Hope hasn't been at school in a couple days. As a substitute teacher, this isn't too unusual, but anyone who had gotten used to seeing them around might notice that they just aren't. And, well, the people around the net café that they used to frequent before getting this job might notice that they seem to be spending way more time behind a PC screen, pointing and clicking in whatever the first person shooter du jour is.
(They're not focused. They know they aren't focused. How can they distract themself when their own incompetence got somebody killed? Erased from existence? If they'd just been a better Nova Knight then they could have saved Zenith's life. They could have stopped the Abyss like they were supposed to do and things would be okay. Maybe they deserved to die like they remember they did. Maybe they should just—)
They get fragged by the same person for the fourth time in a row and alt+F4 the game. Shoving the keyboard out of the way with their elbows, they put their head down in their hands and make a frustrated grunt that they're suppressing too hard. It makes them want to cry. Everything makes them want to cry. Their throat hurts. They get up and walk to the back of the café, near the vending machines, and they just slump down into an empty corner and put their head in their hands again. "Can I get one break?" they ask nobody in particular.
b. bleeding hands from holding on too long [hideout]
It's hard to be a Nova Knight right now. They know that the hideout is growing, that it's a nice place to spend time, that it's safe for everyone (not anymore), but even going Supernova feels like it's admitting that they're a complete failure. Feels like it's a stain on their soul instead of the freedom it was supposed to be.
They're sitting on the couch, not even able to pick up a controller like they'd planned to do, and they're hiding their face in their big stupid scarf. Out of nowhere, they pull the scarf down and sit upright. "We have to stop Shellustria and bring Zenith back." It's a simple statement, but their throat's hoarse even through the fake determination they're scrounging up from the dregs at the bottom of their emotional barrel. "Now."
c. slowly coursing through my veins [for mutsumi]
Sure. Okay. Fine. Everything's going miserably enough already. They might as well just show up at school with this crappy little guitar of theirs and—no. No, Hope, breathe. You said you were going to have a good time with Mutsumi. Even if you're not on the clock, even if it's the first time you've shown your face at school in a couple days, even if you can't play. Sigh. Breathe. Breathe, okay, you've got this.
They sit down in the vacant music room a little bit after last bell and take their crappy little trainer guitar out of the case. It didn't cost more than a hundred dollars and it doesn't have a single frill on it with its orange sunburst finish and five-way switch (that they don't know how to use) and knobs cranked to 10 haphazardly. The pick feels uncomfortable between their fingers. It's not in tune, so they start working on that, first trying to do it by ear before fidgeting inside the guitar case to pull out a clip-on tuner instead.
When someone enters, they lift their head. It might be strange for Mutsumi to see Hope wearing a black t-shirt (with an edgy skull wearing headphones captioned with "CAN'T HEAR YOU, I'M GAMING") and jeans torn at the knee instead of the nicer clothing they tended to wear as a substitute, but at least they both know their faces by now. "Hey," they say, smiling despite everything. "I'm glad we could finally do this."
d. like the beating of a heart [wildcard]
((anything else? hit me up in the discord server!!))
no subject
Hope hasn't been at school in a couple days. As a substitute teacher, this isn't too unusual, but anyone who had gotten used to seeing them around might notice that they just aren't. And, well, the people around the net café that they used to frequent before getting this job might notice that they seem to be spending way more time behind a PC screen, pointing and clicking in whatever the first person shooter du jour is.
(They're not focused. They know they aren't focused. How can they distract themself when their own incompetence got somebody killed? Erased from existence? If they'd just been a better Nova Knight then they could have saved Zenith's life. They could have stopped the Abyss like they were supposed to do and things would be okay. Maybe they deserved to die like they remember they did. Maybe they should just—)
They get fragged by the same person for the fourth time in a row and alt+F4 the game. Shoving the keyboard out of the way with their elbows, they put their head down in their hands and make a frustrated grunt that they're suppressing too hard. It makes them want to cry. Everything makes them want to cry. Their throat hurts. They get up and walk to the back of the café, near the vending machines, and they just slump down into an empty corner and put their head in their hands again. "Can I get one break?" they ask nobody in particular.
b. bleeding hands from holding on too long [hideout]
It's hard to be a Nova Knight right now. They know that the hideout is growing, that it's a nice place to spend time, that it's safe for everyone (not anymore), but even going Supernova feels like it's admitting that they're a complete failure. Feels like it's a stain on their soul instead of the freedom it was supposed to be.
They're sitting on the couch, not even able to pick up a controller like they'd planned to do, and they're hiding their face in their big stupid scarf. Out of nowhere, they pull the scarf down and sit upright. "We have to stop Shellustria and bring Zenith back." It's a simple statement, but their throat's hoarse even through the fake determination they're scrounging up from the dregs at the bottom of their emotional barrel. "Now."
c. slowly coursing through my veins [for mutsumi]
Sure. Okay. Fine. Everything's going miserably enough already. They might as well just show up at school with this crappy little guitar of theirs and—no. No, Hope, breathe. You said you were going to have a good time with Mutsumi. Even if you're not on the clock, even if it's the first time you've shown your face at school in a couple days, even if you can't play. Sigh. Breathe. Breathe, okay, you've got this.
They sit down in the vacant music room a little bit after last bell and take their crappy little trainer guitar out of the case. It didn't cost more than a hundred dollars and it doesn't have a single frill on it with its orange sunburst finish and five-way switch (that they don't know how to use) and knobs cranked to 10 haphazardly. The pick feels uncomfortable between their fingers. It's not in tune, so they start working on that, first trying to do it by ear before fidgeting inside the guitar case to pull out a clip-on tuner instead.
When someone enters, they lift their head. It might be strange for Mutsumi to see Hope wearing a black t-shirt (with an edgy skull wearing headphones captioned with "CAN'T HEAR YOU, I'M GAMING") and jeans torn at the knee instead of the nicer clothing they tended to wear as a substitute, but at least they both know their faces by now. "Hey," they say, smiling despite everything. "I'm glad we could finally do this."
d. like the beating of a heart [wildcard]
((anything else? hit me up in the discord server!!))