Eight
Final Fantasy XIII Type-0
Fist-First Philosophy
"Why not study something...other than fighting?"
Posts: 51
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Post by Eight on Aug 24, 2012 8:39:32 GMT -5
The only thing really bad about having the bucket right there with him was the fact that it kept reminding him of how miserable he felt and of what he'd be doing in it if he really did have to use it. His eyes kept moving to it before and after he'd helped her pick out a movie, wondering if it wouldn't just be better to try and get the giant ball off cotton out of his stomach and throat by making use of this wonderful invention that people kept stored like it didn't deserve any love. If it could make him feel better, boy did it deserve all his love. Once Cater was getting the movie set up, he decided he liked it so much that he should probably take it with him as he moved to the floor. Once he'd gotten his feet underneath him and didn't feel like any sudden movements would make him lose everything he'd eaten all day, a process which took a good twenty seconds, Eight picked up the bucket and held it in a hug, taking it gingerly over to the spot on the floor in front of the TV and staring at said spot until he decided he could also sit back down without exploding. Once he'd negotiated an easy way to sit down, he did so, slowly dropping onto his but and leaving his legs spread out in front of him. Not the most comfortable position ever...but Eight wasn't going to be getting comfortable tonight. He kept the bucket in his lap and stared at Cater helplessly while she finished up all she was doing with the movie and sat down with him. Okay, okay. This was okay. A celebration. He'd pulled it off anyhow. That had to be, what, his second success of the night?
Still clinging to his bucket, Eight stared up at the television as things started. Flashing lights. Ow. Eight found himself having to squint at the previews that popped up on the TV, but all in all they basically did their job, though he didn't notice it - they kept him distracted from feeling so bad. It didn't mean he exactly understood what was going on before him, but just trying to process it all was pretty good for the moment.
But fatigue was starting to creep in, though more suddenly than Eight would have expected it to. He continued staring at the screen and the first few minutes of the movie until he started daydreaming. The daydreaming quickly turned into regular dreaming, with Eight's eyes fluttering shut and his body slowly rocking back a bit, looking for somewhere peaceful to find rest as he dozed. He bumped against Cater once, very faintly, and was sent off to the other side, but his body didn't want to go over that way, either. He eventually rolled onto his back, letting the bucket slide off to the side and onto the floor as he turned onto his side, reaching for the nearest thing that seemed like a blanket in the unconscious hope he'd find it.
Words - 555 Muse - Excellente! Notes - I figure we can have a couple more, then wrap it up? :0 Or, if you want, timeskip to morning.[/size]
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Cater
Final Fantasy XIII Type-0
Four
"Trust your instincts, don't think."
Posts: 79
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Post by Cater on Sept 2, 2012 0:45:34 GMT -5
(OOC: If you want we can do a timeskip to morning and wrap it up after a couple more? Just let me know and I'll fix as appropriate.) Cater had to wonder how Eight was feeling. Probably pretty lousy since he wasn't doing much of anything. It was understandable though, the amount he consumed would not be giving him an easy time. As she had placed herself on the floor before the TV, she glanced over her shoulder as she heard Eight move. He was attempting to get to the floor. The whole process was taking him a while. Well, at least he wasn't as rambunctious as she thought he was going to be. It would've been very difficult explaining to the other students as to why it sounded like she had the TV on full blast.
After a moment, Eight managed to finally set the bucket before him down and sit down near it as well with his legs extended in front of him. Glad he didn't fall over and hurt himself, Cater had focused on the television. She was quiet for the most part, just watching the TV as it went through a series of previews.
As she sat there, they had only just gotten a few minutes into the movie when she felt a light bump on her side. Blinking, Cater turned her head to look over in Eight's direction. He looked like he was tired but she didn't think anything of it as she returned her attention to the film. He was probably just struggling with sleep or feeling queasy. She didn't realize just how bad Eight's situation was until he had rolled onto his back on the floor, set aside the bucket and rolled over. Of course, these she did not notice...until the point where he grasped her baggy pajama gown top and bottoms...and ripped them right off her in one fluid motion, using them as a blanket!
"EEP!" Poor Cater only had time to let out a startled squeak in response to the sudden breeze she felt. Hugging herself in her surprise and shock, Cater was thankful she hadn't forgotten to wear her under garments. As she got over her surprise, she turned her sights on Eight, her eyes looking as if they were burning with anger. It went abruptly away though when she saw that he had rolled over, facing the side away from her and appeared to be asleep using her PJs as a blanket!
