[where is this gonna be set - jan pick a room, I just ask it's not in the hallway or anything. but mineo's just going to wave a hand when he sees white in greeting]
“…. Hm? This is….” The police station – your old familiar workplace. How long ago has it been now, since you used to walk past those doors everyday and report for work? And how much longer has it been since you could do so with pride? “…. Haha. I’ve always avoided this place, so how did I end up here…?”
A girl’s face flashes through your mind – along with her last words to you: W-Wait. What do you… Enomoto, listen to me…! But you didn’t give her a chance. You didn’t let her finish. You walked out of the apartment and that’s what led you here – alone, like always.
“Hoshino’s gonna give me an earful. Nothing good can come from working with her. …. The justice she wants to protect, huh…. Did I used to have that much passion?”
Your thoughts are interrupted with the sound of footsteps approaching quickly, and before you can hope to respond—
“Who’s there?!”
Blunt force to the back of your head before you can meet your assailant. Your ears ring. You hit the ground and everything’s dark.
. . .
When you wake up, all you can smell is blood. All you can taste is blood. All you can feel is the pain screeching from everywhere. Your arms and legs, bound. Distantly, there’s the understanding that you’re sitting, but you’ve been blindfolded and gagged. The cloth in your mouth holds nothing but the bitter taste of iron.
“Awake?”
A distant, garbled voice speaks. It’s hard to place it and yet there’s pain lacing the words when the person speaks again: “Why didn’t she go after you? Why has everyone abandoned you?”
The question is punctuated with a gunshot, followed by another and another, and you realize the next sound is your own muffled scream behind the gag as new pain blossoms in your chest as if to compete against the rest. The bullets tear past your skin and into your body, unforgiving. Will you bleed out first or will you be put out of your misery?
“Enomoto Mineo.” The voice speaks again, and this time it is not sympathetic. “Your rash and thoughtless behavior psychologically cornered someone you admired.”
A pit sinks in your stomach, and you realize that the last shot did not pierce your heart because the words were always meant to be what broke your spirit. Whether by surprise or something else you can’t name even now, you stop struggling.
You realize what this is. Judgment is coming.
“That man then wrongfully arrested people in a rush for glory, ruining the lives of many people.”
You hear the slide of metal – you know the gun has been reloaded. Even though you cannot see, you know it is pointed at you once again.
“For your inability to pursue the truth, and your cowardice that has stolen the light from others – you have been judged as evil. This is our justice.”
because he's going to suddenly drop that hand and back up immediately against the closest walled surface, eye wide and hand pressed against his chest as if to staunch the bleeding of the wound that isn't there. his other hand hovers over the holster of his gun, as if to draw.
it takes a long second for him to register the voice speaking to him as white's, and not some disembodied executor. he hears it and he lets his back rest against the wall a bit more even as he blinks a few times to try to get rid of any remaining, aching phantoms.]
... Wh-White?
[he drops the honorific just for now - just to get a sense of who's in front of him.
his fingers twitch as if to test them, as if he can still use them.]
slowly, he approaches, and then places his hands against mineo's arms. not tightly, but just enough to assure him he's there. they're here, not in the place where mineo—well.
...
after a few moments of that, he freezes up, before scrambling a step back with his own hands held awkwardly in the air. (which is to say, he realized this could be interpreted as a kind gesture, which maybe was the motivation, and now he's feeling embarrassed.)]
[ . . . . it's kind of an odd gesture, and it gets mineo to blink but - he feels it. the pressure, the grounding sense that he's not alone, and he's not with someone who's going to hurt him. it takes a few precarious breaths for him to calm down enough that he's not as tense, not as fearful.
and when white backs up - he just snorts briefly, a breath that surprises even him, before he reaches a hand out to let it circle around white's gently.
I eventually will be, probably. Sorry you had to - [ . . . did he feel it? he can't imagine what it must be like, to experience a torture that you never deserved or signed up for]
[torture's nothing new to white. but he, at least—there's an argument to be made that one crime begets another. that he'd already committed his sins by that point, so it was simply karma.
what did mineo deserve? because he was rash and thoughtless? what a load of bullshit.]
But I just think whichever sociopath is out there killing people for fun would probably have an easier time trying to steal the life of somebody who doesn't have a guaranteed future.
[whatever white was about to say, though, is cut off by another scene playing.
