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bakerstreet2015-01-21 07:28 am
sockdere) wrote in bakerstreet2015-01-21 07:28 am
[preferably the rescued, open to any of the scenarios!]
[This meme was made for her!! Would like her to be the damsel-in-distress, but she can also be a rescuer.]
[4 isn't likely, and would like to avoid 23 and 24, please. 6, 7, and 11 are most likely, though I'm open to other scenarios! :)]
[4 isn't likely, and would like to avoid 23 and 24, please. 6, 7, and 11 are most likely, though I'm open to other scenarios! :)]
Edited 2015-01-21 15:45 (UTC)
[ooc: Came across this by chance, and given their recent interaction I think it fits pretty well. Let me know if this works. This can also be the thread that Kodachi gets to see Jurai, if you desire it.]
[Seriyo was feeling fairly irritated, largely because some uncouth heathen managed to assault his charming Kodachi-sama on his watch. Internally, he couldn't help but worry this might affect the gymnast's view of him, but he pushes it away and leaps into action.]
So sorry, my dear. I was quite delayed by the rather odious traps!
[As if to emphasize, Seriyo slices away a remaining trap device with his energy sword. At least, this provides an opportunity to show off his swordsmanship.]
Are you alright, Kodachi-sama? I trust my tardiness hasn't caused you any undue distress?
[The White Lily wasn't kidding about laying traps; compacted glue-bombs lay throughout the street, though they were easily destroyed due to Seriyo's quick action. But a thick blob still managed to adhere Kodachi to the ground, leaving her flat-footed to the ankles in the stuff.]
[Seriyo was feeling fairly irritated, largely because some uncouth heathen managed to assault his charming Kodachi-sama on his watch. Internally, he couldn't help but worry this might affect the gymnast's view of him, but he pushes it away and leaps into action.]
So sorry, my dear. I was quite delayed by the rather odious traps!
[As if to emphasize, Seriyo slices away a remaining trap device with his energy sword. At least, this provides an opportunity to show off his swordsmanship.]
Are you alright, Kodachi-sama? I trust my tardiness hasn't caused you any undue distress?
[The White Lily wasn't kidding about laying traps; compacted glue-bombs lay throughout the street, though they were easily destroyed due to Seriyo's quick action. But a thick blob still managed to adhere Kodachi to the ground, leaving her flat-footed to the ankles in the stuff.]
The narrow street of Nerima lay in a state of disarray, its cobblestones slick with the remnants of shattered glue-bombs and the faint, acrid scent of their adhesive innards wafting through the humid evening air. Shadows stretched long and thin across the pavement, cast by the flickering streetlamps that buzzed intermittently, their light struggling against the encroaching dusk. The scene was chaotic yet oddly serene, a battlefield of petty vengeance now quiet save for the occasional rustle of leaves skittering across the ground, carried by a gentle breeze. At the center of this tableau stood Kuno Kodachi, the Black Rose of St. Hebereke’s School for Girls, her lithe form pinned ignominiously to the earth by a thick, glistening blob of glue that encased her ankles and crept up her calves like some insidious, creeping vine. Her signature leotard, a deep violet trimmed with black lace, clung to her frame, its elegance marred by the sticky mess that tethered her in place. Her dark hair, usually swept into a dramatic cascade, was slightly disheveled, a few strands plastered to her forehead with sweat and frustration.
Above her, poised with the grace of a warrior and the flair of a showman, stood Seriyo of Jurai, his energy sword humming with a faint, electric glow as he cleaved through the last of the White Lily’s nefarious traps. The blade sang as it sliced the air, a streak of violet light that mirrored the twilight sky, and with a final flourish, he dispatched a glue-bomb mid-explosion, its contents splattering harmlessly against a nearby wall rather than adding to Kodachi’s predicament. His long, teal hair flowed behind him, catching the dim light, and his ornate Juraian armor gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, a stark contrast to the mundane chaos of the street. His expression was one of controlled irritation, his sharp features taut with the effort of suppressing his annoyance at the situation—and at himself.
“So sorry, my dear,” Seriyo said, his voice smooth and rich, carrying the cadence of a nobleman despite the faint edge of exasperation. “I was quite delayed by the rather odious traps!” He punctuated his words with a deft flick of his wrist, the energy sword carving through a stray tendril of glue that had begun to snake toward him, its tip sizzling as it met the blade’s heat. He turned to Kodachi, his dark eyes softening as they met hers, though a flicker of concern danced beneath his composed exterior. “Are you alright, Kodachi-sama? I trust my tardiness hasn’t caused you any undue distress?”
Kodachi tilted her head back, her lips curling into a smile that was equal parts haughty and amused, though the strain of her predicament tugged at the edges of her composure. “Distress? Oh, Seriyo-san, you wound me with your lack of faith,” she replied, her voice lilting with a theatrical flourish. She shifted her weight, testing the glue’s hold, and found it unyielding, a fact that elicited a faint huff of indignation. “A mere trifle like this could hardly tarnish the spirit of the Black Rose. Though I must say, the White Lily’s ingenuity is as tiresome as it is predictable. Glue-bombs! How pedestrian.”
The White Lily, a rival gymnast from a neighboring school with a penchant for sabotage, had clearly spared no effort in her latest assault. The street was littered with the evidence of her handiwork—shattered casings of compacted glue-bombs, their sticky payloads now congealing in puddles or clinging to walls and lampposts like grotesque decorations. Seriyo’s swift intervention had neutralized most of them, his swordsmanship a blur of precision and power, but one had slipped through his defenses, catching Kodachi off-guard as she’d executed a graceful leap to avoid an earlier blast. Now, she stood—or rather, was stuck—flat-footed, her ankles submerged in the thick, amber goo that refused to release her.
Seriyo sheathed his energy sword with a practiced motion, the blade retracting into its hilt with a soft *click*, and stepped closer to her, his boots crunching against the debris-strewn pavement. He knelt beside her, inspecting the glue with a critical eye. “Pedestrian or not, it’s effective,” he remarked, his tone dry. “This substance is remarkably resilient. I’d wager it’s some manner of synthetic resin, designed to harden upon contact with air. Quite the nuisance.”
Kodachi arched a brow, her gaze flicking to him with a mix of curiosity and mild reproach. “A nuisance, yes, but surely not beyond the capabilities of a Juraian prince? Or have I overestimated your resourcefulness, Seriyo-san?” Her words were a challenge, delivered with a coy tilt of her head, though the faintest tremor in her voice betrayed her growing impatience with her immobility.
Seriyo’s lips twitched into a smirk, accepting the barb with good humor. “Overestimate me? Never, Kodachi-sama. Allow me to rectify this indignity at once.” He rose to his feet, drawing a small, cylindrical device from a pouch at his waist—a tool of Juraian design, its surface etched with intricate runes that glowed faintly as he activated it. He aimed it at the glue encasing her ankles, and a thin beam of pale light shot forth, bathing the sticky mass in a shimmering aura. The glue began to soften, its edges bubbling and retracting, but the process was slow, and Seriyo frowned as he adjusted the device’s settings. “It resists even this. Fascinating. The White Lily must have procured something truly diabolical.”
Kodachi sighed dramatically, folding her arms across her chest. “Diabolical, perhaps, but hardly worthy of my time. Do hurry, Seriyo-san. I’ve no intention of spending my evening as a fixture in this dreary street.” She cast a disdainful glance around her, taking in the cracked facades of the surrounding buildings, their windows dark and lifeless, and the faint hum of cicadas that filled the air. The scene was far removed from the elegance she preferred, and the indignity of her situation gnawed at her pride.
As Seriyo worked, the glue gradually relinquished its hold, peeling away from Kodachi’s skin in sticky tendrils that left faint red marks where they’d clung. She flexed her freed ankles, rolling them with a dancer’s grace, and stepped free of the last remnants with a flourish, brushing a hand through her hair to restore its semblance of order. “There. Much better,” she declared, her tone regaining its usual imperious edge. “Now, shall we pursue that wretched White Lily and teach her the folly of crossing the Black Rose? Or do you propose a more… civilized response, Seriyo-san?”
Seriyo straightened, stowing the device and meeting her gaze with a glint of amusement. “Civilized? Where’s the fun in that? I say we track her down and repay her in kind—perhaps with a few traps of our own. Jurai has its share of tricks, and I’d wager they’d leave her rather… stuck on the idea of leaving you alone.” He gestured toward the horizon, where the last rays of sunlight dipped below the rooftops, casting the street in deepening shadow. “But first, might I suggest a detour? This little skirmish has piqued my curiosity about your resilience, Kodachi-sama. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer you a glimpse of Jurai’s splendor as recompense for my tardiness.”
Kodachi’s eyes narrowed, intrigue sparking within them. “Jurai, you say? The fabled empire among the stars? I suppose I could deign to indulge you, if only to see if it lives up to your boasts.” She stepped closer, her movements fluid and deliberate, and rested a hand lightly on his arm, her touch both a tease and a command. “Lead on, then. But do keep up—I’ve no patience for dawdling escorts.”
Seriyo chuckled, a low, warm sound, and inclined his head in a mock bow. “As you command, my lady.” He raised a hand, and the air before them shimmered, a faint distortion rippling outward as a portal materialized—a gateway to Jurai, its edges framed by a lattice of glowing energy. Beyond it lay a vista of towering trees with crystalline leaves, their branches swaying in an unseen breeze, and distant spires that gleamed like polished jade under a sky streaked with hues of violet and gold. The scent of alien flora drifted through, sharp and sweet, mingling with the earthy musk of Nerima.
Kodachi stepped through without hesitation, her curiosity outweighing any lingering irritation, and Seriyo followed, the portal snapping shut behind them with a soft *whoosh*. They emerged onto a broad platform of polished stone, its surface inlaid with patterns that pulsed faintly with light, surrounded by a forest that seemed to hum with life. The trees stretched impossibly high, their trunks thick and gnarled, their leaves refracting the light into a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across Kodachi’s skin. She paused, taking it in, her expression a mix of awe and calculation.
“Impressive,” she conceded, her voice softening for a moment before her usual bravado returned. “Though I daresay it pales beside the grandeur of my own performances. Tell me, Seriyo-san, do your people appreciate the art of rhythmic gymnastics? Or are they too busy flitting about in their little spaceships?”
Seriyo laughed outright, the sound echoing through the grove. “We’ve our share of warriors and scholars, but I’d wager you’d find an audience here. Perhaps I’ll arrange a demonstration—after we’ve dealt with our mutual pest, of course.” He gestured toward a path that wound deeper into the forest, flanked by glowing orbs that floated lazily in the air, illuminating the way. “Come. There’s a place I’d like you to see. A sanctuary of sorts, where Jurai’s power is most palpable. It might inspire a fitting retribution for the White Lily.”
Kodachi followed, her steps light and purposeful, the earlier ordeal already fading into the background of her mind. The air here was cooler, tinged with a metallic edge that spoke of advanced technology woven seamlessly into the natural world. As they walked, the forest gave way to a clearing dominated by a vast, circular pool, its surface mirror-smooth and reflecting a sky dotted with unfamiliar constellations. At its center floated a crystalline structure, a delicate lattice of spires and arches that shimmered with an inner light, suspended by some unseen force. The water rippled faintly as they approached, and Kodachi felt a subtle vibration beneath her feet, a pulse that resonated with the energy of the place.
