He should feel something - anything - upon being told he's dead. His family is dead. His world is dead. He thinks it should dredge up some visceral emotion that's been pushed and shoved down deep in his heart, make him ugly cry until there's nothing left.
But there's... nothing. Maybe it doesn't feel real. Pinching himself in dreams still registers a sensation of pain, so there's no point to pinch himself to check if he's dreaming - or so he reasons as the thought bubbles up.
Alas, he only has his casual clothes on hand, and his leather gloves. Unbeknownst to himself, he has a small smattering of glimmering serpent scales on his cheek.
He can be found wandering about the hub, or....
B) Drink With Me Finding the hub, Sänger opts to grab a sangria and mojito - one in each hand, and settles at a table to have both. He reaches for the sangria first with a sigh, the tips of his gloved fingers drumming against the table's surface.
Hearing someone come near his table, he looks up. And, if they seem interested, he uses his foot to nudge another chair out from under the table.
"You're welcome to join me, if you'd like. Want one? I haven't touched either yet except to bring them right here." A beat, and he forces a laugh. "Though I suppose taking a random drink from a stranger is far from wise."
C) Mines - Honey Calcite With a sense of detachment of this whole strange situation, comes a feeling of raw, unencumbered curiosity. The mines quickly attract his attention - they're cool, dark, and a bit further away from people in general. Even as the light grows dimmer, his vision doesn't change much, a pale pink glow reflecting from his eyes as he continues to search about.
Until he encounters resistance - his hand refuses to pull away from the wall. Pulling on it just makes it worse, and he scoffs, and starts to lift his foot to try to use that leverage to his advantage--
He gets stuck up to his ankle, past his shoe. He can't even slip out of it.
He should be afraid, he thinks, but all he can do is just stare at the literal mess he's gotten into, and laugh. It feels funnier than it should be, truth be told. And under the laughter, his mind wanders - what if someone finds him like this? How would it feel to be fucked like this? Stuck to the wall of all things?!
Oh well. Hopefully someone hears him. Or at least sees a set of glowing pink eyes staring at them.
D) Wildcard! [Bring me something you'd like, instead! Or tweak my prompts. Whatever works for you. Please don't feel pressured to use the accent over the A in Sänger's name - it's mostly for my own comfort, so if not using it is easier for you to write to, please feel free! Info and kinks list are in his journal.]
Sänger Yasuhide | original character | OTA
He should feel something - anything - upon being told he's dead. His family is dead. His world is dead. He thinks it should dredge up some visceral emotion that's been pushed and shoved down deep in his heart, make him ugly cry until there's nothing left.
But there's... nothing. Maybe it doesn't feel real. Pinching himself in dreams still registers a sensation of pain, so there's no point to pinch himself to check if he's dreaming - or so he reasons as the thought bubbles up.
Alas, he only has his casual clothes on hand, and his leather gloves. Unbeknownst to himself, he has a small smattering of glimmering serpent scales on his cheek.
He can be found wandering about the hub, or....
B) Drink With Me
Finding the hub, Sänger opts to grab a sangria and mojito - one in each hand, and settles at a table to have both. He reaches for the sangria first with a sigh, the tips of his gloved fingers drumming against the table's surface.
Hearing someone come near his table, he looks up. And, if they seem interested, he uses his foot to nudge another chair out from under the table.
"You're welcome to join me, if you'd like. Want one? I haven't touched either yet except to bring them right here." A beat, and he forces a laugh. "Though I suppose taking a random drink from a stranger is far from wise."
C) Mines - Honey Calcite
With a sense of detachment of this whole strange situation, comes a feeling of raw, unencumbered curiosity. The mines quickly attract his attention - they're cool, dark, and a bit further away from people in general. Even as the light grows dimmer, his vision doesn't change much, a pale pink glow reflecting from his eyes as he continues to search about.
Until he encounters resistance - his hand refuses to pull away from the wall. Pulling on it just makes it worse, and he scoffs, and starts to lift his foot to try to use that leverage to his advantage--
He gets stuck up to his ankle, past his shoe. He can't even slip out of it.
He should be afraid, he thinks, but all he can do is just stare at the literal mess he's gotten into, and laugh. It feels funnier than it should be, truth be told. And under the laughter, his mind wanders - what if someone finds him like this? How would it feel to be fucked like this? Stuck to the wall of all things?!
Oh well. Hopefully someone hears him. Or at least sees a set of glowing pink eyes staring at them.
D) Wildcard!
[Bring me something you'd like, instead! Or tweak my prompts. Whatever works for you. Please don't feel pressured to use the accent over the A in Sänger's name - it's mostly for my own comfort, so if not using it is easier for you to write to, please feel free! Info and kinks list are in his journal.]