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( mini-plot post: open to all )
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jawdacity & all of cerealia!
When: towards the end of the event (so this won't conflict with any event threads you may already have going). 2-3pm.
Where: Abandoned village + surrounding jungle
What: THERE ARE EXPLOSIONS. And mushrooms.
Rating/Warning: Possible NSFW for gore?
Details about this mini-plot HERE
(theme song of this post, courtesy ofmoribound.)
[ it's another muggy, meandering day in the jungle; nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. ]
IN THE VILLAGE
[ if your character is near the center of the village, they'll bear witness to the curious sight of a herd of shuffling mushroom beasts. in terms of threat level, to the experienced hunter they may have ranked low on the scale: slow, lacking an external fang or claw, they seem to be interested only in their endless march forward.
but, if your character is close enough, they may catch sight of a red-haired young man, a manifesto of anger written across his face. one breathless moment, the calm before the storm, and then he hurls a metallic pair of gloves at the closest beast, the gloves trailing arcs of flame.
what may strike your character first is the searing heat, the thrum of the earth below their feet. the whole village is demolished in a moment, the dying cries of the beasts rising above the din. the explosion lasts much longer than it should, the line of mushrooms going up one after another.
if you're too close, you might be torn in two. you might lose a limb, or two, or three. you might go deaf, you might lose your sight. you might lose all your eyelashes, your clothes. maybe the bag of mushrooms you'd collected for dinner is now little more than ash.
keep running. the smoke trails into the air. someone is screaming. the smell of charred meat follows you even after you disappear into the jungle. ]
IN THE SURROUNDING JUNGLE
[ if your character is close enough to the village, they'll feel the blasts, one after the other. the jungle is on fire, quickly spreading. maybe you'll hear the screaming, too; maybe your lungs will fill with smoke. maybe you'll run into one of the last mushroom beasts, fleeing from the explosion only to trigger a lesser one in the depths of the jungle.
it came from the village, didn't it? maybe someone you love was swept up in the explosion.
if you manage to escape the stampede of terrified jungle beasts (some of which may stop to crunch you up as a quick meal as they dash away from the blast), maybe you can venture closer to see what's happened.
or maybe you should get as far away as possible. ]
jawdacity & all of cerealia! When: towards the end of the event (so this won't conflict with any event threads you may already have going). 2-3pm.
Where: Abandoned village + surrounding jungle
What: THERE ARE EXPLOSIONS. And mushrooms.
Rating/Warning: Possible NSFW for gore?
Details about this mini-plot HERE
(theme song of this post, courtesy of
moribound.)[ it's another muggy, meandering day in the jungle; nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. ]
IN THE VILLAGE
[ if your character is near the center of the village, they'll bear witness to the curious sight of a herd of shuffling mushroom beasts. in terms of threat level, to the experienced hunter they may have ranked low on the scale: slow, lacking an external fang or claw, they seem to be interested only in their endless march forward.
but, if your character is close enough, they may catch sight of a red-haired young man, a manifesto of anger written across his face. one breathless moment, the calm before the storm, and then he hurls a metallic pair of gloves at the closest beast, the gloves trailing arcs of flame.
what may strike your character first is the searing heat, the thrum of the earth below their feet. the whole village is demolished in a moment, the dying cries of the beasts rising above the din. the explosion lasts much longer than it should, the line of mushrooms going up one after another.
if you're too close, you might be torn in two. you might lose a limb, or two, or three. you might go deaf, you might lose your sight. you might lose all your eyelashes, your clothes. maybe the bag of mushrooms you'd collected for dinner is now little more than ash.
keep running. the smoke trails into the air. someone is screaming. the smell of charred meat follows you even after you disappear into the jungle. ]
IN THE SURROUNDING JUNGLE
[ if your character is close enough to the village, they'll feel the blasts, one after the other. the jungle is on fire, quickly spreading. maybe you'll hear the screaming, too; maybe your lungs will fill with smoke. maybe you'll run into one of the last mushroom beasts, fleeing from the explosion only to trigger a lesser one in the depths of the jungle.
