tabularasa_rp | open | everybody knows that the captain lied

[The second Akechi had started hacking up petals, he'd all but locked himself in his Kichijoji apartment. Knowing a little about common tropes was a self-imposed necessity from his time in the celebrity limelight, and while he can't be certain this is the exact "hanahaki" girls his age seemed to love the idea of, he doesn't want anything to do with it. For one thing, it's absolutely absurd. He's already acknowledged his feelings for Ren, privately to the other boy if not publicly, so what the fuck does the Void think it's doing now?

There are very few people he would allow himself to leave the apartment for. Damien is, unfortunately, one of them. If Akechi would lend the older man a gun in the Metaverse, it perhaps isn't surprising that he'd drag himself out of his apartment and make his way to Hammerlocke. Even in his winter coat, he's shivering, gloved hands tucked under opposite arms as he swallows another cough and tastes blood.]

Damien-san?

[Slogging through the snow in loafers is a miserable task, but he manages it, reaching the other man's side and crouching down to his level, brow furrowed with concern he can't quite muster the composure to hide.]

I heard your message. What are you doing up here?

[at current, he's sitting in a puddle where his body heat has started to melt the snow around him, toying with a full bloom, twirling it between bloodied fingers. he looks up when Akechi crouches down next to him, though, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. tired]

Dying, apparently. [a beat] So much for my avoiding fate.

[has it come up that he dies, thinks he dies, back home? he can't remember. sorry if that's news]

[People like us aren't fated for happy endings, Akechi had told him once. Honestly, he still believes it. As "well" as things have been going for him as of late, here and in the real world, he doubts he's fully escaped the sword of Damocles hanging above his head.]

You and I both know this place won't do us the courtesy of letting us die.

[Akechi extends a gloved hand, but just as quickly has to retract it to cough into his sleeve. The fabric comes away spotted with blood. He snorts with annoyance, than immediately regrets it as a petal threatens to come up the back of his throat and into his sinuses. Fucking hell.

He continues, voice hoarser from the effort of speaking past the mass of flowers he can feel blocking his windpipe,]

Are you familiar with the Japanese trope "hanahaki?"

You never know.

[it let Akechi die in Mementos. maybe it's learned, since then. either way, though, Damien starts to reach for Akechi's hand as he holds it out, not sure he'll be able to stand, at this point, without help -- and then snaps his fingers back when Akechi starts to cough. oh, not him, too]

[he offers him a tired, sympathetic look, before shaking his head]

No. [a beat] But I imagine this has relevance to the fucking flower shop I'm trying to open here.

Not permanently, [he amends his statement, the corner of his lip curving up in the ghost of a smile. He simply can't fathom this place letting him rest, after all the inane horrors its visited upon him.] We couldn't be so lucky.

[He doesn't often talk about the blank hellscape he was trapped in while Loki possessed his body; it's difficult to put into words, even now. He hadn't expected to experience anything after death, and he certainly hadn't been expecting to wake up again after it all was over. If he's being honest, though, he'd prefer the pain of hacking up these godforsaken flowers to the unstimulating blank nothingness.]

It's popular in fiction targeted toward young women, [he continues, dropping to one knee beside Damien to address him as an equal, rather than speaking down to him. His voice aches, hoarse and scratchy from the thorns he'd been swallowing.] It was... beneficial, to know the basics of common tropes, especially whilst dealing with the collective human unconscious. Not to mention the general public.

In essence, it has to do with the growth of flowers from... unresolved or unrequited feelings. A rather morbid trope, no? I believe it's common for most afflicted to be killed in a bittersweet gesture in these kinds of stories.

[he hums, seeing that advantage, yes, and then, when Akechi explains, exhales a breath of a laugh. it's a weak sound, a tired one, but it's all he has, right now. it also seemed less likely to end in a coughing fit, and it didn't. yay, him]

Well, that's horrific. [a beat] It also tracks with some of the things I'd been hearing otherwise. [now, at least, he has a name for it -- and an idea, maybe, of where the Void pulled the idea from. thanks, Japan]

From what I understand, though, there's hope for fixing all of this.

Perhaps. I've had many people argue with me that this place doesn't intend to hurt us, after all, in spite of the evidence to the contrary. At best, it seems I'm supposed to believe that whomever or whatever is afflicting us with these ailments is simply apathetic, and not sadistic.

[A beat, then he pushes himself back to his feet and once again offers a hand to help Damien to his feet, if he'll take it. It takes all his willpower not to cough or choke, but he refuses to permit Damien to die here, alone, in the cold at the top of a mountain.]

Forgive me for being forward, but I don't think this place suits you. People like you and I simply aren't suited to being alone in the wilderness.

I'm more and more convinced that it's -- stupid, rather than actively hostile. Like a toddler. [he reaches, then, to take Akechi's hand, to try and get back to his feet. he'll try and help, as best he can, but between his leg and how worn down he is, he's not sure how well he'll manage] It's figured out that it can hit someone, but doesn't realize that it hurts. It's figured out that people get sick, sometimes, physically or otherwise, but doesn't realize that it doesn't involve coughing up fucking flowers.

[like it doesn't understand that electricity isn't tied to the weather. like it doesn't understand that fire should burn]

[either way, though, he shrugs, admits:] The city boy in me wanted to use the payphone. [if he was going to use the ley line to reach out and touch someone -- well, there's one in the phone. that was more familiar to him than anything else, even if that meant dragging his ass up here] But I'm all for finding somewhere else to be.

You may be right. Even still, I can't forgive it toying with our lives so easily.

[He takes Damien's hand, grunting a little with the effort of hauling him upright and slipping an arm around his waist to help support him on the path down the mountain. He doesn't have the strength to carry him right now -- even this is making him dizzy with the exertion -- but it's better than leaving him up here.]

I think there are ley lines in less hostile places. Magical communication is as foreign to me as it is to you, but function over form, as they say.

[He hesitates. It's a difficult thing to even propose, but,] You... may wish to confide in someone, if you can. I've no idea if it will do any good, but...

[he tries not to lean into Akechi too much, recognizing that he's not much better off than he is, but -- but at the same time, he's so damn tired, and the physical contact is nice. it's been since just after Melinoë disappeared, just after Ren confronted him about trying to build a bomb in his anger, that anyone's bothered to touch him]

[either way, after a beat and wryly, he admits:] If it makes you feel any better, I don't exactly remember coming up here. [he remembers why he wanted to, the cold, the phone, but the logistics are a little fuzzy. next time, he probably won't bother coming all the way up here, because yes, form and function and all that, but he's just the wrong side of feverish, at the moment, to be entirely rational]

[and speaking of] You're here, though. [he could talk to Akechi. he has a few things he wants to say to him, actually]

open | everybody knows that the captain lied

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject