— open log

[persists]

WHO: ciri and u
WHERE: all over
WHEN: doesn't matter
WHAT: being dumb
NOTES OR WARNINGS: self harm, technically...



one — the club scene
[ There's something she's learned from Dandelion and his associates quite some time ago — loose lips are more useful than you'd imagine. A bit ... vulgar, but when information is so important, finding those willing to offer it was crucial.

Ciri knows best — how drunkards and sloshes spill their hearts out to a pretty girl. She gets an outfit with a hood, one masking the ugly scar ripping up the side of her face. With the limited freedom she has, she hopes to interweave in the kinetic crowd of the club she finds herself in.

It's raw, it's gritty — the sound of high-pitched electronica nothing more than a foreign sound to the woman. She must admit, even when she traveled to other worlds... she still finds the change fascinating. It's no simple string or drum. It's faster than that, more precise and quickened. Ciri likes it.

For now, she plans to take things easy — hang outside among some of the lingerers who instead rev engines of their hoverbikes, showing off the latest equipment and hardware installed. The music spills out to them as people pass by, let in by bouncers. Ciri'll head in too eventually, but...

Luckily, she asked you to tag along. ]

They're beautiful. [ She says in a slight trance, sighing at the craftsmanship of the vehicles. ] The silver, the iridescent glimmer to its paint — they practically sparkle like stars...

---

two — the safehouse scene
[ A few bad hangovers later, Ciri is back in the safehouse kitchen with little to no privacy. It's not as if she cared at this point — she has a place to sleep, bathe, and come back to. It's something.

Ciri's keeping to herself, seemingly deep in thought as she stands over the sink of the kitchen. She had just cut something up for lunch — but as she holds the blade to her palm, it seems... there's something off.

With a quick slice, anyone can hear Ciri wince and recoil, immediately grasping at the fresh cut wound that drips blood down the drain. ]

Come on — come on. Glow —

[ She's mumbling to herself while bleeding, nbd. ]

---

three — the house-hunting scene
Yeah?! This place rivals a pig pen — to hell with you too! No one in rags can afford the riches you demand!

[ A dramatic kick sends a trashcan bumbling down a flight of stairs, followed closely by the totally not suspicious Ciri. It seems that the girl was looking at possible housing — places to rest her head, but even unsavory places have their price. Prices she can't afford. A few hotheaded comments and she makes an enemy with a possible landlord, but Ciri is too prideful to be here now.

Whether she asked to meet up or your paths cross, it's hard to ignore the trashcan rolling down the street. ]

Comments

[trample]

As if. [ Emo: ] I've lost everything I ever fought for. Can't really think about gains in the wake of having left my entire life behind.

[persists]

[ And bluntly: ]

Do you plan to live the rest of your days lamenting what was lost when you have the chance for something as opposed to nothing?

[trample]

... [ The silence is palpable. He either can't or doesn't want to give a response to that. Eventually, though: ] I don't mean it like that. I only meant that the lives that were lost and the wills I was meant to carry on are now all moot.

[ There's a look on his face akin to sadness, but as always, it's muted. ]

[persists]

Only if you allow them to be.

[ She thinks of Vesemir, honestly. His death signified so much to her — what was at stake, what teachings stayed with her... if she thought of it, wouldn't this be the same thing...? She feels a ping of guilt for such a question and she turns away from him. ]

They're still there, they still happened and it's your duty to carry that legacy and honor it. The people, the struggle, the tragedy...

[trample]

[ A younger man might have been furious at her. He would stand up and shout that he could no longer do that, because he no longer lived in a world where his duty mattered.

Eren feels nothing. ]

You don't get it. [ She probably never would. He has to accept that no one will ever understand. ] Ciri?

[ She's turned away from him. That's probably for the best. He picks himself up and steps away. ]

Good luck finding somewhere to call home. I'm tired, though. I...have to go.

[persists]

[ She feels like a child — scolded for her ability to comprehend things people fully didn't expect her to. Vesemir didn't think she paid attention but she always proved him wrong there — Eren would think similarly. She knows pain, she knows loss — she knows what it's like to not have a place that's hers without ugh, complications.

He steps away and Ciri's hand instinctively goes for a grab. Right onto his arm. There's a flurry of confusion and sadness that Eren feels. Pity. How it roots itself in her stomach and he can...feel the bitterness she feels towards herself. How she herself can't get over some of the ghosts in her past.

She's a hypocrite and clearly, Eren learns this dubiously. ]

[trample]

[ His initial reaction is to grit his teeth and bear it, like all unwelcome sensations.

And then he's assailed by her confusion. His response is to be, as any sane person would be, angry - but then he looks at her dead on and it's really rather unfortunate that she's got such big, expressive eyes, because quickly he realizes that she's the same type of emotional idiot that he used to be.

The kind that ought to stay that way.

So, away with his anger, as it's quickly replaced. By something else. In a few words, it's the feeling you get when you want to make sure something you cherish is safe and protected. ]

Let go. [ He says this not in frustration. But only so that she doesn't capture any more of his weakness. ] You mean well, but there's only so much you can do. It's all right, Ciri. Now, let go.

[persists]

[ It was as if her own stubbornness kept her rooted onto him, gripping with her nails pricking at his skin. She acted impulsively and the moment he commands for her to let go. Ciri feels a flood of emotions — mainly ones that make her feel ashamed for acting in such a way and nervous her own weaknesses were shown. ]

I'm sorry.

[ She stammers, her words harsh to force out but — there you go. She turns away from him again, any intent to converse on the matter falls dead on arrival. ]

You needn't worry about what my demeanor and intent is. Your burdens aren't mine to lift up off your shoulders. Just give yourself chances to rest once in a while.

[ And she's ready to go now. BYEEE ]

[trample]

Are you embarrassed? [ He says it once he sees how nervous she is after realizing what she had just done. ] Don't be. You're a much better person than me. I can tell that much.

[ Playing it cool after doing something silly is...also very relatable. He's realizing very quickly how badly he wants to ensure she doesn't lose herself the way he did. ]

[persists]

No. I don't like showing my hand.

[ Letting anyone know how to take her down. To use people against her, use her insecurities. She's stubborn like that. ]

You don't know the person I am, so please bite your tongue on such things.

[trample]

Same here. [ He turns away. ] I feel the exact same way.

[ And he's off. This is, in fact, the best possible result. ]