[ He didn't know any of the people in the doll-reenacted memory, save for Diarmuid himself. Hell, he'd hurt plenty of people in his own right, too, only even Majima drew the line at attacking -- killing -- civilians.
He opened the door to the next room, and stepped through with Diarmuid. The door shut behind them with surprisingly loud finality, cutting off the distant pleas.
What waited for them in the next room was a small one-bedroom apartment, dark except for the moonlight filtering in from the window across from the door from which they'd entered. It mostly consisted of a sitting area, with a kitchenette off to the side. Stark, almost entirely without furniture except for a small, low table with no chairs and a portable radio propped on top.
Better than what they'd come from, though at the sight of it Majima felt a familiar tightening in his chest -- the same, familiar feeling of claustrophobia, of being trapped. He tried to force himself to focus on the present. ]
no subject
[ He didn't know any of the people in the doll-reenacted memory, save for Diarmuid himself. Hell, he'd hurt plenty of people in his own right, too, only even Majima drew the line at attacking -- killing -- civilians.
He opened the door to the next room, and stepped through with Diarmuid. The door shut behind them with surprisingly loud finality, cutting off the distant pleas.
What waited for them in the next room was a small one-bedroom apartment, dark except for the moonlight filtering in from the window across from the door from which they'd entered. It mostly consisted of a sitting area, with a kitchenette off to the side. Stark, almost entirely without furniture except for a small, low table with no chairs and a portable radio propped on top.
Better than what they'd come from, though at the sight of it Majima felt a familiar tightening in his chest -- the same, familiar feeling of claustrophobia, of being trapped. He tried to force himself to focus on the present. ]
...you okay?