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( closed; ) hobo au
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brain ( kyrie ) & soukoku ( chuya nakahara )
When: three ic days after the interlude 004.
Where: kyrie's apartment.
What: basically, when you find a hobo in the park, there's only one thing to do.
Rating/Warning: do-s for kyrie. but, no, there shouldn't be anything in particular to watch out for. pg?
( the past couple of days have, inevitably, been rather bizarre. it would take an apparent fool not to be able to discern the eerie quiet of their “glorified” prison walls. of the silence and static he was met with in light of attempting to… bother some of his more recent companions, acquaintances, and everything else in between. actually, he can’t even count the number of times he’s been met with “user occupied.” if just for the sheer level of… persistence he had in tormenting others (or wanting to, in this case).
but, regardless, he carried forth. kyrie was never against solitude. rather, he welcomed it on the occasions he was feeling particularly reticent. maybe, even mildly reserved. it went in wavelets of motions. but, that suited him just fine. being equal parts whimsical and capricious sort of created that paradox. though, really, if he had to be unwaveringly honest… if anything, he’s more bothered by the fact he isn’t… getting what he wants/having his way than anything else.
… and that has been the case for a while since his arrival here.
while there was a lot of new and fresh, there was also a lot of … mildly perturbing and wholly inelegant. while there were new characters in his life who weren’t tethered to the same standards as they have been back in his universe, there were a lot who didn’t exactly leave a positive impression. those who left much more to desire. but, well, beating people into submission (more metaphorical than physical) was what he did best, and so… he considered it a personal quest of sorts. a form of entertainment.
even now, he was constantly in search for new methods of achieving this. whether through bugging them over the network, shaming them via his job as an s&m store clerk, and even…. pouring scorching hot tea on them. which is precisely what he was doing to one… passed out chuya nakahara. ) My, don’t you think you’ve slept quite enough. There's a limit to appearing so undignified. ( aka, boi, u passed this limit ages ago.
but, really, when you find someone passed out in the park looking like a hobo… it’s only natural you have a lot of questions you want to have answered. this is doubly so when they’ve been mia and …. when you’ve paid someone to move their immobile ass from point a in the park to point b in your apartment. )
brain ( kyrie ) & soukoku ( chuya nakahara )When: three ic days after the interlude 004.
Where: kyrie's apartment.
What: basically, when you find a hobo in the park, there's only one thing to do.
Rating/Warning: do-s for kyrie. but, no, there shouldn't be anything in particular to watch out for. pg?
( the past couple of days have, inevitably, been rather bizarre. it would take an apparent fool not to be able to discern the eerie quiet of their “glorified” prison walls. of the silence and static he was met with in light of attempting to… bother some of his more recent companions, acquaintances, and everything else in between. actually, he can’t even count the number of times he’s been met with “user occupied.” if just for the sheer level of… persistence he had in tormenting others (or wanting to, in this case).
but, regardless, he carried forth. kyrie was never against solitude. rather, he welcomed it on the occasions he was feeling particularly reticent. maybe, even mildly reserved. it went in wavelets of motions. but, that suited him just fine. being equal parts whimsical and capricious sort of created that paradox. though, really, if he had to be unwaveringly honest… if anything, he’s more bothered by the fact he isn’t… getting what he wants/having his way than anything else.
… and that has been the case for a while since his arrival here.
while there was a lot of new and fresh, there was also a lot of … mildly perturbing and wholly inelegant. while there were new characters in his life who weren’t tethered to the same standards as they have been back in his universe, there were a lot who didn’t exactly leave a positive impression. those who left much more to desire. but, well, beating people into submission (more metaphorical than physical) was what he did best, and so… he considered it a personal quest of sorts. a form of entertainment.
even now, he was constantly in search for new methods of achieving this. whether through bugging them over the network, shaming them via his job as an s&m store clerk, and even…. pouring scorching hot tea on them. which is precisely what he was doing to one… passed out chuya nakahara. ) My, don’t you think you’ve slept quite enough. There's a limit to appearing so undignified. ( aka, boi, u passed this limit ages ago.
