▸ mitsuki ishikawa. | 石川 美月 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drowns) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-02-09 02:02 am
drowns) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-02-09 02:02 am
[open] understand, the lay of the land
Date & Time: 2/8 (Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday) and throughout the weekend.
Location: Library, Music Room, Marketplace, around the city and Hold proper.
Characters: Mitsuki (drowns) and open.
Summary: Mitsuki is getting accustomed to her new environment. She doesn't like it very much.
Warnings: Sad miserable child and her sad miserable thoughts.
A. Music Room
They had given her an instrument. Her instrument. It had been in her arms when they led her, dazed and bewildered, out of the weapons room into the banquet hall, and it had not disappeared or otherwise been lost since then.
Her viola case is a heavy and unfamiliar weight now, but she has little choice but to carry it (surely, she could not leave it in this place — her mother would never forgive her), and the netbook she had been poring through since her arrival. Her steps are measured and quiet, and her body language is defensive and standoffish. She does not know these people or this place, and more importantly she does not care to know them. So she picks a time when the room is abandoned to slip inside, and opens her viola case. The instrument is perfect, so freshly polished she can see her blurry reflection against its surface. When she touches it, she gets a fresh wave of sudden irrational panic, and by instinct, her hand reaches for the key around her neck.
Her breathing calms. Her mind clears, goes as still as the surface of a placid lake. There is no harm in this, in practicing. There is no one to hear it, and while her memories of practice are unpleasant, threaded through with old resentment, she has little else to do while she is trapped here.
The notes come haltingly at first, the music of someone who has not practiced in some time. But eventually, after several false starts, it changes, and begins to sound more like a song.
----
B. Library
She is tired.
It had been days of this, of reading about this place, and she had not been in her assigned room since she'd gotten to the Hold. Instead she preoccupies herself with aimless wandering and fruitless research. It is better to do that than to dwell overlong on the fact that she is here, and the others are not. She imagines that Kotone would not ever step foot in a library, but she remembers studying with the others. Hoshi would take on a stance of affected boredom: a leg crossed over the other, her long, straight hair draped carelessly over one shoulder. Keiko would chatter throughout, bright and animated, about anything but their lessons. Sora would hide manga, tucked inside her schoolbooks, but Mayu would be the one to ask questions. When the sun would begin to set, sometimes the light would tilt a certain way, and it would take the sick look out of her features, for a moment. She had been very beautiful, then.
Mitsuki's tears are sudden, and uncontrolled, and so very unlike her. Her shoulders hitch; she bites down so viciously on her knuckle that she is certain she tastes blood. She would not be caught weeping in this place, among strange sights and strange people. Eventually, the crying stops, as it always does, and she rests her head against the table and closes her eyes. The netbook casts cool blue light against her drawn, taut features, and eventually she drifts off into restless sleep.
----
C. Marketplace and Elsewhere
She looks out into the bustling (dirty, strange, loud) marketplace with a dull shock and a slow-growing sort of horror. She had been here once before. It had been frightening then, and it was still frightening, but she remembers she has her key, if nothing else, and so the panic ebbs and eventually disappears entirely. This is not difficult, going to market. She has been taking care of herself for a long time, and it would be no different now. Moping over her friends was worthless and counterproductive. She had survived without them before, and so she would return to surviving again, until she was sent back. It wasn't flourishing or living much at all. But it was better than nothing.
Every step forward, she feels a little better. She lingers near food carts, near shopfronts selling wares and trinkets, and eventually gets it in her head to haggle a little bit. She isn't a natural at it, but she is good at lying, and so persuasion is a skill she's honed. She's a little better off than before when her shopping is done, but the grocery bags are cumbersome and difficult to carry after a while, especially for a tired and harried young girl, and eventually she begins to struggle. The umbrella she's carrying is more of a hindrance than a help at this point.
...
If she isn't shopping, she's sightseeing, inasmuch as sightseeing can be done in such a place. She stops, bags in tow, to gaze up at the old buildings and stripped architecture, as if imprinting them to memory. She appears particularly fascinated by the Big Ben, and while she wanders near the arboretum, she seems reluctant to go inside of it. Probably for the best.
Whenever she sees a stray cat, she seems compelled to feed it.
[ooc: for this prompt you have more choices!! you can bump into her while she's shopping or help her with her bags or notice her weird fascination with cats and ruined buildings. or poke fun at her for being a punk ass afraid to go inside the gardens idk.
another note: I did this in prose but I am open to action tags just specify what you want please and thank you!]
