( 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

[variate]

[ Sojiro had told him not to meddle in the affairs of others, but it couldn't be helped. when Arsene awakened and he burned with rage over the world's injustice, a question was posed to him: was he wrong at that time? was he wrong to feel that need to help other people? to fight for it?

he still felt it. that burn had never subsided, but instead he had sharpened it as he had grown. ]

You're still here, so it matters to me.

[ gods be damned. he wasn't here for any god. ]

[jinshi]

[ that isn't fair. the feeling surges up in him and slices through his lethargy cleanly as a blade — all of a sudden, Tomoe slams his fist against the wall, tail lashing behind him. those words don't mean anything from anyone but Mikage. it's not fair that he hears them from someone else while the one person who matters left him alone here. ]

That's not enough! I'm a shinshi! Without Mikage, I—!

[ whatever he was going to say catches in his throat and dies with a pitiful noise, a fox's whine. the anger that had briefly flared dies out just as quickly, smothered by cold and silence. it would be one thing if Mikage had disappeared from the world, as gods sometimes do. Tomoe isn't sure what would happen to him in that case, but something would change. instead, Mikage is alive. he just isn't here. he said he was going into town and hasn't come back, hasn't said a word to Tomoe in two decades. the only thing Tomoe can do is wait. ]

A shrine is empty without a god. [ a shinshi is nothing without a god. unsaid, but it's there in the defeated slump of his body, his head hanging forward. his tail curls low between his ankles. ] You can patch up the holes in the roof, do whatever you want, but it won't matter. This place won't recover. I'll still—

[ he shivers, and curls in on himself. his voice is small: ]

... It will still be cold, here.

[variate]

[ the sudden rush of rage as it cracks against the wall doesn't seem to jar him. he knows that anger well: it comes from being left alone. he had seen it in his friends when their fear and loneliness welled up through the cracks made in their hearts, and they tried desperately to reach out to hold onto something solid to pull themselves upright. bad things happened, and people fell apart. what happened after that was important—healing was important. Tomoe talks so flippantly about how different they are, but Ren can't help but see how they're the same.

he witnessed what long stretches of loneliness had done to Akechi, broken him to pieces while he tried desperately to fit them back together into some semblance of a person.

his expression is quiet, the more intense lines softening. ]

Tomoe, hey.

[ very carefully, he reaches out to put a hand on one shoulder, and then the other. he pulls him in. ]

I know I'm not Mikage, and I might not be able to stay for long, but I'll be here as long as I can.

[jinshi]

[ none of this is merely memory. perhaps Tomoe hadn't realised yet that he has been adrift, that there is so much lonely fear lurking in the pit of his stomach, but this is his mind as of late manifest. he is dimly aware that this can't really be Mikage's shrine, or those twenty years spent waiting. the connection doesn't quite make it to the waking world. but he doesn't need to be aware of the mirror now for the weight of all this to hit him just the same.

when he's pulled, he goes, stumbling but without resistance, to the solid warmth of Ren's presence. he curls, instinctively, towards that warmth; he clings to the very edge of Ren's sleeve with just his fingertips, this fragile, desperate point of connection. there is an ache in him like Ren has put one finger on a bruise and pressed down hard. there is fear in his heart that won't settle. not for long? what sort of flickering instant of time does that mean for a human? and if it isn't forever, then what would be the point of it? he means to pursue those doubts, but instead the one that rises to the surface is— ]

... Why? [ Tomoe's forehead rests on Ren's shoulder, and the words are spoken to the space between their bodies. even without any manner of binding, to stay is a promise not made lightly. youkai take from each other. when they make vows, they do so with a sword to each other's throats. ] What reason would you have to stay? If you're just pitying me—

[ the venom in that warns of violence, fangs bared. his pride could never allow it. ]

[variate]

[ being close to people was one of those things that came easily to him. when Tomoe curls in, Ren takes the invitation and rests an arm around his shoulders, and another loose around his waist. he offers what he can. Tomoe was in pain, and while he's never felt loneliness to this depth, he has felt it before. he knew it in the others that he had met because he had been the same.

when he shakes his head, Tomoe can feel it more than see it. ]

...

That's not it.

[ it's quiet, thoughtful, as if he's sorting out his own thoughts. ]

We made a deal.

[ not just for Ren to help with Nanami—it was more than that. Ren's deals were always more than that. he understood what he had been told in the Velvet Room that day. the connections he had with others were his strength, and even here, without the power of Persona to gain the benefit of those close to him, it seemed more important than ever. ]

[jinshi]

[ it's the right answer. a reason grounded in empathy that required some sort of emotional understanding would have failed; a reason grounded in selfishness that lacked any conviction whatsoever would have likewise been rejected. what Ren provides is the one explanation Tomoe can allow without question. and it's easier for Tomoe to accept it in this place, with the weight of his loneliness hanging in the air, the haziness of a dream making all other concerns seem distant and unreal. intuitively, he knows that Mikage is not coming back; that Nanami, who found him here before, is not coming either. he could wait here forever, alone. he's not sure he could allow someone to leave him again.

Mikage never became any less important to him just because Nanami had appeared. surely Nanami is made no less important by Ren's promise. and there are other concerns — Ren is an ordinary human, and Tomoe is more youkai than shinshi now; the two are incompatible. there's no binding to make him feel secure, to tell him when he's needed. he lacks the power to keep Ren safe. he worries about mortality, about human fickleness, about his nature not being understood. but those thoughts are for waking. here, now, all he can think about is the sleeve clutched in his fingers. ]

If I find out that you mean that lightly, I'll bite you. Severely. [ it's petty grumbling into the crook of Ren's neck, rather than a threat meant in any seriousness, though the sentiment itself is not in jest. he turns his head to the side, resting his head more fully on Ren's shoulder, and sighs. ] How low have I sunk... A familiar of my level getting involved with a human who doesn't even hold divinity. Honestly, it's embarrassing.

[variate]

[ more people to get close to never left the others any less important. it was what he had learned during his time heading to Tokyo alone, abandoned by his community and his family, when he started building up something new.

things never lasted forever, and even his time in Tokyo came to an end.

loss was something that he knew intimately: the losses that his friends and confidants had experienced at the hands of a corrupt society, the loss of Akechi, and the potential loss of Morgana.

he had told Clarke that it was their pain that helped band them together. ]

Divinity?

[ ... ]

I was asked once.

[ he had declined at that time, of course. ]