influence
@neoyani / phase two, in afterlife
since getting acquainted with this side of elysium, noeul’s always felt off. like a fish out of water. like he doesn’t belong, because in most ways, he doesn’t. at least he’s always thought so until tonight. when, right after getting out of the subway, muscle memory alone guides him to the afterlife. buildings no longer bathed in neon haze blend together, undistinguishable from one another, and yet noeul knows the way. this is his only source of comfort as his radio link to his sister only feeds back static, no matter how many times he whisper shouts her name into his wrist. and when he switches the frequency to his station, successfully receiving a report back, this only makes his worry rise.
so it’s with a rapidly beating heart, anxious and stressed, that he enters afterlife. it’s always a buzz of activity, but it’s even more so tonight. too many warm bodies filled into one building, making it hard to squeeze his way through to the bar. he could use a drink. or several. he asks the frazzled bartender for as much, skipping his usual order of cheap beer and going straight to whiskey, neat. his wires are all crossed, noeul the undercover versus regular oh noeul, and the first sip he takes does little to help reconcile the two. still, he takes the glass with him, throwing himself back into the sea of people, hoping to find a less crowded corner of the room.
as he pushes through, he bumps a little too hard into someone and curses as the liquid sloshes violently in his glass, threatening to fall out. “sorry,” he mumbles a little too aggressively for an apology, stress evident in his voice. “oh, yani. hey, sorry,” he repeats, much lighter now when he meets yani’s eyes, “too many damn people here.” noeul smiles, small but there. yani has that effect on him, comforting. easy. the ramming against his chest slows because of it, and he jokes, “looks like we all had the same idea, i don’t know what to think about that.”