Was it possible to be lost when you didn’t know anything about a place? Probably seeing the fact he could go looking for the place they were they had put him to live, but he was interested in the place. He never saw a city like this that wasn’t destroyed and infested with Aragami. He was looking at all he could come across, parks, shop windows, you name it. He felt like the saying, kid in a candy story. So many new things to take in, well somethings he remembered but it was just the idea of the new setting that got t
Because of this excitement he was paying close attention to his surrounding. He noticed something familiar in the crowd of new sites and sounds. It was a certain bracelet that was given to a god eater. He was a bit surprised cause it looked a bit different, he had the need to ask the other about it.
“ Pardon me, but I just had to inquire. Is that an armlet the one given to a God Eater?”
It hurts to admit it, but she's not that strong when ghostsfrom the past decide to come back solely to haunt you; like a joke that everyone gets but you. She had always considered herself strong. Thefemme fatale men certainly don't want to cross paths with. A heartless cannibalwho kills not only to survive, but for the sake of taking a life away whenevershe needed a moment of entertainment - surely someone like her can't be botheredwith feelings, right?
Mm.
Purple eyes blinked, restlessly trying to get rid of those unwanted tears. A ghoul shouldn't cry - they aren't humans. Hah, had it been someone else, Rize would be the first to mock them for feeling... It's useless to keep echoing that in her head, itwill never be enough to stop the tears from coming.
Furuta Nimura. The only person who has ever called her a friend, and also the only one who cared so much about her. That fateful encounter from not long ago... how sick thatthis city decided to pull him back from the past and shove him right to her face. Ah,maybe she deserved it. Forgetting the person that cared for you the most is a featthat only someone like Rize herself could pull off. Isthis what guilt feels like?
Whatever it is it sucks.
"Don'teven think about it." She mumbles upon realization that she’s being watched, "It's no bigdeal. I’m fine."
The question catches the small, dirty child off-guard, and for several long moments he flounders on how to respond. He doesn’t have a name, after all–not in the traditional sense–and even the local adults never call him the same thing twice. Should he list off all of those, then…? Is something better than nothing?
He decides in the next second that, yes, something must be better than nothing, and begins rattling off the names, using his tiny fingers to keep track. Brat. Punk. Vermin. Rat. Mongrel. He’s sure he’s forgetting a few… What were they…?
The boy looks up, and is surprised to see Kyouya utterly aghast.
“Those aren’t names… Aren’t those just mean things to say…?!”
“Well…maybe…but I don’t have a name like yours.”
Kyouya’s expression shifts from disgruntled, to surprised, to pensive. Confused by the sudden silence, the boy opens his mouth to ask if something’s wrong–
“Then…how ‘bout I give you one? I don’t really wanna call you any of those things…and you never had a real name anyway, so it’s fine, right?”
It’s the younger child’s turn to look absolutely flabbergasted. A name…for him, he says? Is that something you can just give somebody…? Isn’t that something that’s established when you’re born? It’s not…too late for him to get one…?
As he furiously tries to process this sudden proposal, Kyouya’s face lights up, and he drops his little fist into his palm triumphantly.
“Okay. Okay, I got one–…how about ‘Aragami Rouga’? Like ‘wolf fang’! It’s cool, huh? What do you think?”
Somehow, the boy feels a bit dizzy. Isn’t this happening too fast?
“Where’d you get ‘Aragami’…? Do you know someone with that name?”
“Well, no…but if you take it, then I will! Or...do you not like it...?”
He frantically shakes his head. That isn’t it at all--rather, he’s actually...excited. Few in the slums of Cho Tokyo have ever really bothered learning or coming up with names to call themselves by. It’s always seemed pointless--hopeless--in light of how temporary each of their presences frequently prove to be. In a hole like this, a kid you spoke to the other day could very well show up dead on the streets the next. People who you thought you could trust might turn out to be liars and thieves, or vanish into thin air like they never existed at all.
To receive and accept a name...is confirmation, right? That he’s leaving... That against all odds, he’s making it out alive...that he won’t die alone in some gutter, without anything to prove that he lived.
“I...I like it.”
Kyouya beams at his response, and tugs eagerly on his sleeve as he moves to catch up to his parents just a little ways ahead.
“Then from now on, you’re ‘Rouga’! I’ll tell Papa and Mama too.”
He continues to chatter on animatedly, all but oblivious as Rouga raises his free arm and rubs at his damp eyes with his sleeve.
Send me a song and I’ll write a headcanon, drabble, or my Muse’s opinion on it.
He hadn’t expected to wake up. Everything hurt, his back was on fire; it hurt, and every breath felt like it was ripping him apart. Everything was raw and painful, and all he could think of was the disappointment of it all. He was alive, somehow; what a monster.
He deserved to die after...after...what was it again? His head was pounding, painfully and loudly, and it took all his strength to keep himself from falling asleep. Or would it be death? He didn’t know, didn’t care.
