[It's a very tired shuffle of a stride that echoes through the garage, the dark fabrics of his clothes standing contrast to the pure white of his hair in the dim lighting and eerie stature of concrete.
He's not well. There's a limp to his stride, a pain to how he draws breath. But he walks regardless, eyes open and searching. He rarely ever finds anyone in here. But he checks, nonetheless.
The flash of blue at the rooftop grants him pause, and he's careful enough to keep some distance, trying to gauge what their local assassin is doing up here all on his own, or if he'll be observant enough to know he has company.]
[ He's not too sure why he ends up here, really. Back at the Academy, whenever his mind would wander, he'd end up in the Bio Lab— The pungent smell of chemicals, the faint gurgle of specimens in fluid. It was comforting. There's nothing like that here.
But the garage is quiet in a solemn way, and it's easy to settle and stare and let unfamiliar—familiar things hang about in a haze.
But he is his father's son ( even if it sounds off in his ears, in a way he can't describe ), and even off in something of his own world, Yugamu still listens. His muscles still tense. And his head still turns, even the faintest sounds of footsteps registering to those practiced ears. ]
Looking for some peace and quiet? [ The smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it is there nonetheless. Teeth glinting like surgical steel. ] Or hunting for something a little different?
[His voice is a little weak, but he's at least trying to put on airs, arms crossing gingerly in front of him as he finds somewhere to lean his weight. It's very shaky, but it'll do for now until his legs fail him.]
You don't seem like the type to want to hear it, Yugamu-kun, but I do want to know whether you're alright. You put a lot of work into today.
[ Lonely. Not something he'd expect someone to peg him as, but he wonders if he can call it wrong. In times like this, he almost wishes he could ask the classic What should we do, Sumino-kun?, even if it's selfish. ]
I don't mind a bit of praise now and then, if that's what you're feeling like handing out. [ His voice is level, the usual easygoing tone. But there would be something in that visible eye, if Solomon could see it. ] And it's not like I haven't dealt with worse. I am a killer...this is nothing new to me, even if it's not exactly my favorite pasttime.
So go roles we have to put ourselves in. Just because it's something you've done before doesn't mean it's something that has to be comfortable. Even if it's something you must do, repeatedly, for whatever reason you have.
[There's a strain of sympathy to the phrase keeping it from being empty. He sees something there, in those eyes that don't quite meet his, and he tries to stay gentle in how to reach it.]
I'm surprised to hear you say that, given the skills you have. Do you not enjoy the work you do?
There's a quiet as Yugamu straightens up, the tension in his shoulders well-hidden. It's not something he's heard before, yet it feels weirdly familiar. There's a fog of conversations that don't click right, and it rakes his teeth across his tongue in frustration that he just can't remember what they are, filling his mouth with the grounding coppery tang of blood.
It takes him a moment to reply, unmoving, before he heaves what seems to be a sigh.]
I don't. Truthfully, I never have. [ And while he has admitted this to others here, this time it feels a bit more honest, a bit less lackadaisical. ] Killing with no loves leaves me feeling pretty empty, y'know? If I'm going to kill someone, I'd like it to be with love and care— and even better if they try to kill me back. Taking someone's life in a blink for money— or to fulfill some kind of selfish wish— has never been my thing.
What a weird personal code for a killer, you mean? My family thinks so, too; but that's just the life of the black sheep.
[ But hearing someone else call it tender is...surprising. He's just gotten used to the scorn and exasperation, even from the others. It's an odd feeling he isn't sure what to do with.
All the better to distract himself. ]
Why shouldn't it be? Isn't love one of the most important things in life? [ He's good at articulating it in his regular terms, the visceral excitement settling in all of his bones, the rush of blood and frenzied fervor. To try and lay it out normally is...not something he does often. ] It's a rush of feeling that could turn you inside out, a burst of euphoria that you can't get anywhere else...it's how you feel truly alive in those last moments, all that love and bloodlust colliding. When everything comes to an end, wouldn't it be better to have a hand guiding you rather than shoving you in?
Life and Death are just two sides of the same coin. Why enjoy love in one, and not the other?
[ The question does admittedly catch him a bit off guard, peering at the sky from where he's idly sitting rather than at Solomon himself, lips pursed for a few moments before they pry open again. ]
...I'm not going to say I don't have my grudges, you know. I talk big, but there's some people I wouldn't mind putting down without a lot of affection behind it. [ Back on the satellite, but for what reason? Because he was mad, but about what? Another frustrating, vexing sensation worming beneath his skin like all the wires, IVs, implants. ] I guess that depends on the point of view, doesn't it? Maybe there are, in some cases. Revenge for something that can't be taken back? The inherently evil, who don't want or care for love?
[ A pause. ]
...But if you think about it, there's also mercy in death. To me, I feel that's also a form of love.
[ Now, isn't that a thought? Yugamu's life has been death, death and more death; bringing death, loving death, accepting death. But life...
It brings to mind thoughts of one Eito Aotsuki, and a young assassin steeped in emptiness. ]
Inconceivably cruel. [ A smile returns, the brittleness at it's edges. ] Just the worst. Especially when you want to die; what's worse than having to live despite it all? No reprieve, no satisfaction.
[ ...A pause. ]
But sometimes those variables are too dangerous. I'd rather not get stabbed in the back a second time, you know?
Bingo. I know my heart is pretty big, but somebody has to do the dirty work sometimes.
[ He can be surprisingly pragmatic, for all that he is; after all, assassination isn't a job that preaches optimism.
Hm... ]
Not that I don't mind a bit of brain-picking, even if I do prefer the physical kind...[ One of those teasing smiles finally returns to his face, leaning more into the genuine direction. ] but am I getting extra credit for this assignment?
Sometimes it can't be avoided, but I agree. Some people are better off staying out of that life.
[ The laugh has Yugamu's eyebrows twitching nigh imperceptibly, one blue eye peering straight through the other man with a sudden intensity. ]
No, that's one of your charm points. You should just be careful you don't lose that nose sticking it in far nastier business than mine.... [ A hum. ] How about I answer yours, and you answer mine?
Hah. I wouldn't be so concerned. [The irony of the statement is not lost on him given his current appearance.] Even keeping to yourself can lead to unexpected consequences.
[Still, he shrugs easily at the suggestion, settling to a staggered seat - nearby enough to talk, but far enough that Yugamu doesn't need to worry about personal space.]
I don't see why not. You can even go first, if you'd like.
Mn. [He straightens himself up with a sigh, hands splaying on the concrete as he leans his weight back.] No, I doubt he would, either. When someone desperately wants something to happen... there is no limit to what they might do.
That's just human nature. Desire is natural, but it's just like hate and love; too much, and reason couldn't matter less. It's part of who we are.
[ He thinks back to Gabimaru's speech, replaying in his head for a moment before ]
No? Is it the fact we've shown what we're capable of, now? [ A side glance. ] You know what they say: one card out of place is all it takes for the house to fall. Who's to say this won't incite someone else's desperation?
If one will choose to kill, out of fear or opportunity, then it's only a matter of time. A deadline etched in stone. [Pinning down any supposedly new killers is only delaying what might as well be a forced inevitable, given the powers at play.]
I'd rather focus on the rest. Keep as many of you focused on the path forward, so that we do not lose any more than we must for the time being... and that we don't let those who might pass before us slip away as well.
It's not quite the same words, but it's the same principle. The speeches, the assurances, the graves in the schoolyard. A path they follow because there's little other choice, and they need something to lean on to push them forward...lest they let the stark truth crush them under it's weight instead.
