øøø1.

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[Ridiculously injured; there are deep cuts on his cheek, scratches on his face, if he walks he limps and it's completely noticeable. He's a lot more injured than he pretends not to be, considering the fight he had with Larxene a day or two ago. Recovery is going slow, and he's in the kitchen, nibbling on some toast with jelly spread. Axel tries to lean against the counter but his back is far too sliced up and in pain for him to really do that, so he sighs and slouches, wincing at the sharp pain in his collarbone, and takes another bite out of his toast.]

mm.

(ooc: I'm bored ;A; and kind of desperate for rp. askldjfsd)

Comments

[fleurdemort.livejournal.com]

[Dude, there's a "ghost" sitting on the counter next to you.]

Is Axel hurt bad?

[rebel-sorceress.livejournal.com]

Not in the best condition, I see.

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[a pause, and a strange expression passes over his face for a moment before he shrugs and swallows his food.] of course not.

[fleurdemort.livejournal.com]

Liar.

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

and whatever gave you that idea.

[he's trying to play it off. too bad his injuries are too severe for him to hide or deny.]

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

and what are you supposed to be? [he sticks his free hand out to him to see if it passes through or not.]

[rebel-sorceress.livejournal.com]

I don't get why some people have to lie.

[fleurdemort.livejournal.com]

[Notices what Axel's trying to do, so he lets the arm pass through easily, watching it.]

A death god.

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

a what now?

[forgetxyouxnot.livejournal.com]

[Why do the wounded always end up in the kitchen.?

Roxas makes a mental note to never get a hankering for an am-snack again; because Axels were dangerous animals by nature. Coming across a wounded one could quite literally be taking your life into your own hands. 'Proceed with caution' didn't even begin to describe these kind of situations. Roxas is considering backing out of there slowly but- wouldn't you know? There's a creeky board right where he steps. Considering that such a thing ought not be feasible in a place which repairs itself to perfection, the incident only confirms that what's here? It hates him. Lots and lots.]

.....

[fleurdemort.livejournal.com]

Death god. Reaper. Death.

[Tilts head~]

[menace.livejournal.com]

[here, have a Roxas that's about the same height as you.]

Well aren't you looking fantastic.

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[Axel's taken aback, really. Wasn't expecting that at all—but, for some strange reason it doesn't really work as well as it should have. His wounds are stubborn, and the curaja only managed to stop the pain and heal it minutely.]

Talk about angels. [Glad the pain is gone, but can't help himself as he gives her an incredulous look—seriously, what the fuck is she, an angel? Maybe, since she did help him. hm.]

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[a bit pleased to find that yes, his hand went through. and for entertainment's sake he waves it in the thing's gut a few times before finishing off his toast and smirking.] sounds a heck of a lot better than a weed-puller.

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[Axel's brow arches, finding it strange how this Roxas is acting so... wary? He spreads his arms and gives a rather devilish smirk. Probably not helping.] Does it look like I'd be able to hurt you?

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[Wow, now that really was unexpected. Axel blinks—shit why was the kid as tall as he was? Probably wouldn't be as fun playing around with him at this height. He eyes this Roxas up and down, and shakes his head.] did you hit a growth spurt while you slept or somethin?

[fleurdemort.livejournal.com]

[Since he's allowing this, he doesn't feel a thing and waving around doesn't do much as it would in another situation -- if he were actually being touched.]

Mm. Maybe if all they did was pull weeds every day...

[bloodiedsun.livejournal.com]

[There's a low whistle which announces that this table-top has been made for two, and that you've got more than your share of 'company' coming.]


Man.
Did I miss the Barbecue...or what~?


[ooc// Someone likes multi-paragraph spars? Interesting.]

[menace.livejournal.com]

Nope. Those wounds fresh?

[he can tell by the way he moves that he's hurt from a distance, and now he's walking closer, fingers dancing on a rather thick and angular bulge in his pocket.]

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

somewhat. [man, he just can't pull this act off now, can he?]

[menace.livejournal.com]

Want help?

[out comes the gun, holy and sublime black metal.]

[forgetxyouxnot.livejournal.com]

[Roxas' head tilts as he gives a rather incredulous expression at the 'open arm' gesture; half expecting that universal expression of invitation to pan out in his half-groggy state.]

Well..
If you'd seen half of what I have, you wouldn't question my distrust.

[Still, he's closer than he was before. Eyes take in the expanse of wounds, even if he attempts to watch their owner just as much. This one's typically the first in line to help, but the line is drawn...or more like blurred...when it comes Axels.]

...Those aren't fatal, are they?

[A little closer.]

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[a stare. oh look, another him. No matter how many times he encounters one it's still rather unsettling. maybe this is what that Replica Riku felt like.]

Yes, be glad you did.

[ooc: yeah! they're a lot of fun!!]

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[another eyebrow hikes high, expression something akin umimpressed. what the hell was the kid doing with a gun?] Now, Roxas, you know guns are II's forte.

[flamealit.livejournal.com]

[he shrugs. this Axel isn't really interesting in what other versions of him have been up to, or what sort of disgraceful things they've done.] I hope not. [he cracks a smirk.]