[ Jion's very friendly, so please feel free to assume previous CR with anyone! Or shoot me a ping me through PMs or at databomb if you'd like to work something out, I'd love to chat! ]
i.
Oh, come on! [ It's not far from the well that Jion can be found crouched down low, arguing with a particularly prickly petunia. ] I mean, you're not wrong in calling me a meatbag, technically speaking, but that's still mean -- and like, you're a flower, aren't you supposed to be nice?
[ He's still damp from the well water, too. In fact, there's a faint path of half-dried drips and drops marking the path where he's stumbled here from the well and then gotten distracted by a mean, monochrome cluster of flowers. Which says something about his present mindset. The flower's busily calling him a nasty, smelly, worthless waste of oxygen, and Jion buries his head in his hands, giving a loud sigh. He mostly mumbles the next bit to himself, but it's still pretty audible. ]
I can't believe I gotta get yelled at even in my dreams ... and by flowers, flowers are always nice in movies, I feel so betrayed ...
ii. ( this prompt might delve into some gross medical talk! )
-- hey! [ Thump thump thump go panicked footsteps, followed by the arrhythmic stumble of booted feet against the uneven pavement, and a low scuffle as Jion quickly recovers, then runs up to the closest person. It's followed by a grab at an arm or a shoulder, anything he can grab and give a small panicked shake. ] Hey -- sorry to grab you, but -- d'you know how to get this stuff off?
[ He's dressed in what looks to be extremely fancy military ceremonial garb, complete with a feathered cap and a long, velvet mantle adorned with golden medallions and emblems. He looks ridiculous, in other words.
But Jion looks like he's worried about more than just the clothes as he clutches at the front of his ceremonial jacket, brow furrowed uneasily and breaths coming a little rough. ] These buttons won't come undone no matter what I do, and I really gotta get it off ...
iii.
[ It's not often that he spaces out this hard, but Jion's thoughts are millions of miles away as he picks petals off a flower, one at a time. Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not ...
And the instant that last petal falls off, he strides over to the nearest person and stands right before them. ] S-sorry! [ It comes out a little loud from nerves, and his face is red. He takes a deep breath, like he's about to give a speech, then drops to one knee. It's very television, very right-from-a-Lifetime-movie when he places one hand to his chest, the other reaching out dramatically (still holding that petal-less flower) towards his poor victim (?) as he declares: ]
-- but -- I need to say it! I love you!
[ At least he's incredibly straightforward about this. ]
jion haru | oc
i.
Oh, come on! [ It's not far from the well that Jion can be found crouched down low, arguing with a particularly prickly petunia. ] I mean, you're not wrong in calling me a meatbag, technically speaking, but that's still mean -- and like, you're a flower, aren't you supposed to be nice?
[ He's still damp from the well water, too. In fact, there's a faint path of half-dried drips and drops marking the path where he's stumbled here from the well and then gotten distracted by a mean, monochrome cluster of flowers. Which says something about his present mindset. The flower's busily calling him a nasty, smelly, worthless waste of oxygen, and Jion buries his head in his hands, giving a loud sigh. He mostly mumbles the next bit to himself, but it's still pretty audible. ]
I can't believe I gotta get yelled at even in my dreams ... and by flowers, flowers are always nice in movies, I feel so betrayed ...
ii. ( this prompt might delve into some gross medical talk! )
-- hey! [ Thump thump thump go panicked footsteps, followed by the arrhythmic stumble of booted feet against the uneven pavement, and a low scuffle as Jion quickly recovers, then runs up to the closest person. It's followed by a grab at an arm or a shoulder, anything he can grab and give a small panicked shake. ] Hey -- sorry to grab you, but -- d'you know how to get this stuff off?
[ He's dressed in what looks to be extremely fancy military ceremonial garb, complete with a feathered cap and a long, velvet mantle adorned with golden medallions and emblems. He looks ridiculous, in other words.
But Jion looks like he's worried about more than just the clothes as he clutches at the front of his ceremonial jacket, brow furrowed uneasily and breaths coming a little rough. ] These buttons won't come undone no matter what I do, and I really gotta get it off ...
iii.
[ It's not often that he spaces out this hard, but Jion's thoughts are millions of miles away as he picks petals off a flower, one at a time. Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not ...
And the instant that last petal falls off, he strides over to the nearest person and stands right before them. ] S-sorry! [ It comes out a little loud from nerves, and his face is red. He takes a deep breath, like he's about to give a speech, then drops to one knee. It's very television, very right-from-a-Lifetime-movie when he places one hand to his chest, the other reaching out dramatically (still holding that petal-less flower) towards his poor victim (?) as he declares: ]
-- but -- I need to say it! I love you!
[ At least he's incredibly straightforward about this. ]