Solomon is no Takumi Sumino, but he'd be lying if he said he couldn't hear some echoes of him. Just enough for his face to twitch at the corners. ]
It'd be nice if those words could carry enough weight to sink in for everyone, but I wouldn't hold my breath. We've got a stubborn and mismatched lot around here. [ That being said... ] Are you prepared to shoulder all that weight, Sensei? It's not an easy burden to bear, and if you're unlucky, it might just drag you under and hold you down.
[Humming, he withdraws an ink pen, black with an iridescent center, from his jacket - something he had at the trial and presented as owning, so it's not necessarily a new sight. But now he simply uses it as a fidget item between his fingers as they talk.]
If someone must, let it be those of us that know we can handle the worst of the responsibility, should it all take the most horrible turn. Maybe there are liferafts we can plant in that deep, dark ocean, to keep it from being a complete waste.
It feels like he's seeing just a piece of a Solomon he doesn't put out there often, blue gaze lingering as that pen twirls between his fingers.
...How convincing. It's almost dangerous. ]
In the dark ocean, huh... [ That twinges something, and when Yugamu leans back, it's with a small smile on his face. ] And let me guess. You'd take responsibility, even if they capsized?
[ Where has he heard this before? ]
You have to be a specific type of maniac to run headlong into something that could end horribly with your head held high. Then again, maybe I should call myself one, too, for being willing to follow along.
Haha... Well, in this instance, I feel I might. Call it force of habit, if you want. [He taps the end of the pen to his lips coyly, before continuing.] That said, I know I'm only human. In a more humbling way than I'm used to, in fact. So... even if my heart wants to take it all, I know it's not realistic.
I hope you can forgive me, should I forget. [His smile tugs at the edges.] And that I might rely on you, should something happen to me too soon.
There are less destructive habits you could indulge in, you know? [ Although, there's little seriousness in the quip; he'd be pretty hypocritical if he was being serious, after all. ] But there are also worse ones. At least you know it isn't realistic...that's a point for you.
[ The request...hm, he can't say he likes the implications, but he settles for keeping that one to himself. ]
I could always try and give you a little something to help you remember. The side effects wouldn't be too bad. [ A subtle, careful jab. Don't do anything stupid. ] But if you're going to rely on me, at least do it before. I'm not the type who likes cleaning up someone else's mess without warning.
[Pft.] I'd rather not resort to drastic measures just yet, if it's all the same.
[...
But he holds up the pen, and his tone smooths over to something just slightly stricter.]
Yugamu.... If I am to be found dead? You find this on my person, and you take it. Make sure it stays in the hands of someone trustworthy.
I cannot explain what it is, and I cannot explain where it came from. Any information I give in front of the others will be a lie that I have to follow until we're free.
But if I am not here, it cannot fall into the wrong hands. And I know you are, if nothing, thorough with the bodies.
[ Yugamu is not too sure what he expects here. Solomon is somebody who both seems easy to read, and yet has things beneath the surface even Yugamu struggles to grasp with those sharp fingers.
It's this reason the request throws him off guard enough to show on his face, before his features harden somewhat. ]
...And you're willing to just tell me this?
[ Sure, he had been anticipating something, but it wasn't this. ]
You know what I am. Who's to say I won't just up and keep it for myself, sate my curiosity? We assassins can be selfish. Or maybe I'll just get rid of it, if it's as dangerous as you say.
Whether or not you're telling the truth, are you really willing to leave something you consider that important in the hands of a killer you met barely two weeks ago? [ Or more specifically- ] Or should I say, do you really have enough faith in me to keep up your lie by holding onto a potential ticking time bomb?
[ He hasn't said 'no'. But Yugamu Omokage is nothing if not pragmatic. ]
Think of this as... the knife to free the ropes, should they not sail as planned. I don't know if it will become inactive, or even vanish, were I not to be here. But I'm not willing to take that risk with someone who would turn it on another in a worse case scenario.
And, unless you've fallen madly in love for someone in two weeks? I do not believe that will be you, will it?
[ He dislikes how he can read that face so accurately.
He doesn't hide the displeasure on his face now, lips pursed as he lets his gaze fall to that pen again. It's true, he doesn't actually know what happened to the other's private possessions once the trials were all said and done....frustrating, because he should have thought of it. ]
...I prefer more of a build-up to my relationships. [ It's low and quiet, to match the look in his eyes. ] And you know I've got no intention of playing this game in the way they want me to.
You seriously might be a fool trusting me that easily...I'm not too sure how flattered I should feel.
[ ....It's not a bad feeling, though. ]
...I can't guarantee anything if someone gets to the body before me, if something happens. But if they don't...I'll see what I can do.
Consider it hope placed in your values, and nothing more. If I'm a fool for that, then so be it.
I have another party that I will try to have join you. If I can tell you any more than this and not compromise everything I have set up, I will. You have my word.
...
Know that I'm asking you only to do what you can, if you can. Nothing more.
[And like the flip of a switch, his expression loses its seriousness as he tucks the pen back into his jacket like nothing happened.]
Anyway! I trust you can play along for now, correct?
[ Hope, huh. How painfully sappy and optimistic. Had he been the Yugamu of days and days ago, back when they'd just woken up with desks under their heads and unwanted responsibility in his hands, maybe he'd have shrugged it off.
But, here he is. Seriously, all these guys have made him soft. It's almost embarrassing.
He isn't expecting the revelation as much as he's expecting the switch flip, and there's a moment where Yugamu just regards Solomon with a sharp, cool eye before he finally lets the tension leak from his shoulders with an overly exasperated sigh. ]
Really, Sensei? You gave me that big of a touching speech just to tell me I have to share? [ Damn... ] And here I thought I was your favorite. I didn't take you for such a playboy...
[ Well, he's already in this deep. Might as well just sell it. ]
That sort of thing doesn't really bother me. Do you think anyone could drag down the reputation of a killer for hire even further? We might as well make it a little interesting.
[ In short; he'd find it pretty entertaining, actually.
Ah, but that's a semi-loaded question. ]
Not wrong. They decided to ship me off to war out of the blue, back where I came from; for an assassin, working with a bunch of other people wasn't really my forte...But I've come to find it has it's own charm.
[He chuckles, but doesn't seem to want to entertain that joking line of thought any further. It looks like Yugamu isn't the one that's going to be bothered by it.]
...You seem very young to be out in war. Is it common where you're from?
[ Maybe Solomon should consider the thrill in illicit affairs more often. But Yugamu will drop it, choosing to idly play with his earring. ]
Nope, not at all. [ There's a brief haze of faces, of voices, of complaints and begs. Blurry and not put together, but snippets come through now and then. Too young to fight, they say. Too young to die. The sentiment almost makes him laugh. ] But we're the only ones who could use a little special something, so the responsibility is ours. Killing targets for money can't really prepare you for the weight of the world on your shoulders...almost literally.
About as dire as it gets. [ And despite the tone he takes, like it's a minor inconvenience, his mouth still twitches with the urge to frown. ] All of humanity's pretty much done for if we don't break our backs out there.
[ Will he be in trouble, for mentioning it? Well, not like he can get punished here more than he already is. ]
[ Something about learning someone else had put him under the knife without his permission was...less than ideal. Just as unappealing as the war itself. ]
The enemies we're fighting against had a special kind of mutated blood. Since they couldn't win against it after years of traditional war, they ended up taking one of their greatest weapons, which let them research that ability to their heart's content. Then, it was just about finding people compatible with it.
[ One taloned finger taps himself on the chest. ]
Which ended up being all of us. We just happened to get the short end of the stick.
Can't say I had much choice but to suck it up. I don't remember anything about those tests, and I woke up too far away to just go back home. The idea didn't exactly thrill me in the beginning, but...at this point, either we kill or we die.
[ Not an ideal choice, no matter what. But no matter how bitter the taste of relentless war sits on his tongue, better to fight to the last than lie down and throw away all the efforts thus far. ]
16, to start with. [ If only because— ] 15 of us shipped off, and the 'special weapon' I mentioned.
