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expiationmeme2023-02-27 01:04 am
TEST DRIVE MEME #2
Welcome to the TDM for Expiation, a pan-fandom adventure game with fantasy, science fiction, and sometimes subtle horror elements. We ask that top-level comments are reserved for new characters and players looking to experience a taste of the world and overarching storyline. Characters already in the game, however, are free to use TDM prompts in their own catch-alls and logs. Feel free to submit any TDM / prompt-related questions to the corresponding comment below.
New players / characters looking to app are free to use TDM threads as samples in their application. Preexisting players / characters may use TDM threads as part of their AC proofs (with the stated limitations).
You may find the below links helpful in getting to know themes of the world, locations, the people, and so on.
BE OUR GUEST
You may possess any number of questioning thoughts as you traverse the blindingly white room and are dropped into a darkness beneath your feet, but perhaps those same thoughts will be replaced with an awe and curiosity as you come to. Expiation has you now and you have joined the ranks of the Chosen, a seemingly select number of individuals who have arrived with parchment either in-hand or near them, detailing physical and mental statistics in addition to a particular crime to which you have been accused.
How you choose to spend your time here is largely up to you...
IT'S A WINDMILL, NOT A GIANT
As you begin to acquaint yourself with the lay of the land about you, you'll find that not too far from where you've woken there's a rather grandiose tower windmill. Its blades rotate at a casual pace as it faces the ocean and its accompanying shoreline. It appears to be in relatively pristine condition, implying that it is cared for well and often, likely by the locals of the town of Aldrip, which can be easily spied from the elevated level of land upon which the windmill sits.
Outside of the main structure is a collection of wooden crates in various display. Some of these are closed. Some are open. If you observe for long enough, you'll eventually find that a few relatively muscular sorts arrive on the scene to retrieve some of these crates and take them back the distance toward the town that lingers at the base of the mountains. If you choose to inspect the crates, you'll find some of them filled with heavy canvas sacks that contain flour. If you choose to ask the town locals retrieving them about this, they will explain that the windmill companion you have woken near is just one of the many implements that the locals use to provide sustenance to dining tables, festivities, and more.
You have the option to help the locals carry crates back, potentially to curry some favour with them, or simply take some sacks of flour yourself. Crates require more than one person to carry due to the weight, but two able-bodied adults should be able to handle the job quite well. A sack of flour can generally be carried by one, but perhaps you'll find yourself needing some assistance anyway. Maybe ask one of the others who've woken up near you. It certainly seems you're not alone in this new endeavour.
WHERE ONLY THE BRAVE MAY GO
If windmills and manual labour aren't your thing, you may find yourself drawn to the seemingly mysterious cave at the foot of the mountains, not far from the windmill in question.
The locals refer to this cave as Lorentia. Jagged rocks poke out around the entrance and have been sculpted and shaped to resemble what appears to be the massive sharp-toothed mouth of a dragon. It is possible you may be momentarily stopped by one of said locals who will explain that the Lorentia Cave is a passage system that leads through the interior of the mountains, though due to some collapse of the inside, the passageway does not go in far and is currently blocked off for the safety of local citizenry. In other words, proceed with caution.
If you're still feeling brave and care to take a peek inside, by all means. No one's going to stop you.
The interior of Lorentia Cave consists of both narrow passageways and some larger, more cavernous like rooms. There are assorted mining implements scattered along the ground, propped up against the walls, and carts that are filled with various ores, rocks, crystals, and more. The locals of Aldrip use Lorentia Cave for largely mining purposes and many of the things that are retrieved can be used for the smithing forges, the crafting of weaponry, or fashioning into jewellery and other accessories that are sold locally and taken to other towns on the continent.
There are some crudely designed signs that note to take care and depict simple skull drawings, indicating that certain paths may be a little more dangerous to traverse than others. If you are especially lucky (or unlucky, as the case may be), you may even spot some skeletal remains from some less-than-fortunate souls who got caught in a dead-end path and simply never made it out again.
If you listen closely, sometimes you hear the flutter of wings and a distant roar. Maybe it's best not to linger...
