deathsdoctor: (Neutral | Hidden face\Heavy decisions (p)
[Today seems to be the day for announcements like this. And this? He confirmed the morning of the experiment’s end. Written in a starkly elegant hand is this simple message:]

For those who knew him, Uchiha Itachi has been returned home.

[The message is anonymous and untraceable – though there are people out there who will recognise his handwriting. He doesn’t really want to reply – he’s too drained. He’s still striving for emotional equilibrium – rage and bloodlust and pain surging repeatedly and then ebbing away to leave him spent and hollow. His powers are a choppy sea – unstable – and he needs to find his center again.

Bil’s in the village. Untouchable. He’s read the Malnosso’s post a hundred times, and all the conversations that he could access… gleaned what could be gleaned, drawn new conclusions, confirmed and discarded old ones, and made unsettling new projections. And these means for uncertain ends? He doesn’t care if he had the purest of intentions (he did not) or the best of reasons – this is not something to be forgiven. Or forgotten.

… this threatens to make a smoker of him yet.

But the experiment’s taught him the importance of memories and how important it is to remember. Even if no one else cares to… even if he doesn’t want to for many things – he must. Memories are important things. And in the end, memories are sometimes the only proof of existence. He shall not forget.

Goodbye, Uchiha Itachi, for now. Trafalgar Law will remember you for as long as he is able.

… for as long as he is here.]

005

Mar. 24th, 2011 06:16 pm
deathsdoctor: (Misc | Heart Pirates)
[In light of recent developements... namely Mister Strawhat declaring war more or less on Yuber and Nu, the normal routine has been shaken up slightly.

He's up on the roof of CH2 for his morning warmup longer than usual... just concentrating on movement and manipulation of filial magic. The tenseness just doesn't leave... nor does the feeling of restlessness. Anyone coming to the roof will likely catch him there until a nagging sense of time compels him downstairs to make breakfast.

Breakfast and a meeting of sorts. Though it's entirely unsuprising to him this has happened (and would be to Bepo, as he informed him of what occured on the draft), still this is something that has to be discussed. He begins frying up steak and eggs, and puts the coffee on.

Today, like so many days, he's going to be living on it.

Then he sharpens his sword, and heads out to town to gauge the mood and learn what can be learned. Just hanging around, watching. For those of you who know he was in charge of the Medical center during the draft (and therefore probably knows something about what went on), feel free to bug him for details about the circumstances that lead to Nu being pummeled into the fountain. He will likely not give many, but, who knows?

Depending on who you are, you may end up with a better grasp on the events that led up to this.]

001

Nov. 8th, 2010 12:18 am
deathsdoctor: (Annoyed | Do NOT want)
[It is cold. It is so freaking damn cold out up this mountain, even by the standards of a North Blue native…]



[ … even in a cosy cave, where a crackling fire makes things seem even cosier. It’s finally where Trafalgar Law can reflect on the trials of the day: beginning with nearly freezing to death because the bastards (whoever they are) stole his clothes, hearing strange but helpful not!voices in his head, clawing his way through the mountains. And the drugs. The damned insane drugs. Until the reappearance of a certain something drove home the point that drugs were perhaps the thing he should be least concerned with.] )



[Which brings us back to this: It is cold. It is so freaking damn cold out up on this here mountain, even by the standards of a North Blue native, even with a fire, and the window displaying the feed from the journal occasionally seems to be shivering. There is light flickering in the background, visible as the journal’s pages are flipped, but a face doesn’t come into view, just yet. Whoever’s on the other end is trying to make sense of all this, and right now ‘sense’ means sitting down and listening to you talk on this crazy den den book. Finally though, he’s had enough…]

[VOICE:]


Luceti? …is that what this place is called? But where exactly is it? I’ve never heard of any place like this before.

[It’s mildly said, but… answers. He wants answers. You can hear it vibrating in the inflection of his tone.

Can you really blame him?]

((OOC: Putting this up tonight. Will answer tags tomorrow evening after work.))

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