crying's not worth it

a-4 | citta | cure 3x daily

[herokind]

    You sigh. Dammit, everyone in this city thinks you’re a SCARY MOTHERFUCKER. Why couldn’t they just leave you alone instead of poke you with a stick? She holds your horns all loose and light, and it is really disappointing. Maybe she’ll give you the honors, at least. You just hope that she won’t torment you any longer, because you’ve been through enough of that.

    On second thought, you earned the torture by being an eyesore and you shouldn’t be requesting anything.

[ ♉ ] TAVROS: i WANNA RIP THEM OFF BECAUSE, tHEY ARE NOTHING BUT ANNOYING, aND STUPID, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: i COULDN’T GET INTO MY RECUPERACOON, aND SLEEP AT NIGHT, bECAUSE OF THESE,  [ ♉ ] TAVROS: i TRIED TO RIP OFF MY FAKE LEGS EARLIER, bUT i WAS TOO PATHETIC, sO, cOULD YOU GET THOSE TOO, 

[mognette]

Sure thing, right away! Eiko Carol’s Dismemberment Hotline, at your service! ...

... This time, her fists clench around his horns, but it’s not out of impending de-horn-ment on her part. More like she’s angry and clenching her fists, which happen to still be wrapped around this dude’s kind-of-oversized-now-that-she-gets-a-better-look-at-them horns.

“So?” Big deal, she thinks, shrugging off the jargon she doesn’t understand, because what even was a rebuker raccoon? Judging from this guy’s ramblings, he could probably do with out a raccoon that did nothing but rebuke him, anyways. “If you couldn’t get your legs, what makes you think you can get your horns, huh?” As if to prove her point, she gives the horn she’s got a grip on a few good tugs. Nope, not going anywhere. “And what’d your legs even do to deserve that, anyways!”

[herokind]

    You look down at the kid. Cute. Full of promise. You kind of wish that you had this BLATANT POTENTIAL, but all people look at is your horns and legs and, majority? Not even in a positive way. You don’t know why she would want them. But hey, they’re her trophy.

[ ♉ ] TAVROS: yEAH, oKAY, jUST DO IT, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: aCTUALLY, iF YOU DON’T WANNA, sINCE IT’S GROSS, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: i CAN JUST DO IT MYSELF, i KIND OF WANT TO,

[mognette]

Gross? She doesn’t mind gross. If anything, her eyes light up at the concept, like she’s curious. Like, how gross could it be? She doesn’t actually know what happens when someone’s horns get brutally torn off, all she knows is that it’s possible and it’s painful.

Her grip loosens. Just a bit.

“Hold it, buddy.” This kid’s so weird. The way he keeps talking himself down reminds her of someone, although it’s hard for her to put a finger on how or why. “Why d’you wanna rip your horns off? Wouldn’t you wanna,” I dunno, “Keep them?” Somehow, it sounds less like she’s asking out of concern his mental wellbeing and more out of concern for her personal curiosity.

[herokind]

    You look up at the LITTLE GIRL bothering you. You would have thought that a CREEP sitting alone on a park bench, staring at people, would be someone most would avoid. You find it more surprising that she is actually envious of your appearance. You think you look like a SAD WIMP who can’t take care of himself. Horns or no horns. Besides, these horns were annoying, but they definitely belonged to an ANNOYING OWNER.

[ ♉ ] TAVROS: uHH, i DON’T KNOW, [ ♉ ] TAVROS: jUST RIP THEM OFF ME, yOU DESERVE THEM MORE,

[mognette]

Okay, so this kid was obviously not in the mood, and maybe if she’d taken a second to consider that before calling out to him, but. Who were we kidding, she would have called out to him regardless of whatever sort of crushing depression she thought he was experiencing.

“You really want me to rip ‘em off? Okay...” The way she drags out the “oh” all but screams ‘Weirdo.’ “One, two—!” As if she’s about to make good on his offer, Eiko latches her hands around his leftmost horn with a speed that all but says ‘I’ve been waiting for this.’ But, instead of Swift Horn Removal™, she stops to get a better glance at the kid. “—Are you sure about this? It’ll probably really hurt, y’know.”