[ Mad science bullshit is right. His favorite type of bullshit...just maybe not right now. ]
Basically, his body makes the fuel for the weapons we're protecting...Even for me, it sounded pretty far-fetched. Science is one thing, the magic mutations and everything is a whole 'nother ballgame, man. Not that all the experimental opportunities weren't exciting...
[Solomon doesn't head to their meeting point right away, not when Noelle is so freshly on the mind. But he'll eventually slip his way past the rows and rows of spaces, the weeping voices of girls that echo, and up to the rooftop, one of his project satchels kept tightly in his pockets.
You up here, Yugamu, or does he have to go searching?]
[ That's fine. The quiet helps...or maybe it doesn't, with nothing but his own thoughts to gnaw at his veins and split them open. There's a single, fleeting thought of heading to the lab to steal some of what he'd gone and made for a certain someone just to feel something a little different, but whatever rational part of him he's got left directs him otherwise.
So, he's here. The whimpers of pain that had filled his ears as he'd made his way up here had arguably settled worse than they usually would, but he's here. Staring out with a far more chilling stillness than he was the first time.
[ Yugamu is aware Solomon is there, but this time, he doesn't bother to address him first. While those steps are light, they're awfully loud to his ears, not so much as shifting even as the elder man settles next to him.
It takes a moment before the quiet breaks, and were the ache in his fingertips less severe, he might have laughed. ]
I don't mind the sound of that...maybe I'd get to see what's on the inside.
[ But at least he can still manage to quip, even if his heart isn't in it. He's not really sure where it is, actually, besides being choked. ]
I'd tell you if I knew. It was...
[ strange uncomfortable vulnerable dangerous, whirlwind anger and fondness mixing and colliding and it makes his head hurt in a way that doesn't even excite him. Perhaps that's the worst part, that he can't translate it to something he knows far better. ]
New for me, you know? I'm just a basket of contradictions.
...It's a messy thing as it is, the heart. A powerful force, like the strength of the ocean, with just as raging a temper and just as dangerous an undertow.
When is it ever easy, to know when you need a beacon or an anchor, when it feels like you might drown no matter what?
[Feelings were the most intense sort of power in his millenia of experience. A necessity, when it came to magic. But there was never an easy way to navigate them, both brittle and unbearable as they could be in turns.
...
His hands stay loosely knit together, slender fingers laced, as he tilts his head over just slightly. Studying Yugamu with eyes that tire in complex ways.]
Yugamu knows the heart is powerful. His is different than what people want it to be; his family wants it cold and and callous. His friends were prefer it tempered more, less viscous and oozing. But it is big as it is empty, covered in surgical steel and begging to be filled with something it's never known.
Would be that the ocean could do so, make it peaceful and quiet so the ache in his bones finally persists.
Yugamu doesn't comment on this, no. He ruminates, feeling those eyes scraping over him as they try to see through him a way he usually does to other people. He's not really one for talking alot, for baring himself for all to see in a way that isn't peelinng the skin from his chest, but how can he condense this? ]
I kind of thought she was a dud, at first. [ Yugamu is...honest, and she isn't here to hear, but it would be doing her a disservice to lie. ] Not that she wasn't cute, but I'm not really into that whole sweet girl next door thing. I was kind of surprised she lasted as long as she did; someone like that makes for an easy target. All insecurity, no spine.
[ He leans back in the slightest, letting silence reign for a second before he continues with a faint furrow of the brows. ]
It's not like she was bad, though. There's something charming in trying to be kind despite it all. [ His nails tap against the concrete. Once, twice. Tandem. ] I guess I'm just not used to people having my best interests at heart. I wasn't sure how to deal with it, when she told me. I'm usually the last guy you'd want to sympathize with, right?
[ Tap, tap. ]
...I hate to say it, but ever since we had that discussion, I've felt responsible. Like I needed to look out for her, since she can't do it herself. I needed to, or I was going to go stir-crazy. And now—
[ Dirt under her nails, terror in her veins. Each stab careless in it's calculation and full of no emotion but fear. He didn't want to pry his hands away, deep down, but the dead can only talk so much. Blood drips down from the nails that dig into the flesh of his hand. ]
She was very kind underneath her troubles, wasn't she? A girl of gratitude and guilt, wishing for a better life and feeling she did not deserve it. Wanting courage but being pinned down by her faith, rather than bolstered.
[It's quiet, even as he watches the blood that drips down onto the concrete. Mm, no, they were going to need to redirect that here in a moment.]
Perhaps she saw you a likehearted soul. Misunderstood and stuck.
But I do not think she, of anyone, would want to see you put blame on yourself. She knew that weight enough.
[ Lack of courage, full of dreams. Very different from the girls he's used to dealing with, but perhaps that's interesting in of itself. Somehow, deep down, he knows the fascination and the obsessive twist coiling through the gaps of his ribs wouldn't be so strong if it weren't for what they share, and he so loathes the idea of feelings given inorganically—
Likehearted. Ah, he doesn't hear that often. ]
For the love of murder...it'd be the first time someone who wasn't a fellow killer thought that. [ A sigh. ] Then again, that type of kindness could kill in it's own right.
[ There's something so...strange in being viewed as an unfortunate child, someone wronged, considering everything. For someone to see themselves in him in a way that isn't a blade in his guts. It doesn't suit him.
Such a strange, almost sour taste of normalcy, and yet that lingering flavor makes him want to chase it like a predator on the hunt. ]
...I wouldn't if I could help it. [ He doesn't like feeling like this, especially with that ever-familiar twinge of lust mixing with it, the smell of blood and death and urge to kill from before colliding into a volatile fever pitch as his fingers tap faster on the red-stained concrete. It's a terrible combination, and he knows it. ] All these emotions aren't good for an assassin, you know?
[He watches that tension coil tighter, red staining the concrete. Ah, well. He was hoping this wouldn't be a problem, but routes of deescalation were always flexible.]
It's only been a little more than two weeks, but it feels like forever since he's been in the battlefield. No sorties, no defensive battles, no training in the gym in the early mornings...nothing to sate himself in any way.
All that, plus the death, the tension, the feelings that are both his own and not plucking at all of his nerves, it's no wonder the gaze that settles on Solomon is probably the coldest it's been since he got here. ]
Solomon-sensei. [ Oh, he wants to, but he has to know. ] Do you think you can handle me?
Who's to say? [He rises to his feet.] I'm a sorcerer. Not a soldier.
But I do have a predicament, and who better than you to show me by example?
[With a flourish, the black pen with diamond inlay - the very one Solomon asked Yugamu to watch out for - is pulled out to rest in his fingers. First naturally, flicked between his fingers, before fully flipping into his palm like the hilt of a weapon.
A blink, and the pen is something else - a dagger, sharp and roughly hewn in shades of iridescent diamond.
Another blink, and the pen is once again a pen, flicking against his fingers.]
[He's surprised when he can't find Yugamu in his normal spot. So Solomon will go to searching in his strange patrol of the school, finally poking his nose in the chapel.
Ah. There's that messy bob of blue, like spotting a sliver of the ocean in the distant horizon.
He's in a new look today as he strolls quietly into the lab. The pen he had used in their impromptu sparring session only days ago now stays openly in his hand, flicking back and forth across his fingers.
Well. Some of them, anyway. One of his hands is bandaged, and there's a noticeable favor on one side if Yugamu pays close enough attention. At the nape of his neck, peeking against his collar, is a staining of black against his skin that definitely wasn't there before.
But his smile is easy, easy, even if his gaze falls strange as he strolls up closer.]
[ Well, he can't be sitting on the parking lot roof stuck in his thoughts all the time. Really, it's not even his usual spot outside of the post-trial fugue.