NO SOMETHING FOR NOTHING
MAXWELL'S SILVER ROCK-HAMMER
The townsfolk are welcoming to newly-arrived, something that has largely been met with a fair amount of scepticism and wariness from prior arrivals. That said, they continue to be hospitable, eager to share stories and songs about their land, their people, and their traditions.
A jewelcrafter is displaying their work today, putting their various wares out for locals and members of the Chosen to admire, or perhaps to purchase. Part of their demonstration is opening geodes with rock-hammers and showing off the impressive inside of colour and masterful natural works of art gifted to them by the land's bounty. They may choose to speak a little on how they revere the land, the resources they've been given, and how all of this has been bestowed upon them by the very gracious Those Who Were There, a mysterious and seemingly celestial higher power.
For those who are interested, they have the opportunity to offer some assistance to the jewelcrafter by opening some geodes as well. There's plenty of rock-hammers to go around and the most recent retrieval from Lorentia Cave's mining appears to have been very successful. The jewelcrafter is so moved by the offer of help that he's more than happy to let those who aid him keep one opened geode for themselves at no cost.
Congratulations on your new piece of decor!
FORGING BONDS IN THE FIRES OF PASSION
If you were a brave soul who made visit to the Lorentia Cave and came back with some weapon or armour crafting materials (including skeletal remains), you'll find that the smithies of Aldrip are eager to do business and many of them enjoy their craft for the sake of being passionate about what they do.
They'll waste no time in starting the forge and should you have a specific piece in mind you are requesting, as long as they have the materials on hand, they'll even be willing to show you the general process from start to finish on a rough draft of the piece in question. If you're feeling especially keen to help, they may offer to let you work directly on your project, though they will express apprehension and a wary eye for those who fail to have prior experience with such gruelling tasks.
Once your piece is finished, you can either wear it immediately, learn the best way to maintain and keep your equipment, or put it out on public display to show the rest of Aldrip and its residents, new and old alike. If you choose to let the smithies keep your piece, they'll pay you the cost of the materials you've brought them, plus a small percentage markup depending on how much personal effort you put into the craftsmanship personally.
Better yet, you may have just come out of the situation with a permanent bond. The smithies have an appreciation for those who share similar interests and may be willing to provide future discounts to those who purchase their wares.
FEEDING THE MASSES
YOU'RE A REEL CATCH
Aldrip locals always have a need for food and with many Chosen having recently arrived, that need has increased exponentially, for now they have a larger number of mouths to keep fed and stomachs to keep happy. To help inspire this retrieval of food, Aldrip is hosting a fishing competition and anyone who's interested in participating may do so, provided that they follow the guidelines set in place.
All participants must use local fishing equipment and this will be provided by the various merchants in town free of charge, save for those who wish to keep their fishing tackle. All fish caught within the local rivers, ponds, and the nearby ocean are acceptable for submission. Citizens (local or Chosen) are forbidden from using magic or technology as a means to catch their quarry. Anyone found breaking these rules will be disqualified and will be fish'd (that is, they will have raw flopping fish thrown at them).
The winner of the competition is chosen by having caught the largest fish (determined by size and weight) and will be announced at the end of the competition. The applicable winner may keep their fishing tackle free of charge and have their winning fish cooked in the style of their choice by the locals, which can then be shared amongst the people if they so choose (a fantastic way to make friends). The winner will also have a mediocre fish sculpture awarded to them with their name chiselled into the details in honour of their glorious victory.
OOC Notes:
Both TDM participants and characters already in the game may participate in the fishing competition. Please use the designated comment if you wish to partake. On the 13th of March (after applications have closed for the cycle), the winner will be announced and drawn by RNG. We will announce who the winner is on this TDM post (in these notes), the moderator plurk, and the OOC community.
I'M A [X], NOT A FISHER
If you're not a fishing kind of individual yourself, there's still plenty for you to get involved with.
Aldrip has need of people who are capable of preparing meals, especially seafood. It is probable that many participants of the fishing competition will end up fishing up things that are not fish or eligible for submission, but still edible. These include crabs, lobsters, jellyfish, octopuses, clams, and other related sea life. If you have experience with cooking or simply want to help out, the Aldrip locals will welcome you with open arms and may even pay you for your assistance.
