Baroona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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compyuutah2013-10-08 09:57 pm
broroona) wrote in compyuutah2013-10-08 09:57 pm
Entry tags:
standing in the middle of roads upon arrival is becoming tradition
[Funny, how your life can change in an instant. Baroona had already experienced it enough. Twice recently–both arrivals to the City. But after a year he had assumed he was stuck there. A permanent fixture in a futuristic city he had only just started to get used to.
He was wrong.
From laying in the park to sitting up in a dirtied alleyway, the change was instantaneous. A quick look around guarantees that he's alone, allows for a moment of panic. Check to make sure everything is still here: knives, cigarettes, lighter, clothes... translator? Baroona stares down at it curiously, it's presence oddly comforting in his hand. He keeps it there and stands, listening and looking.
It looks like the City. There's a thick crowd at the end of the alleyway and brightly colored balloons passing by overhead. He recognizes it from the City. A parade? Maybe. It's certainly noisy enough.
This isn't going to be fun.
With a sigh, he presses forward anyway, slipping through and around people, taking himself to the front. People glare as he pushes past but get distracted before there's any issues. A float passes by. Baroona regards it plainly. Definitely a parade. What a pain.
Looking past the floats and balloons, Baroona studies the buildings, looks for something familiar. But familiarity is hard to spot when everything looked foreign in the first place. It's hard to tell. A quirk of a frown pulls at his lips as he moves towards another tactic. He fits the translator into his ear, and pushes it on.
At first, all goes well. The strange language being spoken around him gets translated. Yeah, I'm– and then cut off. Static fills his ears instead, loud and merciless. Baroona bows forward, clutching his ear with a wince. The people around him notice and give him space but he can't tell. The static changes to feedback-a high-pitched scream drilling into his head. He winces again and stumbles forward, into the parade and in front of the float. Still, Baroona doesn't notice. Not until the translator is out of his ear and thrown on the ground does he even look up, shoulders slumping.
The people on the float look down at him, shocked. The parade comes to a temporary halt. Security closes in on him from all sides and people shout foreign words from the sidelines. But all Baroona can hear is his own breath as he looks over the float as a thought occurs to him.
He has no idea where he is.]
He was wrong.
From laying in the park to sitting up in a dirtied alleyway, the change was instantaneous. A quick look around guarantees that he's alone, allows for a moment of panic. Check to make sure everything is still here: knives, cigarettes, lighter, clothes... translator? Baroona stares down at it curiously, it's presence oddly comforting in his hand. He keeps it there and stands, listening and looking.
It looks like the City. There's a thick crowd at the end of the alleyway and brightly colored balloons passing by overhead. He recognizes it from the City. A parade? Maybe. It's certainly noisy enough.
This isn't going to be fun.
With a sigh, he presses forward anyway, slipping through and around people, taking himself to the front. People glare as he pushes past but get distracted before there's any issues. A float passes by. Baroona regards it plainly. Definitely a parade. What a pain.
Looking past the floats and balloons, Baroona studies the buildings, looks for something familiar. But familiarity is hard to spot when everything looked foreign in the first place. It's hard to tell. A quirk of a frown pulls at his lips as he moves towards another tactic. He fits the translator into his ear, and pushes it on.
At first, all goes well. The strange language being spoken around him gets translated. Yeah, I'm– and then cut off. Static fills his ears instead, loud and merciless. Baroona bows forward, clutching his ear with a wince. The people around him notice and give him space but he can't tell. The static changes to feedback-a high-pitched scream drilling into his head. He winces again and stumbles forward, into the parade and in front of the float. Still, Baroona doesn't notice. Not until the translator is out of his ear and thrown on the ground does he even look up, shoulders slumping.
The people on the float look down at him, shocked. The parade comes to a temporary halt. Security closes in on him from all sides and people shout foreign words from the sidelines. But all Baroona can hear is his own breath as he looks over the float as a thought occurs to him.
He has no idea where he is.]
noogies
Mikoto's eyes go wide with both alarm and anger. No. No. No, no, no, no. She has to do something. Anything. He had promised her. He told her he wouldn't die. She had promised him. She wouldn't leave him behind again.
She can't allow this.
It wasn't just the fact that she owed him for all the times he'd saved her. It was more than that.
To her, he was...
Mikoto grits her teeth. He had her back. She couldn't panic just yet.]
He's gonna have to do better than that!
[Baroona's strong. He can hang on a bit longer. He's faced worse.
Mikoto knows he is. Even if...he was about to end up with more scars on her account.
Even though knowing that made her feel awful. But battle was what he lived for. Victory or death. She clenches her fists, dispersing her sword and calling more electric waves. A torrent of iron sand gathers in the air around them. The boy seemingly gets thrown off, actually rearing back to avoid the sparks flying at him at such close range, but the iron sand gathers into chains that yank his arms back, causing him to drop his sword.
Mikoto pulls out an arcade token, feigning a Railgun to keep him further occupied. The boy chortles, struggling against his bindings.
"Well. Better to burn out than to fade away, right?"]
Like I said.
[Mikoto shakes her head, curling the coin back into her hand.]
You're not worth the effort.
[The boy suddenly outright grins, a cold, hard look filling his eyes.
"Then I'll say you royally screwed up, Misaka."
As Baroona closes in, the sword on the ground gathers more grass, forming into a large scythe---
Mikoto dashes forward, throwing a flurry of bolts the boy's way, only to have it blocked off by a wall of grass blades.]
----Baroona!
[----If he's not quick enough, that scythe will spin through the air around him and eventually cut him down; not deeply enough to kill him, but it can certainly incapacitate him.]