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[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[it's not a very nice place, Zelman's head.

the room is large, but still very much a room. the walls are all old, chipping plaster and peeling wallpaper and an odd rust, here and there. there's warping from water and old, dark stains from what's probably (most likely) blood. but that's all if you really look at it--the biggest and easiest thing to notice is that the walls are plastered in pictures and papers, clippings and photographs. taped up, tacked on, strung up in a few places, they show everything. at eye level, they're a strange mix of things about Earth and things about Paradisa, and sometimes things that wouldn't make sense to anyone. many of the photographs are out of focus, a lot of the writing has bled together.

that's not the worrying thing. what's worrying is what's written over them and under them and around them. every thought, every observation, every connection has been mapped out with marker or string or blood (only on bad or very very very good days) until the entire thing is like some convoluted artistic nightmare; scribbles and writing are layered on top of each other. lines are drawn and then more pictures are pasted over. many of the pictures with people in them have been X'd out or torn apart. the floor is littered with old paper, half-burned scraps, and ashes. it's somewhere between genius and an absolute mess.

looking up, the room just keeps going. the walls go up and up and up, plastered for what seems like miles. there might be a ceiling, but from here it just looks like the tiny flicker of a candle's flame, burning strangely clear despite the distance. is it really a ceiling...? the air is heavy, but the place feels... empty. it feels angry and arrogant and... unimportant. none of these things are important. all of these memories are useless, trash. uncared for.

and then there's the strange, oppressive feeling that someone, or something, doesn't want you here. you do not belong here, in this place so empty of sentimentality, so devoid of comfort. there's no joy to be found, here. just millions of empty memories and the scribbles of someone about as loving as a mechanical clock.]

[if you decide to venture into Zelman's room, he'll be there--a version of him anyway, barefoot and without a hat, flickering in and out a little as if he's composed more of flame than flesh. he's lying around on the floor, on his side, nearer to the far wall. his back is to the door. he's curled up a little, one arm protectively over a small box of newspaper clippings and photographs and stray pieces of scribbled-on paper. it's not much compared to the rest of the room, but one immediately gets the feeling that these things are important. precious. much more significant to him than anything else.

the contents of the box are spilled over a little onto the floor in front of him, but he doesn't seem to care. he's gazing absently at nothing, absolutely still except for the fingernail he keeps scraping across the floor. it makes a sound like a wire being tightened. again and again, a constant sharp scraping that is probably the only thing keeping him awake.

he looks a little annoyed, a little vacant. but mostly? bored out of his mind, no pun intended.]


[[ooc: gah, length. inner!Zelman is not a very nice person (just like his room!) but if you can handle that, feel free to look around or try to talk to him or whatever floats your boat.]]

Comments

[hatesdolls.livejournal.com]

[Like she'd pass up this opportunity. Asuka doesn't go out of her way for people, but she can be nosy. When it comes to certain people, anyway.

... she immediately regrets stepping in, suddenly remembering what happened the last time she ventured into his room when the castle put his head on display. But lots of things had changed since then... or so she'd like to think.]

Zelman?

[... this room makes her feel pretty fucking sane in comparison.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

Asuka?

[he looks over his shoulder, startled, before flickering up into a nearly-seated position. the box is momentarily forgotten.]

What are you doing here?

[inafadingcrown.livejournal.com]

[Turn about is far play, you know. Normally, she would knock. But as Zelman seemed to have no scruples walking into her room, she has none walking into his.

So this is the Zelman beneath the mask. She takes in as much as she can as she enters. Part of her wants to stop and examine those lines, to see the connections and follow his thoughts. But another part does not want to take her eyes off the Zelman in the center of the room. She gives him a nod in greeting, but remains silent for the moment.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

I figured you would show up.

[he says this even before he turns to give her any attention, his tone devoid of his usual charm. then he pulls that box a little closer to himself, scooping the contents back up almost sluggishly, trying to collect it all.

there's an odd flutter of paper as he disappears, though, his presence turning to smoke. he quickly rematerializes in front of her, standing and holding his arms out just a little to the side. both welcoming and barring.]

This is not a place for any Lady of Light. This is not a place for anyone. This is not a place. This is-- [he stops. what have you wandered into, Galadriel?] You should not be here.

[deminuit.livejournal.com]

[ s'up, zelman. midnighter is standing by the door to your room. he doesn't enter, because he's not interested enough as yet, but he's looking. ]

If this is a metaphor for something, it's a pretty fucked up metaphor.

