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retorter & npc bar customers & npc children & OPEN
When: 7/18 morning & afternoon, plus anytime after if u text him
Where: at a dive bar nearest to the apartments + a portable shrine
What: Souji continues to make Intelligent and Healthy decisions following his demise by getting into bar fights and deciding that he'll never talk to anyone ever again, nice.
Rating/Warning: angst, bar fights, npc children asking the Smart questions
[ Souji wakes up to noise. Deafening, loud, and just chaotic enough for him to actually flinch back from the sound, for him to gasp for air and grip the grimy counter underneath him in total and utter confusion and stare wildly around him, at everyone else whose lives sucks balls enough to be drinking at ass o'clock in the morning.
Which isn't many, but it's a number of people higher than the last group Souji remembers, and no one's face is familiar.
(Also Souji's still in his fucking pjs, god damn it.)
He remembers, of course he remembers. The memories hammer into him like a day-old hangover, his face twisting, twisting until the brittle veneer breaks.
He died. Fine, so he died. He wasn't dead any longer, or maybe whatever bullshit revival system in place here meant that he hadn't actually died because wasn't his body made out of code? But Souji can't really think well on subjects that he doesn't understand, so he bypasses that in favor of the ones he does. That he died, and that he had died in the way he had promised himself he wouldn't. As a monster, as a rasetsu, just like the rest of the members of the Shinsengumi that had been forced to drink the ochimizu and turned mad, like those rejects Souji had both pitied and scorned. He didn't care to dwell on that particular irony, even as the brittle, small part inside of him murmurs how funny it was, how well-deserved, for Souji to have pretended that he was better than any of them in the end.
His hands instinctively go to his throat, remembering the feeling of his wakizashi in his arm and the katana biting into his neck. He had died a monster, but at least he had died -- but did it really matter that he hadn't killed anyone when he had already lost his humanity well before that point? He hadn't fought against it. He hadn't even tried to stop himself or drive his own sword into his heart. He had been mindless, but most of all, he had been weak. His mouth twists again, there's a taste on his tongue that he can't quite wash out -- the taste of blood.
Souji presses a fist to his mouth and makes a low, retching sound deep in his throat. I tasted blood, I can't have blood, I can't go crazy --
If I'm crazy, then I --
He almost shrinks in on himself, shoving his head between his hands and taking deep noisy breaths in order to focus on the fact that he is alive and in one piece and not crazy because fuck it, he's not. He won't allow himself to be. He won't!
Even though, he did. Even though he had no control over it. Even though he had gone crazy anyway, so his so-called bravado was worth nothing in the end, didn't it?
So, he snaps. ]
option A, at the bar
[ Later, he can't exactly say he remembers what started it. Maybe the wrong look, maybe an accidental brush of elbows at the crowded counter, but whatever it is, Souji turns on the offender with a fury that far outweighs the offense given. His hands skip to his sides to grab at his wakizashi and sword, before he remembers oh right, yet another thing that was taken from him -- and that reminder stokes his rage even higher, so he actually ends up grabbing the side of the man's head and smashing it into the counter.
bar fight, bar fight.
Souji fights to the point where he's not fighting one person anymore, but everyone and anyone, and the bartender's shouting something and the man whose arm he's just broken is shrieking in pain, and Souji doesn't so much as punch people as he does physically try to murder them.
the chaos ends pretty abruptly. the sensible ones fleeing, the reckless idiots lying stone-cold and unconscious on the floor, and Souji, bruised and injured and livid with rage but also clutching at the remains of a bar stool. He looks around, looks at himself and his choices, and then sits at one of the few stools that aren't broken.
just in time for anyone to wander into the bar, looking for a snack! (Or maybe you were there the whole time drinking and ignoring that stupid bar fight, but either way) Souji doesn't so much as look in the newcomer's direction, he just stares at the wall. ]
[ and then. ]
It's closed.
option B; Somewhere in Cerealia;;
[ okay, so he couldn't stay in that bar forever, so Souji braves the bright outdoors to get out of there. He doesn't know where he's going, he just knows he's going to go. He can't keep sitting around or he might just start another profoundly stupid bar fight.
