estoria | [open] coping mechanisms

Who: Simon Blackquill (

shacklebreaker), Taka, and you!
When: 21st December/early hours of 22nd
Where: Various
What: The Twisted Samurai spends the day alone for some personal reflection.
Rating/Warning: AA5 spoilers. Mentions of death/implied suicide. Drankin.

i. AFTERNOON - CERES GARDENS

[Blackquill's brought his hawk to the gardens to give him some exercise. At the moment he's throwing scraps of meat for Taka to snatch out of midair, making the bird work for his food. If Taka catches it successfully -- which he does without fail, every time -- the hawk is whistled back and rewarded with another treat.

It's not a training session, but rather, a way to get Taka to stretch his wings. The hawk is already well-trained enough that Blackquill doesn't even need a hood or jesses for his bird. The last thing he's interested in is tying his faithful companion down when Taka can fly free, and it gives him a calming sense of peace to watch him soar and dive through the air.

Once Taka has eaten his fill, Blackquill can be found strolling through the gardens. His hawk is hidden in the trees, although anyone observant might notice the bird never strays too far away.]

ii. LATE EVENING THROUGH TO 1AM - NOVUS/REPLEA

[Given today's date, there's morbid appropriateness in stowing away for the evening in what the locals knew as the 'entrance to the underworld'. The bar might be considered seedy to some, filled with criminals and rebel activity as it was, but after seven years on death row, Blackquill is more comfortable with this brand of drinking company than anything else.

Not that he's interested in socialising. He's too wrapped up in his own thoughts for that, nursing a drink at the bar and trying to numb the dull pain that has hung over him all day.

He'd spent seven years in a cell. Seven years, waiting for his own willing demise. For seven years of sleepless nights, confinement and isolation, the past replaying over and over in his mind, he'd marched, slowly but resolutely, towards the end.

Then, at the very last moment, she'd reached out and snatched him from the jaws of death.

Were all those years worth it? Yes, if it was to serve the one more important to him than life itself. But now after all that pain, here they were, in Cerealia. Their world had been destroyed, and they owed their existences here to data. The more he thinks about it, the more he feels he'd failed her. And that her struggles, too, had been for nothing...

But such thoughts are enough to drive a man to madness. Better not to think on it. He downs the last of his beer, and slams down a hand on the bartop for another.

Tonight is going to be a long night.]

iii. EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING - APARTMENTS

[It's almost 2am when Blackquill returns to the apartment complex. He'd hoped to slip in unnoticed, but as he fumbles to find his room key, the plastic snowman Athena had put outside her room a few days prior bursts into song. Yet again.]

Curse you, you noisy thing-- [He mutters under his breath, rifling through his pockets with more urgency. He'll try and get into his room before anyone on the floor is woken up...]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Do as you please... Just don't expect a shoulder to cry on.

You can cry on mine, then. [ without missing a beat. ]

[His expression stiffens; he actually seems caught offguard by that.]

What a generous offer. I'm afraid I must decline.

[ Victory! ]

I just figured I had a bigger shoulder than Taka did.

Hmph. There will be no silly weeping, either in your direction or in Taka's.

Sorry, Taka... [ with a long-suffering sigh. ] I tried.

Believe me, Taka will be glad to have his feathers spared from getting damp.

[Apparently restless, Taka takes flight again at that, circling around overhead. The ghost of a smile passes across Blackquill's face.]

There, you see? He agrees.

... I'm kind of jealous.

[ Just watching him fly... ]

Jealous...? How so?

Flying. It'd be nice to get off the ground for a little while.

Many have been the hours I've spent gazing at the sky and wishing for the same thing... What a sad lot are we, who are chained to the earth.

...

You sure do know how to make things sound super poetic, Mr. Blackquill.

Oh? I'm a poet, and I didn't even know it.

[He smirks.]

Eloquence cuts as deep as a blade... Remember that.

But fists leave better bruises.

[ So sassy, this one. But no, she'll remember. ]

Now there's a sadistic answer... A true warrior knows how to cut down a foe in one blow.

[ SAGE NOD. ] It usually only takes one.

Are you a warrior yourself, or is that empty talk?

[Athena seems to have a lot of... interesting friends that are fighters of some description or another. He almost feels right at home amongst all of them.]

I don't do empty talk. [ Casually holding up one gauntleted-fist. ] I've been fighting for a few years now.

For your own enjoyment, or out of necessity?

... If you're asking that, then I'm guessing your world doesn't have monsters.

No, only men and women who commit monstrous deeds.

We have those, too. And sure, some of the fighting is fun, but we've got schools dedicated to teaching us how to take on all of the above.

Is it some manner of military academy?

More like a combat school? It's not as strict.

... Sort of.

[ Their teachers just literally fling them into a forest to face monsters and expect them to make it back alive. ]

"Sort of"? You're hardly being specific.

[More deets, he wants them.]

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