☆.。.:*・°☆

♡♡♡About&Rules&Muses♡♡♡ ☆fandomless multimuse ocs☆ °multiship | multiverse° mun is 25+ has 10+ years of experience → OLA THE CLOWN←

[thatonesakudere]

Some says our dreams are a distant road Down which our hearts would like to go

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢-𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐂𝐬; 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝓢𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 & 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 & 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬

[thatonesakudere]

@nightbrcther

It's not an unusual sight, a meteor up in the sky; sure, it's not really the season for those, and it appears to be quite bigger than most other ones Cyn's seen throughout her life, but it still looks rather pretty! With a tail of flames and.... smoke? Can meteors smoke? Should they smoke? 'Well, they are on fire,' her mind supplies, ready to accept this new reality, except- Now there's a light too! And not the typical blinding-one, static and bright, but-- Blinking? Like a machine or a spaceship-

Matter of fact, the closer it gets, the more this mysterious smoking-and-blinking-meteor starts to look like a spaceship. A spaceship on fire. A spaceship that is uncontrollably hurling from the sky. A spaceship that's about to crash.

Uh oh.

Admittedly, Cynet hasn't been in many spaceship crashes — none at all, actually, though she did step into one before; a ship that is, not the crash site — but they sounded pretty terrible and awfully destructive. 'They look so too,' she thinks, watching as the ship collides against a massive formation of rock and coral — thankfully, a good distance away. She'd rather not be crushed by the debris!

"C'mon Yrdie, we should check for any survivors," whistling for her sekrit, the woman gathers some healing items from around her camp before hopping on top of her mount and steering it into the direction of the wreckage.

[nightbrcther]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ah, so she's a stickler for the rules. Does she also measure out the guest drinks at parties? Have partygoers wipe their shoes before they enter? Bolgan imagines she must have an industrial impact pulverizer for a cunt, reduce any man who dare enter into a fine powder of regret. The corners of his mouth upturn slightly as he watches her talk.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Upon her prompting, the Pyke begins up the loading ramp with her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "The spice is from the Y'Toub System. Nar Shaddaa, to be specific. I am carrying cinna-leaves and pure capsaicin," Bolgan's sense of discomfort intensifies under the scrutiny of three out of four of her beady red eyes. He should be used to meeting all strange sort in this galaxy, but this is just unsettling. How does her brain parse reading her holopad and inspecting him at the same time?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I will remind you that pure capsaicin is dangerous when exposed to air, especially when you are without proper protective eyewear. Those crates will have to remain closed."

[thatonesakudere]

The shadow of a smirk doesn't escape her notice — and not for the first time, Mey'lethe is glad her attunement requires intent. Whatever gross thoughts the pyke may be having, she'd rather stay blessedly ignorant; he has already reminded her too much of skor-pods, native to her planet. Any more, and she may not resist the urge to squash him between her talons.

"I assure you, I am well aware of the danger. Imperial Customs Agents are schooled about a wide variety of volatile goods and substances." She pauses, letting the silence settle in and fester while she types away on the holopad — seemingly concurring with his point. It's but an act, of course; there's just something deeply satisfying about lulling types like his into a false sense of security.

It has always reminded the avis of a good hunt.

"It is all the more fortunate that external gear is wholly unnecessary for my species. Our nictitating membranes keep our eyes perfectly safe." With great delight, Mey 'blinks' with her second — slightly translucent — set of her eyelids, as if to demonstrate.

"Worry not, Mr Nok, it won't be my first, second, or third time handling pure capsaicin. Now, lead the way."

[nightbrcther]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Shipment number eleven, or perhaps twelve. In the setting comfort of familiarity and routine, Bolgan is starting to lose count of how many times he's smuggled Pyke Syndicate spice through this Imperial checkpoint. He's even come to learn the names of these few dirty Imperials abetting his crimes. Dara, Kiff, Korgan. Bolgan waits just at the bottom of his freighter's boarding ramp as all three agents keep up appearances by "inspecting" the contents of his shipment. The illicit substances packed away in each crate will be intentionally misidentified as "exotic spices" in their records and soon he will be on his way.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When a senior customs agent he doesn't recognize begins to approach, Bolgan's shoulders tense. Jerani. He's never met a Jerani before. The Pyke maintains a poised frame, gloved hands folded behind his back, despite a vague feeling of unease creeping up on him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Yes, this is my ship. I come through here all of the time with my merchandise. The senior agent before you has already given me the OK to go; they are just finishing up now," he sends a glance towards the imperials aboard his freighter. Come on, come on... He looks at Jerani, "is there something I can help you with?"

