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lunaecalamitas2024-04-04 11:33 pm
promittere) wrote in lunaecalamitas2024-04-04 11:33 pm
if you say it's magic, then you're my wizard
WANING GIBBOUS OVERTURE
The seconds tick by, the elevator rattles. There's a soft, musical chime announcing your arrival before the elevator doors creak open, leaving you and a number of others in the courtyard of a stone manor. The manor is large, looming over the trees surrounding it, and the gardens are well maintained, rows of hedges and beds of blooming flowers as far as you can see. The doors linger open until you clear the threshold, as if waiting patiently for you. Dawdle too long and you’ll feel a gentle push, nudging you out into the yard. The doors shut with more rattles and a cheerful ding!, and if you turn to look at it there's nothing to be seen behind you but the milling strangers.
Then there's a sting, mild at first. But soon, the spot where your sage's crest is starts to burn. It's as though you have been branded, and the searing heat clings to your skin. Should you look at your crest, you'll find it glows a faint red, like the dying embers of a fire, but given enough time it will cool to black and no longer hurt.
Once the pain fades, you notice is that the air around you feels distinctly different. It's hard to say exactly what makes it different, or how. It feels brittle, but malleable. That perhaps if you said or did the right thing, you could command reality to your liking—
The wind blows, stirring leaves and flowers, and that's when you notice there are two people in the courtyard that did not emerge from the elevator like everyone else. The taller of the two looks briefly shocked, before a warm smile blots it out, while the shorter of the two looks remarkably unimpressed—for as much as you can make out his expression under the large hat he wears. He glances at the taller man, the charms that hang from his hat clinking, and crosses his arm over his chest.
The taller man nods, turns to the group, and says, "Sorry. I know you were probably in the middle of something important. But...I need you. My name is Tatara Totsuka. I'm your sage, and you are my witches and wizards."
He looks up to the moon hanging in the sky, still pale and visible despite the light of day, and lays it all out for you: a wizard under the sage's guidance is supposed to fight off the Great Calamity—the moon—when it nears. But you are not meant to carry out this task. The original sage and twenty-one wizards suddenly vanished not long ago. No one knows what happened to them, or where they are. They aren't dead. They are gone.
That you are here, that there are so many of you, that you came from different worlds, means that this is a mistake. Something, somewhere, isn't right. Yet the world has decided to claim you in a frantic attempt to keep itself together.
This world is breaking. If you don't fix this, then you'll be stuck here fighting the Calamity yourselves.
When Tatara looks back down to the rest of you, there's a smile on his face, tinged with apology. "But I think it'll be okay. We'll figure this out... Right?"
The golden light of sunset is oddly cold. It settles over you not in a welcoming embrace, but in a possessive hold. There is a sinking feeling in your gut: whatever your home was before matters no longer. Welcome to a world on the brink of destruction—let's hope it's not for good.
The day begins to draw to a close. You're given the rest of the day to process Tatara's words and to familiarize yourselves with the manor. There are plenty of empty spaces in the manor with sparse furniture where you can rest and try to unwind, and hopefully get some sleep. Everything about today might be a lot to unpack, but surely you can at least relax and prepare for the next day.
The morning starts with the sound of bells. A cacophonous racket of them, ringing in your rooms, in your head, jolting you from whatever slumber you can grasp. The source seems to be a note, unassuming if not for the way it shakes with each toll of the bells, and the noise only stops when you read it.
"Go to the courtyard," it says, and if you try to ignore it the noise returns, growing louder and louder until your vision swims and you find yourself standing in the courtyard with everyone else—and the shorter of the two men from yesterday.
"Practice starts right now," he says, looking bored and just as unimpressed as he did yesterday. The sun has barely started over the horizon—it's early, almost absurdly so. "You need to learn magic sooner instead of later, unless you want to die like miserable worms. If you do, just quit now so we can replace you with someone useful."
His explanation on magic is brief—he explains that magic is a deal struck between caster and the spirits of the world, using a meaningful word or phrase to communicate your will to the as-of-yet unseen spirits of the world, who will respond to your desires and power your magic. A focus, an object of significant meaning, will help strengthen your ties to the land and direct the magic for your spells. If you have nothing that would work as a focus right now, he says, chances are the perfect thing will find you anyways.
