( OPEN ) pick a place and die there.

[jinshi]

WHO: tomoe + ota
WHERE: dreamscape & elsewhere
WHEN: ic early april
WHAT: catch-all log with open dream prompts!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: none atm, will update as necessary.

Comments

[jinshi]

[ the question doesn't bother him. he thinks that it might have, were he anywhere else. but in this place he is certain of himself and his position, so nothing can threaten him. he considers it sincerely before he answers. ]

... Certainly, there are times when I miss the simple violence of my past. Those days were fun. But they were empty, too. [ his memories of that time are hazy, but he knows that it was a hollow existence. he could only be satisfied in a fight. it's difficult to explain to humans, with their short and overcomplicated lives, but: ] Youkai are only ever looking for the next bloodshed. I would have spent my immortal life that way.

[ although he's not sure he was ever aware of it in the moment. when did he change? he can't remember at all. ]

[impede]

[Freedom but with mindlessness. Akechi can see the problem, but has given into that himself. When he drove himself mad, he had felt wild—free, unhinged, no longer driven by the need to appeal to those before him. It was all about the bloodshed. It was all about winning—once and for all!

(And so, he didn't win. Another point of failure.)

That he sees himself in what Tomoe has to say—it bothers him. He wants to believe that being free from the puppet strings would be better, but is it truly?

(Leave it to Akechi to also see being here, seeing this, as reflection of himself.)

As it is, Akechi's attempted to antagonize him—to provoke him further, but he can't.]

You gave up your freedom for the sake of complication. [An observation.] Most would fail to see the appeal to that.

[jinshi]

[ it's clinical, not condemning, and so Tomoe doesn't bristle. honestly, though — what is it with humans, he wonders. this inability to accept things as they are, to understand that some matters are set in stone. so much to say about something that he doesn't believe needs to be questioned at all. ]

Only the simple-minded or the young. [ he shoots Akechi a pointed look over his shoulder when he says young. not like an adult to a child, because it's across a different sort of chasm, far wider: ] Give it another hundred years and perhaps you'll understand the feeling.

[ he'll always maintain that their kinds were never meant to mingle for exactly this reason. how can a mortal understand the feeling of a century passing? how can he make sense of a life lived hurriedly, trying to outpace death? they're simply too different. their paths shouldn't cross at all.

he thinks to leave it at that. but he pauses as he hangs up the last of the laundry. ]

... I chose to give up aimless freedom for a life that has purpose. It isn't any sort of debasement. I'm not less of what I was. Any fool who doubts that is welcome to put a sword in my hand and see for himself.

[impede]

I wasn't criticizing you. [Mindlessness is just as horrible as being locked away. But he would prefer to keep his mind, prefer to keep the belief that he's in some kind of control. Then again, near the end of it all, he believed he had won and got nothing satisfying out of it. His death (or presumed death) came with the understanding that he was on puppet strings all along.

There was complication of thought and action, sure. But was he truly free? What does freedom even mean for him?]

You've found a direction that most people want. Some believe that it comes with freedom, but being bound to another can have its own freedom. You can think and recognize the passage of time. I can't object to that.

[jinshi]

[ the expression on his face softens, not as warm as a smile, no less sincere for it. he's surprised, but— pleased. although he doesn't desire anyone's approval but his master's, it's not a bad feeling to be acknowledged in such a way. no one but a human would question his decision, and Nanami is the only human who was ever in a position to do so. she would never ask, he knows, because she doesn't think at all the way Akechi does. it's a strange experience, to hear a human reach the same conclusion as he did. ]

It's not without its downsides, but nor is any path in life, is it? [ that's universal, regardless of the world one lives in. he doesn't need to understand humans to see that. ] Really, I moved up in the world. Only divine-created spirits should be of my status, yet here I am, a despicable wild fox on sacred ground.