[thatonesakudere]

"Mm. Perhaps you do. Perhaps you don't. It is irrelevant, Mr Nok." There's a certain tenseness about the pyke; not in his posture nor his face but somewhere less-- Tangible. She doesn't reach in; she needn't to. His aura, his emotions, they tell her enough. He's on edge... Ah! Her presence is a surprise.

"Whether this is your first, fiftieth, or fifteen hundredth time coming through the checkpoint, it has absolutely no bearing on the Imperial protocols." A pause, her lips stretching into a smile as sharp as the talons tapping against the datapad. "We do not play favourites — we do our duty. Properly." Mey's intuition nudges her to go inside the shuttle and it is rarely wrong. Worst-case scenario, nothing is out of the ordinary, and her time is wasted. Best-case? Those exotic spices turn out to be rather familiar.

Yes, the Pykes would be rather nice to dig her talons into.

"Help me? That remains to be seen. Shall we?" she doesn't wait for the answer, stepping onto the ramp and expecting him to follow. "I am rather curious about those exotic spices you're transporting. What system are they from?" She knows, of course, one of her eyes skimming through the officially submitted information, while the other three continue to eye him; the question is whether he does. He should.

[thatonesakudere]

@nightbrcther

The vertebrae under her fingers shift as she slowly moves her head to one side, then another, yet the crick in her neck persists, a pesky little thing. Mey can barely feel it, the stiffness, the dull pain; it's not much, not really, but it vexes her all the same. Her promotion — as real as this whole charade of a job — came with better quarters, and for what? Last night the sleep evaded her all the same.

The avis doesn't bother to exchange any pleasantries with the senior customs agent she comes to relieve of duty, merely offering a politely restrained nod as she grabs the holopad from him. A pair of crimson eyes glances toward her 'target' — a shuttle, docketed at checkpoint station number 5 — while the other two scan through the details. Documents and certificates? Pre-submitted and verified. Spacecraft? Registered in the Imperial system. Inspection? Already in progress. Declared goods? Exotic spices.

....Exotic spices? Pah. Eyeing the shoddy-looking ship, Mey'lethe approaches the lone figure standing right outside of it. Ah. A pyke.

"Senior customs agent Jerani," she introduces herself in lieu of a greeting, making sure to look at him with all four of her eyes. "Are you the current, legal owner of this vessel?"

[zachrp]

ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ SYMBOL HEADCANON QUESTIONS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.

EVERYDAY LIFE / DOMESTIC

📋 : how organized is your muse?

✅ : what do they pretend to have together that they don't?

🕰️ : what time do they naturally wake up when no one needs them?

☕ : what's their morning ritual, and what happens when it's disrupted?

🧺 : how often do they do laundry?

🪞 : do they look at themselves in mirrors, or avoid them? why?

🍽️ : do they eat to survive, for pleasure, or as comfort?

🏠 : what part of their living space reflects them the most?

🌱 : do they keep plants, and are those plants alive?

🧼 : what's something they're weirdly particular about being clean?

📺 : what do they put on when they don't want to think?

SOCIALIZATION / CONNECTION

🗣️ : are they better one-on-one, or in groups?

📱 : do they text back immediately, or let messages rot?

🫥 : how often do they pretend to be fine to keep the peace?

🎭 : how different are they with strangers versus people they trust?

🤝 : do they make friends easily, or accidentally?

🧠 : what do they assume people think about them?

🌘 : how hard is it to really know them?

🎉 : do they enjoy social events, or endure them?

🪑 : are they the type to leave early without saying goodbye?

INTROSPECT / INTERNAL LANDSCAPE

🕵️‍♀️ : how often does your muse think about death?

🧩 : what part of themselves do they not understand yet?

🫀 : what emotion scares them the most?

👣 : do they believe they deserve good things?

