[ At every turn, he is thwarted in his mission to uncover more information on his whereabouts. His trip to City Hall had been utterly futile. Blank sheets of paper, empty logbooks, barren balance sheets -- nothing, nothing, and still nothing.
The tourist center is similarly abandoned. Not a soul stirs within its walls. Yi Sang might consider this ominous, had he not been fully focused on the task at hand. He leafs carefully through the pamphlets, scrutinizing each one for hidden information.
It is too bad, then, that they are nothing more than folded sheets of coated paper.
On the other hand, the tourist literature is more helpful despite its barebone offerings. But given its competition is as stiff as a wet tissue, he's quite grateful for any information. The occasional picture and vague sentences on locations throughout the City are a treasure trove compared to his earlier efforts.
...ultimately, it's not very helpful either. Perhaps he'd gone about this incorrectly, seeking information from print sources as opposed to the locals. But as far as he can tell, this city is barren, devoid of any residents.
That, certainly, would explain the dire lack of tourism information. No tourists to do the touristing. Of course.
Satisfied (but disappointed) with his inspection of the tourist literature, he turns his back on the rest of the center. He fixes his attention upon the map behind the receptionist's desk, taking in each detail scrawled upon it.
He certainly would not notice were one to approach him from behind. ]
ii. do not touch the art...
[ It's too late for Yi Sang by the time he realizes this is, most definitely, the worst possible exhibit for him to visit. He'd simply sought someplace to sit. The little theater seemed innocent enough with plenty of welcoming benches. There was no reason not to take one of them.
So he'd settled down on one, turning his attention to the screen of moving lines. The hum of heavy bass throughout the room echoed in his ears, like the sound of static buzzing in between them. It is as though the noise were absorbing him into the screen, leaving him feeling as though he were drifting out of his own body.
His head pounds and his stomach churns. He should leave this place, he thinks, but his legs feel unsteady, akin to that of a newborn deer. Instead, all Yi Sang can do is squeeze his eyes shut and hunch over, pressing the heel of one of his palms against an eye.
It is said that art is capable of moving viewers. Right now, Yi Sang thinks the display might be doing that to him, literally.
Give him a minute or two and he'll surely be back on his feet to find an exhibit more agreeable to both his head and his stomach. ]
iii. wildcard.
[ Anything is good!! Feel free to hit me with another prompt or PM me if you'd like to hash anything out o7 ]
yi sang | limbus company
[ At every turn, he is thwarted in his mission to uncover more information on his whereabouts. His trip to City Hall had been utterly futile. Blank sheets of paper, empty logbooks, barren balance sheets -- nothing, nothing, and still nothing.
The tourist center is similarly abandoned. Not a soul stirs within its walls. Yi Sang might consider this ominous, had he not been fully focused on the task at hand. He leafs carefully through the pamphlets, scrutinizing each one for hidden information.
It is too bad, then, that they are nothing more than folded sheets of coated paper.
On the other hand, the tourist literature is more helpful despite its barebone offerings. But given its competition is as stiff as a wet tissue, he's quite grateful for any information. The occasional picture and vague sentences on locations throughout the City are a treasure trove compared to his earlier efforts.
...ultimately, it's not very helpful either. Perhaps he'd gone about this incorrectly, seeking information from print sources as opposed to the locals. But as far as he can tell, this city is barren, devoid of any residents.
That, certainly, would explain the dire lack of tourism information. No tourists to do the touristing. Of course.
Satisfied (but disappointed) with his inspection of the tourist literature, he turns his back on the rest of the center. He fixes his attention upon the map behind the receptionist's desk, taking in each detail scrawled upon it.
He certainly would not notice were one to approach him from behind. ]
ii. do not touch the art...
[ It's too late for Yi Sang by the time he realizes this is, most definitely, the worst possible exhibit for him to visit. He'd simply sought someplace to sit. The little theater seemed innocent enough with plenty of welcoming benches. There was no reason not to take one of them.
So he'd settled down on one, turning his attention to the screen of moving lines. The hum of heavy bass throughout the room echoed in his ears, like the sound of static buzzing in between them. It is as though the noise were absorbing him into the screen, leaving him feeling as though he were drifting out of his own body.
His head pounds and his stomach churns. He should leave this place, he thinks, but his legs feel unsteady, akin to that of a newborn deer. Instead, all Yi Sang can do is squeeze his eyes shut and hunch over, pressing the heel of one of his palms against an eye.
It is said that art is capable of moving viewers. Right now, Yi Sang thinks the display might be doing that to him, literally.
Give him a minute or two and he'll surely be back on his feet to find an exhibit more agreeable to both his head and his stomach. ]
iii. wildcard.
[ Anything is good!! Feel free to hit me with another prompt or PM me if you'd like to hash anything out o7 ]