If cooking isn't your forte, you'll find that some of the Aldrip citizens enjoy a betting pool from time to time. If you have some coins or something else you don't mind putting up for gamble, you might just come out with the whole pot if you put your currency on the winning fisher. Anyone found to be attempting to rig the betting pool and competition, however, will be returned their bet. We don't take kindly to cheaters here.
At least not openly.
Fishing can be a sometimes dangerous pastime. You may find a fisher who has gotten themselves accidentally hooked on their line or perhaps when they were freeing a fish, the hook got lodged into their thumb. Aldrip welcomes those who have healing abilities to help assist those more unfortunate situations, so fishers can go back to casting out their lines to make the most of the competition. That said, there's nothing in it for potential healers, just the notion that you've done a good deed.
no subject
[ a offhand remark. and it isn't a question that really merits a real response. stll, non-committal: ]
And what's the point of sitting across from you? It's not like you're gonna steal a bite from me or anythin'.
[ ... as if that's the reason why gojo wouldn't sit beside nanami in the first place.
but that's the end of that half-hearted protest. and normally gojo might jump at the chance for the usual back-and-forth -- especially when he's spent so long in some kind of animated suspension all on his lonesome, left with nothing but his rampant thoughts and the hope that what he's done so far would be enough. he's made pretty good headway if he thinks about it, if he really believes that his heart's been in the right place this entire time. but there's still the fact that gojo harbors no delusions that he's not the strongest of their current generation... which doesn't bode well when the second or the third or fourth's given free reign, given the nature of the sorcerer families and their shitty hierarchies and traditions.
and if one of their first grades has been here for at least a month... ]
I guess we're getting distracted... Is the food that good over here that you just up and retired to go barhopping every other day or something?
Or did some god also put you under arrest?
gomen the most boring shit
[ This must be one of those first times for anything: that Gojo steers the conversation back on track. That Nanami, who would instinctively retort, it isn't we who were getting distracted, because it was always Gojo's fault, had instead settled into the the frothy frivolity. It's —
That familiar headache had begun to squeeze just over halfway into their walk here, Gojo'd announced himself with seaweed down his shirt, must be the last person Nanami would want to see here (granted, not wanting to see anyone) for reasons both professional and personal, isn't someone he's ever felt sentimental about — but in this rare moment of knowing more than Gojo, Nanami knows where the tracks end, how they end, all twisted metal and breakage.
He isn't sentimental by nature. But, with the high probability of death that had become realized, he'd accepted the plain fact of removal from everything, everyone. Sitting now beside someone he had made peace with never seeing again, it isn't exactly that he's tired (though he still is, hasn't stopped feeling it, all that weight that fixed to his impossible bones), but that he wouldn't mind drifting along with Gojo's flow for a little while.
But, because even with that sort of muddling in his head, Nanami has too firm a handle on himself, he exhales, makes quick work of snuffing and squashing all that, glances sidelong. ]
It's my understanding that all of us "Chosen" were put here, under some kind of arrest, by some god. However...
[ Shaking his head as he pauses, sorting, determining the most efficient way to present the facts as he'd known them. ]
I'll debrief you on what I know of the circumstances after you were imprisoned. At most a few hours had passed from when Mechamaru informed us of that and when my knowledge ends.
[ Not something to fold into bland reparte, but it also seems too unimportant, comparatively, to lead with: exactly why, how he could provide no information beyond that point.
At that, and idly wondering whether it would be better or worse to have to look across at Gojo for this, he begins:
What Gojo knew, the teams on standby as he was called into the depths of Shibuya. Itadori shouting, announcing his capture. The remnants of Mechamaru reporting that Geto (or someone with his appearance) had done it. The rescue operation. Splitting from Ino, Fushiguro and Itadori to convene with Ijichi on communications, and finding him gutted, bleeding out. His first aid, and on his way down, finding the assistant managers he couldn't help, already cold.
