soulofaginger: [emo] (fly is down)
[personal profile] soulofaginger
[The discovery of the vacant room that once belonged to his rain guardian had been far from a pleasant one, and while the temptation to once again go deal with his problems with a stiff shot of whiskey was hard to tame, he did have a duty to the Vongola, regardless of his opinions of the ones present. The weight of the retrieved Vongola ring on his finger was a solid reminder.]

Asari Ugetsu iz no longr heer for thos it may konsern

[Well... it looked about right... sort of. Maybe he should have at least done an audio post... at least until he got a better handle on reading and writing... bah, the hell with it. He did his job, and could now go drink until he forgot his name with a free conscience.]

[For those that can't read moron: Asari Ugetsu is no longer here for those it may concern]
soulofaginger: [action] (owkthnxbai)
[personal profile] soulofaginger
[It is a hot Italian summer afternoon, the sky a deep shades of red and orange as dusk approaches. G lay in bed, his bedroom humble and lacking anything unneeded for the very basics of survival. His entire 'house' consisted of only three rooms, and there were no glass windows, only battered wooden shutters. However, these meager living conditions were the only thing putting G at ease.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wincing and letting out a pained groan. His head throbbed with an agonizing migraine, his stomach lurched and cramped, his body felt stiff, exhausted, and numb, and beyond the pain his thoughts were just so very far away. He knew all to well what was going to happen. It was not easy to forget what his last hours were like.

He stared vacantly at the wall, waiting to once again drift off into the nap he wouldn't wake up from. His family was gone. Scattered. Being hunted down, and he could do nothing but lay in bed, powerless to stop it. The solitude of his home that was once such a blessing to him now felt like a prison. Why could his death not simply come sooner? It was inevitable...
]
soulofaginger: [unamused] (vogue pose)
[personal profile] soulofaginger
[While G was completely oblivious to the amount of time he had been gone, he was very aware of the heavy grog that seemed to cloud his brain. Damn he felt like crap. While he was lacking the typical pounding headache that usually came with waking up in a bed with no idea how he got there, he thought better than to take any chances.

And as much as he hated the little mirror talkie... whatever-the-fuck-it-was thing... it was a necessary evil right now. He fumbles with it for a moment before the read head comes on the screen... clearly having made no effort to hide the fact that he just woke up mere moments ago. His hair is a tussled mess, and there's a light layer of stubble on his jar.
]

stupid little piece of shit... how the hell do i- oh...

[He clears his throat and with a level of grace and sophistication that only the mafioso could reach addresses the public, his words heavily laced with grog.]

Alright, whatever the hell I did last night and whoever I did last night, I did not mean anything I said it was just a bunch of rubbish and lies and you should ignore it. And if someone would be kind enough to tell me what the hell happened last night it would be appreciated.

[And he just tossed the thing off to the side while he got out of bed to try and get ready for the day, forgetting to turn it off as usual.]
[identity profile] soulofaginger.livejournal.com
[The feed comes on with a clatter, as it's dropped to the floor, because at this point it's obvious it would tack some real arm-twisting to get G to use this thing voluntarily.

And there's a squelch, squelch, squelch, followed by a thud and a shlop as G tosses a bundle of fish and his wet shirt onto the ground. It could rain all it wanted, not going to stop him from getting food.
]

Gonna freeze my nuts off in this place...

[And he opens the window to let in some of the humid air into his room before he turns around only to spot... his arch-nemesis on the ground. The little piece of demon technology he had grown to loath so hard. One of these days he was just going to pitch it out the window and be done with it.

...but for now, he just closes it. You live today foul glitter-box.
]
[identity profile] soulofaginger.livejournal.com
[Well, everyone paying attention to the feeds may notice that a familiar little redhead had accidentally managed to turn his on... though he's quite a bit smaller than what most people probably remember... and clearly thinks his communicator is possessed by something judging by the way he's glaring at it.

He puts it off to the side for a moment while he opens the window... and whup, out goes the communicator. But wait~ The static clears to focus on the window it fell out of to reveal a pair of pasty white G-legs sticking out, and then out pops the rest of G. He holds onto the sill for a moment to make sure he's got a good place to land... and then down he goes. Landing right on top of the communicator shutting it off.

Take that little glowing demon box.
]
[identity profile] soulofaginger.livejournal.com
[Well after a nice long nap, G had awoken to a rather pleasant surprise. His room had changed, as had all his denizens belongings... which is why he has decided to finally grab the usually much hated communicator and invade the network with something absolutely moronic.

So there is G, on the screen, in some ratty pirate garb, waving a pair old pistols around, clearly as happy as a clam
]

Now this is what I'm talkin' about! Good to have some real firepower! See this? I'm a friggin' pirate now! Don't know who this Calico Jack bastard was, but he sure had some fancy junk on him~

[And he fires the guns to the ceiling laughing up a storm... but then, when he tries to fire them again and nothing happens.]

hm?

[And his inspects the guns only to discover that they're going to need to be loaded with gunpowder before they can fire again. His face instantly turns sour and he lets out a growl]

Are you friggin' kiddin' me!? This crap is ancient! The bastards can't seriously have stuck me with these pieces of shit for guns!

[And he slams the device shut to go throw a little tantrum about his guns. You know it's old if HE calls it ancient.]
[identity profile] soulofaginger.livejournal.com
[The feed starts shakily, as G accidentally knocks the device into the bathroom sink, since there is no chance in hell he would actually try to properly use this thing on purpose if it wasn't an emergency.

The once-again-redhead is leaning over the sink, happily looking at his features in the mirror before him. There's even a slight smirk on his face, clearly he's glad to be ginger again- but wait! He turns his head and lets out an irritated snarl at the discovery that his tattoo had yet to return to his face
]

non mi rompere i coglioni! ((*don't break my balls to anyone who knows Italian))

[And his eye catches the communication device... thingy... and he he slams it shut so he can sulk about his face in peace.]
[identity profile] soulofaginger.livejournal.com
[G comes on the screen looking rather sweaty, by the looks of it he's outside, and judging by the quiver on his back he's somewhere that would involve shooting arrows. Though to those who have seen him before may notice he is lacking the very prominent tattoo on his face and his hair seems to be taking a lighter tone.]

Hello to all the new arrivals and those who don't know me, I'm G, and I'm plannin' on formin' a little... "expedition" into the forest. I'm lookin' for anyone with any sort of combat experience to come along. Any information about the forest would be welcomed as well. Thanks.
[identity profile] soulofaginger.livejournal.com
[TEXT]

ernhcjaev;. 43nA;f; qm,.
dd
dfvadfalk,\;'d
[VIDEO]

[The video comes on to the top of a of a red mess of hair. After some shifting and more random keymash texts, the camera picks up the very unamused tattooed face of a man... who has no idea what this thing is- let alone that it’s recording him. He hits some more buttons, one causing the screen to brighten.]

Tch... ‘the hell is this?

[He cocks his head back at the sudden brightness. He looked it over again for a way to turn it off... not that he’s able to find one. It’s rather difficult to figure out technology when cars still needed a crank to start last he checked. So like a true man he solves this problem be hitting it repeatedly on the table. The screen darkens again and he smiles triumphantly. Then promptly puts his cigarette out on the keypad. He had been looking for an ashtray anyway...]

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