This is where he usually hangs out, ever since the insides shifted into something more comfortably familiar. There's a pleasantness among the test tubes and fumes, the powders and acids, all the possible combinations that could heal and harm in equal measure...
It's easy to lose himself in it. Or lose himself as much as someone with honed instincts could.
Yugamu is already paying attention the moment the doors open, gaze sliding from his project to the swing of creaky hinges. The face is unexpected, which shows in the flicker in his eyes, but it smooths out as fast as it came. ]
You'd be surprised how much time I spend in here. Since the infirmary's lacking, isn't this the next best thing for someone of my talents?
[ His tone is easygoing, but his gaze is darting to and fro, cataloguing things that weren't there. Bandage, hand. A shift to favor the side. And if those blues linger on an unfamiliar stain of black, that's nobody's fault but Solomon's. ]
But enough about me. You look like you've been up to no good, Sensei...are you going to give me all the dirty details?
Heheh... It does seem to suit you very well, all buried up like a potion master.
[He does see that wandering gaze, though, and his head shifts slightly, brows raising.]
What, me? Oh, I'd never get into trouble. [It's such a hammy delivery that he might as well be stapling a big red sign saying "UH OH" to his forehead.]
I would like to know if you've been able to do your task yet, though. [The pen flicks. Agitated, almost.] Or if you've helped someone else. Anyone else.
Yeesh, can we not use potion master? It feels so insincere...
[ He prefers Doctor Omokage, thank you. Or poisoner. Or something a little more grounded in reality.
But the cringe can wait...or this type of cringe can, in any case, because Solomon's attempt at deflection is arguably the worst kind. His blank features plaster on as the older man goes on, every little twitch catalogued away until silence reigns in the chapel itself.
When Yugamu speaks again, it's punctuated by an overtly exasperated sigh. ]
For the love of murder...I figured you'd try a little harder if you were going to lie to someone who can see through you, you know. I am a professional.
[ ...Sort of. ]
And maybe I have. Is there any particular reason that thought is making you look like a guy on death row? Because I have to say, I've had enough of being kept in the dark to last the next several lifetimes.
I promise my injuries have nothing to do with it. [Raising his hands in mock surrender.] Fandaniel and I got into a fight before the execution, and he came at me with a scalpel. You can check the wounds yourself if you don't believe me.
Though I have a feeling that's not quite what you mean.
[ These old men really love going at each other, huh? How many times is this now...what he wouldn't do for a quarter of that excitement, but the messiness isn't quite his thing. ]
And you didn't come to me first thing? I'm beginning to think you have no faith my abilities whatsoever.
[ But Solomon is right, because Yugamu is still staring, features blank except for that sharpened glint in blue. ]
Do you need me to spell it out for you? If you want, I could start pulling it out the hard way...I'm sure that could leave a lasting impression of what I can do.
[ There's something behind that agitation he doesn't like, and with the week passing by already, he's not willing to take any risks. ]
I wasn't exactly in a position to get up and find anyone, and if I'd crossed Fandaniel, he was agitated enough to start attacking the entire Troupe. I was lucky one of our little vehicles found me and took me to the infirmary.
[He inhales, more bracing than usual, as he casually pivots and starts to pace. The pen still twirling, the mark on his neck prominent whenever he turns.]
I would... would really, really like you to answer my question first, Yugamu. A simple yes or no. Please. There's only...
[Another inhale. The pen grips tight into his palm, then forced out.]
There's only so much I can do, to make this agitation go away right now. You of all people should understand. Correct?
[ ...That doesn't bode well, and it shows with the tilt of his lips downward. Perhaps Fandaniel can talk on the end of a knife again, if things get that high; Solomon is not a fighter, but Yugamu is. ]
Then I'll look at it later.
[ Simple, factual. Call him overconfident, but he'd rather check for himself.
There's something...disconcerting, in watching Solomon pace about, muscles coiled with tension he doesn't normally have. He's beginning to have a fleeting idea of why, pieces slotting together from the waver in his voice and every twitch of his anxious fingers.
Whatever Yugamu was working on is set aside, momentarily abandoned and forgotten. ]
...Yes, I have.
[ The blood's gotten under his nails, sated the urge and broiling storm in his head. It's why he's here now, calmer than before.
He won't say what he wants to ask, because he wants to see if he'll hear it first from the man himself's mouth. ]
Not just because it offered something familiar, a mutual outlet, but because he of all people knows how bad impulses can get if unchecked. If it can offer a way for them to both drain the feelings away, then why not indulge himself for the first time in a while?
But the fact this doesn't do anything to ease the look in Solomon's eyes has Yugamu's lips pursing in a thin line. ]
And what kind of 'things' are we talking about? [ He hasn't had the opportunity to speak to Sika Madu much, but the others seem like they know far more than him. He's not sure how much he likes that. ] Whatever it is, I can't do much if you don't plan on telling me.
[ And would he? While Yugamu has come to know the other man far more than expected, his inner machinations are still wired in ways even a practiced hand struggles to pick apart. ]
Unless you went and decided you don't need my help anymore?
I don't know if failure for the tasks will count. I'd like to get them out of the way. To make sure we don't get careless at the end. But they're...
[A beat. The pen flips into his palm as his hand digs against his shirt over his heart.
Exhale.]
They're doing something to their contracts. My task's feelings just... cling to me. Like I can't quite let go of it. [And he doesn't have a rose anywhere on him marking the start of a task.]
[ There is something about this that settles wrong in his bones, watching Solomon move like that. Speak those words. Solomon is not Takumi, the same age and struggling with things just as all of them are; he's grown, he knows things that Yugamu doesn't.
He would say he wishes nobody else has to die for them to leave, but he's not that naive. He hasn't spent the past three months cutting people down for the sake of survival to say something he knows is likely unavoidable, and someone like him shouldn't be preaching to the choir, anyway.
Yugamu's gaze gets icier. ]
Ignoring the fact people have actually made them, you sound like you know who and what. [ He doesn't like the sound of it, nor that it sounds like there's more than one. Don, he'd heard of, but... ] And on that note, which task was it? If it's still affecting you, then maybe it hasn't been sated enough.
[ His gaze flickers, still locked on that black mark which almost seems to writhe when he blinks. ]
[He blows out a breath that sounds like an anxious choke of a laugh.]
I know. I know. Sika.
...
Bloodshed. [His fist tightens, still with the pen in his fist. It lowers, slowly.] Cantarella already took me to the hot springs to try and calm me down.
[A beat, a shaking exhale.
The pen flickers immediately into the diamond dagger at his side, gripped so tight his knuckles go white.
The marking at his neck starts to deepen. To spread. Wrapping, wrapping--
But with a sharp exhale, Solomon throws the dagger down with one tense motion. The second it leaves his hands, it snaps right back to a pen, clattering off to the side. The sorcerer heaves deep breathes in as he digs his hands into his hair. The ends of his fingers are starting to color oddly. Darkening. Spreading.]
[ Sika. Because of course it's Sika.. Yugamu has not set out to offer his hand, and this only cements that he will not be doing so; whatever this is, it's not working.
Yugamu watches. Yugamu listens. Yugamu lets his gaze rake down over those white-knuckles, fist lowering every so slowly.
Then there's the dagger, inky black crawling and swirling up and over pale skin, and every muscle in his body coils tight in reflex to match the way a pale hand darts into his sleeve so fast it's a mere blur—
The noise it makes when it clatters to the floor, shifting from blade to pen, seems to echo painfully loudly in the stone-wrought hall. When Yugamu's daze darts back, it's to Solomon hunched like a man in agony, black staining his fingers like blood stains Yugamu's own.
Aaaah, how he wishes that request could excite him as much as it usually would. ]
...Is that really what you want?
