wafflehouse | (no subject)

[ there's almost no hope left, for this world. not only humans have used up the energy it was created with, but the planet itself has been sucking itself dry. only the wealthiest of areas are still lush with clear water and full forests, the majority of the planet sandy, dried out, struggling to survive. while scientists are searching for a way to abandon this planet and move onto the next, those that still follow the religion of spirits that guard the earth have proposed an alternate.

human lives are made up of energy that can help regenerate the earth. a colony, cut off from civilization by a small mountain range crafted a way to utilize life in a form of sacrifice. when two individuals are embedded with stones that were brought up from mines hundreds of years ago, when the earth still had a chance, a bond is formed that circles energy back into the soil. these people are chosen by their breeding and by their hearts, and even though their faces will never be public, they're treated as heroes, the saviours of the planet.

they're also treated as prisoners. the room that the two have been given is bland and cold, there are two beds, a desk, a bookshelf, and not much more. of course, they're permitted to wander the sanctuary of the colony, but leaving is strictly forbidden. it's a sad existence, being taken from the lives they knew to be locked away, knowing they're going to die. it's sad and it's annoying, and gokudera can't help but scoff loudly as he recounts the ceiling tiles of his cell for the third time today. the skin around the gem in his chest still hurts and the guy he's supposed to be within ten metres of for the rest of his life is an utter dumbass and he really just wants to wake up from this bad dream. ]

Threaded | Flat

[Yamamoto would be lying if he said this was ever what he wanted from his life. Luckily, no one's asked. Not the people who put the gem in his chest, not anyone who brought him to this room, and definitely not his moody cellmate. So by and large he's contented himself with just registering the complaint with his own mind and spent an unproductive few hours feeling sorry for himself, repeating over and over in his head that this isn't what he wants.

Now, honestly, he's sick of that. He hates moping. He hates feeling helpless and defeated. And he hates being cooped up indoors, too. By now he doesn't care how painful it is to be apart from his new lifelong partner, he's going somewhere more interesting one way or another.]

Hey, I'm going out. Wanna come?