[The noise of sirens has his attention easily, and for once Shinjiro manages not to roll his eyes and assume it's directed at him. He also manages to look in the right direction for once, getting the hang of cars driving on the opposite side of the road. A quick backstep to make sure there's clearance and--]
Oh, Shit. [It's more a preliminary grimace, and Shinjiro goes ahead and closes an eye in a flinch from what's sure to be a grisly scene before him. because like hell he's able to do anything about those kids playing in the street. Maybe someone else can save them instead.]
[prompt--NO, I DO WHAT I WANT] (this is assuming he'd be accepted with the idea for powers I have- that is, the ability to decay/rot/deteriorate items, and use that force to mend/heal/etc other things. To put it simply and not go into the details/restrictions, etc because test-drive.)
It was weird enough to show up here in the first place- When he'd been expecting the sheer finality and nothingness of death, and instead woke up with the lingering mental pain of the gunshot wound (fading away to reality quickly enough) and a sharp-dressed woman with a folder on him. Weirder still that they had information even the Kirijo Group had lacked-- and even stranger than that, the idea that he had some new and altogether unknown powers.
And so, after settling himself in the room that had been gifted to him, and walking out most of his thoughts and restlessness, he'd finally decided to test out these so-called 'powers.'
"....such bullshit..." He gripes to himself as he sits down at a worn picnic table, looking rather out of place with his thick coat and long sleeves (though perhaps not as out of place as the less-human or the costumed), and sets down a small paper bag of apples he'd brought with him. Easy enough. So there Shinjiro is, sitting at a worn and splintered picnic table out away from the crowds on the beach, prodding at the fruit gingerly and watching it begin to shrivel from the point of contact, withering and receding, dark splotches showing from under the skin.
(ooc; feel free to request a different prompt, or give me your own instead! I'm hella flexible~)
Shinjiro Aragaki - Persona 3 [FES]
[The noise of sirens has his attention easily, and for once Shinjiro manages not to roll his eyes and assume it's directed at him. He also manages to look in the right direction for once, getting the hang of cars driving on the opposite side of the road. A quick backstep to make sure there's clearance and--]
Oh, Shit. [It's more a preliminary grimace, and Shinjiro goes ahead and closes an eye in a flinch from what's sure to be a grisly scene before him. because like hell he's able to do anything about those kids playing in the street. Maybe someone else can save them instead.]
[prompt--NO, I DO WHAT I WANT]
(this is assuming he'd be accepted with the idea for powers I have- that is, the ability to decay/rot/deteriorate items, and use that force to mend/heal/etc other things. To put it simply and not go into the details/restrictions, etc because test-drive.)
It was weird enough to show up here in the first place- When he'd been expecting the sheer finality and nothingness of death, and instead woke up with the lingering mental pain of the gunshot wound (fading away to reality quickly enough) and a sharp-dressed woman with a folder on him. Weirder still that they had information even the Kirijo Group had lacked-- and even stranger than that, the idea that he had some new and altogether unknown powers.
And so, after settling himself in the room that had been gifted to him, and walking out most of his thoughts and restlessness, he'd finally decided to test out these so-called 'powers.'
"....such bullshit..." He gripes to himself as he sits down at a worn picnic table, looking rather out of place with his thick coat and long sleeves (though perhaps not as out of place as the less-human or the costumed), and sets down a small paper bag of apples he'd brought with him. Easy enough. So there Shinjiro is, sitting at a worn and splintered picnic table out away from the crowds on the beach, prodding at the fruit gingerly and watching it begin to shrivel from the point of contact, withering and receding, dark splotches showing from under the skin.
(ooc; feel free to request a different prompt, or give me your own instead! I'm hella flexible~)