but, really, when you find someone passed out in the park looking like a hobo… it’s only natural you have a lot of questions you want to have answered. this is doubly so when they’ve been mia and …. when you’ve paid someone to move their immobile ass from point a in the park to point b in your apartment. )
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or rather, he should be dead, jim -- but somehow, streaks of consciousness slip past the thick darkness, waking him up as if he'd just took a particularly long nap.
the death itself -- quick, painless, almost ideal for someone who was expected to die in agony somewhere in an abandoned warehouse, wailing as his power ate him from inside out. it's a death he was happy with, really; for a kid told he'll never live past 10, past 12, past 15, past that one mission, because dazai might not get to him in time, kicking the bucket at the age of 22 sounds pretty good.
he was taught to kill, then to die, for the mafia's sake. the only regret he might've had this time is that his death didn't help the mafia any, but --
... well, somehow, he's alive. and currently being scorched by hot tea, like getting electrocuted and then dying wasn't bad enough!!
with a loud groan (because fuck you, it hurts) he rolls away from the unpleasant, hot liquid; quickly realizing that... this doesn't feel like ground. or, the outside at all. why is he even conscious? is this the afterlife? and if that's the case, why can he still feel sparks of electricity wandering over his skin?
everything becomes apparent as he opens his eyes, and sees kyrie's face, looming over him like... an angel of death. close enough. ]
I'm in hell, aren't I? [ this is the only logical explanation, because, really. ]
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though, still, his features don't falter in light of the insult (or what's probably intended to be one). instead, he settles on an easy smile. this time, as he moves his wrist enough to drop some tea into chuya's mouth. choke on that, binch. ) Does it seem that way? It must be because you've believed yourself that sinful a man.
( which, he also doesn't doubt. honestly, anyone who is that forward with fighting you in an s&m store can't possibly be anything but that. aka, it fits the profile bob. ) Regardless, I don't think that should be the first words out of your mouth.
Especially, not to your savior of sorts. ( he gives an exaggerated movement of his hands, as if somehow to amplify his argument. )
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he spits the tea right out, because this is literally the last thing he wants to be dealing right after death (aka, he doesn't have time for your bullshit) and offers the other a pointed glare. ]
No, it's because I believe you to be a sinful man. I saw you, and I knew it couldn't be heaven. [ duh? realistically speaking, he wouldn't expect himself to be put anywhere but hell, either -- it's the bodycount.
anyway... he moves his hands to pat his chest, then his stomach, as if to make sure his body is whole. it... is, albeit sore and briefly damaged, but not a trace of the explosion remains.
... what gives?
kyrie's words do catch his attention, though. unsure, he glances up to look at the other, eyebrows furrowed in thought. savior? did he save him from death? ] What do you mean?
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while that is a sound argument??? ) Why you would say that absolutely baffles me, however— ( he does realise there are a whole list of priorities that need to be recognised before dissolving into arguments on who belongs in hell. though, equally, when it came down to it, he didn't actually disagree with chuya's verdict. but, it's hard... being difficult and contrary for no reason.
still. ) What do you think I mean? Are you that keen on only fighting that you have no cognitive thinking abilities of your own whatsoever? ( all brawns and no brain makes daddy sad... :c ) Well, I suspect if you're looking for an explanation.
( he gestures around the room. ) Did you think you woke up here for no reason?
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at any rate... this seems like his personal hell, at best. he's breathing, and he feels alive enough, power thrumming beneath his skin, so he can probably scratch that death theory out. still, this means he... survived? was brought back to life? reconstructed?
it wouldn't be the first time he'd survived a close-range explosion, sure, but considering the bomb was inside of his pocket... just in case, though, he retraces the last things he remembers: the storage room, the robotic voice informing them about a security breach, and the deafening, bright explosion that kills him in less than a second, even despite tainted sorrow. he remembers dave, kashuu, phoenix and hiro, and he remembers everything that transpired during the odd occurence, but --]
No, I... I know I didn't. I just expected you to explain. Why am I here? I was... in a torture room, and then I -- [ he sucks in a shaky breath, pushing himself up to sit with a hiss. ] Did you bring me here? Where from?