While he looks unhappy to do so, he emphasizes that magic—as it works here—is all tied to your emotions and your convictions, and then he assigns you a challenge for the week. He wants you to come up with your incantation—the words you'll use to cast all of your magic—as well as find or draw forward your focus, with the final task being summoning a magic broom you'll use for transportation.
Then there's a sting, mild at first. But soon, the spot where your sage's crest is starts to burn. It's as though you have been branded, and the searing heat clings to your skin. Should you look at your crest, you'll find it glows a faint red, like the dying embers of a fire, but given enough time it will cool to black and no longer hurt.
Once the pain fades, you notice is that the air around you feels distinctly different. It's hard to say exactly what makes it different, or how. It feels brittle, but malleable. That perhaps if you said or did the right thing, you could command reality to your liking—
The wind blows, stirring leaves and flowers, and that's when you notice there are two people in the courtyard that did not emerge from the elevator like everyone else. The taller of the two looks briefly shocked, before a warm smile blots it out, while the shorter of the two looks remarkably unimpressed—for as much as you can make out his expression under the large hat he wears. He glances at the taller man, the charms that hang from his hat clinking, and crosses his arm over his chest.
The taller man nods, turns to the group, and says, "Sorry. I know you were probably in the middle of something important. But...I need you. My name is Tatara Totsuka. I'm your sage, and you are my witches and wizards."
He looks up to the moon hanging in the sky, still pale and visible despite the light of day, and lays it all out for you: a wizard under the sage's guidance is supposed to fight off the Great Calamity—the moon—when it nears. But you are not meant to carry out this task. The original sage and twenty-one wizards suddenly vanished not long ago. No one knows what happened to them, or where they are. They aren't dead. They are gone.
That you are here, that there are so many of you, that you came from different worlds, means that this is a mistake. Something, somewhere, isn't right. Yet the world has decided to claim you in a frantic attempt to keep itself together.
This world is breaking. If you don't fix this, then you'll be stuck here fighting the Calamity yourselves.
When Tatara looks back down to the rest of you, there's a smile on his face, tinged with apology. "But I think it'll be okay. We'll figure this out... Right?"
The golden light of sunset is oddly cold. It settles over you not in a welcoming embrace, but in a possessive hold. There is a sinking feeling in your gut: whatever your home was before matters no longer. Welcome to a world on the brink of destruction—let's hope it's not for good.
The day begins to draw to a close. You're given the rest of the day to process Tatara's words and to familiarize yourselves with the manor. There are plenty of empty spaces in the manor with sparse furniture where you can rest and try to unwind, and hopefully get some sleep. Everything about today might be a lot to unpack, but surely you can at least relax and prepare for the next day.
The morning starts with the sound of bells. A cacophonous racket of them, ringing in your rooms, in your head, jolting you from whatever slumber you can grasp. The source seems to be a note, unassuming if not for the way it shakes with each toll of the bells, and the noise only stops when you read it.
"Go to the courtyard," it says, and if you try to ignore it the noise returns, growing louder and louder until your vision swims and you find yourself standing in the courtyard with everyone else—and the shorter of the two men from yesterday."Practice starts right now," he says, looking bored and just as unimpressed as he did yesterday. The sun has barely started over the horizon—it's early, almost absurdly so. "You need to learn magic sooner instead of later, unless you want to die like miserable worms. If you do, just quit now so we can replace you with someone useful."
His explanation on magic is brief—he explains that magic is a deal struck between caster and the spirits of the world, using a meaningful word or phrase to communicate your will to the as-of-yet unseen spirits of the world, who will respond to your desires and power your magic. A focus, an object of significant meaning, will help strengthen your ties to the land and direct the magic for your spells. If you have nothing that would work as a focus right now, he says, chances are the perfect thing will find you anyways.
While he looks unhappy to do so, he emphasizes that magic—as it works here—is all tied to your emotions and your convictions, and then he assigns you a challenge for the week. He wants you to come up with your incantation—the words you'll use to cast all of your magic—as well as find or draw forward your focus, with the final task being summoning a magic broom you'll use for transportation.
