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[this has been the worst time... perhaps ever. well, almost. nothing tops Midousuji's biggest worst ever, nor shall anything ever top it, but he's experienced some shitty stuff even besides the worst day of his life... and this is pretty close. as far as an enduring, on going experience (again, second only to the numbing grief of surviving the loss of a loved one), this is the worst thing Midousuji has experienced in a long time.
apparently, Midousuji was a Witch in this place. which would be great, if Midousuji had any command over any of what that entailed—were he a competent magician, he'd be delighted at that kind of power. but honestly, Midousuji had predicted at the jump he'd be shit at it—and he's proven that to himself with his every attempt. Midousuji none-the-less had relented, determined to try, and decided, like most things, it was pointless.
until Midousuji had learned of the adverse health effects that comes with neglecting spell work... so Midousuji does practice here and there, just for the sake of expulsion to avoid build-up, but it feels like... well, there's a crude analogy in there or two. magic is not pleasant to Midousuji, but neither is the prospect of potentially exploding.
but then, if he can't be good at something, and he can't properly cycle in a place like this, what was the point of it, anyway? Midousuji had even heard a rumor on the grapevine that when Mirrorbound die, they don't stay dead. so it's his most meaningless existence yet, in a place even more meaningless than Earth.
and speaking of meaningless, of all people, Onoda is in this place. Midousuji is hard pressed to think of a person who tries his nerves more easily than that kid, but most of that is because Onoda makes Midousuji feel a bunch of... other stuff that's... confusing, thus frustrating, scary, and unpleasant.
once again, it's enduring torture. all of it.
all that aside, though, Midousuji's really feeling the effects of his inability to keep up with his needed spell quota—even when properly tried. he feels hot, and cold, like he has the flu, and he's laying on his side, having just finished a good ol' session of dry-heaving and coughing. his body feels tingly and numb, and like there's stabbing, prickly pain through his nerves whenever it's not just a nothing buzz. despite how he sweats, he feels dry—no water is enough. his thin, graceless limbs are weak and shaky.
Midousuji can tell that it's this alleged magic sickness people have been harping on. it's been a slow onset, and now Midousuji's afraid that it's maybe a bit too late. but he's at some conflict, here. why is he afraid to die, if existing is pointless? is he so much of a coward that he fears the pain? and yet here he is, dreading a painful, messy death.
expression stoic, eyes wide and lifeless, teeth grit with his lips parted, Midousuji stares at nothing—until his gaze suddenly snaps, then slowly rolls upwards. he cranes his neck, stretching it grotesquely, and slowly extends a long, sinewy arm in the same direction, releasing the hold it had with its twin around his knees.
Midousuji grabs his watch, dragging it with a clawed, severe hand. once he has it, he shakily texts that pain in the ass Otaku. Midousuji hasn't budged much of an inch in Onoda's deplorably tenacious mission for friendship, but being on what might be your own death bed can make a person act a little out of character.
or, maybe, more in line to their truer, buried selves.]
Hey
Sakamichi
[Midousuji pauses, staring at his screen, and squints his eyes, resentfully snapping his teeth as he thinks of how to follow up. he knows Onoda recently had a bond, so there's no way he's as sick as Midousuji is&madsh;in fact, Onoda won't shut up with his fretting. but Midousuji can't just outright propose a Bond. actually, he's pretty sure Onoda's offered before, which resulted in some predictably, disproportionately violent reaction from Midousuji. now he's kind of regretting not taking Onoda up on it—what's the worth of his pride here? the shame of bonding with a petite, sing-song otaku boy or petulantly dying unbonded? the latter is at least more on brand...
Midousuji's fingers tremble as he types, and he goes slowly, not wanting to tip off with any errors.]
Come feed
You haven't done it yet, have you?
[that's right, even in a situation like this, Midousuji needs to have control of the situation.]
apparently, Midousuji was a Witch in this place. which would be great, if Midousuji had any command over any of what that entailed—were he a competent magician, he'd be delighted at that kind of power. but honestly, Midousuji had predicted at the jump he'd be shit at it—and he's proven that to himself with his every attempt. Midousuji none-the-less had relented, determined to try, and decided, like most things, it was pointless.
until Midousuji had learned of the adverse health effects that comes with neglecting spell work... so Midousuji does practice here and there, just for the sake of expulsion to avoid build-up, but it feels like... well, there's a crude analogy in there or two. magic is not pleasant to Midousuji, but neither is the prospect of potentially exploding.
but then, if he can't be good at something, and he can't properly cycle in a place like this, what was the point of it, anyway? Midousuji had even heard a rumor on the grapevine that when Mirrorbound die, they don't stay dead. so it's his most meaningless existence yet, in a place even more meaningless than Earth.
and speaking of meaningless, of all people, Onoda is in this place. Midousuji is hard pressed to think of a person who tries his nerves more easily than that kid, but most of that is because Onoda makes Midousuji feel a bunch of... other stuff that's... confusing, thus frustrating, scary, and unpleasant.
once again, it's enduring torture. all of it.
all that aside, though, Midousuji's really feeling the effects of his inability to keep up with his needed spell quota—even when properly tried. he feels hot, and cold, like he has the flu, and he's laying on his side, having just finished a good ol' session of dry-heaving and coughing. his body feels tingly and numb, and like there's stabbing, prickly pain through his nerves whenever it's not just a nothing buzz. despite how he sweats, he feels dry—no water is enough. his thin, graceless limbs are weak and shaky.
Midousuji can tell that it's this alleged magic sickness people have been harping on. it's been a slow onset, and now Midousuji's afraid that it's maybe a bit too late. but he's at some conflict, here. why is he afraid to die, if existing is pointless? is he so much of a coward that he fears the pain? and yet here he is, dreading a painful, messy death.
expression stoic, eyes wide and lifeless, teeth grit with his lips parted, Midousuji stares at nothing—until his gaze suddenly snaps, then slowly rolls upwards. he cranes his neck, stretching it grotesquely, and slowly extends a long, sinewy arm in the same direction, releasing the hold it had with its twin around his knees.
Midousuji grabs his watch, dragging it with a clawed, severe hand. once he has it, he shakily texts that pain in the ass Otaku. Midousuji hasn't budged much of an inch in Onoda's deplorably tenacious mission for friendship, but being on what might be your own death bed can make a person act a little out of character.
or, maybe, more in line to their truer, buried selves.]
Hey
Sakamichi
[Midousuji pauses, staring at his screen, and squints his eyes, resentfully snapping his teeth as he thinks of how to follow up. he knows Onoda recently had a bond, so there's no way he's as sick as Midousuji is&madsh;in fact, Onoda won't shut up with his fretting. but Midousuji can't just outright propose a Bond. actually, he's pretty sure Onoda's offered before, which resulted in some predictably, disproportionately violent reaction from Midousuji. now he's kind of regretting not taking Onoda up on it—what's the worth of his pride here? the shame of bonding with a petite, sing-song otaku boy or petulantly dying unbonded? the latter is at least more on brand...
Midousuji's fingers tremble as he types, and he goes slowly, not wanting to tip off with any errors.]
Come feed
You haven't done it yet, have you?
[that's right, even in a situation like this, Midousuji needs to have control of the situation.]
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