[ Gyro has had enough time to start getting acclimated to the idea of being here, which is to say that he's about halfway through his stages of grief about not actually being dead. Or anywhere near the not-entirely-short list of people who will either be in danger without him around anymore, or just pissed that he's up and left without even having the decency to be normal-dead. He's had just enough time since arriving to have something akin to a poker face back in place.
Whenever his roommate arrives, Gyro's sprawled across his bed on his half of the room, a small bag of stuff laying on the floor at the foot of it. He looks very much like he's probably sulking, although his expression goes further neutral when someone enters.
He gives only the barest of greetings ('hey') and then ignores any attempt at conversation in favor of short, quick replies...for maybe another half hour. At which point he seems to snap out of whatever his funk was, and reach over for that bag at the end of his bed. ]
You know that bar in the carriages? [ His grin is a bit too bright. Yes, those are customized grills. No, he's not aware that they're both trashy and a perceived anachronism, considering he's come from the year 1890. He chuckles and reaches a hand into the bag, producing...many nip bottles. ] They had a lot of these!
Want a few? [ This is both a coping mechanism and a potentially-obvious ploy to gain enough trust to ask questions. Answer wisely, oh roommate. ]
mirror, mirror: pure of heart.
Leap of faith, huh? [ Gyro's taking this sign at face value: nothing else here has followed riddles or trickery, so...
He frowns over at the bridge, brows pinched. He's seen one other person wander across, so far. It's just that...
How heavy is his soul, huh? He considers his familiar, who abandoned him in the cave but returned on the way to this town and the bridge to its north. She's a small enough horse - pony-sized, really, and that's sort of an enormous fucking shame if he's honest - but she's also very clearly winged. ] I'm guessing you can't fly me over to the other side, huh?
[ She snorts and stares at him.] Didn't think so.
[ Anyone coming close to the bridge now, or who has already passed it, will get the chance to see Gyro...approaching it at a full-tilt run and then taking a flying leap. That's what it said, right? He feels nothing under his feet for half a heartbeat too long and thinks he was right to doubt the weight of his own sins, and then...invisible support is under his boots. Gyro lands in a crouch and nearly slips right off the edge of the sudden makeshift bridge, eyes wide and no smarmy comeback ready yet. ]
...Didn't think that would work.
quest: shadlin showdown.
[ Gyro's still on the fence about how much he believes that they 'can't' send him back, as opposed to just not wanting to, but when he stared at that virtual billboard (app?) he found he couldn't resist the call to help for long. Why sit around in his little room and sulk if someone's getting hurt, or might eventually be, out here?
The Edge of Dusklight Woods is, well...spooky as hell. Gyro misses his steel balls from back home - he even arrived with them, but he can't ever get the spin right, no matter how certain he is he's thrown it correctly... He's slowly starting to believe the assurances that his own powers from back home won't work here. ]
It's not even a power, [ he grumbles to himself, carrying one in his hand as he walks the perimeter of the woods. ] It's a technique. [ Sure it is, Gyro.
As night seeps more deeply into the landscape, Gyro startles when he hears something - another person, also trying to suss out the woods, but he mistakes it for yet another one of those endless pairs of haunting eyes at the edge of the deeper woods. ]
Hey, you! Stop right there! [ His voice is pretty commanding and confident, for someone who's barely managed to learn to use his new alchemic magic to turn quartz into regular stone. He's aiming what he's holding - literally just a small, green steel ball - at the other. He seems very much convinced that this is a good weapon of choice. ] Who's there? Don't try anything funny!
don't see an option you like? feel free to pm to plot, or i can have gyro tag into your character's tl. also feel free to wildcard any of the above scenarios a bit.
gyro zeppeli | jojo's bizarre adventure (spoilers for steel ball run in 'arrival' prompt)
[ Gyro has had enough time to start getting acclimated to the idea of being here, which is to say that he's about halfway through his stages of grief about not actually being dead. Or anywhere near the not-entirely-short list of people who will either be in danger without him around anymore, or just pissed that he's up and left without even having the decency to be normal-dead. He's had just enough time since arriving to have something akin to a poker face back in place.
Whenever his roommate arrives, Gyro's sprawled across his bed on his half of the room, a small bag of stuff laying on the floor at the foot of it. He looks very much like he's probably sulking, although his expression goes further neutral when someone enters.
He gives only the barest of greetings ('hey') and then ignores any attempt at conversation in favor of short, quick replies...for maybe another half hour. At which point he seems to snap out of whatever his funk was, and reach over for that bag at the end of his bed. ]
You know that bar in the carriages? [ His grin is a bit too bright. Yes, those are customized grills. No, he's not aware that they're both trashy and a perceived anachronism, considering he's come from the year 1890. He chuckles and reaches a hand into the bag, producing...many nip bottles. ] They had a lot of these!
Want a few? [ This is both a coping mechanism and a potentially-obvious ploy to gain enough trust to ask questions. Answer wisely, oh roommate. ]
Leap of faith, huh? [ Gyro's taking this sign at face value: nothing else here has followed riddles or trickery, so...
He frowns over at the bridge, brows pinched. He's seen one other person wander across, so far. It's just that...
How heavy is his soul, huh? He considers his familiar, who abandoned him in the cave but returned on the way to this town and the bridge to its north. She's a small enough horse - pony-sized, really, and that's sort of an enormous fucking shame if he's honest - but she's also very clearly winged. ] I'm guessing you can't fly me over to the other side, huh?
[ She snorts and stares at him.] Didn't think so.
[ Anyone coming close to the bridge now, or who has already passed it, will get the chance to see Gyro...approaching it at a full-tilt run and then taking a flying leap. That's what it said, right? He feels nothing under his feet for half a heartbeat too long and thinks he was right to doubt the weight of his own sins, and then...invisible support is under his boots. Gyro lands in a crouch and nearly slips right off the edge of the sudden makeshift bridge, eyes wide and no smarmy comeback ready yet. ]
...Didn't think that would work.
[ Gyro's still on the fence about how much he believes that they 'can't' send him back, as opposed to just not wanting to, but when he stared at that virtual billboard (app?) he found he couldn't resist the call to help for long. Why sit around in his little room and sulk if someone's getting hurt, or might eventually be, out here?
The Edge of Dusklight Woods is, well...spooky as hell. Gyro misses his steel balls from back home - he even arrived with them, but he can't ever get the spin right, no matter how certain he is he's thrown it correctly... He's slowly starting to believe the assurances that his own powers from back home won't work here. ]
It's not even a power, [ he grumbles to himself, carrying one in his hand as he walks the perimeter of the woods. ] It's a technique. [ Sure it is, Gyro.
As night seeps more deeply into the landscape, Gyro startles when he hears something - another person, also trying to suss out the woods, but he mistakes it for yet another one of those endless pairs of haunting eyes at the edge of the deeper woods. ]
Hey, you! Stop right there! [ His voice is pretty commanding and confident, for someone who's barely managed to learn to use his new alchemic magic to turn quartz into regular stone. He's aiming what he's holding - literally just a small, green steel ball - at the other. He seems very much convinced that this is a good weapon of choice. ] Who's there? Don't try anything funny!