[mognette]

“You look like a nerd.”

It’s a declaration that’s not completely without basis, —at least, not in her mind. All he needed were some nerdy glasses, and maybe a nerdy book (the latter of which she can totally envision if she just squints a little), and he’d be picture perfect.

So. Nerd. With very little regard for manners or forewarnings against stereotyping strangers, Eiko leaned forward, hands on her hips. If she’s trying to do nothing but increase the height disparity, it’s working. In the meantime, she had questions to ask. Important questions.

“Does everybody here dress like that, or is it just you?”

sanguinetactics

[mognette]

Something isn’t right about this city.

Something isn’t right, because she should feel excited, she should look at Dagger, at the closest person to a sister she’s ever known, and feel excited. Not this hesitation, not this doubt. Something isn’t right, and it’s somewhere in between the long hair and that bright orange jumpsuit. Because when she sees Dagger, standing in between the crowds of people looking just as confused as she feels, something stops her from running, or else calling out to catch her attention.

At least, not immediately. Eventually she plucks up whatever sort of courage is necessary to approach her best friend, eventually she finds whatever it takes to cut her way through the crowds of people to tug at Dagger’s sleeve.

(And honestly, ‘eventually’ is a bit of an exaggeration, a bit dramatic— it really only takes a matter of seconds.)

“Did you just get here, too?” She steps away, twists her heel into the dirt nervously. “I mean, you look lost, so.”

heircutting

[mognette]

Look, some anatomy that she recognizes! Not that ‘anatomy’ is a word that’s in her vocabulary, not that it’s one she could spell if she tried, either.

Not the point.

The point was the point! The point on the horn. Horns, plural. Eiko’s caught between horror, awe, and something that’s probably tinged with envy. He had two. Like, sure, they were gaudy, but he had two! Two horns!

“It’s not fair.”

She puffs out her cheeks, pouting dramatically as her expression shifts from one of disappointment to one that’s outright indignant. “There’s no way you’re any older than me! So how come yours are so big, huh?”

herokind

[mognette]

“’Scuse me? Ma’am?”

It’s not so much that’s it’s rare for her to be helpful, but from the way she’s got her chest half-puffed out, you’d think she thinks she’s committed the Good Deed of the Century by stopping this lady in her tracks.

As if to prove her point, she holds out her hand; there’s a small bunch of flowers gripped tightly in her fist, no doubt fallen from the bouquet the taller woman was carrying. Arm still outstretched, Eiko tilted her head as if to get a better look at the flower-touting lady. What was she carrying the bouquet for, anyways?

“You dropped these!”

cetrasguard

[mognette]

It takes her about thirty seconds to pinpoint the source of the smell, and thirty more to take in this woman’s appearance. Horns, gnarled ones that look more like branches than anything else, long blonde hair, and a weird gourd-looking thing in her hand.

She squints.

“What’s with those ring things on your horns?” Or, well, horn singular, but she was here to harass strangers about their physical appearance, not win a spelling bee. At first she was curious about who reeked of alcohol this early in the morning, but now this lady’s (or rather, her horn’s) got her curious.

Not that you could tell as much from her expression; if anything, Eiko just looks incredulous. Or offended, maybe. How come this lady got two?

onitoxicated

[mognette]

“Hey! Hey, you.” She flaps one hand in the air with a sense of urgency, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Once she’s satisfied that she’s caught the older, taller girl’s attention, Eiko settles back into her heels, pulls her hands behind her back.

“You look smart.” Filed under: Declarations that might carry more weight were they not first impressions from a six year old. There’s a confident smile on her face, as if she senses some sort of shared camaraderie in the five seconds she’s not-quite-known the lady.

