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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; don't mind him...
You still have food, right?
[Upon getting a slightly surprised nod, he picks something off the menu and finds another unbroken stool. He's a good way down the counter from where Souji is sitting, and doesn't seem to be interested in anything here other than his food, but he's in easy earshot.]
(ooc: Ability permissions are probably relevant here, so take a look and let me know, please.)
ankh......
And he can't bring himself to care, not really, beyond feeling vaguely grateful that a stranger walked into the bar and doesn't care about him or what just happened.
The bartender, after finally working up the courage, starts to tell Souji off in a tone that starts off anxious and trembling and finally strengthens just a tad especially when he asks souji to "pay all the damages you've inflicted to this bar, u jerk".
Souji merely looks up at the bartender, but his gaze is noticeably back to 'I'm thinking about possibly causing you more bodily harm than I've already dished out to you' and well, the murderous intent here is probably pretty obvious. If Ankh's the type to notice that while eating, anyway. ]
Is that so? [ Souji doesn't have enough credits to go grocery shopping, alright. ] If you want to die so badly, then I'll grant that wish for you.
[ Souji says, in pjs and splattered with blood. ]
...what? He was hungry.
That said-]
He's not bluffing.
[Giving the bartender that much of a warning seems fair. And with that, he'll go back to eating.]
SMH
Souji watches, seemingly calm, but the violence is still simmering deep inside of him, fury and anger and rage.
As expected, beating up cowards didn't do much for him in the end. Something twists in his gut, and he slowly turns in his seat to regard Ankh with cold eyes. ]
Who the hell are you?
[ is it time for bar fight ver 2 ]
no subject
[He gives his name, but not any explanation of what had prompted that comment. Even now, he can feel the desire for a fight seething beneath that calmer surface. Not just to hit things, because leaving a bar full of mostly unconscious people didn't satisfy it, but a challenge.
Ankh debates whether or not he might be in the mood to indulge that desire. But for right now, he's finishing his meal.]
Who are you?
no subject
For his part, Souji merely continues to aggressively stare in Ankh's direction without saying anything productive for at least two more minutes, then he sighs and ignores the question. ]
What a weird name. But I guess that fits you.
[ rude, tbh. ]
So do you always take your meals in trashed bars, or is today some kind of exception?
no subject
And yeah, rude, but it's better than calling him 'Anko'.]
Heh. No, not usually.
[He just happened to want food and it was here, and he might have been curious who all the rage belonged to. Done with the food, he stands up from his seat, then after a possibly thoughtful second, picks up the empty plate and throws it at the angry stranger. At the same time, his right arm shifts to something decidedly not human.
You wanted a fight? Let's have a fight.]