You are in the external world, on the corpse of a god. Not far from you is where the sealing ceremony has taken place, a pillar of star-like power soaring into the boundless sky. Within is Lord Lessa, and you can only hope that despite Luciel's words, his decision won't become his sacrifice. Around him are the unconscious bodies of the Apostles who carried out the ritual; they can do nothing now.
and that - more than anything else - gets a surprised, confused swell of emotion from mineo. there's so much here that he doesn't understand, that goes right over his head, but there are some things that are able to resonate. the idea that there's something that you want to protect. that you're tired of the only one not carrying your weight. that you want to finally prove you can do something, to help someone -
and both of his hands curl around white's wrists then instead of just one, as if to make sure that he's still there.]
.... I won't.
[he says that first, softly, he can promise that but - ]
[ . . . . . . . . he wanted to live. white might've made a choice but even at the end, he wanted to live. and mineo at least recognizes the wince, pulls his hand away from the arm that seems to be hurt but -
but.]
...... you have to win. Here, I mean. You have to.
[white has to get enough power to not lose there.]
... Then, I'm going to hold you to that. You better not lose your nerve along the way.
[the sentimental, stubborn part of white thinks, of course i'll win. he crawled his way through life to reach where he is, against all the odds.
the weaker, uncertain part of him wavers. because for all those years, he "survived", rather than lived. he'd desperately scavenged for a scrap of the normal, happy life he'd been denied since birth, and to the very end, he was never able to obtain it.]
[he blinks, caught off-guard by that statement. you've got people to go back to—it's not a sentiment he expected. the idea that anyone would be hoping for him to make it is...]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
week 2, monday [1/3]
Yo!
[and because we love whiplash - ]
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“…. Hm? This is….” The police station – your old familiar workplace. How long ago has it been now, since you used to walk past those doors everyday and report for work? And how much longer has it been since you could do so with pride? “…. Haha. I’ve always avoided this place, so how did I end up here…?”
A girl’s face flashes through your mind – along with her last words to you: W-Wait. What do you… Enomoto, listen to me…! But you didn’t give her a chance. You didn’t let her finish. You walked out of the apartment and that’s what led you here – alone, like always.
“Hoshino’s gonna give me an earful. Nothing good can come from working with her. …. The justice she wants to protect, huh…. Did I used to have that much passion?”
Your thoughts are interrupted with the sound of footsteps approaching quickly, and before you can hope to respond—
“Who’s there?!”
Blunt force to the back of your head before you can meet your assailant. Your ears ring. You hit the ground and everything’s dark.
When you wake up, all you can smell is blood. All you can taste is blood. All you can feel is the pain screeching from everywhere. Your arms and legs, bound. Distantly, there’s the understanding that you’re sitting, but you’ve been blindfolded and gagged. The cloth in your mouth holds nothing but the bitter taste of iron.
“Awake?”
A distant, garbled voice speaks. It’s hard to place it and yet there’s pain lacing the words when the person speaks again: “Why didn’t she go after you? Why has everyone abandoned you?”
The question is punctuated with a gunshot, followed by another and another, and you realize the next sound is your own muffled scream behind the gag as new pain blossoms in your chest as if to compete against the rest. The bullets tear past your skin and into your body, unforgiving. Will you bleed out first or will you be put out of your misery?
“Enomoto Mineo.” The voice speaks again, and this time it is not sympathetic. “Your rash and thoughtless behavior psychologically cornered someone you admired.”
A pit sinks in your stomach, and you realize that the last shot did not pierce your heart because the words were always meant to be what broke your spirit. Whether by surprise or something else you can’t name even now, you stop struggling.
You realize what this is. Judgment is coming.
“That man then wrongfully arrested people in a rush for glory, ruining the lives of many people.”
You hear the slide of metal – you know the gun has been reloaded. Even though you cannot see, you know it is pointed at you once again.
“For your inability to pursue the truth, and your cowardice that has stolen the light from others – you have been judged as evil. This is our justice.”
Bang!
Everything goes black. ]
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you'll have to excuse him.
because he's going to suddenly drop that hand and back up immediately against the closest walled surface, eye wide and hand pressed against his chest as if to staunch the bleeding of the wound that isn't there. his other hand hovers over the holster of his gun, as if to draw.
oh - it seems like he's suddenly a bit scared.]
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white freezes, trying to grasp what it is he saw. was that—what the fuck?
though any thoughts he might have flee at mineo's reaction. slowly, he holds up his hands, ignoring the burning sensation in one of his arms.]