[ and, most importantly: ] Was I dead?
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perhaps, to a degree he should have expected this level of incertitude. after all, when he originally discovered his body in the park... to say it was less than worse for wear would be a keen understatement. regardless, once again, it isn't as if he has all the facts aligned. if anything, he was aptly in an equal or worse state of muddled ignorance, if just for his apparent lack of participation. but, regardless— ) A torture room. ... As I thought, you really do have questionable hobbies.
( it probably wasn't time for statements like those, but... ) But, as for where. I picked up your poorly disposed body in the park. Does that seem familiar to you? Beyond that, as far as I recognise or am able to... you weren't dead.
It'd be in poor taste to keep a corpse in my apartment, after all. Though, I suppose... you're the closest I got to that experience. ( aka, u look so awful u may as well be dead. but, at least kyrie is keeping it relatively subtle by not saying it??? on the other hand, he... naturally has a fair amount of questions of his own. including ones revolving around that "torture room," or where he was prior, but he purposely keeps it under wraps.
obscures his intentions. at least for now. while kyrie was short of patience and tolerance by nature, it didn't necessarily mean he wasn't able to see what situations called for his inquisitiveness and overly prodding questions and... which ones didn't. besides, with how disarrayed chuya's thoughts appeared, he doubts he'd receive all the answers at once. )
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moving on from hentairie, he listens attentively, trying to piece the facts together. it's not wrong -- his thoughts are a jumbled mess, the shock still settled deep within his mind; it's not every day that you die, and being so far from home doesn't really make it any better. but... that's a very humanlike thought, and he feels almost disgusted with himself.
"what does it mean to be a person?" the paper had said. "what is a soul?" "who am i?" ]
... why? [ is his inevitable question, because kyrie is neither a kind man nor a shounen moron, helping people for no reason. no matter how he looks at it -- the tea included -- he's been saved, and by someone who might demand something ridiculous in exchange.
he knows how it works; he owes kyrie now, whether he wants to or not. ] You could've left me for dead there. Why didn't you?
[ it's not like... their interactions so far were overly friendly. though, thankfully, kyrie doesn't seem to take being attacked to heart -- a good quality, if you wanted to hang out with chuya. ]
I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. I have no fucking idea why I was in a park, of all places, but... [ he's going to choke before he utters a thank you. he'll die. he's gone. ]
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As you've probably discerned, it's certainly not "like me" to have picked you up. ( he says it clearly. he knows everyone is equally aware of how callous, cold-hearted, and purposely cruel he was. fact was fact, and he isn't about the refute any of those unspoken claims. regardless, he digresses back to the topic. ) You could call it a simple whim.
Curiosity, if you will. ( to a degree, it's true. especially, in reference to how... eerily quiet these past few days have been in hindsight. though, notwithstanding that, it's also true that kyrie hardly did things without an actual purpose. without having that extra mile of foresight. in this case, he may have inadvertently put chuya in a category of being "potentially useful." now, he just had to see that "use" materialise itself. )
Besides, we'll just have to see how far that "gratitude" of yours goes, don't we? ( with that, he finally places the cup back on the table. honestly, if chuya wasn't grateful, he was planning to (maybe) shoot him right then and there, so he's a bit relieved this worked out. :) )
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... well.) ]
Thanks for reassuring me you're still an asshole, despite doing this. [ and he sneers, though it's more lighthearted than mean; watches the other finally put the Demonic Tea back on the table, with something that sounds suspiciously like a sigh of relief. ] I can't say how well I can answer your questions, but...
[ well, he knows Some Stuff. anyway, another thing that's been bothering him is.. ]
How many days passed? Since... people disappeared? [ he can't say for sure how many, but kyrie must've noticed something strange; he's not stupid. ] And, sorry to say, but my life isn't actually worth that much. I can buy you a drink, maybe.