“This is the Heart of Tsunami,” Seriyo explained, his tone reverent yet casual, as if unveiling a treasure he’d long grown accustomed to. “A nexus of Jurai’s life-force, tied to our royal trees. It’s said to amplify one’s will—useful for crafting… creative solutions.” He glanced at her sidelong, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “What do you say, Kodachi-sama? Shall we harness it to devise a trap the White Lily won’t soon forget?”
Kodachi’s lips curved into a wicked smile, her mind already racing with possibilities. “Oh, I like the sound of that. Something elegant, yet devastating—worthy of the Black Rose’s touch. Perhaps a cascade of petals laced with a paralytic, or a ribbon that binds tighter with every struggle. And you, Seriyo-san, shall provide the means to make it reality.” She stepped closer to the pool, her reflection staring back at her with a gleam of anticipation, and dipped a hand into the water, feeling its coolness against her skin. The energy thrummed through her, sharp and invigorating, and she laughed—a high, melodic sound that carried across the clearing.
Seriyo watched her, his own smile widening. “A partnership, then. The Black Rose and the Prince of Jurai, united against a common foe. I daresay the White Lily won’t know what hit her.”
The night stretched on as they plotted, the Heart of Tsunami casting its glow over their scheming forms. Kodachi’s imagination wove a tapestry of vengeance, each idea more elaborate than the last, while Seriyo’s knowledge of Juraian technology provided the tools to bring them to life. The glue-bombs of Nerima were a distant memory, overshadowed by the promise of retribution—and the unexpected camaraderie that bloomed between them, forged in the crucible of a shared enemy and a mutual flair for the dramatic.
By the time they returned to Earth, the first light of dawn was creeping over the horizon, painting the street in soft pinks and golds. Kodachi stood once more on the cobblestones, her leotard pristine despite the night’s adventures, a new ribbon coiled in her hand—its fabric shimmering with a Juraian enhancement that promised to ensnare the White Lily in a trap of her own making. Seriyo lingered beside her, his energy sword at his hip, a quiet satisfaction in his stance.
“Until next time, Kodachi-sama,” he said, offering a slight bow. “May your vengeance be as beautiful as your art.”
Kodachi twirled the ribbon with a flourish, her eyes glinting with promise. “And may your blade never dull, Seriyo-san. The White Lily’s days of meddling are numbered.” With that, she turned on her heel, her laughter echoing through the waking streets, a harbinger of the chaos to come.
Above her, poised with the grace of a warrior and the flair of a showman, stood Seriyo of Jurai, his energy sword humming with a faint, electric glow as he cleaved through the last of the White Lily’s nefarious traps. The blade sang as it sliced the air, a streak of violet light that mirrored the twilight sky, and with a final flourish, he dispatched a glue-bomb mid-explosion, its contents splattering harmlessly against a nearby wall rather than adding to Kodachi’s predicament. His long, teal hair flowed behind him, catching the dim light, and his ornate Juraian armor gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, a stark contrast to the mundane chaos of the street. His expression was one of controlled irritation, his sharp features taut with the effort of suppressing his annoyance at the situation—and at himself.
“So sorry, my dear,” Seriyo said, his voice smooth and rich, carrying the cadence of a nobleman despite the faint edge of exasperation. “I was quite delayed by the rather odious traps!” He punctuated his words with a deft flick of his wrist, the energy sword carving through a stray tendril of glue that had begun to snake toward him, its tip sizzling as it met the blade’s heat. He turned to Kodachi, his dark eyes softening as they met hers, though a flicker of concern danced beneath his composed exterior. “Are you alright, Kodachi-sama? I trust my tardiness hasn’t caused you any undue distress?”
Kodachi tilted her head back, her lips curling into a smile that was equal parts haughty and amused, though the strain of her predicament tugged at the edges of her composure. “Distress? Oh, Seriyo-san, you wound me with your lack of faith,” she replied, her voice lilting with a theatrical flourish. She shifted her weight, testing the glue’s hold, and found it unyielding, a fact that elicited a faint huff of indignation. “A mere trifle like this could hardly tarnish the spirit of the Black Rose. Though I must say, the White Lily’s ingenuity is as tiresome as it is predictable. Glue-bombs! How pedestrian.”
The White Lily, a rival gymnast from a neighboring school with a penchant for sabotage, had clearly spared no effort in her latest assault. The street was littered with the evidence of her handiwork—shattered casings of compacted glue-bombs, their sticky payloads now congealing in puddles or clinging to walls and lampposts like grotesque decorations. Seriyo’s swift intervention had neutralized most of them, his swordsmanship a blur of precision and power, but one had slipped through his defenses, catching Kodachi off-guard as she’d executed a graceful leap to avoid an earlier blast. Now, she stood—or rather, was stuck—flat-footed, her ankles submerged in the thick, amber goo that refused to release her.
Seriyo sheathed his energy sword with a practiced motion, the blade retracting into its hilt with a soft *click*, and stepped closer to her, his boots crunching against the debris-strewn pavement. He knelt beside her, inspecting the glue with a critical eye. “Pedestrian or not, it’s effective,” he remarked, his tone dry. “This substance is remarkably resilient. I’d wager it’s some manner of synthetic resin, designed to harden upon contact with air. Quite the nuisance.”
Kodachi arched a brow, her gaze flicking to him with a mix of curiosity and mild reproach. “A nuisance, yes, but surely not beyond the capabilities of a Juraian prince? Or have I overestimated your resourcefulness, Seriyo-san?” Her words were a challenge, delivered with a coy tilt of her head, though the faintest tremor in her voice betrayed her growing impatience with her immobility.
Seriyo’s lips twitched into a smirk, accepting the barb with good humor. “Overestimate me? Never, Kodachi-sama. Allow me to rectify this indignity at once.” He rose to his feet, drawing a small, cylindrical device from a pouch at his waist—a tool of Juraian design, its surface etched with intricate runes that glowed faintly as he activated it. He aimed it at the glue encasing her ankles, and a thin beam of pale light shot forth, bathing the sticky mass in a shimmering aura. The glue began to soften, its edges bubbling and retracting, but the process was slow, and Seriyo frowned as he adjusted the device’s settings. “It resists even this. Fascinating. The White Lily must have procured something truly diabolical.”
Kodachi sighed dramatically, folding her arms across her chest. “Diabolical, perhaps, but hardly worthy of my time. Do hurry, Seriyo-san. I’ve no intention of spending my evening as a fixture in this dreary street.” She cast a disdainful glance around her, taking in the cracked facades of the surrounding buildings, their windows dark and lifeless, and the faint hum of cicadas that filled the air. The scene was far removed from the elegance she preferred, and the indignity of her situation gnawed at her pride.
As Seriyo worked, the glue gradually relinquished its hold, peeling away from Kodachi’s skin in sticky tendrils that left faint red marks where they’d clung. She flexed her freed ankles, rolling them with a dancer’s grace, and stepped free of the last remnants with a flourish, brushing a hand through her hair to restore its semblance of order. “There. Much better,” she declared, her tone regaining its usual imperious edge. “Now, shall we pursue that wretched White Lily and teach her the folly of crossing the Black Rose? Or do you propose a more… civilized response, Seriyo-san?”
Seriyo straightened, stowing the device and meeting her gaze with a glint of amusement. “Civilized? Where’s the fun in that? I say we track her down and repay her in kind—perhaps with a few traps of our own. Jurai has its share of tricks, and I’d wager they’d leave her rather… stuck on the idea of leaving you alone.” He gestured toward the horizon, where the last rays of sunlight dipped below the rooftops, casting the street in deepening shadow. “But first, might I suggest a detour? This little skirmish has piqued my curiosity about your resilience, Kodachi-sama. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer you a glimpse of Jurai’s splendor as recompense for my tardiness.”
Kodachi’s eyes narrowed, intrigue sparking within them. “Jurai, you say? The fabled empire among the stars? I suppose I could deign to indulge you, if only to see if it lives up to your boasts.” She stepped closer, her movements fluid and deliberate, and rested a hand lightly on his arm, her touch both a tease and a command. “Lead on, then. But do keep up—I’ve no patience for dawdling escorts.”
Seriyo chuckled, a low, warm sound, and inclined his head in a mock bow. “As you command, my lady.” He raised a hand, and the air before them shimmered, a faint distortion rippling outward as a portal materialized—a gateway to Jurai, its edges framed by a lattice of glowing energy. Beyond it lay a vista of towering trees with crystalline leaves, their branches swaying in an unseen breeze, and distant spires that gleamed like polished jade under a sky streaked with hues of violet and gold. The scent of alien flora drifted through, sharp and sweet, mingling with the earthy musk of Nerima.
Kodachi stepped through without hesitation, her curiosity outweighing any lingering irritation, and Seriyo followed, the portal snapping shut behind them with a soft *whoosh*. They emerged onto a broad platform of polished stone, its surface inlaid with patterns that pulsed faintly with light, surrounded by a forest that seemed to hum with life. The trees stretched impossibly high, their trunks thick and gnarled, their leaves refracting the light into a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across Kodachi’s skin. She paused, taking it in, her expression a mix of awe and calculation.
“Impressive,” she conceded, her voice softening for a moment before her usual bravado returned. “Though I daresay it pales beside the grandeur of my own performances. Tell me, Seriyo-san, do your people appreciate the art of rhythmic gymnastics? Or are they too busy flitting about in their little spaceships?”
Seriyo laughed outright, the sound echoing through the grove. “We’ve our share of warriors and scholars, but I’d wager you’d find an audience here. Perhaps I’ll arrange a demonstration—after we’ve dealt with our mutual pest, of course.” He gestured toward a path that wound deeper into the forest, flanked by glowing orbs that floated lazily in the air, illuminating the way. “Come. There’s a place I’d like you to see. A sanctuary of sorts, where Jurai’s power is most palpable. It might inspire a fitting retribution for the White Lily.”
Kodachi followed, her steps light and purposeful, the earlier ordeal already fading into the background of her mind. The air here was cooler, tinged with a metallic edge that spoke of advanced technology woven seamlessly into the natural world. As they walked, the forest gave way to a clearing dominated by a vast, circular pool, its surface mirror-smooth and reflecting a sky dotted with unfamiliar constellations. At its center floated a crystalline structure, a delicate lattice of spires and arches that shimmered with an inner light, suspended by some unseen force. The water rippled faintly as they approached, and Kodachi felt a subtle vibration beneath her feet, a pulse that resonated with the energy of the place.
“This is the Heart of Tsunami,” Seriyo explained, his tone reverent yet casual, as if unveiling a treasure he’d long grown accustomed to. “A nexus of Jurai’s life-force, tied to our royal trees. It’s said to amplify one’s will—useful for crafting… creative solutions.” He glanced at her sidelong, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “What do you say, Kodachi-sama? Shall we harness it to devise a trap the White Lily won’t soon forget?”