Location: Library, Music Room, Marketplace, around the city and Hold proper.
Characters: Mitsuki (
drowns) and open.Summary: Mitsuki is getting accustomed to her new environment. She doesn't like it very much.
Warnings: Sad miserable child and her sad miserable thoughts.
A. Music Room
They had given her an instrument. Her instrument. It had been in her arms when they led her, dazed and bewildered, out of the weapons room into the banquet hall, and it had not disappeared or otherwise been lost since then.
Her viola case is a heavy and unfamiliar weight now, but she has little choice but to carry it (surely, she could not leave it in this place — her mother would never forgive her), and the netbook she had been poring through since her arrival. Her steps are measured and quiet, and her body language is defensive and standoffish. She does not know these people or this place, and more importantly she does not care to know them. So she picks a time when the room is abandoned to slip inside, and opens her viola case. The instrument is perfect, so freshly polished she can see her blurry reflection against its surface. When she touches it, she gets a fresh wave of sudden irrational panic, and by instinct, her hand reaches for the key around her neck.
Her breathing calms. Her mind clears, goes as still as the surface of a placid lake. There is no harm in this, in practicing. There is no one to hear it, and while her memories of practice are unpleasant, threaded through with old resentment, she has little else to do while she is trapped here.
The notes come haltingly at first, the music of someone who has not practiced in some time. But eventually, after several false starts, it changes, and begins to sound more like a song.
----
B. Library
She is tired.
It had been days of this, of reading about this place, and she had not been in her assigned room since she'd gotten to the Hold. Instead she preoccupies herself with aimless wandering and fruitless research. It is better to do that than to dwell overlong on the fact that she is here, and the others are not. She imagines that Kotone would not ever step foot in a library, but she remembers studying with the others. Hoshi would take on a stance of affected boredom: a leg crossed over the other, her long, straight hair draped carelessly over one shoulder. Keiko would chatter throughout, bright and animated, about anything but their lessons. Sora would hide manga, tucked inside her schoolbooks, but Mayu would be the one to ask questions. When the sun would begin to set, sometimes the light would tilt a certain way, and it would take the sick look out of her features, for a moment. She had been very beautiful, then.
Mitsuki's tears are sudden, and uncontrolled, and so very unlike her. Her shoulders hitch; she bites down so viciously on her knuckle that she is certain she tastes blood. She would not be caught weeping in this place, among strange sights and strange people. Eventually, the crying stops, as it always does, and she rests her head against the table and closes her eyes. The netbook casts cool blue light against her drawn, taut features, and eventually she drifts off into restless sleep.
----
C. Marketplace and Elsewhere
She looks out into the bustling (dirty, strange, loud) marketplace with a dull shock and a slow-growing sort of horror. She had been here once before. It had been frightening then, and it was still frightening, but she remembers she has her key, if nothing else, and so the panic ebbs and eventually disappears entirely. This is not difficult, going to market. She has been taking care of herself for a long time, and it would be no different now. Moping over her friends was worthless and counterproductive. She had survived without them before, and so she would return to surviving again, until she was sent back. It wasn't flourishing or living much at all. But it was better than nothing.
Every step forward, she feels a little better. She lingers near food carts, near shopfronts selling wares and trinkets, and eventually gets it in her head to haggle a little bit. She isn't a natural at it, but she is good at lying, and so persuasion is a skill she's honed. She's a little better off than before when her shopping is done, but the grocery bags are cumbersome and difficult to carry after a while, especially for a tired and harried young girl, and eventually she begins to struggle. The umbrella she's carrying is more of a hindrance than a help at this point.
...
If she isn't shopping, she's sightseeing, inasmuch as sightseeing can be done in such a place. She stops, bags in tow, to gaze up at the old buildings and stripped architecture, as if imprinting them to memory. She appears particularly fascinated by the Big Ben, and while she wanders near the arboretum, she seems reluctant to go inside of it. Probably for the best.
Whenever she sees a stray cat, she seems compelled to feed it.
[ooc: for this prompt you have more choices!! you can bump into her while she's shopping or help her with her bags or notice her weird fascination with cats and ruined buildings. or poke fun at her for being a punk ass afraid to go inside the gardens idk.
another note: I did this in prose but I am open to action tags just specify what you want please and thank you!]