Hey... hey. It's me.
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it takes a long second for him to register the voice speaking to him as white's, and not some disembodied executor. he hears it and he lets his back rest against the wall a bit more even as he blinks a few times to try to get rid of any remaining, aching phantoms.]
... Wh-White?
[he drops the honorific just for now - just to get a sense of who's in front of him.
his fingers twitch as if to test them, as if he can still use them.]
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Are you going to shoot me if I touch you? 'Cause, you know, I'd rather not get shot when I can't transform.
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and immediately he holds his hands up on either side of his head, freezing automatically.]
No, I -
.... I don't want to hurt anybody.
[he doesn't want his fear to be the cause of more pain]
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slowly, he approaches, and then places his hands against mineo's arms. not tightly, but just enough to assure him he's there. they're here, not in the place where mineo—well.
...
after a few moments of that, he freezes up, before scrambling a step back with his own hands held awkwardly in the air. (which is to say, he realized this could be interpreted as a kind gesture, which maybe was the motivation, and now he's feeling embarrassed.)]
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and when white backs up - he just snorts briefly, a breath that surprises even him, before he reaches a hand out to let it circle around white's gently.
to hold onto him, too.]
.... I don't bite or anything.
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[...
he has absolutely no idea how to broach what he saw, or if he even should.]
... You okay?
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No.
[ . . . . but he shrugs.]
I eventually will be, probably. Sorry you had to - [ . . . did he feel it? he can't imagine what it must be like, to experience a torture that you never deserved or signed up for]
... deal with any of that.
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what did mineo deserve? because he was rash and thoughtless? what a load of bullshit.]
... Don't apologize. Idiot.
It's not your fault.
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seems to struggle with that. even reliving that memory fresh, hearing the judgment upon his soul, he frowns.]
.... maybe not.
[maybe.... yes.]
.... can you -
Not tell anybody about that too?
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.... I don't know.
But I just think whichever sociopath is out there killing people for fun would probably have an easier time trying to steal the life of somebody who doesn't have a guaranteed future.
So I felt like I had to say it.
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[whatever white was about to say, though, is cut off by another scene playing.
You are in the external world, on the corpse of a god. Not far from you is where the sealing ceremony has taken place, a pillar of star-like power soaring into the boundless sky. Within is Lord Lessa, and you can only hope that despite Luciel's words, his decision won't become his sacrifice. Around him are the unconscious bodies of the Apostles who carried out the ritual; they can do nothing now.
It's just you and Mienna, the sole two humans present, against a caged Luciel—and that's where everything goes wrong.
...
various thoughts fly through white's head, the first and foremost of which is, talk about fucking shitty timing, but in the end, he settles for:]
... Well, same goes for you, then.
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oh.
and that - more than anything else - gets a surprised, confused swell of emotion from mineo. there's so much here that he doesn't understand, that goes right over his head, but there are some things that are able to resonate. the idea that there's something that you want to protect. that you're tired of the only one not carrying your weight. that you want to finally prove you can do something, to help someone -
and both of his hands curl around white's wrists then instead of just one, as if to make sure that he's still there.]
.... I won't.
[he says that first, softly, he can promise that but - ]
.... are you okay?
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... I'm fine. I knew what I was getting into.
[his death was a long time coming, at least—and, especially next to mineo, he's aware that it was about as good as someone like him could hope for.
even if, ultimately, he wanted to live.]
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but.]
...... you have to win. Here, I mean. You have to.
[white has to get enough power to not lose there.]
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Dumbass. I should be saying that to you.
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[he shrugs]
We can both win, you know. So that means that we're going to.
[he's not sure he'd be able to accept otherwise]
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[the sentimental, stubborn part of white thinks, of course i'll win. he crawled his way through life to reach where he is, against all the odds.
the weaker, uncertain part of him wavers. because for all those years, he "survived", rather than lived. he'd desperately scavenged for a scrap of the normal, happy life he'd been denied since birth, and to the very end, he was never able to obtain it.]
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... No. Not this time. I'll see it through. I have to go home.
[and he won't shy away from that]
You've got people to go back to, too.
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... I guess, yeah.
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[he couldn't quite grasp all of it but... he thinks that he got the important parts maybe]
They'd probably miss you like crazy if - [a beat] Well, they won't have to. Still, it's important to avoid that.
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