minor injury meme.

[estivates]

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

Comments

I HOPE THIS IS OKAY I finished the game recently!

[shiftbreak]

Ha- [ Smiling under his breath, looking away with closed eyes. ] 'had me worried there for a second.

[ Unsure how Kuja was mentally holding up... how would he handle being alive once he'd woken? The way Kuja had been found, that painful state of existence where you're ready to stop existing? You're not satisfied with yourself or your reality and struggling to meet your inner expectations seems so exasperating -- you don't think you can continue. Unlike Kuja, Zidane has others and that support is the reason he's here today. Without them, he would be Kuja.

Garland was wrong about many things, this is something Zidane had been pondering over since his near-death experience(s). The genomes weren't just lifeless husks, each and everyone of them was starting to show differences-- personalities. What they lacked was someone to love them... Kuja and Zidane? They weren't killing machines... they could laugh and cry, feel pain and be passionate about things that didn't even pertain to 'their purpose.'

However, Garland did get one thing right. They weren't different... they were similar and that's something Zidane hadn't even considered for a very long time. It's that idea that kept Kuja the villain, it made him killable...

Now-? ] But with a response like that? You'll live. [ Now, things are the way they should be... that's what you have to tell yourself. ] How are you feeling? You got pretty messed back there.

[ No one would ever forgive Kuja, Zidane's not even sure he'd forgive Kuja... but someone needed to stand by him. Everyone had purpose... ]

it's just fine! and that's great i hope you enjoyed it!! it's one of my very favorites.

[stagepresence]

[ kuja has no idea where zidane finds the energy to be so optimistic, to be so damnably bright and warm and talkative. it's maddening, if only because he hardly deserves it, and he can't help but feel that it's a little pathetic, too. after all he has done, zidane sits here beside him, smiling and chattering as if none of it was of any consequence. as if it's all all right.

he shifts uncomfortably, casting his gaze aside. ]

Why?

[ a single, pointed word, kuja weilds it like a knife, ignoring zidane's concerns, his light questions. ]

Why am I here? Why did you do this?

it was /wonderful/

[shiftbreak]

... [ That cheerful look fades, the subject was inevitable and yet Zidane worries he doesn't fully understand his reasons. Not one's he can explain easily, at least. ] Why?

Why not? [ Yes, yes. We all know why not but why really? Again, it's hard to explain and maybe Zidane is self-inserting but he can't continue alienating Kuja. ] You told me something back at the Iifa Tree, that you've found what it means to live.

[ The pause lingers, waiting for someone to break the silence. ]

Isn't that a good enough reason?

right, it's such a great game.

[stagepresence]

I wonder.

[ kuja isn't so certain. a crease forms between his brows, pale eyes distant, but guarded. for all kuja loves to talk, he appears to have become suddenly tight-lipped. he has no experience with this. with.. feeling anything at all past madness, pride, vanity, vengeance. these softer things, these more painful things are new and strange, and kuja doesn't seem particularly keen on spilling his heart.

so instead he straightens a bit, clears his throat and frowns disdainfully at the dusty quilt over his legs, plucking idly at a stray thread with long fingers. ]

You could have at least brought me back to my palace. I don't think this blanket has been washed in months.

[shiftbreak]

[ Recovering from his emotional state before cracking another smile... the sass helps, anyone that has time to sass has time to live. Zidane doesn't often worry and the idea that he's inwardly worrying so badly confuses him.

What had Vivi said that one time? My worries have worries? Good statement, everyone eventually relates— ] Ha, guess they haven't been. [ Taking the end of the blanket and pulling it to his face, ick... they did sort of smell like unwashed oldness. ] And why would I take you back to that decor disaster? You should spend time with your family.

[ ...He wants to help them, help Mikoto, Kuja, and every single genome. Their important, their lives matter, and the very idea they've been told otherwise isn't acceptable. ]

[stagepresence]

Decor disaster- wh- excuse me!

[ sibling spats, clearly the best way to distract someone from Emotional States indeed, and it's just the liferaft that kuja prefers to cling to. this is his comfort zone. treating zidane like the little heathen that he is comes naturally. ]

You wouldn't know good taste if it hit you on the head, you little mongrel.

[ distinctly.. not addressing that little comment about family. kuja isn't sure if that uncomfortable twisting in his belly is warmth, or nausea. ]

[shiftbreak]

The truth comes out... you think I have no style!

