estoria | ( OPEN ) i don't want a mental suplex, i want quality customer service

Who: Elliot Nightray (

meriter) and you!
When: IC 11/25—11/27
Where: Residential District (primarily the CERES Gymnasium) + Shopping District (anywhere)
What: Elliot has a terminal allergy to common sense: a lesson in three (four) parts, comprised of psuedo-drowning, Machiavellian swindlers, and terrible book taste, respectively speaking.
Rating/Warning: None, probably.

1. INSERT SWIMMING PUN HERE (ceres gymnasium.)

[ In reconciliation of every self-deprecatory impulse in his body, Elliot actually shows up for lifeguard duty for the first time in two weeks.

He'd been staving off the financial necessity of having real credits on hand to buy very real things for a long while (like microwave dinners, for one thing, considering he'd survived thus far on a diet of refried peas and mashed potatoes with the consistency of clumping dirt). Monetary gain: the true motivator of any stalwart teenager in these trying, trying times. It wasn't as if he was going to turn to his brothers in some prostrated act of weakness. Just because he'd been hairsplitting nebulous concepts like coming to the gym during his technical shift and maybe staying the whole period instead of flat-out leaving whenever it suited him didn't mean he was a stranger to manual labor. Not at all.

So. It's just another routine day at the swimming pool, and by the third hour he's sweating bullets attempting to get a grip over his genteel, strait-laced Victorian morals. There are just so many exhibitionists about in the afternoons, all in varying levels of undress, and he's blistering red up to his ears keeping his gaze trained at all the patrons without turning away at the sight of scantily-clothed bodies. Literal lingerie, at that — it was nothing short of incredible that Vessalius hadn't succumbed to utter debauchery, exposed day in and day out to water-slick forms and all manner of loosened morals. He'd always been a weird kid, anyway.

But his tension reaches a culminating point hits when someone's apparently spritzing out at the deep end of pool, an arm stuck out and frantically waving him over. Reluctantly, Elliot strips off his jacket and cravat and strides over, peering down at the swimmer in question with scrunched eyebrows a stare tipped toward palpable disdain. ]

[ Too bad he doesn't have any sense of peripheral awareness to comprehend the rather peculiar grin he's shot with until the stranger's got their hand grappled around his, and then — ]

again

[ — he falls in. Panic briefly settling in his lungs, he spends a second or two in slantslide vertigo, water rushing around in some great, disorienting deluge before he kicks up, hard, breaks the surface with audible frustration. ]

I HATE THIS JOB!

2. CULTURE OF THE YOUNG AND VAIN (around, somewhere ...)

[ When his mood considerably sobers, he takes his paycheck for a supermarket splurge to refuel his stockpile of frozen dinners and comes away with several plastic bags full of cheap, cholesterol-inducing foods. Normally he'd head straight for his apartment, but Elliot decides to take the scenic route and ends up finding the kitschiest merchant stalls known to man. One minute he's minding his own business, and the next he's surrounding by a copious amount of creams and lotions purported to rejuvenate youth, like he'd just been plunked in the middle of a health ad and was ethically obligated to spout off some hypocritical drivel about the losers who'd buy into such scams. Seriously.

Well, beggars can't be choosers. Elliot wastes no time forcing his way to the front to blithely jab a finger at one of the offending vendors in question. ]

[ You know, because there's nothing wrong with waxing poetic on insurrection to the merchants. With this kind of bullheaded mentality, Elliot's lucky he isn't get his ass hauled away by security guards right this minute. ]

3. LMAO, SPOILERS (still around ...)

[ Wayward hellion of paltry exasperation that he is, Elliot Nightray can't get by without self-gratifying himself on one of the finer things in life. Namely, literature. So he makes a habit of scanning the shelves of the bookstore with a probing fixation at least once a week, turning up his nose at the YA section and heading for the classics to spend hours turning through the pages, scouring the contents for answers, or maybe just a quick read.

Only — today it's different, because he's currently engaged in some kind of weird, heated argument with the cashier. On closer inspection, it's composed mostly of angry, one-sided outbursts, like: ]

at all

[ Or: ]

Holy Knight

[ If nothing else, bystanders can at least pick up on the fact that there's a very frustrated fanboy hogging the front desk to blather on and on about the most emotionally bloated, self-indulgent novels to ever grace the Latowidge Academy library. ]

4. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE (wildcard!)

~~i didn't put him in school~~

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ This shit is so crazy.

If he had even an inkling of what Kaoru happened to genuinely think of Chizuru, he'd drop his """friend""" faster than a bat out of hell. There's no way he'd ever understand — not in the way Kaoru uses when justifying genocide or blatant murder, staggering words around pretty, gilded notions instead of genuine substance.

Elliot hates himself but loves the world (fervently, fervently, even as he spurns all else), so it only makes sense he'd hate someone who'd rather watch it burn with bright-eyed inconsistency. never faithful to anyone other than the individual, the singular: the demise of collective hope.

