[ The Programmer was doing this shit to weaken them. The no sleeping period had worn them out already, but now not a single moment of recovery was possible anymore. Everything was fucked up and fucked up and more fucked up and Kohaku feels like he should just lay down on the ground and sleep and ignore whatever could happen to him next. But there's no way he can do that. He can't give in to them, the monsters in charge of this place. And more than anything, he can't let himself go out before he knows what had become of this small group, these few people left, who he cared about.
Right now he hardly feels like he cares about anything though. How could he? He is running out of weapons... that was maybe the worst thing, that not even his weapons were reliable anymore. Knifes acting like rubber, bullets turning to flowers... Nothing worked the way it was supposed to work and then, when it did, it was gone to fast. Retrieving thrown knives was hard in this world. His gun had two bullets left and he had only one last knife that he clutched as if his life depended on it. He hasn't been without weapons in years and the prospect of being unarmed, entirely helpless, has left him twitchy and on edge.
It's a relief when he finds the music room, even if being there now is pointless, entirely pointless. What band... what music... he still doesn't even have his violin back. This is a world without room for music now, making it the worst kind of world he could imagine.
Kohaku leans against the wall and tries to steady his breathing and thoughts as the door opens. Instinctively, he points the knife in its direction. His knuckles are white from his tight grip on it.
When he finally registers who's in the doorway, he can't believe his eyes. Literally. He refuses to believe it's Yuri, it's really Yuri. But if it was an illusion, would she look as beat and horrible as she does now? Probably not... It's hard to make up his mind on any reaction in this state, so Kohaku just waits in silence for whatever she is going to do. ]
no subject
Right now he hardly feels like he cares about anything though. How could he? He is running out of weapons... that was maybe the worst thing, that not even his weapons were reliable anymore. Knifes acting like rubber, bullets turning to flowers... Nothing worked the way it was supposed to work and then, when it did, it was gone to fast. Retrieving thrown knives was hard in this world.
His gun had two bullets left and he had only one last knife that he clutched as if his life depended on it. He hasn't been without weapons in years and the prospect of being unarmed, entirely helpless, has left him twitchy and on edge.
It's a relief when he finds the music room, even if being there now is pointless, entirely pointless. What band... what music... he still doesn't even have his violin back. This is a world without room for music now, making it the worst kind of world he could imagine.
Kohaku leans against the wall and tries to steady his breathing and thoughts as the door opens. Instinctively, he points the knife in its direction. His knuckles are white from his tight grip on it.
When he finally registers who's in the doorway, he can't believe his eyes. Literally. He refuses to believe it's Yuri, it's really Yuri. But if it was an illusion, would she look as beat and horrible as she does now? Probably not... It's hard to make up his mind on any reaction in this state, so Kohaku just waits in silence for whatever she is going to do. ]