Threading out magic practice and ICly discovering your characters' magic words, manifesting their foci, and summoning their broom will count as three different jobs, and will be eligible for a set of rewards each. While not technically classified as a job this time around, this is a special circumstance. When you've accomplished any of these things, please submit them to the rewards page as a job submission.
If you're having trouble coming up with a focus or incantation, think about your answers for the first and third mandatory questions on your app! Your focus of choice does not have to be in your character's inventory—if what works best for them as a focus did not come with them, then they can focus and reach across universes to bring it here with them.
If you're having trouble coming up with a focus or incantation, think about your answers for the first and third mandatory questions on your app! Your focus of choice does not have to be in your character's inventory—if what works best for them as a focus did not come with them, then they can focus and reach across universes to bring it here with them.
JOB BOARD
You may have just gotten here, but people across the continent still need the sage's wizards to do things for them. The job board will typically have 2 - 3 requests each event that can be turned in for rewards when completed.
Sugar delivery. Confectionery shops and pharmacies put in regular orders for wizard sugar to the manor, and despite the unusual circumstances, now is no different. Wizard sugar—sugar spontaneously created through a wizard's magic—is said to have restorative properties and said to bless those that consume it, so it's no wonder it's in high demand. It also happens to be one of the first things young wizards learn to do. So once you've perfected your sugar, go deliver it to the shops in Central capital and to the Southern merchants waiting for shipment near the Central tower.
The Southern merchants, in particular, seem rather anxious to receive as much sugar as possible, as soon as possible.
The Southern merchants, in particular, seem rather anxious to receive as much sugar as possible, as soon as possible.
WANDERER TASKS
The wizards' new mentor knows that this must be an incredibly overwhelming experience, so he has a list of things that should help break down the process of learning and understanding magic. Or that's what he says, at least, but it feels like he's trying to make things more difficult...
Nobody is going to hold your hands for you, and the best way to learn is to understand the root cause of an issue. Use that paper being left around for something actually useful and do some research on the spirits of the countries you've been tasked to represent. I'll be expecting some actual thought out papers within the week.
For the idiots who can't research to save their lives, prove you can actually manage the bare minimum. There's a spot you can't reach without magic within the manor grounds—bring me one of the trinkets you find there.
For the even bigger idiots who are overconfident, come find me and we can spar. I won't go easy on you.
TATARA ACTIVITIES
Tatara knows things are tense and uncomfortable for his new wizards, so he'll offer up a few activities each event post to help them relax if things get too tough.
We're all new here, but we'll be friends before long, I know it! There's a table in the dining room with paper, pens, markers, glitter, and pins so we can all make name tags and get to know each other better. We'll go from strangers to neighbors to besties before you know it!
Oh, you should probably get a feel of the manor, too. This IS your new home, after all! And what better way than...hide and seek?! Sounds fun, right? I'd tell you MY favorite spot to hide, but then that wouldn't be fair!
I don't know how long we're going to be here, so it probably wouldn't hurt to settle in. Grab a friend or two and head to the market in the Central capital to stock up on whatever food you like and stuff for your room. May as well get comfortable!
OOC NOTES
🌙 Welcome to Lunae Calamitas's first event post! Yer a wizard, whether you like it or not.
🌙 While not technically jobs, ICly working out your character's focus, incantation, and broom are all separately eligible for rewards. Good luck on your basics, little wizards! You'll need them...
🌙 Your OOC plotting post is here! Please keep all your plotting on the plotting post, since not everyone uses discord or plurk.
🌙 The South will be going on their mission next week to get this party started. Keep an eye out, Southies!
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[ He doesn’t know what face to make then. Not that… his emotions let him have much input. If he can’t smile his pain, then he’ll likely -
Ah, knew it. He rubs his wet eyes with the base of his palm. ]
The options aren’t great, Mika.
[ But - strangely enough, it helps. Mika’s words, or just the existence of someone he doesn’t have to pretend around.