He didn’t deserve to see anymore.
When he woke up again, the pain was weaker. He could breathe without it hurting, he could look around and lift his head without much trouble.
There was someone in the room.
He tried to move, combat drilled into him, only for his weak body to fall to the ground, pain flaring up and leaving him breathless.
Bishop, he learned. The joke about where he came falling from was unneeded, hated really. But he moved on. Because he didn’t care.
He managed to get past some of the fog. Giovanni. Arthur. Lott.
Lily.
He deserved it, deserved to go to death like he had done to her. Instead of being free, she was...
All because he was an idiot.
There was cackling in his ears, in a voice too similar to his. He hated it.
Aboveground, he was introduced to Kiri. Buon Viaggio. It’d been years, but his neck felt heavy, just like back in. Cold. His back was painful, tearing, tearing, tearing.
When he jerked back, breath racing and he was drowning, Badou dragged him away, out of sight. Into a little alcove near the restaurant, where Kiri had vegetables and such growing.
He slouched against the beds, curled in on himself, just breathing, breathing in the smoke Badou was puffing. Finally, he looked up, and he caught his breath again, because hell. There was Lily, dancing and tiptoeing around, admiring the little garden. Little safe haven.
Badou had no complaints about leaving him back there; early on in the partnership, too early for him to care much. Long as there wasn’t trouble he could get slammed for.
He simply contented himself, seeing what he knew was a trick, something he made up, prancing about. Because he could at least pretend, however short, that it was actually true.
Kiri was reasonably curious when he requested to go back into the garden again. But, she let him, seeing his shaking hands, hunched shoulders. He silently entered, and settled down in a corner. It was somewhat silent; the sounds of the kitchen echoed from an open window, the buzz of the city there. The sun burned and uncomfortably prickled his skin, but he just sat, arms hugging his knees to his chest, just watching.
Lily would like this place, he was sure.
He felt sick, he felt disgusted, he loathed. The old hag, using Lily’s face like it was simply a doll she could play with? He was so fucking sick. What was up with that shitty farce? That disgusting display?
How dare she? How dare she not let Lily rest, masquerading with her face like it was some sorta mask!?
He didn’t look back as he solidified his goal of killing the old hag. She deserved it. She deserved it.
It had been only a week since she had joined Corrin’s ranks, known to most as the bow-legged girl from the dead village. Her ears had been closed to such things as much as they could be, yet the words still stung at her like vultures swooping in, picking away piece by piece, even though she knew they weren’t meant to. Although most spoke of her with only sympathy, they were empty words to her.
It was at this point, however, that she made a very strange choice - she, accompanied by Corrin, decided to return to what was left, to say goodbye one last time. Work was already coming along to try and clean up the remains, to try and return some semblance of peace to this border-bound village, yet none of it mattered to her. Other members of the army had already buried most of them, and flowers matching those at Mozu’s ears were found on one grave alone.
On the way, she had decided the words to say, something of conviction, of trying to move on.
The words stuck in her throat. Just like always, she internally chided, you can’t do it when it matters. She collapsed to her knees, as if they had simply given up. Honestly, she wanted to follow their example. She wanted to disappear, to give herself so someone else could have survived, she wanted to scream, but…
…all that escaped were choked sobs, descending into unrestrained tears. Although they were slightly muffled as Corrin carefully pulled her into their embrace, she couldn’t stop herself.
✜ – asuka internally beams, rejoicing and basking in the feel of the kitten’s fur in her fingers and the way it butts its head against her hands. it’s nice to receive attention from someone whose only ulterior motive is to get cuddles in return, and asuka is more than happy to oblige. the weird part about being alone for so long is you can’t hide the nitty gritty from yourself – not forever – so it’s nice to be able to take some time out from her busy schedule and just... be alone with someone, together.
that is, until another cat tries to jump on her lap and some stranger is trying to apologise to her. ❝ it’s a cat, ❞ she says, ❝ and it’s not yours. you can’t control the fact that it likes me better. ❞ her playful smile gives away her teasing.
Gilbert McLane is a huntsmen that’s extremely loyal to his teammates and comrades even though he may seem rougher around the edges. Originally from Vacuo and like many people from there he had a rough start but showed boundless potential. His proficiency with his spear/assault gun and shield made him intimidating to face and force to be reckoned with in combination with his strength related semblance. He almost treats his weapon as if it’s a sentient as any other person.
Despite rumors that he’s shady or untrustworthy, if someone becomes his friend they learn otherwise quickly.
Gritting his teeth, Yata tried to ignore the discomfort he felt at now not only being lost, but being lost with the guy who had asked him about being lost! It was like some cosmic joke being made at his expensive for having his head up his ass not that long ago. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, the skater didn’t speak for a long moment before mumbling:
“Alright, let’s stop in a store and get some damn directions.”
