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HOW'S MY DRIVING

blah blah blah, concrit goes here, anon is on, comments screened, let me know if i'm fucking it up please.

008 :: \voice\

[crackle, thud, the thin skif of sandals spreading across gravel. then someone's knees fall to the ground. the violent sounds of someone thoroughly losing their breakfast hit the communicator around the same time the breakfast hits the street. slowly, she gets to her feet, and snorts, a small, nauseous quaver in the sharpness of her throat.]

--great way to say "hi".

[she spits. the line goes silent for a long moment.]

... I guess I'm back, then. Anybody around that I still know?

[a pause.]

Damn ...

007 :: \voice\

[hiyori's voice is low and growling, like she's just left a bad hangover behind and wants to start on a new one, but knows better than to try.]

Yeah, yeah, welcome back to Nuadoria, same as we ever left it -- screw that shit. Screw this stupid fuckin' place and the stupid fuckin' Magisters who keep tryin' to pretend we're not their tools.

At least the crazy mime let us know where we stand.

[she snorts and shakes her head.]

... whatever, I'm starving.

Hey, Scatty! Wanna --

[suddenly, hiyori's voice disappears. not the careful click of an ended transmission, but the simple blink of a throat being there one minute and not there the next. a slight whoosh of air reaches the communicator before it hits the ground with a CRASH, the hand that held it having vanished as well. then nothing.]

ooc note.

006 :: \voice\

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
--I ain't drunk enough for this crap.

You kids have fun with that.

005 :: \voice\

[the line clicks and scratches as a communicator accidentally switches on from a shove of an elbow. all is quiet except for the quiet susurrus of unimpeded motion, then: sandals, slapping in something wet. like a puddle. and a low, hollow, mean and empty laugh.]

--they don't make division captains like they used to, do they?

[a thump, muffled, and a scraping sound, as she shoves the body, sloppily, with one sandaled foot.]

... tch. I ain't cleanin' this up, he's all floppy ...

[static rustles as she pulls the communicator from her pocket.] --already on, huh.

[she laughs. it sounds more like a snort.]

Shinigami. I know you can hear this. Somebody just killed one of your comrades! Aren't you gonna take responsibility?

[from behind hiyori, something -- or someone -- rustles in movement. she sucks in a breath, spits out one more taunting sentence (the edges are rough as the sky spins around her, dizzily)--]

Better hurry.

[--air rushes in to fill the space she leaves behind. the transmission ends with the cheery sound of a location ping ... for a red zone.]

003 :: \voice\

[the communicator clicks on to the sound of gently lapping water and coarse breathing. it shifts like someone's bringing it up close to their face to make sure their words are heard clearly. her voice is strong in spite of its breathless quality -- like she's spent the past minute or so gasping instead of actually remembering how to breathe -- and her words are really meant for only one person to hear.]

--I've felt worse.

filtered to kisuke;Collapse )

002 :: \voice\

[the faint sound of water sloshing against the docks can be heard in the background. hiyori falls back and her head thunks gently against a dock plank. she breathes out.]

I gotta wonder why it's makin' us wait.

001 :: \voice\

[the communicator picks up mid-conversation, as though it flickered to life before the wearer became aware of its presence.]--hey Lisa, I got your porn --

[pause.]

--right here. Shit. [the sound of someone setting down a bag of groceries, followed by the low sound of a sword sliding slowly from its scabbard.]

Yeah ... whatever you're fuckin' playing at, I ain't buyin'.

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drink down that gin and kerosene.
monkeyboned
SARUGAKI hiyori.

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