Intercepting the curse user behind it as he attacked Kugisaki and Nitta. Interrogation. Refusing to allow Kugisaki to accompany him. Meeting with Zenin and Maki, the cursed spirit that was a cursed womb, its domain expansion, death swarm (without mentioning his eye), the diminishing odds until Fushiguro arrived, informing him that Ino had needed to retreat, that Itadori was elsewhere. The opportunity given by Fushiguro, almost lost, until another man entered the domain — seemingly mindless, without cursed energy but easily brutalizing, killing the cursed spirit, breaking the domain, grabbing Fushiguro and leaving.
He keeps matter-of-fact, without emotion, when he recounts the cursed spirit with the volcano-head (surely that once reported by Gojo), palpably on several other levels above what they'd barely escaped. Fire, and when he could advance again (without mentioning the severity of his condition, pain past pain into numbing, cell death, autopilot through shutdown), uncertainty as to Maki and Zenin's conditions. And — ]
There were dozens more of the transfigured humans at that level. Though easily enough dispatched, that patchwork curse behind them stepped forward. I hadn't noticed it until its hand was already on me. Itadori-kun arrived —
That's it.
[ At some point in his recounting — he isn't fully sure when — Gojo's food and his drink arrived. Nanami sips from it now, looking at the edge of the table across from theirs. ]
I felt and saw a little of it. It doesn't seem to have transfigured me into something Itadori-kun had to fight, so he should have been spared that much. He's strong, so...
[ ...so? So he'd left it to him, though that hadn't been what he would have said, what he really meant.
Irrational, the way his throat constricts, closed up, shut down. Irrational, the aftertaste in his cheek that crystallizes on his tongue again, and since he can't swallow without choking, can't breath around it, when he opens his mouth, ]
Sorry.
[ He hadn't been. Strong enough. Itadori left with that curse, Fushiguro at the mercy of whoever that man was. If Kugisaki had stayed above, that might be something, but he couldn't say.
As a result of that weakness, Nanami had failed to rescue him, failed Japan. Apologies for for weakness, for failing, they have no place in their shitty profession. Particularly laughable to Gojo Satoru. But, he couldn't put it anywhere else, couldn't manage it, couldn't adapt, and now raises a hand to his face, as though to pinch the bridge of his nose, palm and fingers just happening to cover the rest of it. ]
That should be my last report, Gojo-san. I suppose in a place like this, if it isn't an afterlife, you could call it retirement. Even so, you might now understand why I can't accept you being here.
start gomening about your lies
and to be honest, nanami's only telling him what he already knows.
after all, gojo's well aware of what usually happens when he's taken out of the fight. and history tends to repeat itself, meaning that when he's gone, he usually gets back just in time to see someone else has died. until the day comes when someone luckier pops out of a cursed womb with heaven-sent hellish gifts, he knows chances are high that this cycle will just continue. it isn't pride, it's simple fact at this point, but gojo knows better than anyone that not everyone can be saved. it probably helps him sleep at night to tell himself that.
it makes sense in this business that they'd be so lucky as to make it to their thirties, their forties, their geriatric rock-and-roll end-stage-of-life crisis without being maimed or amputated or sectioned up and mailed to their respective families depending on who you are before then. gojo expects fanfare for his own death, but nanami, who comes from a very normal family, would be so lucky as to die somewhere where someone else could at least witness it and report it to the school. saves the missing person report that they'd submit as a matter of pretensive protocol -- and the eventual closed case when the search party is never even sent in the first place. at least nanami could have that much, even if gojo's sure that nanami is the type to prefer as little fanfare as possible.
sorry, sorry for dying, nanami means, and gojo only looks at him with the damn blindfold and an unmoving smile and doesn't even need to consider the fact that he might be lying. it's not a courtesy, an olive branch, or even a curse -- just true compassion, short and simple, and if they were anywhere else, if nanami weren't a dead man, gojo could feel better about having taken advantage of that.
he hasn't touched his dessert. he doesn't need to. ]
Haven't died yet... So all that's left is to find the wormhole outta Digital World and back to the Real World... which sounds easy enough.