Or, yeah, Kaoru Nagumo just happens to be a stir-crazy yandere for a sister the same likeness, not that Elliot knows any better. He flatlines. ]

It's obvious, isn't it? It's not my place to say, but if you were content with it, I would search for her in your stead.

[ He dislodges his petty ire, swapping it out for resignation. ]

I think the same of you. With all that's happened, I've found that there are less people I can confide in, that I can truly call allies with candid earnestness. It's likely apparently to you by this point, but I do consider you a —

[ AN UGLY PAUSE ENSUES as Elliot fiddles with his tea spoon, his cowlick, his collar, everything but the matter at hand, and then, rather begrudgingly: ]

... a dear friend. You've been nothing but hospitable from the first day I met you, and I'm ... I'm grateful. I can't even conversing with my siblings as naturally as I have with you.

Thank you.

[There's a little twinge of something there, then - something that's almost like surprise, but not quite. Humans are capable of great destruction, but they're very weak things in the end, aren't they? And this, too, is little more than a sign of that rotting core - the corrosive center lying at the heart of each and every one of them. Disgusting. Perhaps a softer person (or at least one with a little more sanity) would be able to appreciate those words and the sentiment they carry. It's obvious that it's taken a lot for Elliot to say them aloud, after all. No real surprise there. From the little Kaoru knows of him, he seems a gentle boy in that he handles emotions with kid gloves if they're anything less delicate than indignant anger.

But he's also well aware of the fact that he could be wrong, because every person has facets of themselves that they keep hidden sometimes for days, sometimes forever. Elliot may seem tolerable enough now - sweet, even - but he knows better than to blindly trust or to trust at all. It's what makes that statement something that he would rather sneer than smile at. Bold words coming from someone who knows nothing about their conversational partner...

The look on Kaoru's face is caught in a shade of subdued surprise, but it shifts soon after.]

Elliot-san... [A beat, and then:] You're welcome. [First of all, because Kaoru has a feeling genuine thanks are something of a rarity from him and it shouldn't just be glossed over.]

It's truly an honor to hear that you think so highly of me. I can't be certain of my own worth as a friend, but if you believe it of me, I'll continue to be here for you as best as I'm able.

[The hives will be coming on now any second, surely... But oh, a little nugget of the truth follows, then.]

I wasn't allowed many friends in my youth. I'd like to offer the most, but it's still something that I'm adjusting to... Thank you for your kindness.

[ elliot nightray is the kind of kid that likely holds much regard for fairytales. if he didn't, he wouldn't be half as inclined with the holy knight series and the fictive charm they hold for him. it spools on yarns of half-truths about pride and personal responsibility, and it's just like elliot to buy into really hokey shit. so he has no reason to disbelieve someone who has done nothing but extend a hand to him in a time of need, when he was out alone, further than his brothers had throughout their stay in tellus.

he's lonely, most days. and maybe it's selfish, but he needs a crutch — and if kaoru's more than willing to play the role of dutiful friend, then he won't ask for more.

so all the contrived emotional manipulation is lost on him, seriously. he can't stop from compulsively stirring his tea even after it's long since cooled, and then he stares into his contents like he's reading his fortune in tea leaves and found something particular propitious in their lukewarm contents. he holds the cup up and downs the dredges in one prolonged draught. setting the porcelain glass back on its saucer, eyes still averted. ]

That's fine, then. This isn't ... a kindness, really. I just wanted you to know.

[ it feels like a confession, and maybe it is. he isn't certain anymore. ]

Anyways, that's all I wanted to say. You don't have to reciprocate anything.

[ collecting himself, he picks up the tab and tip, collecting the cups in one harried flourish. ]

I'll take my leave now, so — will you be alright? I can walk you over to your next destination, if necessary.

[Earnest people are all similar in a way - in a way that Kaoru quite hates, honestly, but a way that is easy to predict if nothing else. There's always a comfort in predictability, in familiarity, no matter how much it's disliked or how badly it feels like something sticky between his fingers that he can't rinse free.

So this is fine. This isn't a bad situation. Kaoru doesn't mind pretending when the tax isn't too high on the return, and for all of his prickliness, Elliot is not a very high-maintenance friend to keep on hand. It's not bad, and Kaoru watches impassively as he drinks the rest of his tea and starts to clear things away like he's trying to leave behind all of the emotions he had just allowed himself to hint at aloud. What a skittish child, like some sort of mountain hare afraid of the hunt.

There's a smile then, bigger than what's been offered so far in the conversation, more certain and pleasant. The softer topics are done and it's appropriate to return to some semblance of normalcy now.]

Thank you, regardless. You're a very sweet boy. [THE FIRST AND LAST TIME ELLIOT WILL EVER HEAR THIS, PROBABLY.]

I'll be quite fine, though. Please take care whenever you're heading, Elliot-san.

( OPEN ) i don't want a mental suplex, i want quality customer service

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time 2 pull the plug on this trainwreck

me staring into the sky over these nerds forever help elliot nightray