Kodachi’s lips curved into a wicked smile, her mind already racing with possibilities. “Oh, I like the sound of that. Something elegant, yet devastating—worthy of the Black Rose’s touch. Perhaps a cascade of petals laced with a paralytic, or a ribbon that binds tighter with every struggle. And you, Seriyo-san, shall provide the means to make it reality.” She stepped closer to the pool, her reflection staring back at her with a gleam of anticipation, and dipped a hand into the water, feeling its coolness against her skin. The energy thrummed through her, sharp and invigorating, and she laughed—a high, melodic sound that carried across the clearing.
Seriyo watched her, his own smile widening. “A partnership, then. The Black Rose and the Prince of Jurai, united against a common foe. I daresay the White Lily won’t know what hit her.”
The night stretched on as they plotted, the Heart of Tsunami casting its glow over their scheming forms. Kodachi’s imagination wove a tapestry of vengeance, each idea more elaborate than the last, while Seriyo’s knowledge of Juraian technology provided the tools to bring them to life. The glue-bombs of Nerima were a distant memory, overshadowed by the promise of retribution—and the unexpected camaraderie that bloomed between them, forged in the crucible of a shared enemy and a mutual flair for the dramatic.
By the time they returned to Earth, the first light of dawn was creeping over the horizon, painting the street in soft pinks and golds. Kodachi stood once more on the cobblestones, her leotard pristine despite the night’s adventures, a new ribbon coiled in her hand—its fabric shimmering with a Juraian enhancement that promised to ensnare the White Lily in a trap of her own making. Seriyo lingered beside her, his energy sword at his hip, a quiet satisfaction in his stance.
“Until next time, Kodachi-sama,” he said, offering a slight bow. “May your vengeance be as beautiful as your art.”
Kodachi twirled the ribbon with a flourish, her eyes glinting with promise. “And may your blade never dull, Seriyo-san. The White Lily’s days of meddling are numbered.” With that, she turned on her heel, her laughter echoing through the waking streets, a harbinger of the chaos to come.
{ooc: She's a detective so she's likely to be the saviour but I'm open to her playing either role. Open to cross-canon, cross-medium and assumed cr. Open to both F/M and F/F for anything shippy. Willing to set up the scenario, just ask}
It was all about numbers and knowing limits. Danielle had always been very good at that. She would push gently, experiment thoroughly, know exactly how far she could push herself before she needed to pull back.
She had needed to pull back about fifteen minutes before she did. She had to stop. There was no trying to push her limits because she SAW what her limits were. Somehow, they knew. Somehow got the information the few times she did push too far, what HAPPENED to her. They had captured her and have been very careful to not let her sleep. She wasn't sure if they realized she didn't need to eat or drink as a ghost, or if that was just more efforts to make sure she was weak.
If she couldn't rest properly, couldn't rest, she couldn't risk using her powers. She was pretty sure it'd been two days by now without rest, knowing she can't even try to escape yet. They were transporting her somewhere else in a van now and she was very worried it was going to be a real set up. Somewhere they could easily keep her awake, or something to negate her powers.
She needed to escape, but she was having a very hard time figuring it out.
She had needed to pull back about fifteen minutes before she did. She had to stop. There was no trying to push her limits because she SAW what her limits were. Somehow, they knew. Somehow got the information the few times she did push too far, what HAPPENED to her. They had captured her and have been very careful to not let her sleep. She wasn't sure if they realized she didn't need to eat or drink as a ghost, or if that was just more efforts to make sure she was weak.
If she couldn't rest properly, couldn't rest, she couldn't risk using her powers. She was pretty sure it'd been two days by now without rest, knowing she can't even try to escape yet. They were transporting her somewhere else in a van now and she was very worried it was going to be a real set up. Somewhere they could easily keep her awake, or something to negate her powers.
She needed to escape, but she was having a very hard time figuring it out.
[Robyn or... Red Rose had worked closely with Danielle over the last few years, since the two of them had decided the best way to use their numbered abilities was as a superhero duo. The last thing Robyn had been expecting was for Danielle to get captured, she had always been so careful, something like this just didn't seem possible.
Unfortunately it had taken Robyn longer than she had hoped to find out where her friend and partner was being held and arrived just as she being whisked away in the van.
Well... of course she wasn't just going to let these people get away while they still had her friend. It took a burst of superspeed and some moxie but Robyn just barely managed to catch up with the van as it neared a stop light.
She took aim with her impressive sniper rifle scythe, Crescent Rose, and fire a shot at one of it's tires in an attempt to stop it from getting away.]
Unfortunately it had taken Robyn longer than she had hoped to find out where her friend and partner was being held and arrived just as she being whisked away in the van.
Well... of course she wasn't just going to let these people get away while they still had her friend. It took a burst of superspeed and some moxie but Robyn just barely managed to catch up with the van as it neared a stop light.
She took aim with her impressive sniper rifle scythe, Crescent Rose, and fire a shot at one of it's tires in an attempt to stop it from getting away.]
You must stop doing this [those words were spoken every night without fail. Like a broken record, Lioriley would repeat them as she tended to whatever wounds Richter might have received while gallivanting about playing vigilante. And every night she would sound more tired, more terrified that if he kept this up... the next time he just wouldn't come home at all. ]
Surely you do not enjoy coming here each night.
Surely you do not enjoy coming here each night.
Edited 2015-01-21 22:26 (UTC)
What, coming here and getting patched up? I could stop doing that, but that means I bleed out somewhere and die, which still sounds like a bad idea.
[Ever the joker, this one is. He understands what she means though, why wouldn't he? It's the same song everyone sings whenever they get the chance. They just don't understand why he HAS to do this, and he's never in the mood to explain himself.]
But really, thanks for this. I'll be more careful next time.
[Something he said the last time, and the time before that...]
[Ever the joker, this one is. He understands what she means though, why wouldn't he? It's the same song everyone sings whenever they get the chance. They just don't understand why he HAS to do this, and he's never in the mood to explain himself.]
But really, thanks for this. I'll be more careful next time.
[Something he said the last time, and the time before that...]
Certainly you know that is not what i meant. [ that wasn't funny!
she sighs, fingers brushing over richter's arm, past the spot where one of his wounds had been not long before. her magic can heal him pretty fast - but the scars can still remain for some time. ]
Promise me - promise me you will be careful. I often fear you may not return at all; wounded or otherwise.
she sighs, fingers brushing over richter's arm, past the spot where one of his wounds had been not long before. her magic can heal him pretty fast - but the scars can still remain for some time. ]
Promise me - promise me you will be careful. I often fear you may not return at all; wounded or otherwise.
Pffft! The clowns around here get the jump on me? Ha!
[He laughs out loud.]
I could be drunk, drugged up, and tied to an anvil and I'd still come out on top.
[A beat.]
Maybe a little roughed up, but you can be damn certain I'll come back.
[He looks out the window and at the city outside.]
I've still got something to do, so I can't die yet.
[He laughs out loud.]
I could be drunk, drugged up, and tied to an anvil and I'd still come out on top.
[A beat.]
Maybe a little roughed up, but you can be damn certain I'll come back.
[He looks out the window and at the city outside.]
I've still got something to do, so I can't die yet.
Edited 2015-02-04 19:19 (UTC)
[ ooc; no smut this time around. being half a fiery spirit of vengeance, he's likely to be the rescuer. however, he's pretty new at the gig and tries to keep his abilities hidden, which means taking a couple beatings since he's from a really bad part of town. so either way. ]
[ She's a cybernetic assassin, so probably the rescuer! But I could go either way. Open to all prompts and scenarios. ]
Kurotori-sensei | Binan Koukou Chikyuboueibu LOVE! | m/m
kurotorimoteo
2015-01-21 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[Rescued~]
(Morrigan can either swoop in or benefit from somebody swooping in. 11 is unlikely on her end, but that doesn't mean you can't do it.)
(I think Morrigan and Cole could be very interesting. And honestly, she strikes me more the saving than be saved type. Maybe a 13, 17 or 19?)
(Yeah, it's hard to imagine her not helping in her own rescue unless she's knocked out or something. I'm up for trying this, though! I can see 17 working for both of them but I'm not sure I've come up with the right scenario for it yet, and 19 probably works by itself or in combination.)
For the most part, Skyhold was a sanctuary, a place of hope and unity towards a better Thedas. Or at least a Thedas without a demon army plaguing it.
But there were still mages and templars there and there were still problems. Old bitterness and older hurts, both sides rubbed raw by the years of Chantry defined roles spiralling out of control.
Whatever had started the disagreement between the tall mage woman and the angry templar was irrelevant. Cole, still struggling with all these new feelings and thoughts, lost control of the bubbling grief and anger of Cole's death. He'd gone the templar with all the refinement and ferocity of a raging alleycat, the moment the man had raised his hand.
But there were still mages and templars there and there were still problems. Old bitterness and older hurts, both sides rubbed raw by the years of Chantry defined roles spiralling out of control.
Whatever had started the disagreement between the tall mage woman and the angry templar was irrelevant. Cole, still struggling with all these new feelings and thoughts, lost control of the bubbling grief and anger of Cole's death. He'd gone the templar with all the refinement and ferocity of a raging alleycat, the moment the man had raised his hand.
The templar was an obvious ass, every word he said unnecessary, but as disagreements go it was not the worst she has been in. Times are hard, yes, and wounds still bleeding, but she had underestimated the man's anger. Voices had been raised and barbs had been traded, but she had not guessed his hand would rise in a threat until it did.
Likewise, she does not expect the pale young man who flies between them, practically electric with fury. For the space of a heartbeat she says nothing, almost willing to allow the attack, but she reluctantly steps forward, holding her arms out to intervene.
"Let us not forget," she says loudly, "that there is a real enemy out there. One who would see us all destroyed. That is where you should all aim your anger. If we save ourselves there will be time for petty grudges later."
Sometimes it hurt to be the bigger person. It was a lesson she had not enjoyed learning.
Likewise, she does not expect the pale young man who flies between them, practically electric with fury. For the space of a heartbeat she says nothing, almost willing to allow the attack, but she reluctantly steps forward, holding her arms out to intervene.
"Let us not forget," she says loudly, "that there is a real enemy out there. One who would see us all destroyed. That is where you should all aim your anger. If we save ourselves there will be time for petty grudges later."
Sometimes it hurt to be the bigger person. It was a lesson she had not enjoyed learning.
Edited 2015-01-22 08:00 (UTC)
Cole bares his teeth, much more wild animal than genuine threat, but he backs off immediately, completely unwilling to risk hurting the woman he was defending. "Fear, anger, hate them, hate them, Qunari have the right idea, I wonder how you'd like one your own cells, left for days in a space you can't move in."
The templar spits something about crazy mages and crazy pet demons and turns to leave.
Cole growls and shivers and looks to Morrigan finally. Looking meaning his head tilts to her, but his face stays tilted down, away from actual view. "Tightness, used to it, still stings, but used to it, like the mosquito bites, an annoyance. He was a bad man."
The templar spits something about crazy mages and crazy pet demons and turns to leave.
Cole growls and shivers and looks to Morrigan finally. Looking meaning his head tilts to her, but his face stays tilted down, away from actual view. "Tightness, used to it, still stings, but used to it, like the mosquito bites, an annoyance. He was a bad man."
