Sep. 11th, 2011

death_begins: (Run with the eyes of the devil)
Two years.

[A small pause- Yuca looks down at the PCD, fiddling with some of the buttons.]

It's something to look back on, I suppose.

[He's quiet, almost vulnerable. Yuca bites his lower lip and looks away. He doesn't care. He's never cared. People were just here for a short time before they died, and took all of their feelings with them. He doesn't speak for a long time- he's busy trying to do something with the PCD, his breath coming a little shaky.]

But, all this time, and I- I thought that, this place- these people, they might be different. But they're not, are they? [Quiet. He's not himself right now.] No. No, it's no different. People live, people go, and people lie.

[Yuca takes a deep breath.]

It'll never be any different.



[[ooc: Hubby is gone. ;w; YUCA HAS A SAD AND DOES NOT KNOW WHY. Also is minorly drunk. And sort-of evented. Way to go. :T]

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