Aug. 12th, 2015

closed

Aug. 12th, 2015 01:10 am
tentaculled: (Default)
[personal profile] tentaculled
[ Sometimes, in between teaching a classroom full of rowdy (but dear) children, creating study guides, grading papers, dodging assassination attempts, and travelling the world in quick half-hour sessions, Korosensei does find time to sleep. He's not sure he needs to sleep anymore, in all honesty, but he does, even though it feels like he should be filling every minute of every hour with things, the way they're slipping through his fingers.

Or his tentacles, rather.

Sometimes, he dreams about things from the present: nonsensical dreams about his students, or food, or people and places he's seen around the Earth - the icy plains of the arctic, flower-filled fields in South Africa, busy market streets in China. Other times, he'll have dreams about the past, when he was the God of Death, about blood on his hands, black clouds and gunfire, and the sterile fluorescent lights in a single-room white chamber. Those are unpleasant.

And sometimes, if he's really unlucky, he'll have dreams about her.


It's a normal enough day in the old school building - a hot, late summer day after school, when he's finished tutoring and is cheerfully slithering down the hall towards the teacher's lounge, humming out-of-tune to himself. He opens the door. He freezes. ]


-- Nu...

[ And she's sitting there like nothing ever happened. ]

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