[ blandly enough, with less emotion. the smile on his face hasn't moved, but it feels like the air hasn't either, nearly stagnating suddenly, like the bar's been closed up and abandoned even when there are people even at midday. that same kind of suspended, musty quality.
it doesn't help the way his joke falls incredibly flat. ]
Hey.
Guess this means you're always in Overtime.
lbr i gomen about my everything
Nanami glances sidelong, eyes shifting without his face, distracted by the stillness of that smile.
Digimon. The punch of breath caught in his nose resembles a snort, even as his next breath rattles then sags in his chest. Easy enough. Nanami had been not content, but adapting to what had to be an inevitability for him. There was talk of the possibility that time here wasn't fixed to time there, however relative to each person there was. But even if there was a way for those who didn't seem to have died to go back without losing time, they had evidence of nothing, and better not to think he could "go back" to anything but an obliterated corpse. Tired, listless, drifting for a month against the tension of obligation squeezing in his skull, of responsibility. But, what was the fucking point?
Here, now, a if not the fucking point: whether or not he could (irrational), Gojo had to go back. They couldn't take temporal stasis or flexibility for granted. Even as laying it out,
frame by framebad odds to worse odds to shit odds to no odds, ground him into the gravel of it, scraping compression, the queasy disconnect between remembering and feeling, phantom sensation in reverse,the bloodied gaping of his eye socket, the peeling, charring of how many layers of skin, the cursed energy that began first with his soul when it blew him to bits. None of it as striking, crushing, coring, as the knowledge of the inferno the kids had to keep pushing through, with diminishing assistance.Were he alone, he might have sunk again, head thrown back, eyes draped by damp cloth, managing his breathing until he could again think only what he meant to think and feel only what he should feel. Because he isn't alone, though he does lean back, harder than intended, he also orients himself through external focus, through the beer in his mouth and down his throat, both fresh and musty, through the sworls of the table wood beneath his left hand, through Gojo's still fixed smile, and through — the air.
Not heavy, conversely, that low-pressure vacuum of sucked out before heavy, and maybe it wasn't the beer that was musty. Eyes narrowing slightly, he turns his head fully toward Gojo. Because he's never been all that important in the grand scheme of things, he doesn't even think to sugarcoat it. ]
No, because I'm now always off-the-clock. This means I'll never be in Overtime again.
[ Looking away for an opressive second, into what's now the bottom of his cup. Almost absently, almost clinically, the plain analysis of the situation: ]
If it comes to that, I guess I'll need to make a different Binding Vow.
[ Because he can really taste it in his next breath, too thin air rattling again in his lungs, Nanami gestures at the tart, the pudding. ]
Please eat.
[ you're not you when you're hungry ]I've already paid for it.we are at the point of friendship where i admit that for some things, you should
You're alive here.
[ it almost sounds like it could be a question despite the lack of inflection, the way gojo's also leaned back in his chair with the legs tipping off the ground dangerously like he's remembered to be tired, too, nodding his head like he's answering it. ]
You're telling me you delivered that extensive report while you're completely off-the-clock? Sounds like work to me.
And if you're going over, I'm gonna try and figure out where the cursed energy's supposed to be.
[ or maybe something like... curse me at the end, at least -- not that he has any room to be thinking about that right now. he hasn't. he isn't going to start. but it must be the same kind of feeling, like he's been gutted and he wants to thank nanami for it.
but he straightens a little, shoulders squaring, as he pushes the tart in nanami's direction. ]
Let's talk promises later, yeah?
Divvy this up for me.
tinyurl.com/yxj6hmex
Insolent. Thus, childish.
So it shouldn't be surprising, what follows, this blatant disregard for what Nanami had clearly articulated: even though Gojo was here, he wasn't working; his last report. Unilateral, big-headed rejection of the facts, obnoxious down to the stubborn bob of his chin, as though he could bend them to his temperament —
— and maybe he could.
Nanami can't argue that by all biological evidence, he lives here. Breathes, drinks, eats, even pisses and shits. An attempt to discount it would necessarily call into question Gojo's living, and any alternative to that could not be brokered.
It should have been his last report, off-the-clock, the exit interview. But, that point, a point, the point: Gojo had to go back. To Shibuya, to Japan, to sorcery, and if Nanami focused his attention on that kind of goal (mission) going forward, what was it if not work?