Only after the frustrated templar takes his leave does she turn her undivided attention to the stranger who so quickly came to her aid.
He does not look at her -- not truly -- but she has the distinct impression that she is not being ignored. There can be no doubt: he sums up her feelings over the whole encounter with an accuracy that startles her.
"Perhaps not the worst man, but an intensely unlikeable one," she acknowledges readily enough. "I... believe we have yet to be introduced. I am Morrigan."
He does not look at her -- not truly -- but she has the distinct impression that she is not being ignored. There can be no doubt: he sums up her feelings over the whole encounter with an accuracy that startles her.
"Perhaps not the worst man, but an intensely unlikeable one," she acknowledges readily enough. "I... believe we have yet to be introduced. I am Morrigan."
"You don't need to be the worst to do damage, to hurt." He rubs at his face with both hands for a moment, like it might help him rub away the discomfort of the emotions.
"I've seen you. Mirrored doorway, stepping between something and something else through nothing like anything, eluvian, scream of the Archdemon faded and came back. I'm Cole. I help the Inquisitor."
"I've seen you. Mirrored doorway, stepping between something and something else through nothing like anything, eluvian, scream of the Archdemon faded and came back. I'm Cole. I help the Inquisitor."
"You are right. In more ways than one."
Having someone she has never, to her recollection, interacted with before seem quite this familiar with her is disconcerting, to say the least, but curiosity begins to edge out her surprise.
"And you have seen all of that?" Her head angles to one side. "I had no idea I was so observed."
Having someone she has never, to her recollection, interacted with before seem quite this familiar with her is disconcerting, to say the least, but curiosity begins to edge out her surprise.
"And you have seen all of that?" Her head angles to one side. "I had no idea I was so observed."
"Yes. I see it, feel it..." He pulls his hat down on his head a bit further. "It still hurts, so I can see it. I saw the Eluvian. It shivers and ripples with something that's almost the Fade. I don't like it. I don't want to go back there."
He rocks back and forth on his feet for a long moment. "The Fade clings and sings around you."
He rocks back and forth on his feet for a long moment. "The Fade clings and sings around you."
Her surprise surges. One hand rises, moving to touch his arm. "You were there?"
The Inquisition collects very interesting allies. She would know where he comes from, how he has seen the things he knows about her.
"You need not worry," she offers. "I will not send you back."
The Inquisition collects very interesting allies. She would know where he comes from, how he has seen the things he knows about her.
"You need not worry," she offers. "I will not send you back."
He watches her move to touch him. For a moment, it looks like he might pull away, but then he allows it to happen.
"No one can bind me anymore, so no one can make me go back. Varric says I'm human enough to be a person."
Despite that, the Fade does still cling about him as it would any spirit. However human like he is and has become, he's not a mortal.
"Mother would know."
"No one can bind me anymore, so no one can make me go back. Varric says I'm human enough to be a person."
Despite that, the Fade does still cling about him as it would any spirit. However human like he is and has become, he's not a mortal.
"Mother would know."
She would almost call him skittish, but he does allow her hand to rest against his arm. It stays there for just a moment, feather-light, until the word 'mother' leaves his mouth and she stills in spite of herself.
"My mother certainly would," she ventures.
It seems the very concept of Flemeth is destined to forever leave a bitter taste in her mouth.
"May I ask how you came here, Cole?"
"My mother certainly would," she ventures.
It seems the very concept of Flemeth is destined to forever leave a bitter taste in her mouth.
"May I ask how you came here, Cole?"
"Yes, your mother. I don't have a mother."
He goes quiet while he thinks about it. He remembers now. "I heard Cole. He needed someone, he needed help. I wanted to help him so badly, but all I could do was be there, sit with him and hold his hand until the end. I needed to be on this side to do that. I can help a lot more on this side."
He goes quiet while he thinks about it. He remembers now. "I heard Cole. He needed someone, he needed help. I wanted to help him so badly, but all I could do was be there, sit with him and hold his hand until the end. I needed to be on this side to do that. I can help a lot more on this side."
The details are scarce, but the bones of the story are revealing enough. "That shows great empathy. Something that templar could stand to learn."
In truth, her experience with spirits in the mortal realm has been unfortunate more often than not. Many summon with intent to harm, and many more are simply careless. She is aware that it is not always so, and she remembers Wynne, whose story was told by her Warden so long ago and only after she had sworn herself to the strictest secrecy.
It has been a long time.
"I once traveled with a woman who believed she had died shortly before meeting us and had been saved by a spirit."
In truth, her experience with spirits in the mortal realm has been unfortunate more often than not. Many summon with intent to harm, and many more are simply careless. She is aware that it is not always so, and she remembers Wynne, whose story was told by her Warden so long ago and only after she had sworn herself to the strictest secrecy.
It has been a long time.
"I once traveled with a woman who believed she had died shortly before meeting us and had been saved by a spirit."
Edited 2015-01-23 05:27 (UTC)
"Enchanter Wynne."
Cole knew her. He remembered her, and Faith. He didn't understand Faith, even now, but he had a distant thought they Faith was a bit like a mother, believing the best.
"I knew her son well. He was my friend. My only friend. He was very kind to me, even when I was difficult and confused and lost. He's happy now. I like that."
Cole knew her. He remembered her, and Faith. He didn't understand Faith, even now, but he had a distant thought they Faith was a bit like a mother, believing the best.
"I knew her son well. He was my friend. My only friend. He was very kind to me, even when I was difficult and confused and lost. He's happy now. I like that."
"You... knew Wynne's son?"
She had only heard of Wynne's child because Alistair was less than discreet one night over the campfire. It was not a topic Wynne had been interested in discussing with her. For better or worse, she is aware she was not always kind on their travels, but they walked the Deep Roads together, they set up camp together, they bled together: respect grew, however grudging, and it was enough.
"I am sure that if he is anything like his mother he is as strong as he is stubborn." She pauses. "You have been here some time then?"
She had only heard of Wynne's child because Alistair was less than discreet one night over the campfire. It was not a topic Wynne had been interested in discussing with her. For better or worse, she is aware she was not always kind on their travels, but they walked the Deep Roads together, they set up camp together, they bled together: respect grew, however grudging, and it was enough.
"I am sure that if he is anything like his mother he is as strong as he is stubborn." She pauses. "You have been here some time then?"
"Yes. I knew Rhys. He saw me when no one else did. Because he's a medium, like Wynne, his mother. Solas was me because he's very connected to the Fade. But people don't forget me like they used to. It's good and bad. But more good."
He looked up at her, actually lifted his head enough to look out from under his hat. "In Skyhold? I came here when everyone else did. Or here, out of the Fade? I came out of the Fade... a year before the Mages rebelled? Maybe a bit more. But I didn't know I was a spirit for a long time. I thought I was a person. A mortal person."
He looked up at her, actually lifted his head enough to look out from under his hat. "In Skyhold? I came here when everyone else did. Or here, out of the Fade? I came out of the Fade... a year before the Mages rebelled? Maybe a bit more. But I didn't know I was a spirit for a long time. I thought I was a person. A mortal person."
"And what," she asks slowly, interested, "is it you consider yourself now?"
Cole says Varric claims he is human enough. Varric is amusing, yes, and appears to come with an endless supply of stories to tell, but he is not the one whose opinion she would seek here.
Cole says Varric claims he is human enough. Varric is amusing, yes, and appears to come with an endless supply of stories to tell, but he is not the one whose opinion she would seek here.
"I'm Cole."
That really is all the answer he'll give. It's all he has to give and it doesn't really occur to him that isn't an explanation.
"And you're Morrigan. The Witch of the Wilds."
That really is all the answer he'll give. It's all he has to give and it doesn't really occur to him that isn't an explanation.
"And you're Morrigan. The Witch of the Wilds."
Her chin dips, just a bit, and for a moment her lips want to twitch into a smile. "It has been some time since I anyone called me that."
In spite of herself she takes a step closer, voice low.
"Just how much do you know?"
In spite of herself she takes a step closer, voice low.
"Just how much do you know?"
Cole doesn't step back, just lets her encroach into his space. "Dangerous, wild, magic crackles, thrums, weak people fear, other mages, templars, mortals, fear the power, fear my control, fear that I do not fear them. Madame Vivienne doesn't like you. She doesn't like me either."
He rocks on his feet back, back and forward and stopping. "I don't know how much I know. I just know things. How much do you know?"
He rocks on his feet back, back and forward and stopping. "I don't know how much I know. I just know things. How much do you know?"
His words come out in a rhythm that sounds more like poetry. She believes he is only picking up on what is... most present on her, the most immediate and most prominent feelings.
That is relieving, if she is correct. She would need more evidence to say with certainty.
"I know more than some think I should and certainly less than I would like." She smiles. "Your Madame Vivienne does not care for me, no, but I suspect there are not many she does like. You are in good company."
That is relieving, if she is correct. She would need more evidence to say with certainty.
"I know more than some think I should and certainly less than I would like." She smiles. "Your Madame Vivienne does not care for me, no, but I suspect there are not many she does like. You are in good company."
"Relief, soft water ebbing over the soul, a sigh of breath than was held too long." He shakes his head. "Are you good company? You're not scared of me, I like that. When people find out I'm a spirit, they stop liking me and start being scared and calling me demon. I don't think I'm a demon. The Inquisitor said I'm not and if I was, I'd be stopped. I like knowing that. You can't stop her."
The last sentence is said as he looks straight at Morrigan's eyes, his own pale ones focused sharp on her.
Then he gives a small 'oof' and stumbles into her as a large, thrown stone hits him in the back.
The last sentence is said as he looks straight at Morrigan's eyes, his own pale ones focused sharp on her.
Then he gives a small 'oof' and stumbles into her as a large, thrown stone hits him in the back.
She barely has time to be thrown off her guard before the stone strikes and he lurches forward. Her arms instinctively go out, protective, but she looks past Cole to the clusters of people beyond.
"Are you hurt?"
More than one guilty face lurks behind him, but the guiltiest seem to make up the half-circle their templar friend now stands in.
It disgusts her.
She should almost certainly know better by now, but she opens one hand, swirling cold between her fingers, and aims a warning blast of frost at the ground near their feet, intending to make them scatter.
"Are you hurt?"
More than one guilty face lurks behind him, but the guiltiest seem to make up the half-circle their templar friend now stands in.
It disgusts her.
She should almost certainly know better by now, but she opens one hand, swirling cold between her fingers, and aims a warning blast of frost at the ground near their feet, intending to make them scatter.
He's more shocked right now. Being seen is still something new and he doesn't know if it hurts. It's not like claws or blades in his flesh, so he shakes his head.
"Anger, seething, hurt it, make it show itself, drive it away, demon." He pressed closer to Morrigan and tried desperately to make them forget him, eyes closed and pulling on the Fade.
He couldn't make people just forget he existed. But he was surprisingly good at still going invisible, pulling threads around him until the eyes glazed over him. If he worked at it.
The group does scatter. It's not worth a fight with Morrigan.