Once again, she brought a palm to her forehead at Eight's antics. Well, at least he hadn't seen her or this would've been far worse. She was in just her undergarments but even that would be terribly embarrassing if Eight caught sight of her like this. There was no telling how much he'd remember in the morning. Grumbling to herself, Cater quietly turned off the TV, keeping a wary eye on the sleeping figure of Eight. Muttering a few choice words to herself, she coldly wandered to her drawer and fetched herself another PJ top and bottom. Putting them on, Cater sighed in relief. It felt good to be warm again and not feeling exposed. Eight owed her a new pair of Pajamas!
Glancing over at Eight, she couldn't move him but she could make it more comfortable for him. Grabbing an extra pillow and one of her blankets, Cater approached Eight. Making sure she was out of reaching distance in case he searched for another "blanket", Cater dropped the blanket on him. Bending down, she put his head on the pillow and then took one last moment to look down at him, shaking her head. "...Eight..." she muttered his name before heading over to her own bed. The moment she laid down on it, she too fell fast asleep.
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When morning came, Cater had forgotten the fact that Eight was still there in her dorm. As the morning light shown in through the glass windows, Cater scrunched up her nose, not wanting to wake up. Turning over, she pulled her blanket over her face to shut the light out, or at least she attempted to. Grumbling to herself, she tried to keep sleeping but was sure to wake at a moment's notice.
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Eight
Final Fantasy XIII Type-0
Fist-First Philosophy
"Why not study something...other than fighting?"
Posts: 51
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Post by Eight on Sept 14, 2012 6:50:58 GMT -5
Eight thought he might have seen something wonderful through his dim eyes when he finally set in for sleep, but he wasnt' sure if it was just a really good dream or if it was reality. It looked like...Cater...but without as many clothes on. And making some kind of noise he wasn't all that sure about. Eight just didn't know, though. The image remained there at the edge of his sight for a few moments until it, and any consciousness that Eight had remaining in him, disappeared. It only returned long enough for him to feel like his head was moving and there were feet moving away from him, but once all fell silent, he was gone yet again, with a bunch of vivid dreams that seemed determined to flip back and forth from bad - he felt like he was drowning in one - to good - he imagined he was the hero of one of the movie boxes he'd been shown and Cater was the damsel in distress. All in all, though, Eight got a very good night's sleep.
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Which was fortunate, as Eight did not expect what he was going to face the next morning. The first thing that roused him was a feeling of heat against his face, and Eight managed to bring one eye open in protest to it before rolling over. A few minutes passed, and it started to hit him where he'd rolled, as well. Both eyes them opened, leaving Eight to wonder why his bed suddenly felt like someone had taken the mattress off of it. He turned and shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Why did they move him out into the middle of the floor, too? That didn't seem to make much sense. But he couldn't stay there long, either - the light in his eyes made him feel like his eyes were going to set on fire and burn his skull like he'd turned into that one ghost guy who rode a motorcycle in those old comics he used to read. What was that guy's name? Eight racked his brain on it a few minutes before realizing that thinking in the morning seemed even more difficult than usual and gave up.
He probably had to try and get up, didn't he? Yeah...he'd have class. Eight moved his arms slightly, thinking they could magically get him up into a seated position. Nothing. He barely shifted. Why did things smell so good in here? Smelled like Cater. Had she been in here to study with him or something last night? What would they have studied? Did he have a test today? Kurasame's...no, he didn't. He wished Kurasame wasn't the one to always give tests. He would gladly take a test from that one cadet instructor...Hana...something. Anatomy test. Ha, he'd need to tell Jack that one. Okay, so he had to try getting up for real this time, he reminded himself, as his muddled thoughts slowly tried to straighten themselves out. Eight took in a deep breath that choked him more than it should have, getting onto his elbows so he could sit up.
But his head...his head felt like it weighed fifty more pounds than it should have. While Eight's shoulders and chest lifted up off of his suddenly-hard bed, his head was wanting to stay on the pillow. Eight brought it forward as best he could, letting it roll dow with his chin on his chest long enough to get himself sitting up. And then, dizziness. Eight brought his hand to his head and held it there as he wobbled in place, trying to make sure he didn't fall over onto...onto the.... With a hand on what was supposed to be the rest of the bed beside him, he found nothing but floor, and stared at it suspiciously. Had he fallen off? Had Jack and Cinque put him do- no, it still smelled like Cater! Had she been in here and put him on the floor...why would she do that? Eight could think of the best of reasons - the very best - or the worst of reasons, but supposed they didn't matter right now. He just had to get up the rest of the way.