1/2
it's clear it wasn't meant to be menacing. nor was it meant to be a form of contempt. moreover, it isn't like kyrie found claims like that offensive. if anything, he'd give the warnings to his less than savory character all on his own. not that the telltale signs aren't already present in ever aspect of his pretentious bearing. ) You're very welcome. ( it may sound sarcastic, and maybe it is... just a bit ironic, but there's some other layer to it. something equally blithe. )
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I suppose it's my job to find yours. ( though, beside that. ) I'm expensive, you know. I wouldn't make promises so loosely.
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almost four days. is that how long it takes to put a body back together here? almost instinctively, his hand wanders to his thigh, tapping the pocket where the bomb had been. it's obviously empty, but his leg does ache, in that weird, phantom-pain kind of way. ]
Is that a compliment? I might just blush. [ he sneers, glancing at his hands. ] Sorry to say, but as far as being a pawn goes, I'm still pretty loyal to my boss. He's a pretty scary man, and in the mafia, betrayal equals death. I will treat you to some good wine, though.
[ mori isn't here, but his shadow and influence linger in his mind; he doesn't suppose he'll ever truly be free -- his loyalty is deep-rooted and beaten into his skull. ]
So am I. [ which might sound funny, considering kyrie stiLL THINKS HE'S A HOOKER!! ] Don't worry, I won't make you drink shitty alcohol. I only buy the good stuff, and I've got a guy working for me, so I can afford it.
[ he almost sounds proud... except it was entirely accidental, but kyrie doesn't have to know that. ]
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even more so at the addition of another key word. "mafia." at that sound of such a familiar term, he nearly stops and pauses behind his own thoughts. behind his scrutinizing of chuya's hand and the suspicious way in which... he touched himself??? (he really should comment on this but??) ) That's unfortunate. Perhaps, I'll need to re-evaluate my plans in light of your meaningless devotion. ( unlike someone else we all know... ) Maybe I'll keep it short-term. For example, offing someone? That shouldn't require any loyalty. ( :) )
I'm only kidding. ( for better or worse, this discovery only makes kyrie all the more keen in keeping his eye on chuya. on his abilities. his use. he isn't sure about either of those two things or the extent of it, but if their minor skirmish was something to judge by. tho speaking of judging... ) I see. ( expensive hooker. ) Who would have thought... I didn't realise you pressed your subordinates into your same line of work, either. ( this hooker au only expands....
anyway, ) Then we'll see if your tastes truly are fitting for my tongue. In the mean time, I have questions of my own. ( ... ) Why a torture room? Within the mafia it isn't unheard of. Or rather, the idea is so horrendously nostalgic, I could almost shed tears. ( exaggerated sarcasm. )
However... ( seems sort of out of place here. besides, unlike "home" or within dorothy's reign, there isn't anyone as startlingly unfamiliar with the idea of families, turf wars, etc than the citizens of cerealia. at least as far as he could discern. )
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Are you? I'll do it, you know. [ though... kyrie needs to keep in mind that death here is temporary? whatever he wants to do, he needs to do immediately, or the person will come back and nothing will change. ... well, unless said person is a robot. then dismantling them would be easy enough. ] I don't. He works somewhere else.
[ SHUT UP he wouldn't make a good hooker anyway!!
the question makes him pause, recalling the sight from back in the room. it was... messy -- quite clearly used recently, but... ]
We never got an explanation for that. There was dried blood on the walls, though -- not fresh, but not that old, either. A bunch of mannequins. A camera pointed at the bed. A lot of knives. [ he can recall the minor details easily; unlike most of his group, he wasn't particularly bothered by the sight. ] Though the room itself was empty, and I don't recall stumbling upon anyone who could've used it. The only... thing we met was a robot who was supposed to be a receptionist.
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instead, he gives the closest and most graceful replacement to a shrug. his shoulders barely moving an inch, as he exhales briefly. ... pls. "he wouldn't make a good hooker anyway." that makes the two of them. master and servant. regardless, he listens intently as the other recounts his experience. recite the sights to a tee, enough where kyrie can garner the sheer intensity of the other's exposure to them. a camera point to the bed. aAaaaaa.
a. kyrie looks up at chuya. .... he opens his mouth, but instead allows it to close evenly. no sound escaping until chuya is completely finished with his assessment. ) A receptionist and not the one committing the tortures? ( bc he could see how handy that was in theory. also... ) I just can't seem to think it's a coincidence. ( yet without evidence, it was hard to conclude anything. hence, he continues. )
What else happened? Up to how far does your recollection last?