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[the scratching stops. s'up.]

Oh.

[he lazily rolls onto his other side (in much the way smoke would roll rather than the way a person would roll) and looks kind of irritatedly towards the guy near his door. ...whether or not that's because he's always irritated should perhaps be considered.]

It's you.

[bogusmagic.livejournal.com]

[So many things to read....

Yuki is starting with the walls. She's memorizing every picture and every line in order to try and find coherence in it at all. That's taking her a long time, an hour or two easily because she's doing a thorough job.

Eventually she'll move onto the papers on the floor. She won't touch them, but she'll crouch down to see if she can read those, too.

It'll be a while before she even makes it to Zelman's room. And when she does she'll practice a little tact, standing in the doorway instead of just entering rudely.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[well, that is... incredibly smart. hurray for reading just about everything in Zelman's apathetically wired brain. he's kind of had an idea that he was being 'read', so to speak, for a while... but he doesn't do anything either. not until she's in the doorway.

then he finally sits up, stretching upwards and crackling (like fire) all the bones in his hands as he does. he's been sitting around like that for a while.]

What are you doing?

[lord-wizard.livejournal.com]

[As nightmares go, this is nothing compared to some of the places he's wandered lately. But then again, this isn't his head. These aren't his secrets.

That doesn't mean he can't stop himself from snooping. It's easier than thinking too hard about what was awaited him upstairs.

He makes a face at Zelman, the scraping sound he's making sending shivers down his spine.]

Are you trying to claw your way out of here, Zelman? There is a door, you know.

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[yeah, it's not that bad a nightmare. someone functions in here, after all. as soon as Felix mentions it, the scraping noise stops.

which is a relief, I'm sure.] I'm just thinking.

hope you don't mind the super late tag ;;/

[bedninja]

[It isn't much; just an extra noise added to the room, something besides the sound of a wire being pulled taught, something to show that this inner!Zelman isn't alone with his precious things. It's the sound of tiny fingers, tapping against the wall, being so very careful not to touch anything that he might mess up. Maybe it's against one of the many X'd out photographs. They don't seem very important. But if Zelman were to look, Pharos is staring up into the seemingly endless abyss of walls of pictures and writing.]

...Hello, Zelman.

IT'S A WONDERFUL LATE TAG ;w;

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[there's whisper that floats down through the room; unlike with the other visitors, this one doesn't rumble through the walls or move things around. it just... speaks. incomprehensible to most, as it's the sound of Blood running through his veins. it only makes sense to him.

he stops scratching at the floor.]

I wondered if you would be here.

[payback.livejournal.com]

[Tit for tat, Zelman. She's venturing in at least a little... just to see. What's what, in here.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[good luck with that. the place is a bit of a mess, even though there's a lot less to explore here than there was in Rin's space.

Zelman stops scratching at the floor, but doesn't move.]

You're wasting your time.

[luckyvalentine.livejournal.com]

[she's curious in that way where she doesn't really want to know what's all in here... but walking away seems almost criminal. How often did you get opportunities like this, you know?

Also... there is some distance sense of this being in the realm of 'turnabout is fair play.'

So, she loiters around in the hall for a while, deliberating, before she finally peeks inside-- careful not to step all the way in just yet, remembering what happened with Spike's room.

The whole room gets an awestruck encompassing glance... but it's that sound that really gets her, and how half-real this version of Zelman seems]

...What are you doing?

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[the scratching stops. he doesn't move much, though.]

I'm thinking.

[hatesdolls.livejournal.com]

[Like she'd pass up this opportunity. Asuka doesn't go out of her way for people, but she can be nosy. When it comes to certain people, anyway.

... she immediately regrets stepping in, suddenly remembering what happened the last time she ventured into his room when the castle put his head on display. But lots of things had changed since then... or so she'd like to think.]

Zelman?

[... this room makes her feel pretty fucking sane in comparison.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

Asuka?

[he looks over his shoulder, startled, before flickering up into a nearly-seated position. the box is momentarily forgotten.]

What are you doing here?

[inafadingcrown.livejournal.com]

[Turn about is far play, you know. Normally, she would knock. But as Zelman seemed to have no scruples walking into her room, she has none walking into his.