🧱 : what walls are they aware of building? which ones are they not aware of?

🕳️ : what do they spiral about at night?

📉 : what's their most common self-criticism?

💀 : do they trust their own memories?

🌊 : what emotion do they drown in when they're alone?

PERSONAL / DEEP / TRAUMA-ADJACENT

🩸 : what wound shaped them the most, even if they won't admit it?

🔥 : what moment do they replay when they're ashamed?

🧷 : who failed them first?

🕯️ : what do they grieve that no one else sees as a loss?

🪤 : what pattern do they keep falling back into?

🧨 : what pushes them past the point of restraint?

🧬 : what did they inherit emotionally from their caregivers?

🕶 : what lie do they tell themselves to survive?

🩹 : what actually helps them heal, even if it's unhealthy?

HABITS / VICES / COPING

🚬 : what vice do they justify the most?

🍺 : do they drink to socialize, numb, or celebrate?

💊 : what's their relationship with substances, past or present?

🏃 : do they move their body to feel alive or to punish it?

🛏️ : how do they sleep when things are bad?

🎧 : what kind of music gets them through the worst days?

🖊️ : do they write things down or let thoughts rot in their head?

☔️ : do they intellectualize pain instead of feeling it?

🕳️ : what habit would unravel them if taken away?

SEXUALITY / INTIMACY

🫠 : is it easy for them to get turned on, or do they need emotional safety first?

💞 : do they separate sex and feelings, or blur them dangerously?

🛑 : what's an immediate turn-off for them?

🔥 : do they crave intensity or stability?

🤲 : do they like being in control, or giving it up?

🪶 : are they gentle with people they desire?

🍒 : how do they feel about their own body during intimacy?

🎱 : what do they need to feel wanted?

🔒 : do they guard intimacy, or give it too freely?

💔 : have they ever used sex to avoid something?

MORALITY / CHOICES

⚖️ : what line will they never cross?

🩶 : what line have they already crossed and justified? or regret?

🧭 : do they believe they're a good person?

🔪 : what would they do if survival demanded cruelty?

🪙 : what do they value more, loyalty or truth?

🚪 : who would they abandon if forced to choose?

🕊️ : do they believe in forgiveness? for themselves? in others?

🧨 : what would make them snap permanently?

📜 : what promise do they regret making?

🪦 : what hill would they die on?

[thatonesakudere]

[ JACKET ] : sender gives receiver their jacket after seeing them shiver in the cold. // recom mac for mayu

The sky. It is perhaps the only thing she misses about the Earth. Not for its look, so clouded and grey, but rather for what it holds. Diamonds hidden in the sand.

The stars.

Even with the pollution dulling the night, trying to hide their shine, she knew them- no, knows them still — their seasonal movement, their arrangement, their myths — in an intimate sort of familiarity. A secret fascination caught years and years ago, back when everything was simpler, when space-travel was but a wish, a childish fantasy that only grew with time.

Sasori-za and Mizugame-za — some of them she taught Masa, tracing shapes against an old astronomy book. He cared more about the chemical processes and physics than their mysticisms; nonetheless, in their shared interests, they bonded.

The Pandoran sky is-- Nothing alike.

Clearer, yes, and brilliantly so, the nights never lacking in far-away twinkles. Yet, undeniably foreign. There's no Mitsuboshi, no Subaru nor Minamijūji-za. In front of her eyes — well, the see-through pane of her exo-mask — stretches the vast unknown. And Mayu has never felt more homesick before. More alone. More cold.

And then, the chill is gone, and she's being surrounded by a familiar smell, the weight of a thick fabric resting upon her shoulders. Green with a camo pattern.

Mac.

Like Andromeda getting rescued from the sea monster by Perseus, it seems that she's been saved as well — enveloped in a jacket the size of a blanket. Warm, if a bit worn.

A part of her wants to ask if he misses it at all, their dying little planet. The question dies on her tongue, tasting of ash — raw and cruel in ways she cannot name. Mayu doesn't want to destroy this  strangely fragile moment. Instead, she cranes her neck to look into his eyes, and basks in familiarity born of want and will; the yellow too was alien once.

Now, it is home.