"Anger, seething, hurt it, make it show itself, drive it away, demon." He pressed closer to Morrigan and tried desperately to make them forget him, eyes closed and pulling on the Fade.
He couldn't make people just forget he existed. But he was surprisingly good at still going invisible, pulling threads around him until the eyes glazed over him. If he worked at it.
The group does scatter. It's not worth a fight with Morrigan.
No doubt someone -- perhaps the Commander -- will have something to say to her later about fighting with refugees, but in the moment she aims her hands for the general area of Cole's shoulders. She certainly knows he did not leave.
"'Tis almost a shame you are not the demon they want to believe you are. If they hurt you again I will gladly correct their mistake. Is there a safe place for you within these walls?"
"'Tis almost a shame you are not the demon they want to believe you are. If they hurt you again I will gladly correct their mistake. Is there a safe place for you within these walls?"
After a moment he comes back into view properly, pushing a hand to his nose and coming with with a single spot of blood. It happens, sometimes, when he vanishes to a lot of people at once.
"I stay above the tavern. It's quiet, but there's a hum of people. When they drink, they relax and I can help them easier."
"I stay above the tavern. It's quiet, but there's a hum of people. When they drink, they relax and I can help them easier."
A look of mild concern softens her eyes. The spilled blood, no matter how little, only serves to make her more angry at those she chased off. She appraises his face as well as he allows.
"I will walk there with you."
The relative safety and comfort of a spot above the tavern, especially one he is used to, seems far preferable to this.
"If you would like."
"I will walk there with you."
The relative safety and comfort of a spot above the tavern, especially one he is used to, seems far preferable to this.
"If you would like."
It's the effort of vanishing that often makes his nose bleed, but he holds onto her for a moment longer. Mages make him feel that bit safer, that bit more reassured.
"That would be nice. Thank you."
"That would be nice. Thank you."
rescued or rescuer either one works.
[He's likely to be a rescuer, but I don't mind him being rescued either!]
[ooc; would you like Aoshi to be the rescued (if that's the case, it's probs something medical) or the rescuer? I'm cool with both!]
[OOC: Oh man, Aoshi as rescuer would show how far they've come. But I'd rather have Megumi as the (medical) rescuer simply coz I've always wanted it. So how about that? 8D]
[ooc; omg! though I legit just thought of something right now - maybe we can have our cake and eat it too! What if we go with 18 - Aoshi saves Megumi, gets injured, she saves him back? :)]
[Sweet Shishio on rollerblades, that's way better. *_* I'm guessing Kanryuu remnants/his connections from behind bars are to blame, but either way yes! Uh, you or me?]
[ooc; lmao nice expression XD and I can start it up, since I tagged you :3 I was thinking the same thing, whoo! let's get to it, then!]
[There were some wounds that never truly healed, and Megumi's past was one as such. Kanryuu's ghost would always haunt her, as would the spirits of those that she'd inadvertently killed with her opium. Sometimes, when the clinic was silent and moon was lost in the sky, Megumi could swear that she heard Kanryuu's footsteps, the cold insincerity of his laugh, and the oily poison of his words.]
[Those nights came less and less when she kept herself busy, and even more in the presence of friends. Aoshi and Misao were in Tokyo for a visit, and Misao had gone with Kaoru while Aoshi came to see Megumi at the clinic. The last time had been - well, when Megumi believed Kaoru to be dead.]
[She was glad that he'd come under more pleasant circumstances this time.]
How is everything in Kyoto?
[The doctor passed Aoshi a cup of hot tea over the table where they were seated.]
[There were some wounds that never truly healed, and Megumi's past was one as such. Kanryuu's ghost would always haunt her, as would the spirits of those that she'd inadvertently killed with her opium. Sometimes, when the clinic was silent and moon was lost in the sky, Megumi could swear that she heard Kanryuu's footsteps, the cold insincerity of his laugh, and the oily poison of his words.]
[Those nights came less and less when she kept herself busy, and even more in the presence of friends. Aoshi and Misao were in Tokyo for a visit, and Misao had gone with Kaoru while Aoshi came to see Megumi at the clinic. The last time had been - well, when Megumi believed Kaoru to be dead.]
[She was glad that he'd come under more pleasant circumstances this time.]
How is everything in Kyoto?
[The doctor passed Aoshi a cup of hot tea over the table where they were seated.]
Edited 2015-01-22 15:06 (UTC)
[When the forsaken find themselves again, they sometimes encounter things that remind them of their lost days. While their biggest embodiment is now wasting away in prison, the second (and far more welcome) reminder is right before him. She'd been as much of a slave to yesterday's darkness as he had... and like him, she'd since found friends and allies who believed in her. The very same ones, no less.
[Is that why she can welcome him so freely now, despite having every reason to call upon old grudges and reject him at her very doorstep? He doesn't know, and might not care. Today is what matters.]
The tranquility has helped us rebuild. On our own, despite a slew of job offers from the government.
[Strong steady hands accept the teacup, their fingers lightly and briefly making contact. Closing his eyes, he breathes in its vapors.]
Okina wanted to know if---
[Anything else he would've said is lost to a rapping at the Oguni Clinic's door. Very loud and very insistent.]
[Is that why she can welcome him so freely now, despite having every reason to call upon old grudges and reject him at her very doorstep? He doesn't know, and might not care. Today is what matters.]
The tranquility has helped us rebuild. On our own, despite a slew of job offers from the government.
[Strong steady hands accept the teacup, their fingers lightly and briefly making contact. Closing his eyes, he breathes in its vapors.]
Okina wanted to know if---
[Anything else he would've said is lost to a rapping at the Oguni Clinic's door. Very loud and very insistent.]
Edited 2015-01-23 01:38 (UTC)
[In all truth, that was what they were - a group of lost souls, searching for meaning. Some had darker pasts than others, but who was Megumi to judge? To point at and condemn any one of them, whether it be Kenshin or Aoshi, would have been to ignore the blood on her own hands.]
[More than that, they were all trying to find atonement in the new world, and lent their strength to one another when they needed it. Megumi knew that these were the reasons that they all understood each other, and she was glad for it.]
[Her mouth thinned into a line. The government hadn't done well by her in putting Kenshin in the position that they did.]
I am glad to hear it. Imagine having to work with a policeman like the one we know.
[No need to say Saitou's name - they all knew who she meant.]
If? . . .
[She cut herself off, immediately rising to her feet, her brows knit.]
There might be an emergency - wait here, Aoshi-san.
[Megumi hurried to the gates, opening the door to admit a man who seemed to be groaning in pain. He specifically asked for Takani-sensei, and she shut the door behind him.]
What's the matter?
[When she went to touch his forehead, feeling it to be neither feverish nor cold and clammy, and seeing no further real signs of pain, she knew something was wrong.]
What is going on here?
[More than that, they were all trying to find atonement in the new world, and lent their strength to one another when they needed it. Megumi knew that these were the reasons that they all understood each other, and she was glad for it.]
[Her mouth thinned into a line. The government hadn't done well by her in putting Kenshin in the position that they did.]
I am glad to hear it. Imagine having to work with a policeman like the one we know.
[No need to say Saitou's name - they all knew who she meant.]
If? . . .
[She cut herself off, immediately rising to her feet, her brows knit.]
There might be an emergency - wait here, Aoshi-san.
[Megumi hurried to the gates, opening the door to admit a man who seemed to be groaning in pain. He specifically asked for Takani-sensei, and she shut the door behind him.]
What's the matter?
[When she went to touch his forehead, feeling it to be neither feverish nor cold and clammy, and seeing no further real signs of pain, she knew something was wrong.]
What is going on here?
Didn't you know? Takeda Kanryuu couldn't make his appointment.
[The man's eyes--- not unlike a wounded dog's trying to invoke sympathy in passers-by--- suddenly shrink to hawk-like slits. His right hand, hidden beneath his kimono to hold a stomach decidedly not churning in pain, suddenly lashes out like a leaping cobra. The cold steel of an American revolver is now inches away from Megumi's forehead.]
So he sent me.
[His lips curl into a diabolic sneer. It's like a conduit has opened between a patch of Heaven--- this very clinic--- and a slice of Hell--- where the blackest part of her past lairs behind bars. The devil himself is laughing at her through his emissary. Telling Megumi that her 'new life' and 'bright future' are utter lies. Did she really think herself free of him? Her soul had always been forfeit.]
[And now, as the assassin's finger tightens on the trigger, perhaps Megumi will realize one thing with awful clarity: he's finally come to collect.]
[OOC: Stopping here for Megumi's reaction. This is all happening in the space of seconds. 8D]
[The man's eyes--- not unlike a wounded dog's trying to invoke sympathy in passers-by--- suddenly shrink to hawk-like slits. His right hand, hidden beneath his kimono to hold a stomach decidedly not churning in pain, suddenly lashes out like a leaping cobra. The cold steel of an American revolver is now inches away from Megumi's forehead.]
So he sent me.
[His lips curl into a diabolic sneer. It's like a conduit has opened between a patch of Heaven--- this very clinic--- and a slice of Hell--- where the blackest part of her past lairs behind bars. The devil himself is laughing at her through his emissary. Telling Megumi that her 'new life' and 'bright future' are utter lies. Did she really think herself free of him? Her soul had always been forfeit.]
[And now, as the assassin's finger tightens on the trigger, perhaps Megumi will realize one thing with awful clarity: he's finally come to collect.]
[OOC: Stopping here for Megumi's reaction. This is all happening in the space of seconds. 8D]
[The moment the assassin mentioned Kanryuu's name, an icy fist gripped Megumi's heart. Her very breath stopped in her throat, and she couldn't open her mouth to speak. Any reminder or glimpse of that past paralyzed her, and she felt her knees give way.]
[Perhaps it was deja vu for Aoshi to witness this again - to see that same terror in her eyes when she saw the leader of the Oniwabanshuu standing in the Kamiya dojo after believing it was all over. Just like then, she had fallen to her knees, frozen in abject fear. The difference was that this time, she truly believed she was going to die.]
[Megumi wished she could say something, but no words came. She hoped that Ken-san and her friends wouldn't take her death too badly . . . she hated to see them in pain.]
[She stared into the man's eyes, waiting for the bullet. She didn't even have time to say goodbye.]
[ooc; thanks!]
[Perhaps it was deja vu for Aoshi to witness this again - to see that same terror in her eyes when she saw the leader of the Oniwabanshuu standing in the Kamiya dojo after believing it was all over. Just like then, she had fallen to her knees, frozen in abject fear. The difference was that this time, she truly believed she was going to die.]
[Megumi wished she could say something, but no words came. She hoped that Ken-san and her friends wouldn't take her death too badly . . . she hated to see them in pain.]
[She stared into the man's eyes, waiting for the bullet. She didn't even have time to say goodbye.]
[ooc; thanks!]
[Aoshi had never been one to do what he was told if he disagreed with it. He'd waited a few seconds before rising in silence and trailing after Megumi, tea still steaming in his hands.]