More bleak irony in that, too appropriate for the society left behind: couldn't even catch a break once he was dead.
Irritating, really, seriously irritating, that Gojo thinks he can just tell Nanami what he is, what he's doing, what's coming, just because ultimately, when it's like this, he can. Because he can, a flare of brow furrowing, jaw tightening frustation snuffs out quick, without much smoke.
Even so, it's just that Nanami sighs rather than grits out, ]
I'm not going over, Gojo-san. Please don't decide for yourself whether I'm back on the payroll without wages.
[ He'd rather not talk about promises later, no.
And much as Nanami would and does disclaim any notable familiarity with Gojo, he understands what that command's about. If only because they both know Nanami well enough to know that there were probably only three situations in which he would agree to cut Gojo's food up for him: (1) he'd broken every bone in his arm, hands, fingers, fully casted (for some reason unhealed by himself or Ieiri, i.e., another near impossibility), (2) actually that (3) might be it.
Thing is: Nanami is perfectly capable of dividing things in other proportions than 7:3. The segments may not be as exact, just what most with solid hand-eye coordination could do. Though while in battle, his cursed technique necessarily requires concentration, choice, outside, there had developed a subconscious reflex to it (though, seriously, it doesn't make sense for a fruit tart to have a weak point), so sometimes it conversely takes a moment of orienting focus to not default to ratio.
He knows, thinks he knows what Gojo expects to see, what would give him some grim, misplaced satisfaction. It's annoying, but rather than dig in his heels, rather than be stubborn himself and cut in halves and quarters, rather than avoid it by refusing, he picks up the knife, slices down with the knife, lets it happen.
Pushes it back once he's done, only then speaking, simply, ]
It's a mistake to think there's meaning in that. Regardless, that's enough. It doesn't matter whether we call it working or not.
Of course, with you here, I can't do anything but try to get you out.
no subject
but it could be anything really, after he's been given leeway to start thinking again without the danger of going fully insane. he'll find himself clinging to old habits and bickering back-and-forth as a last vestige of sense. it should keep him sharp and nanami safe, even if nanami seems to think the latter's no longer of any concern. at the very edge of the universe, the end of the world, or wherever the hell this little bar is on not-earth, and gojo figures that he should at least try a little harder when nanami seems to trust him, even when he keeps careening from crisis to crisis. for that trust alone, he needs to get them through this. he can't let him, or anyone else who's counting on him, down.
he thought that he put that behind him years ago. since when has he ever thought that he needs to be good enough? ]
Who says you're not gettin' paid? Put it on my tab with interest. What's your hourly rate, like 100k yen an hour?
[ probably closer to 7.3k yen actually. ]
So triple that. Not that you're the kinda guy that can be bought... Most expensive guy I know, and I know Mei Mei, yeesh.
[ but it's -- it is what it is, and he's sitting back up with a screech of a chair leg to watch nanami ratio his tart with zero effort whatsoever. that cursed energy feels familiar enough, nothing odd about it -- nothing lacking either, which is what he was mostly looking for.
... maybe he thinks he'll see something closer to 8:2 if the cursed energy's off? who's to say what's in gojo's head. it's not like anyone would like to find out either.
anyway, he's taking the smaller piece and shoving it right into his mouth. ]
... 's not your 'roblem anymore.
[ it's a question with absolutely no inflection, between bites of his dessert, almost cold and yet, it's said with enough gravity when he's facing nanami's direction and a little too close into his personal space. ]
You can technically do anything you want.
no subject
The absolute ignorance inherent in throwing out that kind of number so casually, and so confidently offering to triple it — though they both know it's facetious, the fact Gojo won't have the opportunity to make good on it if it wasn't doesn't mean he couldn't.
He easily could. 100k seems to Gojo a totally reasonable figure, and it is a little like regression, if a nostalgic kind, that his eyebrows could still be startled into his forehead as he stares, knocked off-balance and so less grounded in, stewed in all the shit.
