[ chrono is pulled from the earth with the violent clawing of someone desperate for answers.
it'd probably look more dramatic to an onlooker (or helper, if you're the one uprooting him) if it weren't for the fact that the odd swirl of his hair pops out of the ground before the rest of him, a snapped root caught between the strands of it. like a tulip or something. but the rest of him does quickly follow, breathing hard, fury and distress etched on his face despite the grogginess of rebirth threatening to knock him out if he continued to burn his precious, fresh energy on anger.
but that vivid nightmare of destruction, the senses he'd been fed in the mid-consciousness - it felt like he was still missing a piece of himself, a hole formed by futility. the issue with being fresh off of saving the world is finding out it didn't matter one bit hits a little worse.
he punches the ground, hard enough that it dislodges a small avalanche of dirt back into the hole he'd just appeared from. ]
Damn it!
[ tears prick at his eyes, teeth grit in a snarl. but a moment passes, the tears do not fall, and instead he shoves his hands into his hair and sighs, deep and exhausted. ]
It shouldn't... be like this.
ii ; exploring
[ not one to sit idle, chrono is out and about exploring quickly, happy enough to try and blend in with the movement of other bearers and crowds of festival-goers. his bright red hair and soil-streaked varsity jacket made "blending in" a little difficult, though.
in meridian, chrono stands out against the scholarly backdrop of the tribune like a tall poppy. cyrus's speech earns a halfhearted clap from chrono, matching the general energy of the crowd. it resonates with him, fighting for what seems lost, but there's the sense of heavy burden hanging in the air that dampens the enthusiasm significantly. also, he's still pretty fresh out the ground, so a lot of it goes over his head.
he'll stay for the food, though, pickily sorting through options for meats and flavoursome marinated vegetables. ]
It's like... Meditteranean...?
[ later in highstorm, the darkness actually helps chrono feel calmer - for all of a moment, before yima's quick approach and overly-touchy impression have him stammering out an awkward, noncommittal acknowledgement.
he's not sure he likes her at all.
so he drifts over to the tomes, drawn in by the smell of what he thinks might be coffee. which, fruitlessly, he attempts to order. the barista however seems insistent on making chrono a specified drink. this might be because of the bright red, magatama-like shard chrono has embedded in the back of his right hand. ]
No, dude, I just- are you even listening? It's coffee, for cryin' out loud!
[ the drink the barista is constructing seems to be fruity, and layered. definitely not coffee. ]
iii ; communing
Hey, uh, I don't know if I'm supposed to tune this thing like a radio, or...?
[ yes he means the mental network, no he doesn't know how he would possibly do that. anyway ]
Well, whatever. Has anyone seen a dragon? Little guy, white and blue, on wheels? Or he might be like twenty feet tall but I'm pretty sure I'd have seen him in that case. His name's Dran.
[ if anyone he knew was likely to have to deal with apocalypse nonsense again, it was chronojet; or his little alternate self in dran. ]
iv ; wildcard
[ yeah!! do somethin else, im easy!!! pm me for specifics if you like or find me on plurk at yagyuu!! also anyone with spiritual/weird shit sensitivity will get a strange background distortion from chrono. it's hard to place, but he's essentially an imagination-based power conduit. dw about it. ]
shindou chrono | cardfight!! vanguard g | exalt
it'd probably look more dramatic to an onlooker (or helper, if you're the one uprooting him) if it weren't for the fact that the odd swirl of his hair pops out of the ground before the rest of him, a snapped root caught between the strands of it. like a tulip or something. but the rest of him does quickly follow, breathing hard, fury and distress etched on his face despite the grogginess of rebirth threatening to knock him out if he continued to burn his precious, fresh energy on anger.
but that vivid nightmare of destruction, the senses he'd been fed in the mid-consciousness - it felt like he was still missing a piece of himself, a hole formed by futility. the issue with being fresh off of saving the world is finding out it didn't matter one bit hits a little worse.
he punches the ground, hard enough that it dislodges a small avalanche of dirt back into the hole he'd just appeared from. ]
Damn it!
[ tears prick at his eyes, teeth grit in a snarl. but a moment passes, the tears do not fall, and instead he shoves his hands into his hair and sighs, deep and exhausted. ]
It shouldn't... be like this.
ii ; exploring
in meridian, chrono stands out against the scholarly backdrop of the tribune like a tall poppy. cyrus's speech earns a halfhearted clap from chrono, matching the general energy of the crowd. it resonates with him, fighting for what seems lost, but there's the sense of heavy burden hanging in the air that dampens the enthusiasm significantly. also, he's still pretty fresh out the ground, so a lot of it goes over his head.
he'll stay for the food, though, pickily sorting through options for meats and flavoursome marinated vegetables. ]
It's like... Meditteranean...?
[ later in highstorm, the darkness actually helps chrono feel calmer - for all of a moment, before yima's quick approach and overly-touchy impression have him stammering out an awkward, noncommittal acknowledgement.
he's not sure he likes her at all.
so he drifts over to the tomes, drawn in by the smell of what he thinks might be coffee. which, fruitlessly, he attempts to order. the barista however seems insistent on making chrono a specified drink. this might be because of the bright red, magatama-like shard chrono has embedded in the back of his right hand. ]
No, dude, I just- are you even listening? It's coffee, for cryin' out loud!
[ the drink the barista is constructing seems to be fruity, and layered. definitely not coffee. ]
iii ; communing
[ yes he means the mental network, no he doesn't know how he would possibly do that. anyway ]
Well, whatever. Has anyone seen a dragon? Little guy, white and blue, on wheels? Or he might be like twenty feet tall but I'm pretty sure I'd have seen him in that case. His name's Dran.
[ if anyone he knew was likely to have to deal with apocalypse nonsense again, it was chronojet; or his little alternate self in dran. ]
iv ; wildcard