He'd long ago accepted that he was going prematurely mad. [Short, odd, and Ryou-centric.]
I am going to find someone to whom I can whine about there being no "General" category, which this should be in. -.-
Constructive criticism is very welcome.
"By the gods!--" spluttered the Voice, and then It let loose a string of foreign words, the meanings of which Ryou was sure he was better off not knowing.
"Oh, be reasonable. I'm sure it can be fixed. I'll take it to the jeweller's first thing in the morning, and they'll reattach the spike."
The Voice paid no attention. It was huddled, inconsolable, in a corner of his mind. "What have you done?" It moaned, and Ryou could feel Its horror reverberating through his skull. "I live there; imagine how you'd feel if your home was demolished?"
"Stop whining! It's not exactly /demolished/." The Ring had slipped off the table by his bed, and its chain had gotten caught in the spikes. In the process of untangling it, one spike had snapped off.
"You should have put it in the drawer, not left it on the bloody /nightstand/!"
Ryou raised an eyebrow. "The last time I put it in the drawer, it kept me up half the night with its banging around. You'd think it missed me."
"Well, I was cold that night. It was the middle of winter," explained the Voice.
"So childish," Ryou admonished. "I should think you'd be used to the climate by now."
"If I'm childish, it's because I didn't ever get to grow up," It said, sounding none too happy about Its whole situation. "I hate living in your head. You're so-- what's the word? /Antiquated/, yeah. I never became an adult, and you became an old man too fast. What a pair we are."
What a pair indeed, he thinks. Not quite friends, nor enemies, nor lovers. They're in-betweens, perhaps best defined as an old man and his senility.