[soulrph]

potentially romantic prompts.

u know the pining content? yearning stuff, stuff that you see on the television or in a book that gets you shipping things like crazy?? yeah. here u go buddies. as always, feel free to reverse the circumstances! sender is the person sending the meme, receiver is the person receiving the meme, and specify muses if you're sending it as or to a multi!!!

[ JACKET ] : sender gives receiver their jacket after seeing them shiver in the cold.

[ EXTRA ] : sender buys an extra coffee/snack/etc. to give to receiver.

[ GAZE ] : sender stares longingly at receiver when they think they aren't looking.

[ HOLD ] : sender holds receiver in their arms in order to comfort or protect them.

[ CATCH ] : sender catches receiver's hand instinctively out of surprise or concern, and holds it.

[ WAIT ] : sender, out of concern, waits for receiver to make sure they're okay after noticing them act strangely.

[ ESCORT ] : sender accompanies the receiver home late at night, in order to ensure they're safe.

[ RESCUE ] : sender goes out of their way to help the receiver after they call for help. ( aka: 'stay right there, i'm on my way' )

[ TACKLE ] : sender instinctively tackles or shields receiver from harm's way.

[ LISTEN ] : sender attentively listens to receiver as they speak. ( i.e., eye contact, leaning forward, nodding etc. )

[ NOTICE ] : sender verbally acknowledges a recent change in the receiver, either physical or in their personality.

[ TEND ] : sender gently tends to a wound the receiver recently got. ( 'you're such an idiot' but lovingly??? yeah i'm weak-- )

[ CUP ] : sender cups or caresses receiver's face.

[ CHECK ] : sender checks in on receiver following an emotionally distressing incident to make sure they're okay.

[ ADJUST ] : sender adjusts an item of clothing or jewellery that the receiver is wearing, resulting in them being very close together.

[ SMILE ] : sender lights up with a bright smile upon seeing the receiver enter the room.

[ OPEN ] : sender is openly emotionally vulnerable in front of the receiver, trusting them with this moment of vulnerability.

[ FAVOR ] : sender does a favor for receiver without being asked to, or expecting a reward in return.

[ TALK ] : sender initiates conversation with the receiver to comfort them. ( BONUS: ADD A QUESTION THAT THEY MIGHT ASK THE RECEIVER! )

[ BEDSIDE ] : sender waits by receiver's bedside as they recover from an illness or an injury.

[ LOOK ] : sender engages in focused eye contact with the receiver.

[ CONFESS ] : sender confesses their feelings for receiver.

[ CLOSE ] : sender and receiver find themselves unexpectedly close to one another.

[ KISS ] : sender kisses receiver in order to protect their identities, but is the kiss completely professional? or is there something else...?

[badtrigger]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Heineken. Mansk grins. It is a dumb name, but that's kind of the point, isn't it? If he remembers correctly, the Colonel had named his ikran Cupcake, so there seems to be a theme happening here. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Masa's unfinished request makes Devin look away awkwardly; his hand raises to rub the back of his neck behind the collar of his fatigues. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Show you the banshee?," he turns his attention back to his Hydra and reaches for the cleaning rag. "Probably can't take you anywhere without sis' approval. Why don't you go ask her?"

[thatonesakudere]

"Really?" A fragile sort of hope flashes in Masa's eyes — he's thankful that Mansk has chosen this moment to turn around, that he's missed it. "I-- Okay. II'll be back. I'll get it." And he runs, actually runs, albeit with all the grace of a child that scarcely has a chance for physical exertion, shoes squeaking on the floor.

His return — some minutes later, longer than a quarter, less than half-an-hour — is no less ungainly. Paper clutched in one hand, a rebreather in another, the boy can barely catch his breath, winded and sweaty. "Got it-" gasp "-in writing-" huff "-in case you-" wheeze "-didn't believe me."

Yet, he also looks nothing short of victorious.

[badtrigger]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Her parents died before the journey back to Pandora. The words set his thoughts adrift. The passing of time, how so much can change in such a short term. It makes Mac think about his own mother. Is she still alive? Had the RDA sent a letter home after his death? Was she told about Project Phoenix and what that would mean for her son? Something he'll have to look into later, when he finally gets some time away from all of these wake-up procedures and briefings.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'll meet him, then. But, uh, one thing at a time. You said something about.. footage? Do you have access to that? All I remember was us in the AMP suits, Wainfleet and me. I think we got attacked by a herd of titanothere."

