Dec. 3rd, 2010

[identity profile] last-dracula.livejournal.com
[People who're paying attention may notice someone in enough white to almost blend in with the snow, out hard at work starting late-evening, gathering up snow for some unknown project.]

[By morning, the manor is surrounded by a large number of snowmen.]

[Some have intentionally broken-off treebranch-arms, others are missing eyes; the faces are scribed in some semblance of jack-o-lantern malformed grimaces, and a few have pieces taken out of them here and there.]


[It's a zombie snowman horde.]

[And off across the grounds, where the camp was last week, just after sunrise, on top of a snowpile, there is a Soma, doing his best evil overlord maniacal cackle. He's actually quite good at it.]

RISE, MY MINIONS!! RISE AND FEAST ON THE LIVING!!!

[The maniacal laughter then starts breaking up into less sinister giggling as much as cackling.]
[identity profile] blondefuse.livejournal.com

[The feed shows a darkened room, and a small huddled figure. The blackberry is sat on the floor next to Nice, although she's only partially visible through the blanket she has drawn around her and over her head. She's holding what appears to be a handmirror, although when she finally turns it over in her hands and lifts her face up a little, the soft whimpering that the feed was picking up become louder. She suddenly throws the mirror at the opposite wall with a yell, her shoulders shaking as she draws her knees up to her chest, pulling the blanket down as she cries to herself.

She'd made sure her curtains were drawn and her door locked; after seeing herself for the first time after the accident, she was determined not to let anyone see her, nor to leave her room for anything. She felt numb..but worst of all, she felt like a monster
]

 


[identity profile] featherdrequiem.livejournal.com
 [The feed seems to begin with Kuja very sloppily going through his wardrobe, throwing various articles of clothing from it onto the bed or the floor. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to what he's doing. All that he'd bought in Paris is in his room, especially his new collections of corsets and various expensive fashions. Looking behind Kuja there's an empty bottle of red wine and a half emptied glass in his free hand. There's a slight pink flush to his cheeks as he leans back, staring at one particular corset. He studies it for a moment before throwing it back onto the bed. 
He's also singing along to his new speaker system a little off key, that sort of drunk karaoke. So he's finally had time to let it sink in that he was going to die. His fate really was to just die in the end, like Garland had said. What had he spent his life doing? Foolishly ignoring the warning, trying to prove him wrong.]

God resigned from
Hearing my old story
Every night I'm paying
Hell for glory
I'm embarrassed but
I'm much more sorry...

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