Adam was in a bad mood, to put it lightly.
It had already kind of sucked, coming back to life: sure, he was alive, but he couldn't drink or fuck, couldn't go out during the day unless he made sure to stick to every shadow (he'd never been that kind of rogue - Adam wanted the world to see his handsome cunning face) and had to go to a Shrine or drink out of some weird pervert's wrists every couple of weeks.
And now, he'd had to leave his beloved Torchline for the dump that was the Grounds, all because of the two fangs in his mouth.
The heavy boots he wore sending loud thuds around the hall of the Atheneum, he headed to the shelf where he'd been told a shrine was set up, though Adam's intentions were far from quiet reverence.
"Look-" He said as he got close, holding up a hand to punctuate the word. "I know you're probably just going to fucking ignore me like you did all the other times I've tried to talk to you. And that's fine, whatever, I don't even know if you're listening, but I've got stuff to say."
Planted firmly in front of the shrine now, staring at it as if it might stare back, he began, speaking loudly enough that anyone else ensconced within the shelves would hear: "Why do you make being an Ascended suck so much ass? All I want to do is get drunk and have sex. Those are like, parts of living. But you don't let us, cos I guess it's not calculating or pure enough or whatever, so instead I'm just bored and depressed and I can't even go for a fucking daytime walk without worrying about being fried-" He was losing his point. Adam stopped, sighed, and only continued after a moment's pause.
"...I hate this. I hate this war, I hate having to be involved in it. I hate what all this has done to my body. I feel like a fucking ghost. And I know I agreed to it, but..I didn't know then how bad it would feel, and I don't get why you've made it that way." The aggression he'd started with going as quickly as it had appeared, Adam simply stood before the shrine looking dejected.
It had already kind of sucked, coming back to life: sure, he was alive, but he couldn't drink or fuck, couldn't go out during the day unless he made sure to stick to every shadow (he'd never been that kind of rogue - Adam wanted the world to see his handsome cunning face) and had to go to a Shrine or drink out of some weird pervert's wrists every couple of weeks.
And now, he'd had to leave his beloved Torchline for the dump that was the Grounds, all because of the two fangs in his mouth.
The heavy boots he wore sending loud thuds around the hall of the Atheneum, he headed to the shelf where he'd been told a shrine was set up, though Adam's intentions were far from quiet reverence.
"Look-" He said as he got close, holding up a hand to punctuate the word. "I know you're probably just going to fucking ignore me like you did all the other times I've tried to talk to you. And that's fine, whatever, I don't even know if you're listening, but I've got stuff to say."
Planted firmly in front of the shrine now, staring at it as if it might stare back, he began, speaking loudly enough that anyone else ensconced within the shelves would hear: "Why do you make being an Ascended suck so much ass? All I want to do is get drunk and have sex. Those are like, parts of living. But you don't let us, cos I guess it's not calculating or pure enough or whatever, so instead I'm just bored and depressed and I can't even go for a fucking daytime walk without worrying about being fried-" He was losing his point. Adam stopped, sighed, and only continued after a moment's pause.
"...I hate this. I hate this war, I hate having to be involved in it. I hate what all this has done to my body. I feel like a fucking ghost. And I know I agreed to it, but..I didn't know then how bad it would feel, and I don't get why you've made it that way." The aggression he'd started with going as quickly as it had appeared, Adam simply stood before the shrine looking dejected.
So collect your courage and collect your horse
And pray you never feel this same kind of remorse
And pray you never feel this same kind of remorse
Adam