[ No real hesitation, no doubt, no refusal. But his steps are swift, and he peers up with a clinical stillness, fingers still in his sleeves. Coiled around a hilt.
[ Yugamu is smaller, but there's an unprecedented strength in those modified bones; a taloned hand curls in the front of that shirt, and one firm push takes them down with the resounding chorus of rattling lab equipment.
It's a shame, is the vague thought behind the cold surgical steel of his gaze. This is a nice outfit.
The glinting steel that slips out of his sleeve is unfamiliar, ceremonial, something plucked from the costumerie for the purpose of this task alone. It brings a comfort the infuser can not, a familiarity that feels both light and heavy. Especially when he angles it, because— there's a gap between the stomach and the liver, thin and slender.
The hand on Solomon's chest is merely to keep him still, sinking the blade in like a knife through butter. ]
[As tall as Solomon is, Yugamu has had his time to fight with the man. He is no soldier, with lean muscle from only casual daily life, movements always light and thin as though walking on air. So despite the difference in height and weight, Solomon will prove to be easy to manhandle down to the floor with a grunt of discomfort.
His hands grip on reflex to Yugamu's shoulders, darkening fingers digging in tight with an agonized keen through clenched teeth at the hot feel of steel slicing right into his midsection. He shudders, choking on his breath as his eyes stay clenched shut, fingers flexing tight against the teenager's upper arms.
Not bracing through the pain, but as though he's trying to let it overwhelm him. To keep him still in the only way he can, right this second.
A beat, two, and Yugamu will feel him start to struggle under the pin, sharp breaths of pain vocalizing at the effort. But he does not try to free himself.]
[ Adults are just meat, under it all; aren't they all? Grown men, children, women, everything in between. It all slices the same, chokes all the same, dies all the same.
Solomon is the same as Fandaniel was, skin thin enough to break. The hands on his shoulders are new, but the pained noises are not. They do not deter him in the slightest, even as he slips the knife free, red catching the light of cathedral windows and soaking into fabric. Despite himself, the sight earns a shudder.
For all little he weighs, when Yugamu presses his weight down, it almost feels like iron. Keep him still, stop squirming. Same with his grip, as it shifts to latch onto Solomon's forearm, knife flipping in his grip to better slip it straight through the meat of his upper arm. No bone nicks, no arteries, but painful.
It has to hurt. It can't be permanent, but it has to linger. Things he can fix with needle and thread and a steady hand painted in red. ]
[He can feel the warmth of blood pooling at those white-hot points - his stomach, his arm, the black of his shirt and tan of his coat staining red under Yugamu's blade. It earns another cry of pain, another pointless struggle despite how he fights it. His heart beats hard in his chest, malaise in his throat.
Despite the pain that rocks him, the longer he drifts in it, the more clarity seems to drift into his pained features. Something, something, to break up that strange pull inside him like the icy grip of hell.
His eyes stay firmly shut, wheezing under the pain and trying not to grow sick from it. But his injured hand still grips tight against Yugamu's shoulder, even as his other drips hot, fresh blood into so many fabrics.
[ There's something that crawls up his bones at those struggles, cries of pain; a primal part of him he can't tape down, even now. Please hurt me resonates in the same vein of please love me in that twisted empty thing he calls a heart, and it guides every slice with finesse and purpose.
Just work, in some way, focused and quiet. A form of love to help, in another. What a war he wages, the pink tinting his ears at odds with the act itself.
The grip against his shoulder is not a move to stop, so downwards the blade treks, settling on the tightened muscle of a lower thigh. Yugamu's gaze is locked onto Solomon's face for another moment, only pausing to actually speak in a cooled tone that matches the look in his eyes. ]
Solomon-sensei. Breathe.
[ That's all he gets before metal slides in to the hilt, past the skin, through the muscle. Wake up. ]
[He barely meets that look. But there's enough recognition - an attempt made, of breath in the nose and out the mouth, as quick and shaky as it comes as his eyes drift shut in tense anticipation.
Metal cuts through flesh, and the pain rips through him like a white-hot whip. His entire spine jerks underneath Yugamu, what vocalization that wheezes out caught between gritted teeth as his face starts to grow pale. The adrenaline rushes, and his chest aches, and--
The grip against Yugamu's shoulders digs, and then weakens, loose fists sliding down his arms detatched.
Breathing. Just breathe.
The act hurts visibly, now that he's purposeful with it. But he tries to force it back under control, the pain vibrant on his features through his attempts at concentration. Waves pass and his face screws tight.
When he finally opens his mouth, it feels like cotton. Dry and sticky and trapped in his throat.]
Enough...
T...that's enough...
[He hopes. He prays. Just give him a moment to let the adrenaline calm...]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
WEEK ONE - POST TRIAL
He's not well. There's a limp to his stride, a pain to how he draws breath. But he walks regardless, eyes open and searching. He rarely ever finds anyone in here. But he checks, nonetheless.
The flash of blue at the rooftop grants him pause, and he's careful enough to keep some distance, trying to gauge what their local assassin is doing up here all on his own, or if he'll be observant enough to know he has company.]
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But the garage is quiet in a solemn way, and it's easy to settle and stare and let unfamiliar—familiar things hang about in a haze.
But he is his father's son ( even if it sounds off in his ears, in a way he can't describe ), and even off in something of his own world, Yugamu still listens. His muscles still tense. And his head still turns, even the faintest sounds of footsteps registering to those practiced ears. ]
Looking for some peace and quiet? [ The smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it is there nonetheless. Teeth glinting like surgical steel. ] Or hunting for something a little different?
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[His voice is a little weak, but he's at least trying to put on airs, arms crossing gingerly in front of him as he finds somewhere to lean his weight. It's very shaky, but it'll do for now until his legs fail him.]
You don't seem like the type to want to hear it, Yugamu-kun, but I do want to know whether you're alright. You put a lot of work into today.
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I don't mind a bit of praise now and then, if that's what you're feeling like handing out. [ His voice is level, the usual easygoing tone. But there would be something in that visible eye, if Solomon could see it. ] And it's not like I haven't dealt with worse. I am a killer...this is nothing new to me, even if it's not exactly my favorite pasttime.
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[There's a strain of sympathy to the phrase keeping it from being empty. He sees something there, in those eyes that don't quite meet his, and he tries to stay gentle in how to reach it.]
I'm surprised to hear you say that, given the skills you have. Do you not enjoy the work you do?
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There's a quiet as Yugamu straightens up, the tension in his shoulders well-hidden. It's not something he's heard before, yet it feels weirdly familiar. There's a fog of conversations that don't click right, and it rakes his teeth across his tongue in frustration that he just can't remember what they are, filling his mouth with the grounding coppery tang of blood.
It takes him a moment to reply, unmoving, before he heaves what seems to be a sigh.]
I don't. Truthfully, I never have. [ And while he has admitted this to others here, this time it feels a bit more honest, a bit less lackadaisical. ] Killing with no loves leaves me feeling pretty empty, y'know? If I'm going to kill someone, I'd like it to be with love and care— and even better if they try to kill me back. Taking someone's life in a blink for money— or to fulfill some kind of selfish wish— has never been my thing.
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Is there a reason, you think, that love should be so important in something as final as death?
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[ But hearing someone else call it tender is...surprising. He's just gotten used to the scorn and exasperation, even from the others. It's an odd feeling he isn't sure what to do with.
All the better to distract himself. ]
Why shouldn't it be? Isn't love one of the most important things in life? [ He's good at articulating it in his regular terms, the visceral excitement settling in all of his bones, the rush of blood and frenzied fervor. To try and lay it out normally is...not something he does often. ] It's a rush of feeling that could turn you inside out, a burst of euphoria that you can't get anywhere else...it's how you feel truly alive in those last moments, all that love and bloodlust colliding. When everything comes to an end, wouldn't it be better to have a hand guiding you rather than shoving you in?