That was going to be kind of hard, though. He couldn't get his vision to totally straighten either. Good grief, had she hit him with the butt of her gun when she'd gotten him off his comfy bed or something? Eight just didn't know anymore. Pulling off his shirt in an effort that made him realize that, for some reason, he was still in his uniform and, for some reason, each of his muscles felt like frozen rubber, Eight decided it was best not to think about whatever the heck someone had done to him before and just get to class so he could ask someone. Or was it a Saturday? Did he not have anything but training today? Well, if it was, he could ask them then.
He pressed down on the floor and started pushing himself to his feet, bracing for the dizziness that he did indeed feel once he was straight up. Leaving the shirt in the floor like he'd usually leave his sleeping shirt on the bed, Eight stumbled over in the general direction of the bathroom...only it wasn't where it usually was. Right, he'd been put on the floor, his directions were messed up. Eight stopped and swung around in his haze, spotting the open door to it to his right and stepping that way like a zombie with no urgency for brains. He only partially registered the presence in the bed nearby. Of course Jack wouldn't be up yet. He probably hadn't even noticed Eight being dragged out of bed unless he'd done it himself. "Time to wake up, Jack," Eight said in a weak tone, before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Whew, a shower was going to feel good.
He kicked off his shoes, again wondering why he was wearing them, and stepped over to turn the water on before going any further with the process of getting out of his pajama- uniform. His uniform. Which...he was supposed to be putting on after he showered...but he guessed he'd have to wear his summer uniform today. Maybe he could ask Jack to get them for him. He stepped over to the door, speaking again but barely loud enough for his friend or anyone nearby to hear him. "Jack...hand my summer uniform in here will you..." Why did it smell so flowery and fresh in here...usually Jack made the place stink....
Thinking in the morning. Eight didn't need to do it.
Words - 1188 Muse - Excellente! Notes - XD I got carried away...[/size]
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Cater
Final Fantasy XIII Type-0
Four
"Trust your instincts, don't think."
Posts: 79
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Post by Cater on Sept 24, 2012 2:56:16 GMT -5
(OOC: It's fine, I died laughing XD) While Eight was waking from slumber, Cater didn't know. She slept soundly under the blankets, hiding away from the sun that had come shining into her dorm room. In her sleep, she had thought she heard movement but it hadn't been enough to wake her up. In fact, she had thought she was hearing it in her dream that seemed to keep fading in and out as her consciousness started to rouse itself. Albeit, slowly and also because she was reluctant to let the sun also wake her up.
Poor Eight, he hadn't a clue where he was and Cater had no idea what events were to come. She just slumbered on, unaware of the fact that Eight had just woken up and was now getting to his feet. Unfortunately, the little clues he had this morning didn't seem to forewarn him of exactly where he had ended up. Cater didn't hear him call her Jack, telling her that it was time to get up. If she had, she probably would've popped her head up at that moment and claim it was a weekend and therefore there was no need to get up so damn early before realizing who was in her room. If she had, she might've prevented Eight from further embarrassing himself. Unfortunately for Eight, Cater hadn't heard him and was still partially asleep.
It wasn't until the sound of water reaching her in her sleep when Cater finally woke up. Blearily, she blinked her eyes, yawning. She hadn't really gotten that much sleep having been up most of the night trying to entertain a very drunk Eight. She didn't even think though since her mind was all muddled in her sleepiness. When she heard the running water, she didn't essentially think much of it. People weren't exactly that sharp in the morning. Especially when she was called Jack and was asked to give someone their summer uniform.
Not really thinking herself, Cater got up out of bed and fished through her own clothes. There, she found her own summer uniform and brought it over to the door, not looking in and at an angle where the person inside wouldn't have seen her anyway as she handed them the clothes. "Here!" she said tiredly, not realizing what she was doing as she just handed the person the clothes without even realizing that she never had a roommate to begin with. Once that was done, she gave a silent yawn before trekking back to her bed and climbing into it again. She couldn't find herself drifting back off to sleep so she picked up the tiny remote to her tv set and turned the tv on seeming to have forgotten the fact that Eight had been in her room the night before. Needless to say, both were in for a nasty surprise this morning.
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Eight
Final Fantasy XIII Type-0
Fist-First Philosophy
"Why not study something...other than fighting?"