[And when he reaches the clinic's foyer, time seems to fold back upon itself. He's looking back on the day he'd come to challenge Battousai. But now, Megumi's not kneeling before some embittered warrior out to reclaim his pride. It's a coward with a gun, acting on behalf of another coward who wouldn't leave her alone. To be confronted with two reminders of old wounds is as paralyzing as the waters of a freezing lake; to Aoshi's mind, all of his demons have finally come to drown him.]
[But in the blink of an eye, that shock gives way to cold rage and determination. Give him the strength to swim up and away from those dark waters. This time, he can protect what must truly be cherished. This time... he can make things right.]
[And with his swords too far away to even think of reaching for, he does the only thing there is to do: he hurls the teacup straight into the assassin's face. The target screams, throwing his hands up to wipe scalding brew out of his eyes. With that window of opportunity, a couple of long strides are all Aoshi needs to cross the room and leap past Megumi. The gunman's able to recover just enough to pull the trigger before the onmitsu's fist crashes into his nose.]
[It's hard to tell what's louder: the gunshot or the snap of broken cartilage. The force of the blow sends the assassin out the door and onto the street. The screams tell Aoshi that the police will be here soon. He turns to face Megumi, chest heaving. The look in her eyes is deja vu of the most soul-rending kind, even if it's not meant for him. There is a fleeting hint of sympathy, even softness, in his voice when he speaks to her:]
Get back inside. There may be more of---
[It's not concern for her that suddenly brings him to his knees; it's the sharp burning pain that suddenly lances up his chest. He holds his hands to it... and is not surprised when they come away crimson. As he stares, the spot of blood marking the bullet's nest spreads over the plain white of his kimono. A bloodstained letter from the devil, telling him that if he can't have Megumi's soul, he'll be just as glad to have his.]
Ta...kani...
[He tries to reach for her. To get her to safety until help arrives. Maybe tell her, at long last, that he's sorry for their past and hopes that she'll live well. But as red begins to creep into the corners of his vision, he knows his time is up.]
[And when he reaches the clinic's foyer, time seems to fold back upon itself. He's looking back on the day he'd come to challenge Battousai. But now, Megumi's not kneeling before some embittered warrior out to reclaim his pride. It's a coward with a gun, acting on behalf of another coward who wouldn't leave her alone. To be confronted with two reminders of old wounds is as paralyzing as the waters of a freezing lake; to Aoshi's mind, all of his demons have finally come to drown him.]
[But in the blink of an eye, that shock gives way to cold rage and determination. Give him the strength to swim up and away from those dark waters. This time, he can protect what must truly be cherished. This time... he can make things right.]
[And with his swords too far away to even think of reaching for, he does the only thing there is to do: he hurls the teacup straight into the assassin's face. The target screams, throwing his hands up to wipe scalding brew out of his eyes. With that window of opportunity, a couple of long strides are all Aoshi needs to cross the room and leap past Megumi. The gunman's able to recover just enough to pull the trigger before the onmitsu's fist crashes into his nose.]
[It's hard to tell what's louder: the gunshot or the snap of broken cartilage. The force of the blow sends the assassin out the door and onto the street. The screams tell Aoshi that the police will be here soon. He turns to face Megumi, chest heaving. The look in her eyes is deja vu of the most soul-rending kind, even if it's not meant for him. There is a fleeting hint of sympathy, even softness, in his voice when he speaks to her:]
Get back inside. There may be more of---
[It's not concern for her that suddenly brings him to his knees; it's the sharp burning pain that suddenly lances up his chest. He holds his hands to it... and is not surprised when they come away crimson. As he stares, the spot of blood marking the bullet's nest spreads over the plain white of his kimono. A bloodstained letter from the devil, telling him that if he can't have Megumi's soul, he'll be just as glad to have his.]
Ta...kani...
[He tries to reach for her. To get her to safety until help arrives. Maybe tell her, at long last, that he's sorry for their past and hopes that she'll live well. But as red begins to creep into the corners of his vision, he knows his time is up.]
[Time suddenly seemed to speed up, and with it came a roar of sound as everything caught up. Megumi flinched back as the assassin yelled in pain, blinded by scalding tea. A mere moment later, Aoshi came into her field of vision, and she watched as the impact of his punch sent Kanryuu's henchman flying back out the door and onto the street.]
[She could finally move again, and she scrambled to her feet, but she barely had time to do anything else before there was the sound of a gunshot and an instantaneous, crimson mark of Aoshi's chest.]
No!
[The scream was ripped from her throat, and she watched as it was Aoshi's turn to fall to his knees. This time - this time she was jolted into action. She didn't have time to pause, not when every second counted. She wasn't strong enough to carry him to an operating table by herself, so she yelled for help from passersby.]
Please - please, somebody help me, I can't carry him!
[Some men who had come to see what the commotion was all about came to her aid, offering to hold Aoshi up by his shoulders to get him into the operating room. She instructed one of them to press down on the bullet wound to staunch the bleeding. Megumi couldn't care about the assassin or about Kanryuu right now - not when there was someone wounded and in need of medical assistance. Let the police take care of them. She was a doctor, first and foremost. Everything else could wait.]
[Without hesitation, she donned her surgical gown and tucked her hair back with a cloth. Her instruments were ready, and she disinfected her hands as quickly and as thoroughly as she could. The men asked her what they could do, and she told them to hold Aoshi still.]
I won't let you die.
[Her eyes were steely as she faced Aoshi again, opening his kimono to begin the procedure. Death was a very real possibility, even if the bullet hadn't hit any vital organs - if he bled dry, death would still claim him.]
[She wouldn't allow it to come under her watch.]
Hold still . . .
[She gave him cloth to bite - it would be painful, and with no anesthetics available, he needed any way to cope. Megumi poured disinfectant onto the area and began the procedure to find the bullet, take it out, and close the wound.]
[She could finally move again, and she scrambled to her feet, but she barely had time to do anything else before there was the sound of a gunshot and an instantaneous, crimson mark of Aoshi's chest.]
No!
[The scream was ripped from her throat, and she watched as it was Aoshi's turn to fall to his knees. This time - this time she was jolted into action. She didn't have time to pause, not when every second counted. She wasn't strong enough to carry him to an operating table by herself, so she yelled for help from passersby.]
Please - please, somebody help me, I can't carry him!
[Some men who had come to see what the commotion was all about came to her aid, offering to hold Aoshi up by his shoulders to get him into the operating room. She instructed one of them to press down on the bullet wound to staunch the bleeding. Megumi couldn't care about the assassin or about Kanryuu right now - not when there was someone wounded and in need of medical assistance. Let the police take care of them. She was a doctor, first and foremost. Everything else could wait.]
[Without hesitation, she donned her surgical gown and tucked her hair back with a cloth. Her instruments were ready, and she disinfected her hands as quickly and as thoroughly as she could. The men asked her what they could do, and she told them to hold Aoshi still.]
I won't let you die.
[Her eyes were steely as she faced Aoshi again, opening his kimono to begin the procedure. Death was a very real possibility, even if the bullet hadn't hit any vital organs - if he bled dry, death would still claim him.]
[She wouldn't allow it to come under her watch.]
Hold still . . .
[She gave him cloth to bite - it would be painful, and with no anesthetics available, he needed any way to cope. Megumi poured disinfectant onto the area and began the procedure to find the bullet, take it out, and close the wound.]
[Floating. He's floating on his back in a lake of blood. The spirits of everyone who'd ever fallen at his hands are gliding about him. Laughing. Taunting. This has been a long time coming, really, and now they're finally ready to visit their revenge on him a hundredfold. For all eternity.]
[A jolt of wet searing pain brings him back into the real world. The agony is so white-hot intense that he would most certainly have bitten his tongue off if not for the cloth in his mouth. Through the bloody haze of his vision, he's able to make out the presence of strangers holding him down. And of Megumi Takani, her face a steely focused mask as she races against the clock. So unlike the frightened doe she's been just seconds ago.]
[There was a time when he'd been able to end her life with a mere command from their mutual master. How the tides have shifted. Now... it's him who's completely at her mercy.]
I won't let you die.
[He has enough time to meet her eyes before she starts making good on this vow. He's never needed words, and one slow blink is all he needs to convey his thoughts to her.]
My life is in your hands.
[The pain flares anew and Aoshi Shinomori bites down hard. He does not scream; even here, hovering between life and death, he's too proud for that. All he will do is groan and sometimes strain against those keeping him strapped to the table. The heat from the bullet still lodged inside him seems to be burning him from within and getting worse by the moment. His face has long gone pale, bangs matted to his brows from the sweat streaming down his forehead.]
[There's a part of him begging for sweet release. To succumb and let the devil has his due. But there's a far stronger part of him that calls him weak and foolish for even considering that. There are people waiting for his return. More immediately, to die here would be a grave dishonor to the one working to bring him back.]
[A jolt of wet searing pain brings him back into the real world. The agony is so white-hot intense that he would most certainly have bitten his tongue off if not for the cloth in his mouth. Through the bloody haze of his vision, he's able to make out the presence of strangers holding him down. And of Megumi Takani, her face a steely focused mask as she races against the clock. So unlike the frightened doe she's been just seconds ago.]
[There was a time when he'd been able to end her life with a mere command from their mutual master. How the tides have shifted. Now... it's him who's completely at her mercy.]
I won't let you die.
[He has enough time to meet her eyes before she starts making good on this vow. He's never needed words, and one slow blink is all he needs to convey his thoughts to her.]
My life is in your hands.
[The pain flares anew and Aoshi Shinomori bites down hard. He does not scream; even here, hovering between life and death, he's too proud for that. All he will do is groan and sometimes strain against those keeping him strapped to the table. The heat from the bullet still lodged inside him seems to be burning him from within and getting worse by the moment. His face has long gone pale, bangs matted to his brows from the sweat streaming down his forehead.]
[There's a part of him begging for sweet release. To succumb and let the devil has his due. But there's a far stronger part of him that calls him weak and foolish for even considering that. There are people waiting for his return. More immediately, to die here would be a grave dishonor to the one working to bring him back.]
[Megumi tried to move as fast as she could. Unfortunately, she knew that doing so would cause him more pain, but the sooner she could close up the wound, the sooner he could rest and heal.]
[She found the bullet quickly, extracting it with a pair of forceps and discarding it. After this was the meticulous part - sewing the wound closed. Her hands were steady, her movements certain; she was, in fact, known amongst the locals for how smoothly she conducted surgery, no doubt spread around by Sanosuke's friends after watching her patch one of their guys up. Now, she had an audience yet again, half of whom were terrified and repulsed, the other half awe-struck as she slowly but surely closed the wound in Aoshi's flesh.]
[She could feel the resolve radiating off him - this was a man whose dedication was strong as hers. He had people to live for. Her eyes found his, and she understood.]
Wipe his forehead and neck.
[She all but barked orders at the man closest to her, who hurried to grab a piece of linen from the nearest cabinet. There were little comforts one could offer during a surgery in those days, and it was better if the patient had passed out. However, it would take more than a bullet wound to send Aoshi to sleep; she knew that much.]
[Millimeter by millimeter, she sutured his flesh until the wound was finally, mercifully closed. She finished the surgery with another wash of disinfectant, a topical anesthetic that would at least alleviate the pain a little, and a spread of her family's special medicine to stop the bleeding.]