The only problem is that walking around in broad daylight means walking around feeling like the sun is personally attacking him, which only dampens his mood further. So now, Souji, in his plain sleepwear splattered with the blood of his Bar Enemies and barefoot, continues to wander aimlessly, his gait slowly lagging until he takes a seat at nearby portable shrine.
and stares into space, looking like Death. Anyone who passes by will probably see Death Souji sitting, eyes half-lidded as a couple of kids??? crowd around him
"Souji! Hey, Souji! Where've you been all this time?" or "What's wrong with your clothes? Are you a beggar now? My mom said I shouldn't speak to beggars!" or "It's the afternoon, aren't you supposed to be working?"
lord, someone please save him. ]
OR Option C; aka skip all this and just text the fcker
[ he still has his Cerevice on him. and he might even be in the mood to text back! go ahead. GO AHEAD AND SEE. ]
retorter & npc bar customers & npc children & OPENWhen: 7/18 morning & afternoon, plus anytime after if u text him
Where: at a dive bar nearest to the apartments + a portable shrine
What: Souji continues to make Intelligent and Healthy decisions following his demise by getting into bar fights and deciding that he'll never talk to anyone ever again, nice.
Rating/Warning: angst, bar fights, npc children asking the Smart questions
[ Souji wakes up to noise. Deafening, loud, and just chaotic enough for him to actually flinch back from the sound, for him to gasp for air and grip the grimy counter underneath him in total and utter confusion and stare wildly around him, at everyone else whose lives sucks balls enough to be drinking at ass o'clock in the morning.
Which isn't many, but it's a number of people higher than the last group Souji remembers, and no one's face is familiar.
(Also Souji's still in his fucking pjs, god damn it.)
He remembers, of course he remembers. The memories hammer into him like a day-old hangover, his face twisting, twisting until the brittle veneer breaks.
He died. Fine, so he died. He wasn't dead any longer, or maybe whatever bullshit revival system in place here meant that he hadn't actually died because wasn't his body made out of code? But Souji can't really think well on subjects that he doesn't understand, so he bypasses that in favor of the ones he does. That he died, and that he had died in the way he had promised himself he wouldn't. As a monster, as a rasetsu, just like the rest of the members of the Shinsengumi that had been forced to drink the ochimizu and turned mad, like those rejects Souji had both pitied and scorned. He didn't care to dwell on that particular irony, even as the brittle, small part inside of him murmurs how funny it was, how well-deserved, for Souji to have pretended that he was better than any of them in the end.
His hands instinctively go to his throat, remembering the feeling of his wakizashi in his arm and the katana biting into his neck. He had died a monster, but at least he had died -- but did it really matter that he hadn't killed anyone when he had already lost his humanity well before that point? He hadn't fought against it. He hadn't even tried to stop himself or drive his own sword into his heart. He had been mindless, but most of all, he had been weak. His mouth twists again, there's a taste on his tongue that he can't quite wash out -- the taste of blood.
Souji presses a fist to his mouth and makes a low, retching sound deep in his throat. I tasted blood, I can't have blood, I can't go crazy --
If I'm crazy, then I --
He almost shrinks in on himself, shoving his head between his hands and taking deep noisy breaths in order to focus on the fact that he is alive and in one piece and not crazy because fuck it, he's not. He won't allow himself to be. He won't!
Even though, he did. Even though he had no control over it. Even though he had gone crazy anyway, so his so-called bravado was worth nothing in the end, didn't it?
So, he snaps. ]
option A, at the bar
[ Later, he can't exactly say he remembers what started it. Maybe the wrong look, maybe an accidental brush of elbows at the crowded counter, but whatever it is, Souji turns on the offender with a fury that far outweighs the offense given. His hands skip to his sides to grab at his wakizashi and sword, before he remembers oh right, yet another thing that was taken from him -- and that reminder stokes his rage even higher, so he actually ends up grabbing the side of the man's head and smashing it into the counter.
bar fight, bar fight.