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So you believe they walk similar lines, in a way..
Do you think that there's anyone that deserves to be lonely, rather than loved, when they face death in the eyes?
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[ The question does admittedly catch him a bit off guard, peering at the sky from where he's idly sitting rather than at Solomon himself, lips pursed for a few moments before they pry open again. ]
...I'm not going to say I don't have my grudges, you know. I talk big, but there's some people I wouldn't mind putting down without a lot of affection behind it. [ Back on the satellite, but for what reason? Because he was mad, but about what? Another frustrating, vexing sensation worming beneath his skin like all the wires, IVs, implants. ] I guess that depends on the point of view, doesn't it? Maybe there are, in some cases. Revenge for something that can't be taken back? The inherently evil, who don't want or care for love?
[ A pause. ]
...But if you think about it, there's also mercy in death. To me, I feel that's also a form of love.
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Would it be crueler, then, to condemn the unforgivable to life, instead of ushering them to their peace in death?
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It brings to mind thoughts of one Eito Aotsuki, and a young assassin steeped in emptiness. ]
Inconceivably cruel. [ A smile returns, the brittleness at it's edges. ] Just the worst. Especially when you want to die; what's worse than having to live despite it all? No reprieve, no satisfaction.
[ ...A pause. ]
But sometimes those variables are too dangerous. I'd rather not get stabbed in the back a second time, you know?
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[Mmm. He does enjoy picking Yugamu's brain. And some of the ideas he has...
...]
How about I present you with a hypothetical, and you can tell me your thoughts?
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[ He can be surprisingly pragmatic, for all that he is; after all, assassination isn't a job that preaches optimism.
Hm... ]
Not that I don't mind a bit of brain-picking, even if I do prefer the physical kind...[ One of those teasing smiles finally returns to his face, leaning more into the genuine direction. ] but am I getting extra credit for this assignment?
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[The question does earn pause, his laughter light like bells despite how physically rough he looks.]
You can always say no. Call your teacher a nosy one and leave it at that, if you think I'm poking around too much.
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[ The laugh has Yugamu's eyebrows twitching nigh imperceptibly, one blue eye peering straight through the other man with a sudden intensity. ]
No, that's one of your charm points. You should just be careful you don't lose that nose sticking it in far nastier business than mine.... [ A hum. ] How about I answer yours, and you answer mine?
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[Still, he shrugs easily at the suggestion, settling to a staggered seat - nearby enough to talk, but far enough that Yugamu doesn't need to worry about personal space.]
I don't see why not. You can even go first, if you'd like.
1/2
[ Yugamu is Watching, and while he wouldn't have minded him sitting closer, he does appreciate the respect for space. ]
If you insist. Let's see... well, if there's something I'm just deathly curious about—
2/2
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Except Solomon seems completely unphased. Blinking, as though confused.]
Oh.
Was I hiding it?
[Here he thought playing dumb would just be a fun thing to do.]
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[ Yeah, he can buy Solomon just playing dumb for the hell of it. Even so, really? ]
If you were coming here, you certainly weren't headed off to fix yourself. I didn't take you for a masochist.
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We just sentenced a boy to death, after all.
[A smart move? Hell nah. But he sounds like he's made up his mind about it.]
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I don't like the idea of dancing in the palm of someone's hand. [ Pointed nails tap against his cheek. ] But I don't think he'd want to be pitied.
[ After all, they are kindred spirits, one way or the other...even if their methods clash. ]
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But he's not my main concern.
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[ He thinks back to Gabimaru's speech, replaying in his head for a moment before ]
No? Is it the fact we've shown what we're capable of, now? [ A side glance. ] You know what they say: one card out of place is all it takes for the house to fall. Who's to say this won't incite someone else's desperation?
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If one will choose to kill, out of fear or opportunity, then it's only a matter of time. A deadline etched in stone. [Pinning down any supposedly new killers is only delaying what might as well be a forced inevitable, given the powers at play.]
I'd rather focus on the rest. Keep as many of you focused on the path forward, so that we do not lose any more than we must for the time being... and that we don't let those who might pass before us slip away as well.
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It's not quite the same words, but it's the same principle. The speeches, the assurances, the graves in the schoolyard. A path they follow because there's little other choice, and they need something to lean on to push them forward...lest they let the stark truth crush them under it's weight instead.
Solomon is no Takumi Sumino, but he'd be lying if he said he couldn't hear some echoes of him. Just enough for his face to twitch at the corners. ]
It'd be nice if those words could carry enough weight to sink in for everyone, but I wouldn't hold my breath. We've got a stubborn and mismatched lot around here. [ That being said... ] Are you prepared to shoulder all that weight, Sensei? It's not an easy burden to bear, and if you're unlucky, it might just drag you under and hold you down.
crawls back here hello
[Humming, he withdraws an ink pen, black with an iridescent center, from his jacket - something he had at the trial and presented as owning, so it's not necessarily a new sight. But now he simply uses it as a fidget item between his fingers as they talk.]
If someone must, let it be those of us that know we can handle the worst of the responsibility, should it all take the most horrible turn. Maybe there are liferafts we can plant in that deep, dark ocean, to keep it from being a complete waste.
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It feels like he's seeing just a piece of a Solomon he doesn't put out there often, blue gaze lingering as that pen twirls between his fingers.
...How convincing. It's almost dangerous. ]
In the dark ocean, huh... [ That twinges something, and when Yugamu leans back, it's with a small smile on his face. ] And let me guess. You'd take responsibility, even if they capsized?
[ Where has he heard this before? ]
You have to be a specific type of maniac to run headlong into something that could end horribly with your head held high. Then again, maybe I should call myself one, too, for being willing to follow along.
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I hope you can forgive me, should I forget. [His smile tugs at the edges.] And that I might rely on you, should something happen to me too soon.
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[ The request...hm, he can't say he likes the implications, but he settles for keeping that one to himself. ]
I could always try and give you a little something to help you remember. The side effects wouldn't be too bad. [ A subtle, careful jab. Don't do anything stupid. ] But if you're going to rely on me, at least do it before. I'm not the type who likes cleaning up someone else's mess without warning.
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[...
But he holds up the pen, and his tone smooths over to something just slightly stricter.]
Yugamu.... If I am to be found dead? You find this on my person, and you take it. Make sure it stays in the hands of someone trustworthy.
I cannot explain what it is, and I cannot explain where it came from. Any information I give in front of the others will be a lie that I have to follow until we're free.
But if I am not here, it cannot fall into the wrong hands. And I know you are, if nothing, thorough with the bodies.
Understood?
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It's this reason the request throws him off guard enough to show on his face, before his features harden somewhat. ]
...And you're willing to just tell me this?
[ Sure, he had been anticipating something, but it wasn't this. ]
You know what I am. Who's to say I won't just up and keep it for myself, sate my curiosity? We assassins can be selfish. Or maybe I'll just get rid of it, if it's as dangerous as you say.
Whether or not you're telling the truth, are you really willing to leave something you consider that important in the hands of a killer you met barely two weeks ago? [ Or more specifically- ] Or should I say, do you really have enough faith in me to keep up your lie by holding onto a potential ticking time bomb?
[ He hasn't said 'no'. But Yugamu Omokage is nothing if not pragmatic. ]
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I did mention lifeboats, didn't I?
...
Think of this as... the knife to free the ropes, should they not sail as planned. I don't know if it will become inactive, or even vanish, were I not to be here. But I'm not willing to take that risk with someone who would turn it on another in a worse case scenario.
And, unless you've fallen madly in love for someone in two weeks? I do not believe that will be you, will it?