[ there's no self-consciousness in the way he says it. he's not actually ashamed about what he is, or insecure about the fact that he doesn't belong where he is; but it is a simple fact that he's "lesser" by comparison in the hierarchy. he's a youkai. an evil monster that torments humans. several hundred years ago, he would have killed a kami sooner than serve them.

now, this is his home.

he picks up the laundry basket and jerks his head towards the main building, waiting expectantly for Akechi to follow him. ]

Come on. You're a guest, so I can hardly leave you standing in the yard. I'll make tea.

[impede]

The greater shame would be if you weren't aware of the chains around your wrists, but you are and you accept that. [But being of sound mind is something that he values. Akechi doesn't always grasp his more frantic, feral self as losing that. But then: it's because it's only a reflection of the truly boiling anger that churns inside of his stomach day in and day out.

As it is, he's—well, not happy to follow Tomoe, but content enough to do it. Saying that he's on a quest is an odd notion.]

But ... very well. I'll admit—tea isn't much to my tastes compared to coffee, but I haven't had a good cup in a long, long time. I suppose a dream's version will have to do. Besides, something tells me that I would be a fool to pass up yours.

[jinshi]

[ without a hint of shame or modesty: ] Of course you would.

[ he's smug about it, but he's plainly glad, too. even the most begrudging compliment works on a creature as vain as Tomoe.

he leads Akechi up the front stairs of the shrine, past the offering box and the suzu bell; he opens and closes the doors for him with the proper grace of a host, both hands bracing the frame as he slides it and his head bowed as his guest steps inside. the look he gives as Akechi passes is playful, though. he takes off his geta in the entrance and waits while Akechi removes his own shoes, and then leads him down the hall. ]

I have never been homesick before now, you know. [ never had reason to be. he would never have left Japan, given the choice, and the youkai side never changed, like a world encased in amber. ] And yet, with you, and with Ren... It irritates me not to have access to this world. That I lack entirely the option of an evening sitting on the engawa, dressed in yukata, drinking sake under the full moon.

[ there is no circumstance in which he wouldn't be aware of that absence. but when he's with those two, who share with him the culture that Tomoe should be a permanent fixture of, he always expects those things to be in reach. it seems obvious that they should be there. that feeling won't fade; he won't adapt to this world. that isn't how youkai are supposed to live. they don't change, or move on, or evolve. there's no way he can keep up with it, and even if he could, he doesn't want to lose anything.

it was lonely in the two decades that Mikage abandoned him, but in that time, Tomoe had the shrine, and he had a world he knew well, a world that knew his existence well. he had himself, unchanging. none of that remains. he thinks that if— if Ren and Akechi are his only two anchors in this wretched place, then he would tether all he has to them.

he stops in front of a shouji door and opens it to a tatami floor sitting room with very little furniture inside; a room for receiving guests, though it hasn't been prepared for company now. Tomoe goes to a cupboard along the wall and retrieves two zabuton, dropping them into place on the floor opposite each other with less of that mock-deference he played around with at the front door. ]

Though I should warn you, I did promise Ren that I would get you both more traditional attire.

[impede]

I suspect that you mean in reality. [Yes, it makes sense that Ren would agree to go along with such a "promise." There would be no traditional attire in a dream, at least not yet. It's possible that the three of them could escape to a dream like this. Cognition and dreams—they are, inherently, linked in some way. It's something that Akechi and Ren noticed early on, even if they can't find a solution for what it means for them. There is no application that allows them to enter a dream at will, after all.]

Well, I suppose we'll have to see what you find. [He already slipped off his shoes at the entrance. While Akechi hasn't been in very many "traditional" homes, some things are universal. He moves to take a seat, one leg drawn up against him. It almost acts as a barrier, but he tries to seem casual about it, long brown strands of hair falling into his eyes. (Strangely, his hair seems to be the correct length all of a sudden.)]

There is very little of your world that I labored to enjoy in mine. I lived in a city like the one outside of your dreams, and it was just as callous and selfish. The people were caught up in any whim that would play on a screen somewhere to tell them how to think. [A beat.] It's the type of world where only the illusion of chaos allows someone to go unnoticed. You would undoubtedly feel just as homesick there.