![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soulreleaser2024-05-05 11:57 am
Entry tags:
[diary entry ?] a ripped out journal page, crumpled on the floor
WHO: Veldora Tempest and the friends and family of one Rose Qeido
WHERE: the Vogue and the network
WHEN: late on the 4th
WHAT: local storm dragon gets a strange feeling and goes to make a big silly of himself showing up like an overprotective gecko while his B. F. F. is doing a simple errand–there’s nothing to worry about, right?
… right?
WARNINGS: none come to mind!
[ Veldora begins to consider that something’s not right somewhere around the fifth re-read of the same page in his newly acquired copy of Two Pieces, volume 77.
It’s not that the material’s boring or anything like–but it’s so very hard to focus and he’s been stalwartly ignoring the reason why, even as he tries to reread the conflict between the Panza brothers for the third, fourth, fifth time to little effect, glancing away when the subject matter finally wears down his nerve. He reaches for his phone, and sends Rose a text–and waits for an answer that doesn’t come.
It’s silly. Lady Rose is a woman grown and an adventurer besides–she can take care of herself. And yet. And yet. He runs his fingers over his book , worrying at his lip with the tip of a fang, trying to let go of the uneasy pressure in his chest as he glances at the clock for the tenth time. Veldora’s a creature that measures his lifespan and his experiences in the thousands for this incarnation alone, and the billions for all the ones who came before–and yet the time feels wrong. Like it’s dragged on, like he’s in the Infinite Prison and being forced to contemplate what a century truly feels like–
Rimuru comes to mind, then, his hands balled into tight fists as he hides behind his magic suppressing mask for the first time in a long time, gazing out over the rows and rows of the people that he’d been meant to protect and what had happened to them when he’d grown too complacent, and so Veldora sets down his book and waves to Master Vash on his way out of the cottage, claiming a quick errand, and then he’s in the sky.
He’d rather look like a clucky, panicky hen than just let things resolve as they would. It takes no time at all to bring himself to the Vogue, calling out Rose’s name with as much of his usual bravado as he can–and when she doesn’t answer, he clamps down on the strange feeling that rakes up his spine, sitting down at the bar as he closes his eyes and tries to find the tinges of her magical presence.
Nothing.
… so he turns to technology once again, sending Rose one last text.
He then makes a post to the network, pride a distant and forgotten thing in the wake of the strange sentiment wrapped around his neck and dragging down his back, a weight that won’t lift no matter how many times he swallows. He can look like a helicopter himbo in the morning, he just needs to know she's safe. ]
network post; late evening; text; un: tempestdragon
Apologies for the interruption, but has anyone seen Lady Rose this evening?
WHERE: the Vogue and the network
WHEN: late on the 4th
WHAT: local storm dragon gets a strange feeling and goes to make a big silly of himself showing up like an overprotective gecko while his B. F. F. is doing a simple errand–there’s nothing to worry about, right?
… right?
WARNINGS: none come to mind!
[ Veldora begins to consider that something’s not right somewhere around the fifth re-read of the same page in his newly acquired copy of Two Pieces, volume 77.
It’s not that the material’s boring or anything like–but it’s so very hard to focus and he’s been stalwartly ignoring the reason why, even as he tries to reread the conflict between the Panza brothers for the third, fourth, fifth time to little effect, glancing away when the subject matter finally wears down his nerve. He reaches for his phone, and sends Rose a text–and waits for an answer that doesn’t come.
It’s silly. Lady Rose is a woman grown and an adventurer besides–she can take care of herself. And yet. And yet. He runs his fingers over his book , worrying at his lip with the tip of a fang, trying to let go of the uneasy pressure in his chest as he glances at the clock for the tenth time. Veldora’s a creature that measures his lifespan and his experiences in the thousands for this incarnation alone, and the billions for all the ones who came before–and yet the time feels wrong. Like it’s dragged on, like he’s in the Infinite Prison and being forced to contemplate what a century truly feels like–
Rimuru comes to mind, then, his hands balled into tight fists as he hides behind his magic suppressing mask for the first time in a long time, gazing out over the rows and rows of the people that he’d been meant to protect and what had happened to them when he’d grown too complacent, and so Veldora sets down his book and waves to Master Vash on his way out of the cottage, claiming a quick errand, and then he’s in the sky.
He’d rather look like a clucky, panicky hen than just let things resolve as they would. It takes no time at all to bring himself to the Vogue, calling out Rose’s name with as much of his usual bravado as he can–and when she doesn’t answer, he clamps down on the strange feeling that rakes up his spine, sitting down at the bar as he closes his eyes and tries to find the tinges of her magical presence.
Nothing.
… so he turns to technology once again, sending Rose one last text.
He then makes a post to the network, pride a distant and forgotten thing in the wake of the strange sentiment wrapped around his neck and dragging down his back, a weight that won’t lift no matter how many times he swallows. He can look like a helicopter himbo in the morning, he just needs to know she's safe. ]
network post; late evening; text; un: tempestdragon
Apologies for the interruption, but has anyone seen Lady Rose this evening?