Souji fights to the point where he's not fighting one person anymore, but everyone and anyone, and the bartender's shouting something and the man whose arm he's just broken is shrieking in pain, and Souji doesn't so much as punch people as he does physically try to murder them.
the chaos ends pretty abruptly. the sensible ones fleeing, the reckless idiots lying stone-cold and unconscious on the floor, and Souji, bruised and injured and livid with rage but also clutching at the remains of a bar stool. He looks around, looks at himself and his choices, and then sits at one of the few stools that aren't broken.
just in time for anyone to wander into the bar, looking for a snack! (Or maybe you were there the whole time drinking and ignoring that stupid bar fight, but either way) Souji doesn't so much as look in the newcomer's direction, he just stares at the wall. ]
[ and then. ]
It's closed.
option B; Somewhere in Cerealia;;
[ okay, so he couldn't stay in that bar forever, so Souji braves the bright outdoors to get out of there. He doesn't know where he's going, he just knows he's going to go. He can't keep sitting around or he might just start another profoundly stupid bar fight.
The only problem is that walking around in broad daylight means walking around feeling like the sun is personally attacking him, which only dampens his mood further. So now, Souji, in his plain sleepwear splattered with the blood of his Bar Enemies and barefoot, continues to wander aimlessly, his gait slowly lagging until he takes a seat at nearby portable shrine.
and stares into space, looking like Death. Anyone who passes by will probably see Death Souji sitting, eyes half-lidded as a couple of kids??? crowd around him
"Souji! Hey, Souji! Where've you been all this time?" or "What's wrong with your clothes? Are you a beggar now? My mom said I shouldn't speak to beggars!" or "It's the afternoon, aren't you supposed to be working?"
lord, someone please save him. ]
OR Option C; aka skip all this and just text the fcker
[ he still has his Cerevice on him. and he might even be in the mood to text back! go ahead. GO AHEAD AND SEE. ]
A
Zoro sat through the entire bar fight, only occasionally ducking to let a glass hit the wall behind his head or sticking out a foot to trip someone about to run into him and spill his rum. Once it settles down, he simply raises an eyebrow at the disheveled guy with the leg of a bar stool in hand. He knows murderous intent, he can feel it.]
Dunno if you've had too much or not enough, yet.
no subject
That depends.
[ He's had enough, he hasn't had enough, he wants to hurt someone else, he wants someone to hurt him back, he just wants to sleep forever and a day. his gaze cools ]
On whether or not you'd like me to beat you too.
[ it's not a smart decision, but Souji is tired of trying to make smart decisions and having it all blow up in his face anyway. anyway, he says this, but he slides into the single bar stool instead of vaulting over to where Zoro is to try his luck. maybe he doesn't mean it?? maybe??? who knows ]
no subject
[though all he does is gesture for the bartender to get this guy a drink, not pull his swords or even get up. On the one hand, Zoro's confident that he'd manage just fine in a fight...on the other hand, he's lazy and doesn't feel like fighting right now.]
That was a hell of a show, though. Haven't seen somebody lose their shit like that in a long time.
no subject
[ The edge to Souji's voice is almost snappy now. He doesn't often lose control (and when he does, everyone's usually too dead to even tell). Not like this, but maybe loosening up this way made up for how he lost control back underground.
probably.
not.
but whatever, Souji tried his best and no one can criticize him. The bartender doesn't ask Souji what he wants, just shoves a drink from one of the few intact bottles of whiskey left and then retreats behind the counter. Souji stares down at it like he doesn't know what it is (he knows, but look... it's been a long day.). ]
You're armed. You could have joined in and actually killed someone.
[ it's a shame that no one died, Souji thinks while feeling the exact opposite. ]
no subject
[His good eye goes from the whiskey to Souji to the swords at his side, as if forgetting they were there until attention is called to them. He would never forget, though.]
What's the point in that? You had it pretty well handled, and I had nothing against any of those assholes.
no subject
Does a fight have to have a point?
[ Souji's pretty sure Shinpachi's bar brawls were 99% pointless half the time, at least. ]
no subject