(For now?) ]
I’m Ginger, half-angel and… half-demon, since you asked earlier.
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Angels and demons are dangerous as hell— at least, this is what he knows from his practical experience. But he has no grudge against either, so it allows him to weigh what he knows against what his eyes see now, with better clarity than he can view vampires and humans. )
... Hey. Do you want to go to my room? Or yours.
( If Ginger's getting teary and they're getting into Stuff, he'd rather keep it private. )
I'll talk about what I am, too.
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It’s not half and half, no matter how he may present it. The scales tip clearly toward one side, the pull of natural instinct outweighing any inherent duty he might have owed to God. He lacks the core of what makes an angel.
Beneath his fair features, he’s a writhing mass of want. ]
Ah… I don’t mind wherever. Mika, you should pick, so if you get tired of my whining, you can just kick me out.
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( He says this with some wry amusement, as if he could never, but don't be fooled— he really would kick someone out of their own room.
He considers the choice for only the moment before picking the simplest option: his room. He knows where it is, it's on the first floor so it's close, and he's pretty sure his pianist neighbor's out. He grabs Ginger's wrist (rude) and starts to pull him along, his pace naturally brisk. )
Do people normally get tired of you? Or is that just something you're scared of?
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Mm. [ And he’s about to say a definitive yes to Mika’s other question, too, except - he actually takes a moment to think about it, his thought process unraveling in words: ] Yep. Oh, but - everyone… seems… to like having me around anyway. Even if Rum punches me sometimes for being too annoying.
[ He stops. So much for making it easy for Mika. He tugs his arm back a little, so that his hand slips into Mika’s instead of his wrist. Doesn’t ask if it’s okay, because he seeks comfort and he’s a selfish thing. He squeezes. ]
… I’m scared still. People have limits and one day…
[ … ]
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(... Blood rushing beneath the palm, hot beneath the skin...)
He lets him hold it; he'll hold it back, after a moment, listening to Ginger's worries. An angel, a demon... but with these small, earthly fears. Maybe there's no escaping this sort of thing, because Mika, despite being a monster of his own kind, has these earthly fears, too.
They're basically at his room (1-2, don't mind how every door in the hallway and the walls as well are covered in colorful, crooked music notes, thanks Leo) but he turns on his heel in front of his door. )
... I won't. Get tired of you, I mean.
( He reaches out, a hand lingering for a moment at the side of Ginger's head, until he ruffles his hair. He'd do this with the other orphans a lot, a long time ago; this is ... a vaguely nostalgic gesture for him. )
It's fine if you don't believe me. Just ask me again and I'll say the same thing.
( He knows how these things fester. And while he can't speak for anyone else, he knows himself.
His hand starts to withdraw from Ginger's head as he squeezes Ginger's hand back. )
It's been a long time since I could talk to someone. For two years, I didn't talk to anyone. So, you're fine.
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How he was able to reach maturity is a wonder to himself. Maybe it was through sheer force of will, a longing to stay caught up with Rum. ]
Mika...
[ He leans in as Mika keeps talking, clutching his hand tight. It's so easy for Ginger's mind to add more to that. 'Didn't becomes 'wouldn't' becomes 'couldn't' as the wild ideas play out, paranoia's touch making things worse. Mika didn't say anything of that, no, but what if? What if - ]
Mika... [ He's practically shedding tears for the both of them, big childish droplets. ] That's too lonely.
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He misses Yuu. He misses Yuu a lot. And his chest seizes when he thinks about how he's not going to see him again. But he's... here right now. Figuring out what sort of feelings he has to offer in the here and now, scraping beneath the layers of his calcified heart. )
I'm not worth crying over. Come on. ( His smile is a little less wry this time. ) If you feel that bad for me, don't kick yourself out before I say anything. I'm so antisocial I won't speak a word to anyone if I don't have to.
( He doesn't mean to say this to obligate Ginger to stick around him, or anything. He's fine if Ginger leaves and lets Mika stay a loner. He just means to say he... is what he is. Saying what he thinks, without much disguised. Not speaking, not acting out of obligation, not— really, existing as part of this world, because his time has been long since up. And he's fine with that. (Is he?) )
Here. Couch's free.
