is more or less what kei is literally thinking as he confidently (read: blindly and somewhat furtively) grope his way around the pitch-black hallway. well it's well-known that one cannot feel hunger (or, well, much of anything) while being in a Trion body, that doesn't stop one from wondering if, perhaps, the entire situation wouldn't be so bad if he had a small tv and a few croquettes to munch on.
the reason why the entire situation isn't as unnerving as it could be to kei would be due to the fact that he isn't particularly good at otome games (actually, he's never played any otome games barring that one time kunichika sat him down and made him play muv-luv, which, in his opinion, wasn't much of an otome game -- for one, it had too little luv and a really cool amount of muv) (he'll never live down anyone revealing that he spent more time playing that game than he did in the training rooms that week) and therefore does not have the expressed level of empathy needed to care about sobbing disembodied voices in the darkness.
he's also shit at horror games, too, which may explain why he doesn't find the fact that his footsteps are leading him on and not the other way around disconcerting at all. kei figures that it's just his natural instincts kicking him, taking his feet to brave new places, and anyway, even if he doesn't really think about it like that, he is a child soldier who's used to fighting aliens intend on turning most of the population into sentient energy sources, so something like a little lights out and some kid throwing a tantrum in the distance isn't intimidating at all in comparison. probably. sort of. he thinks, anyway, though he doesn't have to put any effort into not thinking too hard about it. if pressed, he'd say his instincts told him so.
it's those same instincts that causes him to bring up his kougetsu the very moment something sings through the darkness right for the space where his head would've been if he'd taken just one more step. the weight of the weapon feels top-heavy, a concentrated force that causes him to whistle, low, in the darkness. the sounds of splish splash that follows is infinitely less interesting, but no less baffling -- water? by his feet? now that wasn't there before. (oh, oh! maybe it's the crying person's tears!) ]
Hey, hey, hey-- first sobbing, and now surprise attacks in the dark? You really need to get your emotions under control first. [ but the prospect of something trying to attack him in the dark is so novel and interesting that he slides out of the attack and brings out his second kougetsu vibrating with excitement, just in case. ] Look, I can wait until you stop crying, and then we can have a good go at it? I won't even count the first strike; I'm a fair guy.
phase iv. hi--
is more or less what kei is literally thinking as he confidently (read: blindly and somewhat furtively) grope his way around the pitch-black hallway. well it's well-known that one cannot feel hunger (or, well, much of anything) while being in a Trion body, that doesn't stop one from wondering if, perhaps, the entire situation wouldn't be so bad if he had a small tv and a few croquettes to munch on.
the reason why the entire situation isn't as unnerving as it could be to kei would be due to the fact that he isn't particularly good at otome games (actually, he's never played any otome games barring that one time kunichika sat him down and made him play muv-luv, which, in his opinion, wasn't much of an otome game -- for one, it had too little luv and a really cool amount of muv) (he'll never live down anyone revealing that he spent more time playing that game than he did in the training rooms that week) and therefore does not have the expressed level of empathy needed to care about sobbing disembodied voices in the darkness.
he's also shit at horror games, too, which may explain why he doesn't find the fact that his footsteps are leading him on and not the other way around disconcerting at all. kei figures that it's just his natural instincts kicking him, taking his feet to brave new places, and anyway, even if he doesn't really think about it like that, he is a child soldier who's used to fighting aliens intend on turning most of the population into sentient energy sources, so something like a little lights out and some kid throwing a tantrum in the distance isn't intimidating at all in comparison. probably. sort of. he thinks, anyway, though he doesn't have to put any effort into not thinking too hard about it. if pressed, he'd say his instincts told him so.
it's those same instincts that causes him to bring up his kougetsu the very moment something sings through the darkness right for the space where his head would've been if he'd taken just one more step. the weight of the weapon feels top-heavy, a concentrated force that causes him to whistle, low, in the darkness. the sounds of splish splash that follows is infinitely less interesting, but no less baffling -- water? by his feet? now that wasn't there before. (oh, oh! maybe it's the crying person's tears!) ]
Hey, hey, hey-- first sobbing, and now surprise attacks in the dark? You really need to get your emotions under control first. [ but the prospect of something trying to attack him in the dark is so novel and interesting that he slides out of the attack and brings out his second kougetsu vibrating with excitement, just in case. ] Look, I can wait until you stop crying, and then we can have a good go at it? I won't even count the first strike; I'm a fair guy.