Posts: 51
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Post by Eight on Oct 5, 2012 14:10:13 GMT -5
Whew, propping up against the door sure felt better than standing up straight. In fact, Eight supposed most things woudl feel better than standing up straight. He knew he had to finish getting undressed, though, so he rolled onto his back and started working on his pants for a few seconds...until he saw something being poked in the door to him that almost did enough to startle him. Oh, the uniform. He took it gingerly with an almost inaudible "Thanks," not bothering to inspect the clothing before he flung it over in the general direction of the counter and watched as it almost missed. Oh well, the clothes could hang there happily. He finished his work and wandered aimlessly towards the shower, wishing showers had beds in them as he stepped in, regulated the water and proceeded to have the most weak-willed shower he could ever remember having, spending more time than usual, with most of that time chewed up in his standing against the back wall, looking rather like a zombie. What the heck was with this soap, too? It smelled so...fruity and fresh and stuff. Like a woman...oh well. Eight would smell like a woman today. He didn't care one bit when he felt this wiped out. What the heck had happened to him to make him feel like this...
After far too long, he wobbled his way out, doing his best to dry himself around the sore muscles that were driving him out of his poor mind. He only got lazy once he had to reach down and dry his feet, nearly falling over onto his face when he first tried and just deciding that flopping the towel over his legs a few times was an okay option this morning. "Juuuust gotta dress," he told himself, as he put the towel around him and droned over towards the clothes, part of which had now fallen in the floor. Taking a look at himself in the mirror for the first time, he decided he looked like he'd caught the plague or something. Or he'd had the plague and died and someone had reanimated him. He pulled lightly on the giant hollow of doom sitting underneath his eye, owing as he did so. Right, enough of that. He was going to depress himself looking at that horrible excuse for a guy in the mirror...
He let go of the clothes as soon as he'd grabbed them, remembering it might be good to have something on at the bottom before he tried adding on anything else. But...where was...the place...where he would find underpants? It wasn't where he was supposed to be, when he looked over at the side of the bathroom where it should have been. Someone had been moving his and Jack's stuff in their bathroom, too? Why would they...why would anyone do that...
So he was left with the towel for the moment, as he moved back towards the door and casually unlocked it. It was too early for Jack to notice anything that was going on, least of all Eight in a towel. He'd just slip by, get to his own dresser, and get some underpants, and it'd be perfectly fine. Slowly shuffling out, Eight tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he headed off to the side of the...room....and his dresser wasn't where it should have been, either. Was he really in that much of a fog that he couldn't find anything? Apparently. Eight just stood outside the bathroom door, staring into the room aimlessly. In a towel. That was definitely not in a manly color. "Why me..."
Words - 656 Muse - Excellent! Notes - Teh lulz.[/size]
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Cater
Final Fantasy XIII Type-0
Four
"Trust your instincts, don't think."
Posts: 79
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Post by Cater on Oct 8, 2012 23:55:14 GMT -5
After she had handed Eight her summer uniform without even realizing it in her grogginess, she muttered a "You're welcome!" before traveling back to her bed. Plopping herself back on her bed, she turned her television on and skimmed through the channels. She could hear the shower going and still hadn't registered the fact she had no roommate. Trying to blink the sleep away, unable to drift off into sleep with the noise level going on, she tried to make heads or tails of the channels she was going through. One looked like a comedy so she stopped to watch that for a time.
As she sat there, she hadn't really remembered the events of the night before. She just knew that she was really tired still but yet couldn't manage to go back to sleep. It was going to be one of those days for Cater, it seemed. Stretching a bit, she gave a bit of a big yawn before leaning back into her pillow, pulling up the covers about her legs up to her tiny waist as she watched the tv. Cater wasn't at all aware that she now had a naked Eight in her bathroom taking a shower in her shower. Nor of the fact that she had given him her own summer uniform to wear without even realizing it. Oh, Cater was definitely in for a surprise this morning, she just didn't know it yet.
Bemusedly, she watched the television screen as the characters went through all sorts of wacky scenarios. Some even earned a good bit of chuckles from her or even giggles but none of them were loud enough to be heard over the running water in her bathroom. Eventually, the show ended and she was left with some kind of drama. "Eh, soap operas...so boring!" she muttered. Cater was just pondering whether or not to change it when movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention away from her tv. It took her a good minute to realize what she was looking at.
Confusedly, Cater blinked over at the figure standing in the doorway leading into the bathroom with a towel wrapped about his waist. Not really able to see him as clearly, since sleep found its way into her eyes again, she rubbed at them for a bit. When she was done, she looked back over at the figure, still confused. There was a guy...in one of her towels...
