005 || {Action}

[contempsi]

[Hi, everyone. Remember that kid with a bit of a chip on his shoulder? The one who came through all that bereavement and strife to face his fears and confront his Fate head on and (insert ten-minute-long speech about coming up against the world and taking on Hell himself and... you know, stuff)?

The one who takes no nonsense (well, most of the time) and might secretly strive just a little to be just like the crotchety soldier woman who was just days ago ordering someone off their lawn?

Yeah, well, now he's sitting in the middle of the Plaza on his butt, SOBBING LOUDLY like a hysterical five-year-old and not caring who sees.

What do, citizens. What do.]


(ooc: Can apply to any day during the event if you wish. :] And uh. What trait of his have I amped up? Just his typical melodramatic tendencies. Nothing major. :') Haaave fuuuun.)

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[contempsi.livejournal.com]

[The crying momentarily subsides, little ragged breaths as Hope brings a fist up to scrub at his eyes—]

Son...? Son?

[—and then it's promptly slammed against the ground, a dramatic little wail escaping him.] No!

I... I am no one's son. Not anymore. l'Cie don't have parents! [And then he goes right back to sobbing, occasionally beating the ground before him with his fists.]

[poorneedyand.livejournal.com]

Oh--oh-- [She reaches out a tentative hand, as though trying to decide whether to try patting his shoulder. She meant "son" in a general sense! As opposed to kid! Oh, dear, the poor boy.

Eventually she decides to try the shoulder-patting thing.] I'm so sorry to hear that. Losing your mother and father at such a young age...