#spiderlilied

[388sarc]

how about i just sit here with you until you’re ready. okay? — @spiderlilied

ready ? he won't ever be ready. at least, that's what it feels like; stamp of unease branding misgivings into his forehead. it's been awhile since he's had an episode like this — foolish enough to truly believe that these feelings have grown easier to manage with time. requiring no additional effort beyond that of stuffing them down, pressing hands over ears and clamping eyes shut. pretending he may shut himself away from them, and they therefore will not be able to reach him. dae-ho is little more than a man foolish enough to believe that the coping mechanisms he's studied day in and day out are not his own to lay claim to: the gnawing sensation in his chest that chews its way through the bone prison of his ribcage is so familiar that it verges on a comfort. he needs to get over it, he thinks. he's firsthand witnessed dozens of residents retell much more grim life stories than his own, and hastily, he writes off the scars and the memories with the volatile knowledge that his father did the best he could.

( it's bullshit. he knows it's bullshit, but the bliss of empathy is sweeter to swallow than anything reality declares. )

the memories are intrusive. he cannot recall which dress was his oldest sister's favorite before she fled the nest, but he knows perpetual terror and how it feels to hold your breath until your lungs scream for respite while hidden behind the sanctuary of a half-open door ( he's too drunk to check where the shadows bleed with the wall ) like the back of his hand. dae-ho's body is tense, coiled tightly even as he perches at the sofa's plush cushioning, sinews and thew no longer capable of recalling a state of ease. arakawa's words register, but fail to resonate: cognizance is foggy, and he stares down to his hands. he flexes his fingers apart, brings them closer to his face. he is eleven years old, and he has accepted the reality that no one is coming to save him. the little combatant that never was has yet to lower his weaponry and shed the armor / neither suit him, but he cannot bear to part with them.

❛❛ sorry, i... ❜❜ rapidly coming to the realization that he isn't sure what he's apologizing for. his existence, most likely. burdensome and weak and unworthy. ❛❛ fuck, i don't know. it shouldn't feel like this anymore. ❜❜

[madcg]

❝ i know we don't know each other that well but if you wanna talk about it... ❞

GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER

❛ WELL... ❜ he might not cross paths with the ol' man again, right? when all's said, over and done with this whole thing... 'sides- ya can't hold too much of all that's let loose from a fool's lips against them once they've been wet with a whole lotta liquor, right? even if a drunk asshole's talk might just be a sober man's thinkin'... it's funny. 'cause... it's somethin' he never wants to talk about, so long as he lives. something he wouldn't know where to start and when to end with- if he even could. maybe that's why... even if sometimes, most nights and days 's all he can think about. careful, goro. loose lips sink ships and shit. but... ❛ ah... what the hell! there was this one gal... long, long, long time ago. kinda woman ya'd burn this whole damn world down for... ya know? talkin' one in a mil. but!... 's like i say! it was a lifetime ago. and... you gotta grow up some time, don't ya? get real. that's life... sometimes, ya gotta let go of shit. folks. dreams... well, that's just what ya do, ain't it? if there's someone out there who can love and live 'em better than you... you gotta let go, don't ya? leave 'em to it. no use, holdin' on too tight. 's no good. no use. for no-one... ❜ well, he loves her, don't he? he'd better. he promised him! he'll take stiff and starched shirt sensei at his word got no choice if he don't... well... he'll break his damn face. or, worse. if he breaks his word. her heart. if he hurts her... but... he won't. he'll give her a good life, won't he? treat her right. he will. and they'll live right and good. do what he can't. what he couldn't. he can do that. if nothin' else... he can do that. ❛ alright! 'how 'bout another 'round fer us sorry ol' sad sacks, eh? my treat! what about you, huh? i've gone and bared my heart and soul to ya, old man- now you gotta gimme a good long peek at yours! ❜

[starlixir]

spent my whole life looking back and wondering who i was.

Prompt that needs to be added in!

❖

❝If it reassures you a bit, you ain't alone. I did that before and sometimes do it now. I'm guilty of it, but,❞ Nova came to a pause. She didn't want to turn the spotlight on her. The worry and guilt eating her away at the mere thought. ❝But what matters is who you are now. Your past shaped who you are and your current actions will shape who you are in the future. Looking back will cause you to wonder more than before. That's just me.❞

Not much to offer.

Sometimes people did bad things and her words might not align with them. It's probably why she stood there, awkwardly, staring at this guy, unsure if she said the right words or not.

❝Even if there's a chance to make up for who you are, them, do it.❞ Maybe she should stop talking.

[noescapingthepast]

❝ do you mind if i ask about it? ❞

He paused. Vander's head lowered somewhat, and although it was hidden by his back being turned towards the last remaining patron of the night, his eyes darted around uncertainly. The glass that he had been preparing to fill was briefly placed down on the shelf where the most commonly used spirits were arranged. Then his hands pressed against the open space next to the arrangement of glasses that were ready for use, and he bent over, head bowed.

Much and more had happened to the people of Zaun; what was the return of a dead man compared to everything else?

Most celebrated it as the return of a beloved and respected hero, while some went so far as to question if his death so long ago had been faked or a lie. Regardless, many seemed to catch on that "something" was different about the former revolutionary, and that whatever it was went far deeper than just his basic appearance.

A few even recognized the pale hues of his mismatched eyes -- the same light hues as those of a fearsome beast that had indiscriminately torn apart so many at Stillwater, and had been brought to the once-great healer of the Underground by Vi and Jinx. (Though these people were kind enough not to ask about it publicly or press the subject when met with an admission that he would rather not discuss it, the fact that they did notice left an ever-present unease within Vander.)