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[ MR KYRIE KYRIESON!!
anyway, shut up, he'd make a great hooker. if he was one. BUT HE ISN'T.
moving on. ]
It probably isn't, but we haven't found anything specific that'd explain the torture room's existence. Rather... we found a lot of supposedly foreign technology. Things that weren't made on the surface, anyway. [ is what he'd gotten from the way others spoke about it, anyway. he himself doesn't... really care about the details. ] I...
[ his head hurts when he tries to remember the moment of his death; a flashing light, burning, then nothingness. ]
I've only seen the room with the tech, and when we left... that's when I died.
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whether fortunate or unfortunate, he wasn't exactly the heroic type. it was all in convenience. as it often was, and as it would continue to be so. regardless— ) Foreign technology. ( the whole technology spiel in general was sort of unfamiliar to him. while his saving grace was in being adaptive, it didn't mean... he could fathom the true extent of all the tech that was offered in cerealia, or what it could do. even if he could make educated guesses.
but, well, he wasn't a fan of thinking about things without physical evidence or a logical basis, and so. ) ... you make your "death" almost seem like a simple scene out of a book. ( ... ) And how did that feel?
Did everyone else follow suit?
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[ i mean, let's be real here, they both find the concept equally ridiculous. he knows things like kindness exist, somewhere; but that place isn't within kyrie's heart, that's for sure. which is fine, because he'd rather not feel indebted to someone insisting that he isn't.
a book. GOOD JOKE. ]
Are you asking me how my death felt? I dunno. Deathly. I was gone within seconds. Certainly not how it usually feels. [ this is... only half a joke?? considering his power tears him apart to the point of being half-dead, being caught in an explosion and dying quickly certainly was a treat.
... if he can even call it that. ]
Hey, I told you I died! What, you don't get the concept of being a goner?
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I believe in the kindness of the exploited, I'll have you know. ( the deceived and... the one who inevitably suckered them in with sweet lies and false promises. it was a delicate balance. one he was all too familiar with. if the other male was more accustomed to the bloodier side of pledging oneself to a family; soul and physical body— kyrie was on the opposing end of spectrum. he was used to crafting plots. erecting plan after plan; destroying farms and animals?!?!? either way— )
... it seems a bit hard to believe. Prior to this, I can't say I have much exposure to the concept. ( ... at least not with who matters??? ) I don't mean this personally, either. You could say certain individuals in my own world are... blessed with certain attributes. ( not dying, for one??? )
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what he gets from this is -- i'm a liar and i look to exploit people??? talk about a faithless ideology?? though, admittedly, he does follow a man who thinks similarly; still, he's... biased towards mori, so.
he gets a free pass, and kyrie doesn't!! ]
Yeah, well, can't say I've exactly died before, either. Gotten close, maybe, but -- [ it was a completely different sensation; neither painless nor quick, neither effortless nor surprising. ] ... ah? You immortal, or something?
[ that's what it sounds like? maybe he should kill kyrie to find out............. ]
I can always show you how death feels, you know. It'd be my pleasure, really.
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but, he seems to let those words simply dissipate into the lull and tide of their exchange. not choosing to reflect back on it. it isn't like chuya was the first to disregard his philosophy. ... and at the same time, it isn't like anyone's disagreement was going to spark change in him. ) That is what I said, isn't it? ( no...
it actually isn't, but he thought the implications were clear enough for it to have been unanimous or interchangeable, even. either way, he gives a firm shake of his head. ) Please, as I've stated on multiple occasions— while I enjoy giving pain, taking it isn't in my interests. If you're trying to experiment, I suggest you use someone else. ( plus, putting that aside!!! )
.... gotten close? To death? You must be clumsier than you look.