The surgery is finished. Thank you.
[She nodded to the men surrounding Aoshi, who all nodded to her as well and expressed their awe at her skill. She shook her head, waving their compliments away. When she offered them compensation for their time, they all denied the money and showed themselves out.]
[Megumi glimpsed the police outside the operating room. Knowing that Aoshi would be safe, she cleaned up quickly, then went to the police chief to tell him of what happened. He promised that he would investigate Kanryuu thoroughly, and Megumi watched tiredly as he too departed through the wrecked gate.]
[She walked back towards the operating room where Aoshi was resting, finding a stool and sitting beside him wordlessly.]
[She found the bullet quickly, extracting it with a pair of forceps and discarding it. After this was the meticulous part - sewing the wound closed. Her hands were steady, her movements certain; she was, in fact, known amongst the locals for how smoothly she conducted surgery, no doubt spread around by Sanosuke's friends after watching her patch one of their guys up. Now, she had an audience yet again, half of whom were terrified and repulsed, the other half awe-struck as she slowly but surely closed the wound in Aoshi's flesh.]
[She could feel the resolve radiating off him - this was a man whose dedication was strong as hers. He had people to live for. Her eyes found his, and she understood.]
Wipe his forehead and neck.
[She all but barked orders at the man closest to her, who hurried to grab a piece of linen from the nearest cabinet. There were little comforts one could offer during a surgery in those days, and it was better if the patient had passed out. However, it would take more than a bullet wound to send Aoshi to sleep; she knew that much.]
[Millimeter by millimeter, she sutured his flesh until the wound was finally, mercifully closed. She finished the surgery with another wash of disinfectant, a topical anesthetic that would at least alleviate the pain a little, and a spread of her family's special medicine to stop the bleeding.]
The surgery is finished. Thank you.
[She nodded to the men surrounding Aoshi, who all nodded to her as well and expressed their awe at her skill. She shook her head, waving their compliments away. When she offered them compensation for their time, they all denied the money and showed themselves out.]
[Megumi glimpsed the police outside the operating room. Knowing that Aoshi would be safe, she cleaned up quickly, then went to the police chief to tell him of what happened. He promised that he would investigate Kanryuu thoroughly, and Megumi watched tiredly as he too departed through the wrecked gate.]
[She walked back towards the operating room where Aoshi was resting, finding a stool and sitting beside him wordlessly.]
Edited 2015-01-25 13:18 (UTC)
[He'd drifted in and out of consciousness following the procedure's merciful conclusion. He'd barely heard Megumi speaking with the police chief in the next room. Instead, he thought he'd heard the voices of his fallen comrades. They'd reminded him that while this wouldn't be a bad way to 'go down', it would be a shame if he let his surgeon's efforts go to waste.]
[That's when half-lidded blue eyes open, meeting her studious brown ones as she sits down. Slowly, he lifts a hand to his bare chest, fingers settling very lightly upon the bandage that's now there. He's looking at it, seemingly marveling at it like he's never seen anything like it his whole life. Then he turns to her again, voice as low and husky as anyone's would be after surviving untold torment.]
Up until today, I have never seen you at work.
[And the irony that his first time would see himself as the patient wasn't lost on him.]
[That's when half-lidded blue eyes open, meeting her studious brown ones as she sits down. Slowly, he lifts a hand to his bare chest, fingers settling very lightly upon the bandage that's now there. He's looking at it, seemingly marveling at it like he's never seen anything like it his whole life. Then he turns to her again, voice as low and husky as anyone's would be after surviving untold torment.]
Up until today, I have never seen you at work.
[And the irony that his first time would see himself as the patient wasn't lost on him.]
[Megumi managed to give him a deadpan look. The two of them may have been exhausted, but she certainly hadn't lost her usual spirit.]
You're welcome to come and observe my practice here at the clinic whenever you want.
[She leaned against the side of the operating table, letting the stress of the evening slowly wash away. It had taken about an hour to suture his wound, another half-hour to talk to the chief of police - to think that earlier that evening, they'd simply been having tea.]
[No doubt Kaoru, Misao, and everyone else would be horrified. She briefly wondered if she could get Sanosuke to fix the gate.]
Thank you for saving me.
[She would've been dead if he hadn't stepped in.]
You're welcome to come and observe my practice here at the clinic whenever you want.
[She leaned against the side of the operating table, letting the stress of the evening slowly wash away. It had taken about an hour to suture his wound, another half-hour to talk to the chief of police - to think that earlier that evening, they'd simply been having tea.]
[No doubt Kaoru, Misao, and everyone else would be horrified. She briefly wondered if she could get Sanosuke to fix the gate.]
Thank you for saving me.
[She would've been dead if he hadn't stepped in.]
Ah.
[He's thinking of Misao and how it would take a whole precint's worth of policemen to keep her away from Kanryuu's jail cell. She'd never met him, but by Kwannon, he knows very well that she would beat him to a bloody pulp till he looked nothing remotely human. Then he would wish Battousai had killed him all those months ago.]
[With color since returned to his face, he seems to be back to his usual stone-cold disposition. He stares at the ceiling, watching shadows shift up there via the streetlights cast through the window.]
[Then:]
Was it your intent to let him have you so easily?
[He doesn't mean the assassin.]
[He's thinking of Misao and how it would take a whole precint's worth of policemen to keep her away from Kanryuu's jail cell. She'd never met him, but by Kwannon, he knows very well that she would beat him to a bloody pulp till he looked nothing remotely human. Then he would wish Battousai had killed him all those months ago.]
[With color since returned to his face, he seems to be back to his usual stone-cold disposition. He stares at the ceiling, watching shadows shift up there via the streetlights cast through the window.]
[Then:]
Was it your intent to let him have you so easily?
[He doesn't mean the assassin.]
[On Megumi's end, well - there was no saying what Sanosuke or even Kenshin himself would get up to, but she hoped that they were smarter than that. Did she want vengeance on Kanryuu? She was once willing to kill him and then kill herself in repentance for her crimes, but after meeting Ken-san and realizing what atonement meant . . . she just wanted to move on. Let Heaven's justice find Kanryuu. She wanted nothing to do with him anymore.]
[As for Aoshi's question . . . she looked down at her hands.]
I will atone for my sins the best that I can, but if death has come to claim me because of what I've done, I will let it.
That being said . . . [I was afraid. I couldn't move. I believed that I was going to die. She couldn't bring herself to say it. She still had her pride, after all.]
[Megumi looked away, hiding the tears that squeezed themselves out of her eyes. She always tried to be strong, not just for herself but for her family, whose name she bore, and for Ken-san and their friends. She didn't want Aoshi to see her cry, but then, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?]
[As for Aoshi's question . . . she looked down at her hands.]
I will atone for my sins the best that I can, but if death has come to claim me because of what I've done, I will let it.
That being said . . . [I was afraid. I couldn't move. I believed that I was going to die. She couldn't bring herself to say it. She still had her pride, after all.]
[Megumi looked away, hiding the tears that squeezed themselves out of her eyes. She always tried to be strong, not just for herself but for her family, whose name she bore, and for Ken-san and their friends. She didn't want Aoshi to see her cry, but then, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?]
Edited 2015-01-26 06:36 (UTC)
[Turn away she might, but though Aoshi closes his eyes again, he doesn't need to see to know what's happening. The sorrow, the self-loathing that precedes a disregard for one's fate... the last time he'd felt these from Megumi had been Kanryuu's observation tower, a whole lifetime ago. The sands of the past have flooded the present and they want nothing more than to submerge them both. To entomb them for all eternity, prisoners to a life they both thought they could leave behind.]
[Despair is treacherously infectious, and for awhile, Megumi's manages to overwhelm him. Lesser men would've risen right there and left without a word. Perhaps abandoned all that mattered today and find another despicable crime lord to work for. Or take those swords up to throw himself at the strongest opponents again and again, until there can be no doubt about who is the mightiest of all.]
[But like the best of spies, Aoshi Shinomori is able to step back and see the bigger picture. This had always been his gift, and with his mind so much clearer than it had been that final night in Kanryuu's estate, he needs it now more than ever. She needs it now.]
The night Battousai came to rescue you.
[He lets his words dangle on purpose so that Megumi will have no choice but to turn to him. Not without wiping her tears away first, no doubt. Out of respect for her dignity, he keeps his eyes shut.]
Do you remember what I said to you then?
[Despair is treacherously infectious, and for awhile, Megumi's manages to overwhelm him. Lesser men would've risen right there and left without a word. Perhaps abandoned all that mattered today and find another despicable crime lord to work for. Or take those swords up to throw himself at the strongest opponents again and again, until there can be no doubt about who is the mightiest of all.]
[But like the best of spies, Aoshi Shinomori is able to step back and see the bigger picture. This had always been his gift, and with his mind so much clearer than it had been that final night in Kanryuu's estate, he needs it now more than ever. She needs it now.]
The night Battousai came to rescue you.
[He lets his words dangle on purpose so that Megumi will have no choice but to turn to him. Not without wiping her tears away first, no doubt. Out of respect for her dignity, he keeps his eyes shut.]
Do you remember what I said to you then?
Edited 2015-01-26 14:01 (UTC)
[Megumi couldn't help her short, bitter laugh. Of course. It was a message that even Kenshin had repeated to her, albeit in his own, rurouni way.]
"A painful life or an easy death."
[She squared her shoulders, balling her hands into fists in momentary anger. Anger at herself, at Kanryuu, at everything that had happened. And then she lets it all out in a tired, pursed breath.]
I've already made my choice.
[Of course she did - Ken-san, Kaoru, Sanosuke, Yahiko - they all depended on her. But it was one thing to fight against death, and another to accept one's fate.]
I will pay for what I'd done in whatever way I can. The police said that if Ken-san didn't take care of Shishio, they'd try me for my crimes. I said that I'd rather face the noose.
If the end of the road has come for me, I'll accept it. In the meantime, I won't forget what I have to do.
[She hoped Aoshi understood.]
"A painful life or an easy death."
[She squared her shoulders, balling her hands into fists in momentary anger. Anger at herself, at Kanryuu, at everything that had happened. And then she lets it all out in a tired, pursed breath.]
I've already made my choice.
[Of course she did - Ken-san, Kaoru, Sanosuke, Yahiko - they all depended on her. But it was one thing to fight against death, and another to accept one's fate.]
I will pay for what I'd done in whatever way I can. The police said that if Ken-san didn't take care of Shishio, they'd try me for my crimes. I said that I'd rather face the noose.
If the end of the road has come for me, I'll accept it. In the meantime, I won't forget what I have to do.
[She hoped Aoshi understood.]
Edited 2015-01-26 14:21 (UTC)
[His silence... somehow it's enough to acknowledge what she'd said. She's truly changed, without any intention of going back, and to be shown otherwise would have let him down. That, and something more than just disappointment.]
Then you know that death will come when it pleases, and not when you want it to. No matter how badly that might be.
[He opens his eyes now, curling his fingers around the bed's railing in thought.]
Between that and still having a whole life left to atone with... kneeling before your past again would be a step backward.