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He doesn't hide the displeasure on his face now, lips pursed as he lets his gaze fall to that pen again. It's true, he doesn't actually know what happened to the other's private possessions once the trials were all said and done....frustrating, because he should have thought of it. ]
...I prefer more of a build-up to my relationships. [ It's low and quiet, to match the look in his eyes. ] And you know I've got no intention of playing this game in the way they want me to.
You seriously might be a fool trusting me that easily...I'm not too sure how flattered I should feel.
[ ....It's not a bad feeling, though. ]
...I can't guarantee anything if someone gets to the body before me, if something happens. But if they don't...I'll see what I can do.
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I have another party that I will try to have join you. If I can tell you any more than this and not compromise everything I have set up, I will. You have my word.
...
Know that I'm asking you only to do what you can, if you can. Nothing more.
[And like the flip of a switch, his expression loses its seriousness as he tucks the pen back into his jacket like nothing happened.]
Anyway! I trust you can play along for now, correct?
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But, here he is. Seriously, all these guys have made him soft. It's almost embarrassing.
He isn't expecting the revelation as much as he's expecting the switch flip, and there's a moment where Yugamu just regards Solomon with a sharp, cool eye before he finally lets the tension leak from his shoulders with an overly exasperated sigh. ]
Really, Sensei? You gave me that big of a touching speech just to tell me I have to share? [ Damn... ] And here I thought I was your favorite. I didn't take you for such a playboy...
[ Well, he's already in this deep. Might as well just sell it. ]
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[He's not sorry, from the looks of it.]
Greater hands divided among the busy work will make for less suspicion. Just put up with it for the time being, okay?
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[ Yeah, he wouldn't be sorry, would he. ]
I guess my days as a lone wolf are over. Not that they were letting me off the hook before...
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[smashcut to the gossip about him being in love with a student..... we look away
Still, at least he grows thoughtful as the tangent.]
"Before" as in, before you were here, I take it? Is life tossing you into a lot of group projects?
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[ In short; he'd find it pretty entertaining, actually.
Ah, but that's a semi-loaded question. ]
Not wrong. They decided to ship me off to war out of the blue, back where I came from; for an assassin, working with a bunch of other people wasn't really my forte...But I've come to find it has it's own charm.
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...You seem very young to be out in war. Is it common where you're from?
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Nope, not at all. [ There's a brief haze of faces, of voices, of complaints and begs. Blurry and not put together, but snippets come through now and then. Too young to fight, they say. Too young to die. The sentiment almost makes him laugh. ] But we're the only ones who could use a little special something, so the responsibility is ours. Killing targets for money can't really prepare you for the weight of the world on your shoulders...almost literally.
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[He has some questions about that ability, too, but one thing at a time. He's not here to interrogate the poor kid.]
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[ Will he be in trouble, for mentioning it? Well, not like he can get punished here more than he already is. ]
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And why would they only have to send you and those like you? What about this ability makes you special?
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[ Something about learning someone else had put him under the knife without his permission was...less than ideal. Just as unappealing as the war itself. ]
The enemies we're fighting against had a special kind of mutated blood. Since they couldn't win against it after years of traditional war, they ended up taking one of their greatest weapons, which let them research that ability to their heart's content. Then, it was just about finding people compatible with it.
[ One taloned finger taps himself on the chest. ]
Which ended up being all of us. We just happened to get the short end of the stick.
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[An exchange that works on paper, but feels uncomfortable in the details.]
Just or not, it's not as though that puts you in a good position. I'm surprised you're so composed about it.
How many of you were there?
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Can't say I had much choice but to suck it up. I don't remember anything about those tests, and I woke up too far away to just go back home. The idea didn't exactly thrill me in the beginning, but...at this point, either we kill or we die.
[ Not an ideal choice, no matter what. But no matter how bitter the taste of relentless war sits on his tongue, better to fight to the last than lie down and throw away all the efforts thus far. ]
16, to start with. [ If only because— ] 15 of us shipped off, and the 'special weapon' I mentioned.
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[This is getting into some mad scientist bullshit, man.]
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[ Mad science bullshit is right. His favorite type of bullshit...just maybe not right now. ]
Basically, his body makes the fuel for the weapons we're protecting...Even for me, it sounded pretty far-fetched. Science is one thing, the magic mutations and everything is a whole 'nother ballgame, man. Not that all the experimental opportunities weren't exciting...
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[Yknow, Yugamu hasn't been painting a very pretty picture.]
WEEK TWO - SATURDAY POST TRIAL
You up here, Yugamu, or does he have to go searching?]
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So, he's here. The whimpers of pain that had filled his ears as he'd made his way up here had arguably settled worse than they usually would, but he's here. Staring out with a far more chilling stillness than he was the first time.
How's it going, old man. ]
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With a sigh, he lowers to his knees next to the young man. It's a heavy quiet. One that would feel suffocating wihout exposure.]
You could shatter men with a gaze like that, you know. [Quiet.]
Where is your mind wandering off to, Yugamu?
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It takes a moment before the quiet breaks, and were the ache in his fingertips less severe, he might have laughed. ]
I don't mind the sound of that...maybe I'd get to see what's on the inside.
[ But at least he can still manage to quip, even if his heart isn't in it. He's not really sure where it is, actually, besides being choked. ]
I'd tell you if I knew. It was...
[ strange uncomfortable vulnerable dangerous, whirlwind anger and fondness mixing and colliding and it makes his head hurt in a way that doesn't even excite him. Perhaps that's the worst part, that he can't translate it to something he knows far better. ]
New for me, you know? I'm just a basket of contradictions.
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...It's a messy thing as it is, the heart. A powerful force, like the strength of the ocean, with just as raging a temper and just as dangerous an undertow.
When is it ever easy, to know when you need a beacon or an anchor, when it feels like you might drown no matter what?
[Feelings were the most intense sort of power in his millenia of experience. A necessity, when it came to magic. But there was never an easy way to navigate them, both brittle and unbearable as they could be in turns.
...
His hands stay loosely knit together, slender fingers laced, as he tilts his head over just slightly. Studying Yugamu with eyes that tire in complex ways.]
...
What sort of person was she to you, Yugamu?
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Yugamu knows the heart is powerful. His is different than what people want it to be; his family wants it cold and and callous. His friends were prefer it tempered more, less viscous and oozing. But it is big as it is empty, covered in surgical steel and begging to be filled with something it's never known.
Would be that the ocean could do so, make it peaceful and quiet so the ache in his bones finally persists.
Yugamu doesn't comment on this, no. He ruminates, feeling those eyes scraping over him as they try to see through him a way he usually does to other people. He's not really one for talking alot, for baring himself for all to see in a way that isn't peelinng the skin from his chest, but how can he condense this? ]
I kind of thought she was a dud, at first. [ Yugamu is...honest, and she isn't here to hear, but it would be doing her a disservice to lie. ] Not that she wasn't cute, but I'm not really into that whole sweet girl next door thing. I was kind of surprised she lasted as long as she did; someone like that makes for an easy target. All insecurity, no spine.
[ He leans back in the slightest, letting silence reign for a second before he continues with a faint furrow of the brows. ]
It's not like she was bad, though. There's something charming in trying to be kind despite it all. [ His nails tap against the concrete. Once, twice. Tandem. ] I guess I'm just not used to people having my best interests at heart. I wasn't sure how to deal with it, when she told me. I'm usually the last guy you'd want to sympathize with, right?
[ Tap, tap. ]
...I hate to say it, but ever since we had that discussion, I've felt responsible. Like I needed to look out for her, since she can't do it herself. I needed to, or I was going to go stir-crazy. And now—
[ Dirt under her nails, terror in her veins. Each stab careless in it's calculation and full of no emotion but fear. He didn't want to pry his hands away, deep down, but the dead can only talk so much. Blood drips down from the nails that dig into the flesh of his hand. ]
She just deserved better. That's what I feel.