So this is the Zelman beneath the mask. She takes in as much as she can as she enters. Part of her wants to stop and examine those lines, to see the connections and follow his thoughts. But another part does not want to take her eyes off the Zelman in the center of the room. She gives him a nod in greeting, but remains silent for the moment.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

I figured you would show up.

[he says this even before he turns to give her any attention, his tone devoid of his usual charm. then he pulls that box a little closer to himself, scooping the contents back up almost sluggishly, trying to collect it all.

there's an odd flutter of paper as he disappears, though, his presence turning to smoke. he quickly rematerializes in front of her, standing and holding his arms out just a little to the side. both welcoming and barring.]

This is not a place for any Lady of Light. This is not a place for anyone. This is not a place. This is-- [he stops. what have you wandered into, Galadriel?] You should not be here.

[deminuit.livejournal.com]

[ s'up, zelman. midnighter is standing by the door to your room. he doesn't enter, because he's not interested enough as yet, but he's looking. ]

If this is a metaphor for something, it's a pretty fucked up metaphor.

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[the scratching stops. s'up.]

Oh.

[he lazily rolls onto his other side (in much the way smoke would roll rather than the way a person would roll) and looks kind of irritatedly towards the guy near his door. ...whether or not that's because he's always irritated should perhaps be considered.]

It's you.

[bogusmagic.livejournal.com]

[So many things to read....

Yuki is starting with the walls. She's memorizing every picture and every line in order to try and find coherence in it at all. That's taking her a long time, an hour or two easily because she's doing a thorough job.

Eventually she'll move onto the papers on the floor. She won't touch them, but she'll crouch down to see if she can read those, too.

It'll be a while before she even makes it to Zelman's room. And when she does she'll practice a little tact, standing in the doorway instead of just entering rudely.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[well, that is... incredibly smart. hurray for reading just about everything in Zelman's apathetically wired brain. he's kind of had an idea that he was being 'read', so to speak, for a while... but he doesn't do anything either. not until she's in the doorway.

then he finally sits up, stretching upwards and crackling (like fire) all the bones in his hands as he does. he's been sitting around like that for a while.]

What are you doing?

[lord-wizard.livejournal.com]

[As nightmares go, this is nothing compared to some of the places he's wandered lately. But then again, this isn't his head. These aren't his secrets.

That doesn't mean he can't stop himself from snooping. It's easier than thinking too hard about what was awaited him upstairs.

He makes a face at Zelman, the scraping sound he's making sending shivers down his spine.]

Are you trying to claw your way out of here, Zelman? There is a door, you know.

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[yeah, it's not that bad a nightmare. someone functions in here, after all. as soon as Felix mentions it, the scraping noise stops.

which is a relief, I'm sure.] I'm just thinking.

hope you don't mind the super late tag ;;/

[bedninja]

[It isn't much; just an extra noise added to the room, something besides the sound of a wire being pulled taught, something to show that this inner!Zelman isn't alone with his precious things. It's the sound of tiny fingers, tapping against the wall, being so very careful not to touch anything that he might mess up. Maybe it's against one of the many X'd out photographs. They don't seem very important. But if Zelman were to look, Pharos is staring up into the seemingly endless abyss of walls of pictures and writing.]

...Hello, Zelman.

IT'S A WONDERFUL LATE TAG ;w;

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[there's whisper that floats down through the room; unlike with the other visitors, this one doesn't rumble through the walls or move things around. it just... speaks. incomprehensible to most, as it's the sound of Blood running through his veins. it only makes sense to him.

he stops scratching at the floor.]

I wondered if you would be here.

[payback.livejournal.com]

[Tit for tat, Zelman. She's venturing in at least a little... just to see. What's what, in here.]

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[good luck with that. the place is a bit of a mess, even though there's a lot less to explore here than there was in Rin's space.

Zelman stops scratching at the floor, but doesn't move.]

You're wasting your time.

[luckyvalentine.livejournal.com]

[she's curious in that way where she doesn't really want to know what's all in here... but walking away seems almost criminal. How often did you get opportunities like this, you know?

Also... there is some distance sense of this being in the realm of 'turnabout is fair play.'

So, she loiters around in the hall for a while, deliberating, before she finally peeks inside-- careful not to step all the way in just yet, remembering what happened with Spike's room.

The whole room gets an awestruck encompassing glance... but it's that sound that really gets her, and how half-real this version of Zelman seems]

...What are you doing?

[exanimatus.livejournal.com]

[the scratching stops. he doesn't move much, though.]

I'm thinking.