[Their eyes meet and he holds her gaze. It's complicated, of course; she's no onmitsu or hardened hitokiri. She couldn't possibly have responded to the assassin the way those from his 'world' would have. She'd seemed too resigned to her fate, too willing to be punished, and that's what had bothered him.]
And believe what you like, but that is a step no one who values you wants you to take.
[This is about more than just living, which is something they'd both learned from Battousai. It's about breaking free, whether it's kneeling in terror before an assassin or seeing your misdeeds repeated before your very eyes.]
[He'd understood Megumi. Now he hopes she understands him. His tone softens.]
The next time you face death... try to make things a little easier for those who want you alive.
[Kneeling certainly hadn't helped. Anyone else, Sagara maybe, would've made that clear with a wry smirk. Not Aoshi. His blank slate of a face would put that Egyptian Sphinx to shame.]
[...though, he could have let something slip between his lips, hidden by the rim of the water glass he's now sipping. Hard to tell. Women have their secrets but so do spies.]
Then you know that death will come when it pleases, and not when you want it to. No matter how badly that might be.
[He opens his eyes now, curling his fingers around the bed's railing in thought.]
Between that and still having a whole life left to atone with... kneeling before your past again would be a step backward.
[Their eyes meet and he holds her gaze. It's complicated, of course; she's no onmitsu or hardened hitokiri. She couldn't possibly have responded to the assassin the way those from his 'world' would have. She'd seemed too resigned to her fate, too willing to be punished, and that's what had bothered him.]
And believe what you like, but that is a step no one who values you wants you to take.
[This is about more than just living, which is something they'd both learned from Battousai. It's about breaking free, whether it's kneeling in terror before an assassin or seeing your misdeeds repeated before your very eyes.]
[He'd understood Megumi. Now he hopes she understands him. His tone softens.]
The next time you face death... try to make things a little easier for those who want you alive.
[Kneeling certainly hadn't helped. Anyone else, Sagara maybe, would've made that clear with a wry smirk. Not Aoshi. His blank slate of a face would put that Egyptian Sphinx to shame.]
[...though, he could have let something slip between his lips, hidden by the rim of the water glass he's now sipping. Hard to tell. Women have their secrets but so do spies.]
[Megumi listened to his words in silence, hearing not only Aoshi but also Kenshin and the rest of her friends who had stood by her despite her past. She couldn't say that they didn't understood her - after all, they had deliberately spilled blood in the past, and bore the burden of that knowledge now. While Megumi had been held by the neck by Kanryuu, her continued production of opium was still done in the knowledge that she was ruining lives. In the end, they were the same. The difference was that . . . Aoshi was more willing to fight to live.]
[She remembered how Kenshin had simply given up when they believed that Kaoru was dead. Aoshi had been the voice of reason then, despite their sorrow. Megumi was quick to surrender as well today, and that again, it was Aoshi trying to make things right.]
[She couldn't help the quirk of her lips. It was all so ironic.]
Maybe I should start meditating like you do.
[Her voice shook, but it was at least a way for her to say that she understood.]
Thank you, again.
[She would never truly be rid of her fatalistic mindset - after all, she remembered all too clearly how she told Kaoru that she was willing to die for love, just like Tomoe, or to die for her sins, as she told the police when they came to Kenshin about Shishio. But Megumi would remember the things Aoshi said and see the wisdom in his words.]
[She remembered how Kenshin had simply given up when they believed that Kaoru was dead. Aoshi had been the voice of reason then, despite their sorrow. Megumi was quick to surrender as well today, and that again, it was Aoshi trying to make things right.]
[She couldn't help the quirk of her lips. It was all so ironic.]
Maybe I should start meditating like you do.
[Her voice shook, but it was at least a way for her to say that she understood.]
Thank you, again.
[She would never truly be rid of her fatalistic mindset - after all, she remembered all too clearly how she told Kaoru that she was willing to die for love, just like Tomoe, or to die for her sins, as she told the police when they came to Kenshin about Shishio. But Megumi would remember the things Aoshi said and see the wisdom in his words.]
['Did', not 'do.' Meditating hadn't quite been as enlightening as Aoshi had hoped, though he certainly didn't try to correct anyone who thought otherwise.]
If you do it in Kyoto, see that you pass the Aoiya. Okina misses your vulpine beauty and scintillating wit.
[A beat, followed by a non-vocalized internal sigh.]
His words. Not mine.
[And this time, when her gratitude is voiced again, he meets it not with a thoughtful grunt or even a blunt reminder that she didn't have to do it twice. Neither of them feel... right... at this moment in time, with the two of them pulling each other out of the dark mires of yesterday.]
[This time, he touches the bandage on his chest anew and moves his head in a curt but reverent nod-bow. And though his low voice whispers a sincere and meaningful, "You're welcome.", Megumi wouldn't have a hard time realizing what he's really saying.]
Thank you.
[It's not her time to die yet. Neither is it Aoshi's. But for this? It would certainly be worth it.]
If you do it in Kyoto, see that you pass the Aoiya. Okina misses your vulpine beauty and scintillating wit.
[A beat, followed by a non-vocalized internal sigh.]
His words. Not mine.
[And this time, when her gratitude is voiced again, he meets it not with a thoughtful grunt or even a blunt reminder that she didn't have to do it twice. Neither of them feel... right... at this moment in time, with the two of them pulling each other out of the dark mires of yesterday.]
[This time, he touches the bandage on his chest anew and moves his head in a curt but reverent nod-bow. And though his low voice whispers a sincere and meaningful, "You're welcome.", Megumi wouldn't have a hard time realizing what he's really saying.]
Thank you.
[It's not her time to die yet. Neither is it Aoshi's. But for this? It would certainly be worth it.]
[After all the stress of the evening, it was almost strange but definitely welcome to laugh. Megumi couldn't help it, and she let out a chuckle. "Vulpine beauty and scintillating wit"? Only the gods knew how it felt for Aoshi to have heard from Okina, much less have to repeat to her. Likely akin to pulling teeth.]
Surely Kyoto has its share of beautiful ladies - enough to satisfy Okina-san, at least.
[A small, wry smile quirked at her lips, but her voice was soft and kind when she replied.]
You're welcome.
[She sat there in silence a moment, allowing the two of them that brief pause to collect their thoughts before she rose up from her chair.]
No doubt Misao-chan has already heard what happened here - or if she hasn't, she will when she gets back from her day out with Kaoru-san. You'll have to stay here for the night, and I'm also certain Misao-chan will do the same, to keep an eye on you and me.
[Another dry smile.]
I'd advise that you stay here for a week at the very least - I don't want you tearing those stitches out, even if you don't mean to.
I'll just prepare some dinner. I'm sure everyone will be visiting, so expect company.
Surely Kyoto has its share of beautiful ladies - enough to satisfy Okina-san, at least.
[A small, wry smile quirked at her lips, but her voice was soft and kind when she replied.]
You're welcome.
[She sat there in silence a moment, allowing the two of them that brief pause to collect their thoughts before she rose up from her chair.]
No doubt Misao-chan has already heard what happened here - or if she hasn't, she will when she gets back from her day out with Kaoru-san. You'll have to stay here for the night, and I'm also certain Misao-chan will do the same, to keep an eye on you and me.
[Another dry smile.]
I'd advise that you stay here for a week at the very least - I don't want you tearing those stitches out, even if you don't mean to.
I'll just prepare some dinner. I'm sure everyone will be visiting, so expect company.
[Doctor's orders. He's not going to contest that or dinner. He watches Megumi go, already hearing Misao's shrill screams and declarations of bloody vengeance. He's have to talk her out of spewing fire and brimstone upon his old paymaster.]
[Because he has something far better in mind.]
*
[Two weeks later, at Tokyo's largest prison, star inmate Takeda Kanryuu--- up until now the proud recipient of his own luxurious quarters, expensive food from a personal chef, and constant contact with the outside world through messengers--- requested for transfer to maximum security.]
[Officially, he did it out of fear of his fellow inmates, jealous of what his wealth and connections have brought him even behind bars. Further probing, though, reveals a different story.]
[It seems that two weeks after the failed attack on Megumi Takani, Kanryuu opened the silver platter on his morning's breakfast to find a large tuft of his own hair. It had been taken from the back of his head sometime during the night. SWiftly, silently, and almost surely with some kind of blade. Kanryuu would've blamed this on another inmate or some guard with a grudge, but there had been a slip of paper tucked with the hair. On it had been these words:]
Better to count your money than lose hair over appointments you cannot keep.
[Strangely, prison officials saw no more than a blank slip of paper by the time Kanryuu showed it to them. But he knew what he'd seen and he knew exactly who'd done it. And that was why he'd been more than happy to trade his once-safe suite for the 24/7 presence of unforgiving guards and inmates much more hardened than him.]
[For the rest of his days, Takeda Kanryuu--- once Tokyo's undisputed opium lord and would-be merchant of death--- knew what it was to live in abject fear of shadows from the past.]
*
[That same day, Misao wondered where the bottle of Oniwabanshu invisible ink she'd meant to show Suzume and Ayame* had gone to. Aoshi was more than happy to return it.]
((*OOC: They're from the anime, of course, but I couldn't resist using them. XD Oh, that's a wrap? =3))
[Because he has something far better in mind.]
*
[Two weeks later, at Tokyo's largest prison, star inmate Takeda Kanryuu--- up until now the proud recipient of his own luxurious quarters, expensive food from a personal chef, and constant contact with the outside world through messengers--- requested for transfer to maximum security.]
[Officially, he did it out of fear of his fellow inmates, jealous of what his wealth and connections have brought him even behind bars. Further probing, though, reveals a different story.]
[It seems that two weeks after the failed attack on Megumi Takani, Kanryuu opened the silver platter on his morning's breakfast to find a large tuft of his own hair. It had been taken from the back of his head sometime during the night. SWiftly, silently, and almost surely with some kind of blade. Kanryuu would've blamed this on another inmate or some guard with a grudge, but there had been a slip of paper tucked with the hair. On it had been these words:]
Better to count your money than lose hair over appointments you cannot keep.
[Strangely, prison officials saw no more than a blank slip of paper by the time Kanryuu showed it to them. But he knew what he'd seen and he knew exactly who'd done it. And that was why he'd been more than happy to trade his once-safe suite for the 24/7 presence of unforgiving guards and inmates much more hardened than him.]
[For the rest of his days, Takeda Kanryuu--- once Tokyo's undisputed opium lord and would-be merchant of death--- knew what it was to live in abject fear of shadows from the past.]
*
[That same day, Misao wondered where the bottle of Oniwabanshu invisible ink she'd meant to show Suzume and Ayame* had gone to. Aoshi was more than happy to return it.]
((*OOC: They're from the anime, of course, but I couldn't resist using them. XD Oh, that's a wrap? =3))
Edited 2015-01-27 14:39 (UTC)
[ooc; a perfect ending indeed. :) thanks for this lovely thread - I've been wanting to write out Megumi's thoughts like this before, but I've never had the opportunity, so thanks for that! :D]
((OOC: It seems we hit all our birds with one stone. *snug* Thank YOU. Geez I loved it too, and I'd sure do it all again. You can tag me anytime. 8D))
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