Third Floor Boys' Bathroom; Monday [06/24].

[hashtag_chocobro]

No amount of hot water and soap and showering was going to be able to wash off the last week.

But that wasn't going to stop Prompto Argentum from trying. And it wasn't even about the fact that, no matter how hard he scrubbed, his skin remained that awful, awful shade of grey (and yes, yes, he had noticed it was all greys and blacks and whites now, only without the benefit of him also being an adorable little puppy like last time)...because it was gone, actually gone, all those spikes and horns and tail, the black and red ichor contantly flowing from his eyes, his pores, his cuts and wounds, the insanity that drove him, the desire to just hurt things and ruin them and destroy them, feeding off the fear, the terror, the pain. He was back to himself again, back to Prompto, back to who he was, not what he was supposed to have been.

He'd lost track by now how many times he'd thrown up on his staggering return to the dorms; he was surprised how he managed to still find swells of sobbing inside, just when he thought he was done, it was over, there was nothing left in him anymore. No amount of hot water or soap or showering or time was going to wash this way, but he stood there underneath the shower in the boys' bathroom on his floor until the water ran cold, and he stayed there until he started shivering, and the shivering just reminded him of transforming, the violence of all his nightmares made real, and there he was, throwing up again, finally turning off the water as he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grabbed a towel to wrap around himself as he found a wall, slid down in, and just...sat, staring at his hands, thinking of what they'd been capable of, staring at his barcode, thinking of how that was what they were always meant to do...

Man....fuck this place.

And Prompto was just going to stay there until he figured out just what he wanted to do about this, and he wasn't sure, so he figured he was going to be there a while. Good thing there were no classes this week, right? And he figured, if he was going to be anywhere, this would be a good spot if he wanted to avoid anyone who might be looking for him. There were, what, five guys in this whole school? And while a good chunk of them were on this floor, the bathrooms were pretty quiet. And he felt he was probably safe from Nina in here, too; she was a proper lady, after all, wouldn't dare go into a boys' bathroom!

Vette, on the other hand...

...so that was why, if anyone should try, they'd find all the vents into this place properly boobytrapped.

Though Prompto personally hoped (and didn't hope, like, at all, it was complicated) that they wouldn't really have even bothered, anyway. That they wouldn't have cared. That would make this thing so much easier...

...fuck this place.

[[oh, hey, bathroom post! s'open! ]]

Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [06/24].

[howareyanow]

Breakfast might have been a little later that Monday, on account of the fact that Wayne hadn't exactly woken up in his bed that morning but, oh, y'know, somewhere out in the wilderness where he'd been taking down larger-than-usual human-faced rodents with his bare hands and teeth for the better part of the weekend, but there would still be breakfast. Heck, there'd still likeleh be breakfast even if Wayne had gotten up that morning and still had all those teeth and claws and horns and whatnot, because it was tradition.

And you don't fuck with tradition. Not even as a terrifying mutant monster version of yourself.

But it didn't really matter now, now, did it? Because Wayne wasn't a terrifying mutant monster version of himself, Wayne was just his usual version of himself now, only in black-and-white, it seemed, like the rest of the world, which he wasn't sure if was some side-effect to his brain being all bad all weekend, or if it was just a thing the island was doing, and he was really wondering how he could actually test all of that, because it was going to bother him until he knew fer shure.

Food in the fridge, though, that was a good sign for the week, and it gave him the chance to whip up his usual breakfast stuff, with maybe a bit more and bit stronger coffee than usual, and he was really hoping people were hungry this morning because he just really wanted to sort of rub it in a little.

Because he said it was just a bug. And from where he was standing, he'd been right.

One hell of a bug, sure, yeah, okay, he'd give you that. But just a bug, all the same.


[[*allows boyos to take over third floor public spaces, innocent whistles* open breakfast is open as always! ]]