letsplaysurgeon | Case 001 [Action/Written] (Backdated before the event)

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Case 001 [Action/Written] (Backdated before the event)

[This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening because it wasn’t what he planned. He was only supposed to be “dead” for a short period of time, hibernating while the pieces clicked into place for Tsuzuki and the boy. Not long enough for the Queen Camellia to dock and allow someone to throw his body out. And no one had the audacity. Perhaps the shinigami, but he couldn’t have been unconscious long enough for the Queen Camellia to dock.

…It also didn’t begin to explain why he was standing barefoot and freezing in a foot of snow in early July. Or the wings. Yes, he found the wings.

The only thing that leveled his disapproving gaze from his new back ornaments was the flicker of something unfamiliar in his peripheral vision. A short distance from where he woke up, half-buried in the snow was a book. He blinks a couple times in sequence, as though double-checking his vision. Someone redressed him, dumped his body in the woods with a pair of tacky wings, but was kind enough to leave him with some reading material. All right then.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to approach the book, let alone pick it up and open it, other than the grim humor that clung to him like a viscous tree sap. And he has a message for the one responsible for this, should they return to the scene of the crime.]

To whom it may concern:

Thank you so much for the relocation: it was a bit stuffy in my room. How considerate of you to give me a breath of fresh air.

I can only assume that this is a joke, or an attempt to stop me, either way it’s pathetic. I will be leaving now. [Never mind how he was going to make it back to the ship from wherever he was.] And you had better hope that your diversion hasn’t wasted my time.

In the meantime, I strongly recommend that you invest in finer clothing. It’s offensive to be thrown about in these cheap pants.

[And he drops the book like a hallucinating surgeon drops the pancreas that they believe is a purple tentacle monster with the ability to spit corrosive acid. The book lands on its spine and flutters open at his feet, but he’s forgotten all about it. He lifts his arm to reach around his abdomen and tug at the first feather he could reach, and the resulting pain makes his head rush, like it was wrapped in nerves. But his brain cannot—no, he refuses to process that the stupid thing was a part of him. He clenches his teeth, and the more he tries to ignore it, the more his vision stabs and his grip trembles, and he has to make a choice between his bad mood and his threshold for pain.

Finally he lets go: undeterred, just twice as agitated. He still hadn’t recovered completely from the strychnine. He was just going to have to try again after he regained his strength—and acquired the proper medical tools.]

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I strongly advise that you refrain from doing that. Your wings are probably more sensitive than you would like them to be...

This will keep you warm.

[Ohey there Muraki. Here's Soul wandering nearby in the woods. He's out and about talking to Kipinn, the wind spirit. You might notice a little gust nearby pick up some snow and swirl it. Yeah, that's what Kipinn has taught him so far. Soul glances in your direction and notices the newfeather pants.]

Oi, you just get here?

[And here comes a teenage boy with a rather large bag slung over one shoulder, filled with blankets and jackets.

Oh dear is he-

Trying to rip out his feathers?! Hurriedly running over with a worried look.] W-wait, that's dangerous! The wings are attached, sir.

Edited 2011-01-25 04:50 (UTC)

There are two things you should know about this place. First, you won't be so thankful when you learn what this place is. Second, you won't be leaving so easily.

Oi. Stop.

[Huh. Another new feather? Was this cycle ever going to end.

... and... hmm... was this one going the route of self mutilation? Icy blue eyes narrowed at the agitated man in the snow, scrutinizing. And deep inside, fighter's instincts and decades of paranoia honed from the Grand Line and other experiences were suddenly subtly subconciously humming... itching through his skin like little bursts of electricity. He seemed pretty helpless in the snow... weak... but as the doctor in him assessed, the Supernova sized. You never knew what Luceti would throw in next and it was stupid to ignore your instincts and rush into a scene.

Wariness warred with what the scene presented, and then decided the best course of action. Hang back and see for just a moment if there really is a threat. It might be nothing. It usually was nothing. It might not be.

It certainly would do no good to rush in and push the man into further agitation, would it?]

Pulling out feathers from the wings will only sap your strength. Do enough damage to those and the results will be quite fatal.

[There he is... that striking figure in the long black coat, equally black scarf and gloves, and that hat. It... appears he has no wings (they're hidden under the coat, but if you pay attention, you can see movement under the cloth). He's... not quite smiling, not quite frowning, just... watchful.

And oh, of course there's the nodachi casually slung over a shoulder. That nearly man sized sword he carries with him. That, and his reaction, mark him as perhaps more cautious than the people who usually blunder across your path, Muraki.]

Edited 2011-01-25 07:47 (UTC)

Sorry, you're stuck here now. Just like everyone else.

[and since the book is open, it might be accidentally sending out a video feed? Hijiri sees him plucking his feathers!]

Ah! You shouldn't do that! You'll die!

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