For everyone, there was one far more pressing matter that overshadowed their thoughts on one single man: and that was the fact that their lives had all been completely and utterly upended. Zaun was free, the dream becoming more and more a reality by the day. As more and more people made their way from the Underground up to the surface to start life anew, Vander Warwick had himself eventually chosen to do the same. It had taken a fair bit of time, but finally, finally -- with hard work and the help of their community, The Last Drop had been rebuilt and reopened for people on their side and across the bridge.

The assortment of visitors to the establishment was surprisingly vast. Tonight had been no different, and like always, as the night grew later and later and closing time was approaching, the crowd had cleared out until tomorrow -- except for one man.

And while the former revolutionary had no qualms continuing to serve him, the question posed by him dredged up a myriad of moments and memories both recognized and unreal.

Out came an inaudible sigh. When Vander straightened up again, the nearby hand towel was slung over his shoulder once more, while the glass he'd been prepping was again retrieved. However, a second glass was also taken up, with both being placed on the bar counter in front of where the customer was seated. A bottle of the most requested -- and strongest -- liquor was grabbed from beneath the counter.

"Afraid you'll have to be more specific than that, friend," the bartender admitted as the two glasses were filled with the liquor. After returning the bottle to its rightful place, he leaned over again, one forearm resting on the polished wood surface, only to have his weight rest upon it as he shifted forward just the slightest trace. The other hand's palm heel pressed into the edge of the counter, where he gestured with a simple flex of his fingers for the other man to carry on. "Just keep in mind that I might not offer up answers."

[starlixir]

you seem sullen and far away.

Digging into the records!

❖

Truth rings in those words of his.

It's not the distant look settling within Nova's eyes, making her seem like she is actually far away. As if she is a shape of a figure in the distance you can't quite make out the details of. It's not how she didn't respond right away to his words, despite them going through her mind, being processed several times before it settled in. How her lips curved downwards into a frown, which mirrored into her forehead, forming thin wrinkles.

Hands moving to hide behind her back, cursing that the women pants she brought didn't have deep enough pockets to hide her clenched hands there. Not out of angry. More so, out of shame for being noticed like this. She didn't think of her emotions being read so easily as a blessing to have, but a curse when people threw a glance her way, though she didn't mind throwing people off when they sometimes misunderstood the looks she wore.

Not this time.

❝My apologies. I don't mean to appear as such at all.❞ Words being said loudly but in a softer manner. Her gaze turning towards the other, watching him for a minute or two. Then, she lowered her gaze to the nearest building, watching the reflections of the few people walking the area passing by, despite them coming in front of her vision. ❝A lot is on my mind right now. I simply cannot turn my brain off for a moment without the guilt settling in for not doing more what I can do. I hate to bother you with my silly nonsense though. So, don't mind me at all.❞

[patientsun]

you shouldn't have to see me like this. (For Ichi!)

& @spiderlilied.

It happens so fast, he's almost too late ( always too late, Ichi ). One moment Arakawa is moving, and the next, he's losing his balance completely. Instinct kicks in, and Ichiban lunges forward, catching the man just in time. For a moment, neither of them speaks; they just hold onto each other. Slowly, Ichiban shifts his grip, so they can move toward the bed. That's when Arakawa decides to break the silence. He lets out a short sigh, and continues to guide the older man to sit on the edge of the mattress.

The action reminds him of taking care of the Young Master in a similar way, and the same ache burns again. At least, Masumi is nicer to him about it than Masato ever was. Small wins, right? Still, he can never get rid of his need to protect those he loves, even when everything around him is falling apart.

" What's that supposed to mean? " He doesn't like looking down on his father former boss, so he quickly sits down next to him on the bed. " You shouldn't have to see me like this. " Ichiban does his best impression of Arakawa's way of speaking, but not in a mocking way. It still comes across like that.

" You've seen me at my worst. It's only fair, right? " It's difficult to think of Masumi as an equal now. They're both ex members of the yakuza, but nothing feels different. They still talk to each other like they used to. Although, Arakawa's always treated them more like his children than subordinates. Maybe that's why. " Think of it as me repaying you for your kindness. This way, you don't have to feel guilty or embarrassed. "

[paintedinlight]

@spiderlilied sent: ❛  have  you  done  bad  things ?  ❜ (Tomi)

"I-- I mean..." Tomizawa was taken aback by the question. What was he getting at? "Yeah? ...Not like anyone is really innocent. Other than babies, I guess." He was probably the most innocent of the group, that was for damn sure, but he had no intention of opening up that can of worms.

"Why're you asking?"

[paintedinlight]

@spiderlilied sent: ❛  we’re  all  on  the  same  team ,  now ,  right ?  ❜ (Zhao)

Yeah. He guessed they were.

Not like Kasuga would necessarily be too keen on the idea of his friends countering Arakawa, anyway. For the sake of his peace, Zhao would play nice. Though, it wasn't like he would be will to immediately become best friends with the guy.

"Strange how things work out, huh?" Zhao grinned playfully, shrugging his shoulders. "My dad's prob'ly havin' a whole fit in his urn, seein' me allyin' myself with the Omi. And the Tojo. Damn." Maybe the elders of the Liumang had been right to be wary of him being the leader.

"...Ah, guess that means nothin' to you, sir. Excuse me. I'm Zhao Tianyou, the former leader of the Yokohama Liumang," he explained while bowing briefly toward Arakawa. A weird statement, he realized. Hell, it was a weird situation as it was. A former Yakuza befriending the head of another criminal organization? It probably sounded insane, but it was just how things had worked out.