( With a tug, he'll let them into his room; it's. dark. Muttering his spell—donec moraire—the candles and fireplace crackle to life and provide some dim lighting. The couch he's referring to seems to be this thing (since he doesn't really use it as a bed...). )
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Something… like that?
Ah - but maybe that's Ginger being influenced by too much fiction, by melodramatic feelings. An unhealthy projection of the angry solitude he felt, struggling with being half-blood, struggling with his possessive nature. Waiting to adapt like everyone else had easily done. ]
… We’re all worth crying over to someone. It’s too late anyway. I can’t take those tears back.
[ Dumb as a rock and stupid emotional. He sits - here, as he’s told to. Already grabbing for one of the pillows - because tears and pillows, they go together. ]
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He rests an elbow on his knee and his cheek in his palm, gazing at Ginger. "We're all worth crying over"... Not him; he insists. But the intent and the sentiment isn't lost on him. )
I guess not. ( On taking them back. ) Your tears don't sound like any I've heard. Big and warm.
( Weird descriptor for crying, but listen— the fact of the matter is that he can hear and feel and see everything around him to a frighteningly precise degree: he can hear the interlocking score that comprises the world's harmony, as God had written it, intended it, and its splendor. It just struggles to stir his heart, if it ever does at all. It's torturous, to be always surrounded by beauty, and to feel acutely how little it moves you.
He closes his eyes, for a moment. Somewhere in the soft flicker of the candlelight and the crackle of the fireplace is Ginger's breathing, affected by emotion; feeling circulating through the body... )
... Is it hard? Being half one thing, half another?
no subject
It’s hard not being enough of what I want.
[ It hadn’t bothered him as a child until he realized being half-blood meant he was a freak Rum could become tired of. If he was all demon, he could devote himself to his childhood friend. They would be the same. Ginger liked that idea.
But Rum liked Ginger’s angel face; he liked Ginger’s angel mom. Ginger wasn’t angel enough. ]
Eventually, those like me have to pick one or the other. I don’t see why. We work together regardless. Picking one doesn’t get rid of our other half. [ His long, narrow fingers dig into the pillow. White, clean. ] Rum likes angels better. But I -
[ He glances over at Mika. In the dark room, the shadows of his face eclipses his right eye completely. All black. He would never be angel enough. ]
I’m not that.
[ (And he doesn’t want to be.) ]
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He's... lucky, he guesses. Yuu-chan never thought twice about anything Mika was; it was always Mika worrying too hard over it. In some sense, he was the inverse of Ginger: Mika wanted Yuu to pay it mind. He wanted Yuu to reject him. He wanted Yuu to punish him, for being what he was, for doing what he's done. But he wanted Yuu to love him, too.
Messy, ugly feelings. Just like him. )
You want to be something worthy of his love? ( Putting it succinctly, with all the sharp edges intact. It's painful, saying you're not. ) ... I get it, if that's how it is.
( Did Ginger let go of his hand... If not, he minds the thrum of his pulse, idly. Almost like fidgeting, internally. )
... I used to be a human. But... I got turned into a vampire. ( The punchline to the joke; understated, because it's painful. ) And that's that. You don't come back from becoming a monster.
( "That's that," once again. There's no becoming worthy. There's no changing what you are. )
... If he did turn around and accept you as you are, do you think you'd be happy?
( Or would you have that nagging voice in your head telling yourself you aren't worthy still, not really? )
no subject
[ They were named together; grew up together; went to school together; work together. Always together. Always.
Ginger and Rum.
The first name on his lips in the morning, and the last thought on his mind in the evenings. Everything else, secondary. ]
It would just be easier if I was. To get him to like me like I like him.
[ In his heart, he’s already claimed Rum as his.
And in his heart, Ginger has already categorized Mika as - someone like him, so it’s not a surprise to find out he’s a vampire. Mika had slipped it in almost as a footnote, but he hears what the words add up to - ‘I am a monster,’ - and his fingers twitch around Mika’s. His eyes flicker down to their hands, as if remembering that they’re linked, then back up. ]
Are you a monster because vampires are monsters? Or are you a monster because Mikaela is a monster?
no subject
They aren't worthy of Yuu's love, but Yuu loves them, and they can accept it, and they love him, in turn. It was a clean exchange. Mika couldn't do that.