[ Kuja could use some time off the emotional train wreck called depression, even if Zidane can't cure it forever... he's been there, every little second counts. It'll mean something someday... and Kuja's strong— stronger than he thought back at the Iifa Tree. With support he'll make it... ]

"We aren't so different, you and I." [ Grinning wildly while impersonating Kuja's voice. ] —or is that our one difference?

[ It's an odd feeling, their conversations now... Zidane still can't come to terms with how conflicted he feels. People will continue to always hate Kuja for what he's done and Zidane isn't saying they can't, or they shouldn't, but all the same... He can no longer express that pervious burning, ignorant hate once possessed. ]

[stagepresence]

[ kuja's expression is no less sour for zidane's antics, and he sniffs derisively, his chin lifted in some semblance of pride. showmanship is all he has left, at this point. ]

I only said that to aggravate you. But of course you have no style. That's hardly a truth I'd ever feel the need to hide.

[ odd is a word for it, though it's not exactly new, goading zidane, though before it had been for rather different reasons. a peacock's pride, kuja found entertainment in it before - anything he could do or say to make himself seem (and feel) above zidane in any way was welcomed. now instead it is his last line of defense, his only armor, because zidane might be content with his decision to pull him from the iifa tree, but kuja..

he's reeling. where should he go from here? what should he do? how can he possibly move forward from this point? all he has lived for, from the moment he first opened his eyes, is dashed, and what is he without it?

well, that's something he'll have to find out for himself, should he find the courage to do it. but he's not about to ask for help. settling back against his pillows, kuja frowns, eyes hooded, and casts his gaze toward the window. ]

There's much and more besides that that separates us.

[ far more than he had ever thought about, perhaps. ]

[shiftbreak]

Now things are different— [ Getting up from his spot on the bed, requiring a good stretch to keep loss during all this tense conversation. Letting his arms fall to his sides before cracking his neck. ] Something along those lines, right?

[ Why are they always resorting to name-calling? Zidane wasn't stupid, he knows... Back then, it was all about basking in Zidane's anger over tedious things like antagonizing. Ha— they're both so childish, really. However, there is irony behind those words — their true, and maybe only now Kuja's resorting to how Zidane used to feel. Protect his pride and shield his heart to keep that pain suffocated?

Who knows... The blonde's stubborn, though. He'll continuing doing things his way even if they turns out wrong. ]

Listen, we got plenty to talk about- [ Pausing to recollect. Zidane has no idea how Kuja will react to hearing he's obligated to something. Most likely negatively but, you know. ] -but first; are you hungry, tired, does anything hurt? I'm going to sound like a broken record till you're better, sorry in advance.

[stagepresence]

[ well, he's not wrong. kuja has never done well with personal obligation to others. his duty to garland and terra were the only real examples that he's had, and clearly, he shucked them off as soon as he was able. kuja's only obligations are to himself. he's always been fiercely independent.

but things are different, now, whether he likes it or not. he's never known guilt before. he's never known regret. he hates the way they make him feel and yet he's turning away from them anyway; it's just too soon. but he sighs wearily anyway, and tosses his head. ]

Of course I'm hungry, tired, and hurt; I was nearly crushed by that tree, you know.

[ not to mention the, you know, violent tussle beforehand but he's.. stepping around that. he sounds petulant, he knows, but he's too exhausted, too confused to drop the act. ]

But you really don't need to worry about me, you understand.

[shiftbreak]

I don't have to, but it's my choice to care. [ ... always the meddler, Kuja's problems will eventually become his own.

They could start talking about Garland and Terra... Zidane had plenty of questions, he wanted to know about the past, about his life before - about Kuja's life before. Knowing he'll be nosy and insensitive during the entire conversation, Zidane would rather Kuja tell him fully rested, fed, and comfortable. ]

What do you like to eat? [ Zidane will cook him something. The Black Mages and Genomes? Ahh, they are kinda getting the idea of cooking but for Kuja, Zidane will take over the kitchen for the time being. ]

[stagepresence]

[ and it's a poor choice, in kuja's opinion. not to say that he's any sort of expert when it comes to close relations with other sentient beings, but he's relatively sure that zidane is abnormal even among his peers, for doing something like this. kuja still isn't sure how he feels about it, and it's still too soon to figure out, too soon to untangle this knot.

so he's happy to veer the conversation away once more from what it continues inevitably return to. his mouth snaps open to snarl some barbed comment about the state of the food in a place like this, but something halts him, brings him to bite it back. maybe he's just too tired to argue anymore, or maybe it's something else. it doesn't matter. kuja shakes his head, exhales slowly. ]

Just fresh bread should be fine. I'm not particularly hungry.