When he sighs, it's almost too quick, too short, too — not fond, that's too much feeling, but really, nostalgia is itself a sentimental concept. Even if that concept stretches across a divide, a disconnect, loose and out of place where it's only been a month since last subjected to Gojo in the break room, but oddly, achingly rooted where death meant, should have meant, that was that was it. ]
I still wonder, are you being deliberately stupid about money? Though I don't think it should be called expensive to have no price at all.
[ The air shifts, fills, when Gojo rights the chair, sees whatever he was or wasn't looking for in the cut, and just
shoves the whole (third) piece into his mouth, proceeding to talk around it. His manners are as atrocious as ever, both with his food and by sitting this close, close enough Nanami can smell the fruit on his breath and have small but entirely legitimate concern that he'll spit flecks of pastry on him while talking with his mouth full. Which is the only noteworthy thing about that lack of distance — he hadn't bothered caring since coming back, some six years ago, sometimes barely noticed.
And he's not all that focused on it now, not with the preoccupying whiplash of Gojo spinning from compelling his labor to dismissing him. An exit interview, after all. The permanent break, because he'd done enough, hadn't he? Whether or not he had, he couldn't do anything more, right?
Staring again, but without surprise, muted. Nanami hasn't sat backup and doesn't, looks away only for the moment to catch the bartender's eye, nod at his empty cup, then back to Gojo. Only to close his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning his head back after all. Just not as far, neck not bent over the chair back. ]
Yeah...
[ Maybe it's the unevenness of nostalgia, maybe it's the month, maybe its the freshness of remembering and retelling the whole of it, still raw in his throat. Whatever it is, or whatever combination of things — Nanami is rarely, if ever, so forthcoming about personal want, want deeper than a sandwich or to get off work before overtime. Not even to himself, as he tends to put this sort of thing away before it can distract or long affect him. ]
...but, it's also a mistake to want anything. For me, I mean.
[ House on the beach, books. Trying to have it here would be perverse, blind. Trying to pretend he could live normally, should live normally. That this was some removed, serene second chance, until or after conviction. There must be something inherently false, deeply wrong. ]
So... [ cracking open his eyes, but partway, looking again at Gojo, now half-lidded, ] ...it's annoying, but since you've never hesitated to make something my problem, don't start giving me the courtesy now. How's the tart?
no subject
literally. because they're both on different paygrades, and gojo doesn't really think he needs to clarify when the point is moot. gojo has money to burn, to give nanami to burn, but what good is money enough to buy a small island if you're -
right. ]
Really hits the spot! I'm feeling my battery recharge as we speak. The glaze is sweet, but gotta say, the grapes are a little sour, the contrast isn't all that great.
[ lilting, lilting, with the kind of crooked smile that could really mean something when gojo's pulling up one side of his blindfold to look at nanami proper, pinning him at once with an unblinking stare that's a tad too focused for their light-hearted conversation.
because gojo has never hesitated to make something nanami's problem, never seemed to pretend otherwise when he's got him exactly where he wants him. right now, with nanami off the hunt and on the mend, gojo would say that still proves true. after death, coming back, at least nanami can retain a little more dignity than he would have otherwise.
... that responsibility feels a bit heavier though, without an immediate fire to put out to keep his mind off of it. he should be used to it, having everyone depend on him, even if it doesn't stop weighing on his mind, even if it never should. it's a little different though, with nanami, who's not exactly thinking about the inconvenience that it poses to himself, nor the fact that he's at all involved in the overall equation.
and honestly, gojo's still trying to puzzle it out, even now. ]
We've made mistakes already. You and me. We're in it together whether we like it or not, right?
[ it's still not a nice question. not really. ]
So? Want me to save you too?
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[ Begun dryly and continuing dryly, but that Gojo's curled a thumb beneath the fabric of his blindfold, tugged up, exposing an eye bright blue and too-seeing. It isn't a pinning that paralyzes, that holds him still, but his voice catches with surprise only evidenced by that.
He almost continues, because it the pin's not in his tongue and the extended quip would fit beneath that lilting, paving, grounding (— to an unsatisfying meal, but coming from you, who probably only likes in his desserts a contrast between "two sweet" and "so sweet my teeth are literally aching"—). Almost, but Gojo's been too deliberate, attention too fixed. Nanami doesn't shift, there's no discomfort, but he keeps his mouth shut, ribbing retort incomplete.
