http://haro-and-firing.livejournal.com/ (
haro-and-firing.livejournal.com) wrote in
srwug_alpha_rp2012-07-10 01:22 am
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
And left in the wake of the mistake / slow to react / Even though you're so close to me
(following this missions)

1] Somewhere in his haze, Lockon walked through the darkness, calling out into the darkness for his fellow meisters, but there was no answer. The further we walked, the louder he shouted till his voice became horse and panicked. The feeling of falling, tumbling downward through the air, with no way to stop it. For a moment, the last words allelujah's spoke echoed all around him in the darkness, the sound of pain in his voice as he called out Lockon's name...
In medical ward, Lockon tosses in his drug-induced sleep, calling and reaching out...
"Allelujah..!"

2] Lockon is sitting in the cafeteria, in civilian clothes, an eye-patch covered the wounded flesh where his eye used to be. He looks supremely dejected as he scribbles a matching eye-patch on his Haro with a black sharpie. It obvious to anyone, that the usual life and mirth that filled him is gone, his shoulder slumped under the weight of his loss. He went back and forth between despair, and anger, as he grumbled to himself.

1] Somewhere in his haze, Lockon walked through the darkness, calling out into the darkness for his fellow meisters, but there was no answer. The further we walked, the louder he shouted till his voice became horse and panicked. The feeling of falling, tumbling downward through the air, with no way to stop it. For a moment, the last words allelujah's spoke echoed all around him in the darkness, the sound of pain in his voice as he called out Lockon's name...
In medical ward, Lockon tosses in his drug-induced sleep, calling and reaching out...
"Allelujah..!"

2] Lockon is sitting in the cafeteria, in civilian clothes, an eye-patch covered the wounded flesh where his eye used to be. He looks supremely dejected as he scribbles a matching eye-patch on his Haro with a black sharpie. It obvious to anyone, that the usual life and mirth that filled him is gone, his shoulder slumped under the weight of his loss. He went back and forth between despair, and anger, as he grumbled to himself.