful, prowling the Stacks without bothering to sleep more than once in several days.
But this time his path through the endless shelves of books is for a different purpose in simply putting as much distance between himself and the other people dragged here as he could. He has no control over when his 'gifts' chose to strike and drown him in the worst outcomes possible, but he does know when it's coming, and here there's no locked room with reinforced doors to make use of. Distance will have to do. There is a point, in the rending pain of things that haven't even happened yet, where Curze can no longer tell where he is now in favor of where he will be then.
It makes for a pathetic sight, something his size on the floor with his head in his hands in the shadows between towering shelves scaled towards his height and not human average, back pressed against the cold rows of books.
The sharp scent of blood is probably fine too. Ignore it. Everything's fine here.
What: Making Mistakes
When: sometime after 'night', it's obligatory (several days before Storytime)
Where: Somewhere in the Stacks, it's a big library. Probably time-out later. Maybe worse places.
Content warnings: Violence, daemons, primarchs, gratuitous bodily harm, the problems with uncontrolled powers, making a mess.
Sooner or later, someone in power is going to regret the group of misfits that have been taken here as Editors.
Like Konrad. He's been more or less behaving since arriving, aside from commandeering ALL cardstock of a particular color and texture, collecting singing bowls of a dozen sizes and leaving them in little clusters in the kitchen and bunks, and leaving a trail of fine, tiny glitter for several days on everything he touched. His efforts to find a way out of the Library are ongoing and unfruitful, prowling the Stacks without bothering to sleep more than once in several days.
But this time his path through the endless shelves of books is for a different purpose in simply putting as much distance between himself and the other people dragged here as he could. He has no control over when his 'gifts' chose to strike and drown him in the worst outcomes possible, but he does know when it's coming, and here there's no locked room with reinforced doors to make use of. Distance will have to do. There is a point, in the rending pain of things that haven't even happened yet, where Curze can no longer tell where he is now in favor of where he will be then.
It makes for a pathetic sight, something his size on the floor with his head in his hands in the shadows between towering shelves scaled towards his height and not human average, back pressed against the cold rows of books.
The sharp scent of blood is probably fine too. Ignore it. Everything's fine here.
no subject
There's a brief haunted look in his eyes as he thinks of being alone, lost and afraid. ... He's been there, done that. He doesn't want to go back. "... I appreciate you caring, though."
no subject
(It feels tentative, not in the pressure of the squeeze but simply in the way he moves. He avoids touch because other people don't want to touch demons, and he moves like he half expects to be thrown off or screamed at.)
"You're not alone," he says, and unfortunately for him, he means that. "...I don't think he is either. One of his 'brothers' is here too."
no subject
He knows he does too - that the weight of everything will crush him on its own. But what other choice does he have? "How are you feeling?"
no subject
no subject
It wouldn't be 'finished', and he can't make anything fancy, but...
no subject
But for now, he'll take them back towards the living areas. He doesn't know if they're going to talk about everything now or later, but he does want to get the blood off of him.