[thatonesakudere]

Mayu wonders, then, whether she should send him away. Tell him to go ask the SciOps for the footage, to watch it in the company of fellow recoms, to grieve what he cannot remember with people who'll understand. A cruel idea, some would say; never mind she's merely trying to shield herself from the pain.

She'd seen it, of course, the moment of his death. Enough times to have it burned into her eyelids, to have it haunt her thoughts and dreams alike, a ring of thorns tearing at her heart. Even now it is all too easy to bring the memory forth — the anguish that always comes with, despite all those years, feels just as crushing. Some things never change. "I do." Nevertheless, Mayu gets up and rounds the table to stand by his side; it feels as though she were in a trance, not quite there while she finds the relevant file and hands the tablet to Mac, her empty hand resting against his arm.

Did she put it there for his sake or her own? This, she doesn't know.

[thatonesakudere]

props of a big blue alien boyfriend? you get to use him as a mattress/pillow and have yourself a very cozy sleep 😴🥰

Mayu with @badtrigger's Mac 🎀💙

[badtrigger]

reposting with edited colors bc tumblr wanted to shadowban this post for some reason (they can't handle the harness grab)

Mays and Mayu ( @thatonesakudere )!

[badtrigger]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ This news gives Mac pause; his smile fades and his tail goes still. She has an adolescent brother. How? When? Is he from Earth? So many questions flood the Recom's mind but he isn't sure which one to prioritize. One thing is for sure: that is quite the age gap between them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "That's.. that's great, Mayu. A kid brother.. heh," his words are accompanied by genuine surprise and awe, brows raised. But then he becomes sad. This newborn has had enough time to grow into a teenager. That certainly puts the length of his absence into perspective. Mac lifts his breather to his nose and mouth and pulls carbon dioxide from it as a way to renew himself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "He's here? Can I meet him?"

[thatonesakudere]

The tension in Mac's body, his smile wiped away by the news, oh, they say all; it caught up with him, at last, the passage of time, its magnitude. A theoretical concept made real with this one revelation. Mayu pities him in the moment — her wrist turns, fingers brushing against his skin. A subtle gesture of comfort.

"Mhm. He was born while I was away — my parents, they- Well, let's just say there was a surprise waiting for me on Earth." Mother and father didn't even attempt to tell her — there was nary a message waiting for her when she woke up from cryo. The pill is bitter to swallow still. She didn't know, they chose to stay silent. Would she have ever learned if-- The woman shakes her head; no use thinking about that.

"Yes he's here. Our parents died before the journey back to Pandora, so he has only me left. I couldn't leave him," there's more to this truth, wrapped neatly with a bow — she'll take it with her to the grave. "I-- Suppose you could." A pause, her expression turning softer. "You should."

[badtrigger]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Devin smiles at Masa. Just like talking to his kid nephew. It dawns on him just how rare it is to see any juveniles on base, but he supposes that makes sense; no one here is having children, but they are building a future for the ones back on Earth.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Uzume's a cool name. My banshee doesn't have a name -- yet," he adds that last bit as an afterthought if only to discourage questions of why not. In truth, Mansk has no intentions of naming his ikran. It feels... unnecessary. To him, the creature is nothing more than a vehicle with which to navigate Pandora's skies.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "She's never let you see Uzume up close?"

[thatonesakudere]

"It sure beats Heineken," the name,  drawled in childish mockery, sounds more like an insult in his mouth. "You'll come up with a better one too." Not that it'll be particularly hard to — Mac buried the bar six feet under.

"She said she would," a pause. "But then stuff happened," he shrugs; doesn't elaborate on what kind of 'stuff', though it is not hard to guess given the boy's health. Even with a bit of colour to his cheeks, Masa's skin has a sickly hue to it. "And now there's a lot on her plate," he adds, almost defensively. "Internal audit. Nee-san had to fire some people for being 'disorganized dimwits'." She stayed up long. Drank more coffee than he knew was healthy (400 mg, with the limit varying between individuals). Fell asleep in her office.

