[Lockon's leaning against the wall in his apartment, looking none too happy. He's failed to find Allelujah anywhere, which only means one thing.]

...not anywhere, you stupid...

[Frustrated, he punches the wall--of course, thanks to the event, he's a lot stronger than usual and his fist goes right through. He grumbles a little, retracting his hand and shaking off the plaster. For a while, he's silent, before sitting against the wall with his head tilted back.]

You'd think after all this... You could have at least said goodbye, damnit, Alle.

[He's quiet for a while again, thinking it over--and he chuckles humorlessly to himself.]

Then again, what right do I have to say that? This must be karma.

Lesson of the day: Some people need to take Subtlety 101. And learn discretion. And maybe take an art class or two.

[Siiiiiiiiiigh. Damnit, Halle.]

'least New Year's wasn't so bad?

[Lockon's sitting in his living room, crosslegged on the floor, staring at his new puppy Haro. Who is sitting down in front of him. Staring back.

They have identical expressions as seen in the icon.]

I need to train you. No pouncing when your owner is busy.

[Haro barks.]

...you're not going to listen, are you?

[Haro barks happily again.]

[Lockon is hanging around, wearing...a santa hat. Yeah. Hey, 'tis the season.]

It's that time of the year again.

Merry Christmas, everyone!


[[ooc: He doesn't know too many people here, so...getting gifts will be Alle, Roxas, Osaka, and Braig (gotta impress the mama-in-law?). As for what...you'll see. Aka I haven't figured it all out yet.]]

[Lockon is sitting at a bed---Allelujah's, since the younger Meister dragged his comafied ass over there after the Skeith encounter. He's holding his forehead with one hand, groaning.]

Christ. My head hurts. How long was I...

[A pause, and muttering, too low to really hear most of.]

You never learn, do you, Neil? Damnit. You'd think that after what happened last time...

[Lockon can be seen in his kitchen, a cookbook in one hand, a large spoon in the other. He's standing at the stove, peering into a pot.]

Jeez, this shouldn't be that hard. It's soup. Soup, Lockon, you can manage soup, even if you're not using potatoes or any of the usual ingredients. Right. Chicken. Chicken is simple enough. [He looks back and forth between the book and the pot, putting the book back down on the extremely messy counter.] You can't go wrong, right?

[He dips the spoon in, taking a sip...and cringing.]

...okay. What herb was parsley again? ...They all look the same! [Sigh.] Note to self, marry someone who can cook...



[[ooc: I'm so sorry about my horrible inactivity lately D: School + opening a new RP + Lord of the Rings Online = very distracted Rel.]]

[Lockon is sitting next to his bed, looking...well, mostly drained. The anger's since passed, and now he just looks worn-down and worried. On his bed is an unconscious Allelujah. Comatose.]

...damnit, Alle, what were you... Who was that...

[He's quiet for a while, reaching out to brush a bit of hair out of Allelujah's face, staring. He checks his breathing and pulse again to make sure everything's fine.]

Wake up already, you idiot. [Quietly, to himself, muttering] When I find that bastard again... Can't be killed, huh? I ought to use the time to---...no. Tch.

[Lockon is peering at himself in a mirror, looking very baffled. He's paler than normal (if that's even possible), and there's something a little different about his teeth...]

Right, I know that Irish people are the whitest of the white, but this is kind of ridiculous. I don't remember my skin looking this pale before. Going out to try and get a tan (ignoring the fact that I burn, not tan, but a guy can always hope) isn't going to work either, because the sunlight's suddenly a little irritating.

Could've sworn that my canines were never this pointy either---

[He pauses, realization hitting him.]

Waaaaaait a second...

[Lockon's sitting against a tree somewhere in the park, eyes closed, and apparently hasn't realized he's on the second level. He's a little troubled from an earlier conversation with Allelujah about whether each of them died or not, something he's still not really worked his way through.]

Tch, of course I only end up thinking of this stuff now. Not like I expected it---or maybe I did. Huh.

[A bit more thinking, and he finds himself singing.]

♫I want you to know
That you don't need me anymore
I want you to know
You don't need anyone, anything at all

Who's to say where the wind will take you
Who's to say what it is will break you
I don't know which way the wind will blow
Who's to know when the time has come around
Don't wanna see you cry
I know this is not goodbye♫

[A bit of a wry smile.] This kind of stuff's so much easier when it's any other situ--

...wait, was I just singing? Where the heck did that come from?

Heh. You'd think that there's no coming back from that, but---no, there really isn't much coming back from that. I wonder what this place is supposed to be? Kind of a sad excuse for an afterlife. It doesn't look like the kind of heaven we were taught about in Sunday school, or hell, even. Purgatory? No.

Is there anyone else out there? It's pretty obvious that I'm not in Kansas anymore. ...I really ought to kick myself for making that cliché reference. What to do, what to do... Hm. I already miss Haro.

...I wonder if the others... Hn.

[A pause before he realizes something, and he brings a hand to his right eye.]

Well, what do you know?