Wait, that wasn't just any guy either. As her mind finally registered who it was, Cater's eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights. Her face started turning a cherry red as she realized Eight had decided to go and take a shower in her bathroom and was now naked but for the towel wrapped around his waist. With Eight present, she finally remembered the events of the night before. Eight had come to her room, drunk out of his mind. He owed her a new pair of pajamas to replace the one he had accidentally ripped right off of her to use as a blanket. Despite that, she couldn't exactly find herself able to speak right now. How could she? She was caught completely off guard by his appearance in just a towel.
Eight appeared to be confused, trying to register where he was and still not quite understanding where he was somehow. Cater tried to react but she just seemed to freeze in place, staring at him, completely mind blown. Why Eight, indeed? Why them? This would, no doubt, be the most awkward thing that had happened between them yet! Not that she really minded the view but then again, she hadn't been expecting something like this out of the blue. Of course, her sudden intake of air as she gasped in her shock was a dead give away to where she was. It had been loud enough for Eight to hear. What a most unfortunate event, indeed!
"E-Eight?!" Cater finally managed to say his name, recovering a little but still dumbfounded. She wasn't sure whether to freak out or shove him back into her bathroom and toss his clothes back at him to make him get dressed. Another part of her asked her if she even wanted him to and wondered if the towel was in danger of falling from him any time soon. That part she pushed aside immediately and locked away in another part of herself! Such thoughts just made it all the more awkward and it wasn't appropriate to think this way. Eight wouldn't feel all that grand realizing where he was and he didn't need her allowing her mind to run straight to the gutter on him. The situation was bad enough already.
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Eight
Final Fantasy XIII Type-0
Fist-First Philosophy
"Why not study something...other than fighting?"
Posts: 51
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Post by Eight on Nov 6, 2012 18:34:13 GMT -5
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Bleh, why was it so cold in the room too? It felt like every part of him was still wet despite his pretty solid job of drying off…but when he took the chance of bringing his hand up to rub his arm a little and check for dampness, all he felt was his own skin feeling…numb. Eight didn’t know what it felt like to be made completely of leather, but he was pretty sure he was pretty close to that point as he stood, subtly wobbling. ”Man I had a weird night…”, he said, hardly audible enough to hear himself. With the widest of disorienting yawns, though, Eight shuffled forward a few more feet to go exploring this room that just yesterday he thought that he’d figured out in the several years he’d been living in it. There was too many…girly-like things around him. Eight’s head started spinning as he raked his gaze across the furniture and whatever was on the walls. Had Jack…had some work done and hadn’t told him? Knowing Jack, it wasn’t the craziest idea that had been birthed in Eight’s mind this early morning.
So Eight was stuck feeling miserable in the middle of the room, his ability to wear his own clothes taken from him. He considered just giving up and returning to his bed, but then he remembered that even that was gone too considering where he’d first awoken. There was a bed in the room, though, and though it stung at his temples to turn his head overmuch, Eight took in a breath and craned his neck in the direction of the very…girly…
Girl on the bed.
Normally, Eight would have thought that something had turned him into the lucky man overnight. But his mind didn’t go to that optimistic place. Instead, he was momentarily terrified as he stood and, finally prying his eyes wide open for the first time all morning, stared a hole through the individual foreign to his room. The longer he stared, the more the features of the Girl on the Bed came into view. And Eight realized that if he had turned into a lucky man, he’d turned into the luckiest man in the world. It was Cater there in the bed.
Then, the events of the previous night all came rushing back to him in rapid-fire succession, causing a grimace forming on his face to continually deepen. Right, this was not his room. This was Cater’s room, and at some point after arriving he’d apparently passed out. Remembering his nausea almost made him nauseated, but another sensation took over before the sick feeling had any chance. The sensation of knowing that the previous night had been one of the best-worst nights of his life, and the combination of the sensation with how cruddy he still felt practically gave him a chill to the bone.
And Eight, forgetting his lack of clothing, fell his way in Cater’s direction.
Fortunately, he managed to retain the towel on the entire way there and only flopped himself over the edge of the bed in the weakest rendition of a hug ever managed by humanity. With his face in the sheets, his words came out a muffled grouping of individual syllables. ”Don’t ever….ever….ever….let me even be in the same room with anything that will make me drunk ever again. Please, Cater, drag me away next time! I won, but I don’t care anymore! I screwed up the night with you because those drinks broke me!”
Words - 592 Muse – Excellent! Notes – [/size]
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