“So, what’s a smart lady gotta do to get by in this city?”

saravalt

[mognette]

you’re the worst dad ever js

[memoraia-deactivated20150627]

Almost on instinct, his hands rest on the brim of his hat, adjusting the oversized garment to ensure that it will remain snuggly on his head. It’s a habit that he had picked up shortly after gaining awareness and never quite shaken, having found that it alleviates his apprehension ever-so-slightly when faced with uncertainty.

And the small figure that came barreling towards him, working her way through the bustling throng of civilians with an ease that was a testament to her boisterous personality, was certainly a variable that he hadn’t been expecting.

He’s amazed he doesn’t fall over in the wake of their near collision. As she silently appraises him, apparently at a loss for words, he gazes back at her in awe, and as the reality of her presence registers, he feels an almost overwhelming sense of comfort permeate the feeling of trepidation he’s been carrying since finding himself in this strange new environment.

“Eiko!” Though his relief is evident in his voice, he finds himself unsure as to how to approach her. Her posture radiates that natural confidence that she carries with her wherever she goes, and which he can’t help but admire her for, but he’s not quite able to emulate it, and instead clasps his hands together; a typical gesture for him.

“I’m so glad to see you. I-I’ve been alone, and this place is so…” he gives the area a sweeping glance, nervously eyeing the sea of unfamiliar faces, “strange.” That about sums up his assessment. Bizarre technology and architecture that feels far beyond his time, a myriad of strangers, and not a single trace of the lingering effects of the Mist.

There’s something off about the lack of any sort of quip or bold remark that he’s come to expect from her, and he tentatively prods her, asking, “Are you ok? I-Is something wrong?”

[mognette]

How can he be so calm?

That’s the first thing she has to ask herself, neck arched, head tilted to the side incredulously. He’s, well. He’s Vivi (or is he?), she’s never quite understood what went through that head of his, honestly never gotten what it was he was thinking about. Tracking this kid’s thought process is harder than stealing Pumpkin Bombs from under ol’ Snootbinger’s nose, and it’s something she’d all but given up on long ago.

If only because she’d ran out of time.

That’s depressing, this is depressing, and she rubs at the ensuing pout with one sleeve as if it’ll wipe the expression off of her face. It only takes a second for her to resume her original posture, with all of that commanding imperiousness that only a six year old could possibly muster with a straight face.

“That’s Aunt Eiko to you, buster.” She manages to make it sound half like a joke, the way she chastises him, but if she were maybe a few months younger she probably would have stamped her feet to emphasize her point. Whatever sort of bad joke it is, her expression flips in a flash to one of aggressive curiosity, emphasized by the way she looks around as if maybe there are other black mages hiding in the crowd somewhere.

Because this can’t be Vivi. It just can’t. And yet he’s here, all by himself. “You mean you’ve been here all by yourself?” Gosh, Eiko. From the way she sounds genuinely shocked, you’d think Vivi hadn’t literally just said exactly that. “Aren’t you... y’know, worried about your brothers at all?”

[mognette]

( who wants to roll with the hippest six year old on the block, (a rank attained possibly by virtue of being one of the only six year olds on the block); lms for a starter, no cap for now!

[mognette]

you’re the worst dad ever js

The hat.

It’s the hat. The familiar, floppy, wide-brimmed slightly-ratty stitched-up straw hat, bobbing in between all of these unfamiliar heads and faces. Sure, its significance is one that predates her, one that she’s only heard through stories (and he just stood there, staring at the hat), but it’s not one that’s completely lost on her. Pyntie-hets, or something like that.

Nine little hats, lined up in a row.

Bibi, Pipi, she could never quite keep their names straight no matter how many times she tried. She takes off running.

“’Scuse me, pardon me, coming through; excuuuuuse me, —Hey, you! Kid in the pointy hat!” Slow down, wait up, something like that. Eiko skids to a stop, only inches short from colliding with him.

It’s gotta be Vivi. But it can’t be Vivi. She stands up straight, puts her hands on her hips, and arches her back— but she can’t think of anything to say.

memoraia

[finalfantasyix]