Something must have merited that eye. Waiting isn't bracing, and he doesn't think to, because it must have been impossible regardless — to prepare himself to hear a question like that from Gojo Satoru. Beer swapped out by the staff in the interim between his floundered retort and Gojo lumping them together, Nanami's lifting the glass to his mouth, to drink against his frown, not finding the first question unpleasant or unkind, more statement of the disagreeable facts. Unlike the second question, which is frankly, insensibly cruel.
That it is cruel, feels cruel, that he actually balks, the fleeting wreckage of his expression at least half-obscured by the cup and if only he'd kept his sunglasses on to hide the rest — surprises him. The seasick, anchor sunk lurching in his chest, the white expanding around small rings of iris, tension in his forehead yanking tight through to the back of his skull. He even coughs, twice, when setting the beer back on the table, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, and keeping it there. Eyes narrowing above it.
Why the hell would you ask that — Nanami has to wonder before answering, does wonder, wondering how the hell Gojo could mean it when he knows better. Full of himself, sure, maybe he can't accept what losing had already begun to do to the world, maybe grasping at what's in front of him, though it's just smoke and mirrors.
It takes Nanami what feels like a minute, but probably isn't, and his voice's only a little rougher than he'd like. ]
It's too late for that.
[ Blunt, firm finality. Then, less rough, almost gentle, able to lower his hand then: ]
Gojo-san, you don't need me to tell you that we can't save everyone. Not even you can. I want you to not to waste anything on that, when you need to focus on everyone else.
[ And — grabbing again at his cup, turning away from Gojo, looking at the rim. ]
Honestly, I don't like that you're here, but I don't dislike being in it with you.
[ Being in it together. It's annoying, but despite every appearance, as the cliche goes, there's none more reliable than Gojo in a crisis (failing, apparently, a not-so-dead best friend popping up to imprison him). Further, knowing, really knowing something's the absolute last does make one more patient, more appreciative.
If only, probably, for the first few days. Or minutes. Something like that. ]
Just don't ask stupid questions. Please.
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it sure as hell doesn't make anything better when he's asking a question with a pretty obvious answer. not because it's impossible, but because of who nanami is intrinsically as a person. the fact remains that nanami is alive, here and now, thanks to the otherworldly power that also bailed gojo out of a prison with no conceivable exit. nanami isn't even humoring the possibility of the impossible. if this were a teaching moment, gojo might've quirked an annoying smile, you ever wonder why you seem incapable of domain expansion?
something like that. but for once, he's reading the room, and holds his own tongue. mostly because he feels like he owes nanami that much.
it doesn't feel good anyway, different somehow, even when nanami hasn't said shit about the fact that he had let him down, misplaced trust and faith and reliance in someone fallible. mostly because it doesn't seem like he has, because nanami hasn't blamed him once, and it's a nostalgic feeling, and he absolutely hates it.
collateral damage. when gojo's already in the fray, and the body count doesn't stay at zero, and he can't find it in himself to really care at the time. how he'll evolve rapidly and only remember the girl he'd befriended in the span of mere days when she's already gone cold by the time he's able to hold her body. how suguru had left and how he reappeared. it's always the loss after the fact that does him in, the way that being strong and not being strong enough is going to tear him apart one day, because he's still indefinably and yet unmistakably human.
he has never dealt with loss very gracefully maybe, and looking at nanami and his tense expression, the way he's choking on his beer makes gojo want to take it back almost, which means he's probably still in that same pathetic mindset, because he probably would have found it funny any other time. ]
Your funeral.
[ it's low, and probably simmering with one foul temper if he's eyeing nanami the way that he is —
but the blindfold's back in place after a second, and he's beaming, pushing the tart in nanami's direction. ]
Agree to disagree. But hey! Can't stay down when we're both free and alive right now.
This mood sucks though. Take the rest of my tart, consider it a peace offering.
[ ... that nanami bought with nanami's money... ]