He doesn't answer the question, first. )
... I hope he changes his mind. ( If Ginger feels so truly his happiness hinges on Rum's acceptance of him, and not his acceptance of himself, then... ) You seem fine to me, talking to you. But... that's me.
( He's just some guy, compared to Rum. He knows how it is, when there's one person whose feelings you care about above all. And he's more like Ginger than Rum, here— monster to monster, so to speak. His opinion doesn't matter as much. Maybe if he were Yuu-chan, his words would have a little more weight; Yuu was always really good at giving people hope. Mika makes good on his (faux) promise: he's just someone to stew with.
He lapses into a sort of silence after that, his gaze falling to the floor, and it becomes a little more apparent he isn't sure how to answer the actual question Ginger asked. Or maybe— it's that he knows the answer, he'd seen it so clearly in his final moments, but it's too sharp in his throat, like a box cutter on his tongue. )
... It's both.
( All that trouble for just that. But the truth is simple. )
I've deserved all the bad things that have happened to me.
( A needless exhale, soft. )
... Does God punish people, where you're from?
no subject
Mika. [ Sadness runs along the sound of his name. ] I don’t see a monster in front of me.
[ If he saw his child self, would be want to hug him? A sullen freak, only ever smiling for Rum. It would be a struggle, he thinks. He can’t say he would - and he can’t say he wouldn’t.
He wants to hug Mika, but has realized the other will think it undeserved - maybe even unneeded. What to do - he threads their fingers together, tight. Monster or no, he won’t let go. ]
God loves everyone - but since humanity desires free will over salvation and he wants to allow them that, He doesn’t interfere with human affairs anymore. So… no.
[ No miracles. No one is punished by God, only by their own humanity and mere chance do they suffer. ]
no subject
But he will accept the gesture. He can't forgive himself, but he can allow another person to stay here.
He answers Ginger's fingers laced in his with a firmer grip. )
... That sounds fair. It's humanity's own fault if they feel alone.
( He assumes they do. Humans feel abandoned so easy, though they undo themselves. They feel entitled to affection which they will not return. )
Our God is stricter, or so I've learned. When certain taboos are broken, he punishes everyone. Not that it deters humans any...
( He'll finally pull his gaze up, back toward Ginger. )
... I don't think I'm important enough to punish specifically. But I think the universe is bent toward suffering. If it wasn't... I would've been able to do right by him, at least once. But all I can do is hurt people. That's what makes a monster a monster.
( It's a little bit muddled what his philosophy is, but... somewhere in there, he feels cosmologically doomed to fail by nature— of who he is, and what he is. Maybe Ginger doesn't see a monster, but it is what it is, that's that, and all those other phrases of finality. )
no subject
It doesn’t change the ways Mika has suffered. Every cruel stain on his life. ]
Did you mean to hurt people? Did you want to? Did you ever… have a choice…?
[ Mika got turned; he never mentioned wanting it. When was this - the two years he didn’t speak to anyone? How young had he been? ]
I’m not him. You know what he would say and do, and I don’t - but… you’re doing right by one person now. I hope when you see him again, he tells you that you’ve done right by him all along.
[ He wishes, fervently, that Mika will have a happy ending. ]
I hope you are - that you will be the most important person in the world to him.
no subject
So Ginger's words strike vulnerable, strike true. They strike right into the tender heart of the matter, his eyes a little misty in the way they so rarely are, save when it comes to hunger, and Yuu. )
... I...
( I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. I never had a choice. I,
He shakes his head. )
... I can't.
( Be his most important; can't see him again. He squeezes Ginger's hand, this time for his own sake. He refused to give himself time to grieve; even now, he still refuses. But in the quiet solace of his room, with someone who - wants to comfort, and hear... it's hard to keep his heart quiet, when he thinks about Yuu. )
... I failed to protect him like I promised, again. I tried to make up for it. So I spent my life to keep him safe. I think... it worked. I don't know. I hope it did, more than anything.
