[Shinjiro doesn't hear him. Didn't even know he had screamed or made any sound at all to alert Archer of what had occurred.
He isn't really here, right now. It's October 4th, 2007, and Shinjiro is in Japan. A twisted nightmare version of a nightmare and the sky isn't green but it is surely the Dark Hour, and his Persona has gone out of control. There is a woman that lies crushed and broken and mangled in her own house, and her blood runs crimson rivers through the empty streets, except there is so many of her, and she smiles. She smiles emptily and blankly, as though she is not afraid of the monster that just went on a rampage and ended her life. As if her son wasn't a mere few feet away, safe only by happenstance.
In Santa Rosita, Shinjiro is surprisingly clean, for someone who would have killed a bunch of people. There is no blood or dirt anywhere on his person, nor any visible weapon. Just him in a plain white shirt and a greaser jacket the town provided, shaking uncontrollably on his front stoop, and--crying? He's definitely crying. He's dropped to his knees by now, just sobbing miserably, head clutched in his hands like he's in pain.
Might be worth investigating? Or just yelling some more.]
no subject
He isn't really here, right now. It's October 4th, 2007, and Shinjiro is in Japan. A twisted nightmare version of a nightmare and the sky isn't green but it is surely the Dark Hour, and his Persona has gone out of control. There is a woman that lies crushed and broken and mangled in her own house, and her blood runs crimson rivers through the empty streets, except there is so many of her, and she smiles. She smiles emptily and blankly, as though she is not afraid of the monster that just went on a rampage and ended her life. As if her son wasn't a mere few feet away, safe only by happenstance.
In Santa Rosita, Shinjiro is surprisingly clean, for someone who would have killed a bunch of people. There is no blood or dirt anywhere on his person, nor any visible weapon. Just him in a plain white shirt and a greaser jacket the town provided, shaking uncontrollably on his front stoop, and--crying? He's definitely crying. He's dropped to his knees by now, just sobbing miserably, head clutched in his hands like he's in pain.
Might be worth investigating? Or just yelling some more.]