it came from the village, didn't it? maybe someone you love was swept up in the explosion.
if you manage to escape the stampede of terrified jungle beasts (some of which may stop to crunch you up as a quick meal as they dash away from the blast), maybe you can venture closer to see what's happened.
or maybe you should get as far away as possible. ]
no subject
brave and kind. like all the past few hours can be smoothed away in a brush of gentle words. no, maybe it hadn't been his fault. anyone else could have made the same mistake. but then it would have been someone else in his place, thinking about how easily a man could be charred to meat, humanity reduced to something too pedestrian to quantify. an inchworm and a human being are the same thing when they're dead --
--dead. just dead. ]
Have you met Makoto? Tachibana Makoto.
[ because she reminds rin of him. the gentleness, of course, but more than that: her composure, the steel underlying. maybe he'd misjudged her. delicate at first glance, certainly, but it takes more than a delicate heart to sit here and pass judgment that isn't judgment.
brave and kind, he thinks again, and it's not amusement that has him biting his lip. ]
You remind me of him.
[ but maybe he had wanted her to forgive him - this stranger, a stranger who would gain nothing by hearing him out. there are tears gathering in his lashes, but he blinks them away, feeling young and stupid and grateful. ]
no subject
Makoto Tachibana though. Vietnam's eyes widen briefly; of course she knew Makoto. In his own way, he is strong, he's managed to pull her out of darkness by just offering his support. Someone who is truly kind. A lot kinder than her, she is sure. Her judgment here is only because of experience.
She wonders though, if this stranger here knew Makoto, could he be one of the friends that was so often spoken about? Makoto wanted her to meet his friends from home. Rin? Haru? Was he one of them? What would Makoto think if found him now? It doesn't matter. It's just her and him sitting here right now.]
I know Makoto. He's helped me out a lot as well. I am sure that Makoto is kinder than I am, with a strong heart. But if my own honesty reminds you of him, then I am honoured.
[She cracks a tiny smile for the first time. He's cracking, and he looks much younger than he did when she came over and sat down next to him. So she slides over a little closer, and holds her free hand out. She's no good at hugs, and even if she offered him a good, manly hug, his injured arm would probably hate them.
But also she closes the distance just so she can quietly whisper--]
You don't have to hold it all in. It's just you and me here right now.
no subject
[ that's not fair, he thinks. he might have been able to hold it in if she didn't offer immediate comfort; she's still a nameless stranger, inhabiting no more than a fragment of time in rin's life, but it feels like a longer stretch of time. like they've been sitting here for hours.
rin hesitates visibly.
and then he's reaching out, covering her hand in his. gripping - perhaps - with a little too much of his strength.
he shouldn't be allowed to cry. what had happened had been his fault, after all; there are so many that are left bereft because of it. to feel this grief is self-indulgence at its finest. instead of sitting here, he should be out with the rest of them, helping the wounded, doing more than curling in the crater of his creation and licking his wounds.
but she's given him license to let loose, and - after all - he is a seventeen-year-old boy who still can't understand the gravity of what has just come to pass. the tears begin in a silent stream - rin hisses when he attempts to lift his right arm to brush them away, still unaccustomed to its lack - and then he's bowing forward, biting his lip to stop himself from letting free the harsh wet sound caught in his throat.
instead, after too long, he manages to bite out -- ]
I'm Rin.
no subject
She panics when she sees him lift the shoulder of his injured arm, knowing that stub wouldn't appreciate what he was about to do. Her other hand sweeps over and gently flicks away whatever crawls down his cheek so that he can still see.]
Something got into your eye. [A common excuse that even she uses, though she knows she told him he's allowed to let himself go. Her hand gentle squeezes his.]
I am Vietnam. It is nice to meet you, Rin. [Despite circumstances. Rin has been nice to her. He knows he's at fault, but he doesn't shun it, and thus has not yelled at her in his guilt. She truly honestly believes it is nice to meet him.] I didn't think I would meet you here. [Because now she knows who he is. This one here is Rin, friend of Makoto.]