( And in the end, that's what scares him most - that Yuu isn't safe. That his life only caused harm in the end. That he failed to do enough, even in his final moment. If all that's not enough, then is it really okay to feel like just listening and talking to Ginger is enough to do right by someone?
But maybe some small part of him, the part not yet fully eroded, wants it all to be enough. )
no subject
[ He’s sorry that the only link to Mika he has is the one that connects them both to this world. As tightly as their fingers entwine, the other end only leads to… him. On this couch, in this world. If he could use his wings to fly Mika back to his beloved, he -
He’d try. For this person who knows the pain in his heart more intimately than even Rum. ]
But Mika… Who keeps you safe?
[ In his pocket, he can almost feel the echo of the blue box pulsing. If it still worked, if he gave that to Mika, he’d be able to see his love’s memories, thoughts. He could have the answers he wanted.
If - he still wanted them.
But the box is a mistake. Ginger’s. And he doesn’t think Mika wants to make any more. ]
no subject
The question is unexpected, and pulls his gaze up. He never really thinks about his own needs. )
... I can handle myself. ( Says guy who just admit he threw himself under the bus for his Yuu-chan, ) What, can you? Angels and demons must be powerful, right?
( Deflecting? A little bit. But the question is genuine enough. )
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I’m not doubting that. But - [ Ginger curls around the pillow, tucking his chin into its softness. Buying time to think, really. He worries his bottom lip as he tries to explain himself. ] We all feel pain. We’re all scared sometimes, even… monsters.
I can fight if I have to and I’m stronger - more resilient than normal humans. But, like anything, I will break with enough force.
But it’s - not just my physical self that needs to be looked after. Or yours. Um, our hearts are important, too.
[ He’s more likely to die of heartbreak than anything else. One day, he might end up crying himself to death. ]
… Isn’t that scarier than everything else? It scares me a lot.
no subject
It's really hard to think about himself. He's never had space to - or maybe he's just never wanted to. Never wanted to think about his parents, just the people he needed to take care of now; never wanted to think about his future, just keeping Yuu safe. Being left with only himself and his heart is... overwhelming, in the way being all alone in a great, dark cavern is, every echo mirrored back like a roar. )
... Does anyone protect you?
( Ginger's question mirrored back. If it scares him so much, he probably shouldn't deal with it alone. But Ginger seems... empathetic. Caring. He should have someone, right? That Rum guy, even with his hangups with angels, or some other friends. )
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Rum, my coworkers.
[ He doesn’t say friends because he really only has two so far: Rum and Akira. And Mika is something else. That he’ll decide later. ]
When it comes to a fight, I know they have my back. But none of them understand my heart, so…
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...
He rubs the side of Ginger's hand with his thumb - just once or twice; an uncertain gesture, thinking. )
... I could try.
( He tilts his head slightly, looking up at Ginger. )
I don't think I understand you perfectly yet. And I've never done this before. So I'll probably make mistakes. But I could try, if you'll let me.
( Maybe he just wants to make up for failing Yuu. Maybe he just needs to put something there for him to protect. He isn't sure.
Maybe it's that he can't take care of himself, but he can look out for someone like him. Maybe that's something.
But he also looks like he expects Ginger to say no. He knows suggestion didn't exactly sound confident, but he couldn't lie and say he could do it for certain when they've just met; when Mika just came off a failure of circumstance prior to coming here... )
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[ Not quite hiding behind the pillow, but his lips disappear and his voice gets lower. All that’s left is one bright eye and one dark, both focused on Mika. ]
I might have said all that because I wanted to ask if I could.
[ Despite knowing he’ll make all the mistakes ever, emotionally stupid and clumsy as he is.
Still - it’s a step in the right direction. He held back for so long with Rum, didn’t try at all. When he finally did something, it was only about him - Ginger - and it worked in the worst way. His worst mistake.
He needs to try better.
And he’s worried - if Mika has no one, if Mika stops talking again, Ginger’s scared his heart will just stop beating. It’s too painful, too scary to think about. ]
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