"Do you think I co-" the request dies on his lips. It's a stupid thought. Stupid idea. 

[badtrigger]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His old issue SecOps dog tags are all he needs to see. Nobody wears a keepsake like that for more than a decade if they've moved on. A sense of relief soothes the tension Mays didn't realize he had been holding in his muscles. He draws in a deep breath through the noise and exhales, tail gently twitching beneath the bench seat. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I don't want us to be," he reaches across the table to finally touch Mayu's other wrist, blue skin against pale. He may be in the body of the enemy now, but he certainly hasn't switched teams. "But, uh..," Mays nervously chuckles, "some things won't be the same."

[thatonesakudere]

It would have been kinder to let him go… She's a cold bitch, and this won't be easy, neither physically nor emotionally. But Mayu is a selfish, greedy beast, and while she may not be entirely sure what she wants — torn between grief and longing — she now knows what she doesn't want; him gone.

The glint of his dog tags reminded her of it. Of the ugly truth. She didn't move on. And now she doesn't have to. "Then we aren't," tone soft, she agrees. For his sake. For her own. Doesn't pull away from his touch even if her own hand makes no move to hold his. For now, it'll have to do.

"Any other, obvious things you want to tell me?" Her sarcasm has no bite; her gaze teeters on the edge of fondness before turning more serious. "…I have a brother. Young, not even fourteen. He's here, on Pandora."

[badtrigger]

[ Random asks // always accepting ]

"Is it heavy?" logically, Masa knows it is — must be, a Hydra LMG made for a Recom. But the question tumbles out regardless with all the clumsy sincerity of an excited boy. "For you, I mean. Subjectively," he adds, lamely, eyes flicking towards Mansk before looking back at the machine gun. @thatonesakudere

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Mansk glances up from his project at the kid, pulling the long cleaning rod out of one of the Hydra's tri-barrels. He runs the rod through a dirty rag before placing it on the table beside a bottle of gun oil and the light machine gun.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Little bit," he answers with the hint of a smile. "That's why I don't bring it out for every mission -- it's a little too much for my banshee. You seen a banshee before?"

[thatonesakudere]

Masa, ever his sister's brother, ponders the question before answering.  "Mhm," the boy settles on a half-nod, as if nonchalant — his wringing hands betray him. Nervous. Eager. "Nee-san's. From afar. It's a female." Like Mac's, except his sister's boyfriend is stupidly stubborn about it. Whatever. "Uzume. After a Japanese goddess." Idiot, he chides himself, nobody cares about the nerd facts.

"What about yours?" Eyes like saucers; Mayu promised to show him an ikran from up close, but then he got sick. And once he felt better, she got busy.

[badtrigger]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Giving him an out? Why does she think he would want that? Is there something she's not telling him?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Mac shakes his head and lifts a hand to rub at his eye. This entire conversation has been confrontational and exhausting. She has shown him everything short of relief and happiness that he's returned. That doesn't sound like love. Does she even care to have him around anymore?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Mayu, if we're done, just say that. Don't play these games with me. Do you want out? What is it? Is it because we're physically incompatible now? You got a boyfriend? Just tell me. I won't get mad."

[thatonesakudere]

"I-- It's not as though there has been a plethora of resurrection cases. For all intents and purposes, relationships dissolve upon the death of a partner." What does she want? Mayu… Mayu isn't sure herself — which is fucking crazy because if there's anyone who's certain of their path, it's her. It's always been her, the ambitious one, the one with her whole life laid out in front, planning, scheming, getting what she wants. And now there's-- Nothing.

She doesn't know.

"Right, because a boyfriend is the only thing that could have happened," the bitterness is back; does he really think she would have-? Yes, fifteen years have passed, but it's been six for her. Six long years. Six busy years. Six years of grief. Six years of duty. Mayu's hand shakily reaches underneath the collar of her shirt, and she wrenches out a silver chain. Thick. Inelegant.

His dog tags.

An 'I love(d) you' hidden beneath pressed white fabric.

"You tell me, Mac," and it's not an answer, but she-- She can't say much more, voice cracking. The wound, which was supposed to be scarred, is open once more, weeping. "Are we done?"