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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. ]
no subject
Saitou could scare anyone away like that, lord. But then his gaze travels over Saitou's clothes and he notices little things, like the absence of Saitou's own scarf, like the fact that Saitou might seem a little tired too. ]
That's one scary look, Hajime-kun.
[ whatever smile he does ultimately manage is strained, and he still has that tired look in his eyes, but at least he's paying attention to Saitou instead of whatever thoughts he's been mulling over the past hour. ]
no subject
[ He sits down next to him, eyes drifting to the bloodstains. ] There was a fight, wasn't there. [ Light prodding. Fights don't usually put Souji in a mood like this; usually he's happier, even. ]
no subject
It wasn't much of one.
[ neither the fight as a rasetsu (where all he did was rely on brute force and none of his techniques) or the one at the bar (where everyone just like ran away from him). anyway, that's clearly not important right now. ]
What happened to your clothes?
no subject
I also lost three days, after suddenly being pulled into some underground place. Did something similar happen--? [ Because he doesn't believe his case to be the only one. This place liked messing with people en masse. ]
no subject
I see.
[ suddenly, it makes sense. he's still not sure about the stolen clothes, but Souji can easily accept that as an annoying as fck side-effect from being pulled into CERES shit. More importantly... does it make Souji feel better knowing that someone else was subjected to this? His jaw clenches, and it's with some effort that he speaks as casually as possible. ]
We must have missed each other down there then.
[ Would things have gone better if he had been with Saitou? Did things really have a chance of ever going better, if Souji was the monster he already knew he was? ]
I woke up with a bunch of brats. [ said, without any real distaste behind the word. They were brats, but they weren't all that awful. ] It didn't take long for things to go to shit.
no subject
He's not used to this. They're not used to this. A man nearly dying and rallying back is different from a man truly dying and reviving.
As Souji continues speaking, he attempts to guess some of the meaning behind some of those phrases, and he hears himself asking, ] Did you kill anyone?
[ Neither of them really keep track of who they kill, and it's not the killing that's bothering him. Things go to shit all the time, but what kind of trouble was it this time? ]
no subject
Souji's gaze grows colder, not at Saitou, but due to the same thoughts. Their lives were just as fragile as their enemies, but Souji had taken comfort in the belief that Saitou and him, and the rest of the Shinsengumi, would go down for what they believed in. So even if their deaths were meaningless, they would at least die with a sword in their hands, fighting for what they believed in.
It takes a while for Souji to register the question. Did he kill anyone? Instead of asking him how he died, Saitou wanted to know if he killed anyone?
Souji's mouth splits into a smile, and then he laughs. it's a rough, scratchy sound with no humor behind it, just the way Souji likes it. ]
It would have been great if I did. [ souji says, without meaning it. ] No. The only person who was killed was me.
[ his laughter trails away, only to double back in force ]
It's really too bad you weren't there, Hajime-kun. Even after we said we'd kill each other if we lost control of ourselves. It's just not the same getting killed by strangers.
no subject
What caused it? [ The sight of blood? An injury? ]
no subject
Some kind of spirit. [ his voice twists, that breathless laughter still lurking behind it. ] It did something when it touched me. Whatever it was... that's all I needed.
[ to become mindless and weak. ]
And after that... [ he shrugs, as if to say 'you know the rest' ]
no subject
Some creature attacked me; I stabbed it, but it's blood was poisonous and it...ate my body away. Hardly a fight that I put up. [ He says this quietly, and somewhat in a rush, but it's attempt to commiserate. ] It seems that fortune was with neither of us down there.
[ His own secret is safe, but he's sure in time, he'd be found out as well. ]
no subject
Hearing that is almost as bad as remembering his own dumb death... ]
I guess not. [ has it really come to this, that they have to rely on fortune more than their own skill. it's a bitter pill to swallow. ]
Is that why you're wearing weird clothes?
[ um rude souji ]
no subject
[ Why indeed must the Shinsengumi suffer like this. ]