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[It's quiet, even as he watches the blood that drips down onto the concrete. Mm, no, they were going to need to redirect that here in a moment.]
Perhaps she saw you a likehearted soul. Misunderstood and stuck.
But I do not think she, of anyone, would want to see you put blame on yourself. She knew that weight enough.
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Likehearted. Ah, he doesn't hear that often. ]
For the love of murder...it'd be the first time someone who wasn't a fellow killer thought that. [ A sigh. ] Then again, that type of kindness could kill in it's own right.
[ There's something so...strange in being viewed as an unfortunate child, someone wronged, considering everything. For someone to see themselves in him in a way that isn't a blade in his guts. It doesn't suit him.
Such a strange, almost sour taste of normalcy, and yet that lingering flavor makes him want to chase it like a predator on the hunt. ]
...I wouldn't if I could help it. [ He doesn't like feeling like this, especially with that ever-familiar twinge of lust mixing with it, the smell of blood and death and urge to kill from before colliding into a volatile fever pitch as his fingers tap faster on the red-stained concrete. It's a terrible combination, and he knows it. ] All these emotions aren't good for an assassin, you know?
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Then why don't we get it out of your system?
[A low response.]
You're familiar with knives, I take it?
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It's only been a little more than two weeks, but it feels like forever since he's been in the battlefield. No sorties, no defensive battles, no training in the gym in the early mornings...nothing to sate himself in any way.
All that, plus the death, the tension, the feelings that are both his own and not plucking at all of his nerves, it's no wonder the gaze that settles on Solomon is probably the coldest it's been since he got here. ]
Solomon-sensei. [ Oh, he wants to, but he has to know. ] Do you think you can handle me?
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But I do have a predicament, and who better than you to show me by example?
[With a flourish, the black pen with diamond inlay - the very one Solomon asked Yugamu to watch out for - is pulled out to rest in his fingers. First naturally, flicked between his fingers, before fully flipping into his palm like the hilt of a weapon.
A blink, and the pen is something else - a dagger, sharp and roughly hewn in shades of iridescent diamond.
Another blink, and the pen is once again a pen, flicking against his fingers.]
I am in dire need of some practice.
WEEK THREE - TUESDAY
Ah. There's that messy bob of blue, like spotting a sliver of the ocean in the distant horizon.
He's in a new look today as he strolls quietly into the lab. The pen he had used in their impromptu sparring session only days ago now stays openly in his hand, flicking back and forth across his fingers.
Well. Some of them, anyway. One of his hands is bandaged, and there's a noticeable favor on one side if Yugamu pays close enough attention. At the nape of his neck, peeking against his collar, is a staining of black against his skin that definitely wasn't there before.
But his smile is easy, easy, even if his gaze falls strange as he strolls up closer.]
Cooped up somewhere new today, aren't we?
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This is where he usually hangs out, ever since the insides shifted into something more comfortably familiar. There's a pleasantness among the test tubes and fumes, the powders and acids, all the possible combinations that could heal and harm in equal measure...
It's easy to lose himself in it. Or lose himself as much as someone with honed instincts could.
Yugamu is already paying attention the moment the doors open, gaze sliding from his project to the swing of creaky hinges. The face is unexpected, which shows in the flicker in his eyes, but it smooths out as fast as it came. ]
You'd be surprised how much time I spend in here. Since the infirmary's lacking, isn't this the next best thing for someone of my talents?
[ His tone is easygoing, but his gaze is darting to and fro, cataloguing things that weren't there. Bandage, hand. A shift to favor the side. And if those blues linger on an unfamiliar stain of black, that's nobody's fault but Solomon's. ]
But enough about me. You look like you've been up to no good, Sensei...are you going to give me all the dirty details?
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[He does see that wandering gaze, though, and his head shifts slightly, brows raising.]
What, me? Oh, I'd never get into trouble. [It's such a hammy delivery that he might as well be stapling a big red sign saying "UH OH" to his forehead.]
I would like to know if you've been able to do your task yet, though. [The pen flicks. Agitated, almost.] Or if you've helped someone else. Anyone else.
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[ He prefers Doctor Omokage, thank you. Or poisoner. Or something a little more grounded in reality.
But the cringe can wait...or this type of cringe can, in any case, because Solomon's attempt at deflection is arguably the worst kind. His blank features plaster on as the older man goes on, every little twitch catalogued away until silence reigns in the chapel itself.
When Yugamu speaks again, it's punctuated by an overtly exasperated sigh. ]
For the love of murder...I figured you'd try a little harder if you were going to lie to someone who can see through you, you know. I am a professional.
[ ...Sort of. ]
And maybe I have. Is there any particular reason that thought is making you look like a guy on death row? Because I have to say, I've had enough of being kept in the dark to last the next several lifetimes.
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Though I have a feeling that's not quite what you mean.
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And you didn't come to me first thing? I'm beginning to think you have no faith my abilities whatsoever.
[ But Solomon is right, because Yugamu is still staring, features blank except for that sharpened glint in blue. ]
Do you need me to spell it out for you? If you want, I could start pulling it out the hard way...I'm sure that could leave a lasting impression of what I can do.
[ There's something behind that agitation he doesn't like, and with the week passing by already, he's not willing to take any risks. ]
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[He inhales, more bracing than usual, as he casually pivots and starts to pace. The pen still twirling, the mark on his neck prominent whenever he turns.]
I would... would really, really like you to answer my question first, Yugamu. A simple yes or no. Please. There's only...
[Another inhale. The pen grips tight into his palm, then forced out.]
There's only so much I can do, to make this agitation go away right now. You of all people should understand. Correct?
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Then I'll look at it later.
[ Simple, factual. Call him overconfident, but he'd rather check for himself.
There's something...disconcerting, in watching Solomon pace about, muscles coiled with tension he doesn't normally have. He's beginning to have a fleeting idea of why, pieces slotting together from the waver in his voice and every twitch of his anxious fingers.
Whatever Yugamu was working on is set aside, momentarily abandoned and forgotten. ]
...Yes, I have.
[ The blood's gotten under his nails, sated the urge and broiling storm in his head. It's why he's here now, calmer than before.
He won't say what he wants to ask, because he wants to see if he'll hear it first from the man himself's mouth. ]
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[The tension doesn't ease. It just redirects like a snap, back towards the chapel doors, as his pacing immediately stops.]
Good, good... I figured you would. Of course you would. But I have to make sure.
[Another shaking exhale. A shudder in his stance, as though he's having to fight himself from moving towards the doors instead.]
I don't want to lose anymore of you like this. But things are happening, Yugamu. Things that can't be avoided any more. We're so close to the end.
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Not just because it offered something familiar, a mutual outlet, but because he of all people knows how bad impulses can get if unchecked. If it can offer a way for them to both drain the feelings away, then why not indulge himself for the first time in a while?
But the fact this doesn't do anything to ease the look in Solomon's eyes has Yugamu's lips pursing in a thin line. ]
And what kind of 'things' are we talking about? [ He hasn't had the opportunity to speak to Sika Madu much, but the others seem like they know far more than him. He's not sure how much he likes that. ] Whatever it is, I can't do much if you don't plan on telling me.
[ And would he? While Yugamu has come to know the other man far more than expected, his inner machinations are still wired in ways even a practiced hand struggles to pick apart. ]
Unless you went and decided you don't need my help anymore?
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Only one more needs to die, Yugamu. Only one.
I don't know if failure for the tasks will count. I'd like to get them out of the way. To make sure we don't get careless at the end. But they're...
[A beat. The pen flips into his palm as his hand digs against his shirt over his heart.
Exhale.]
They're doing something to their contracts. My task's feelings just... cling to me. Like I can't quite let go of it. [And he doesn't have a rose anywhere on him marking the start of a task.]
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He would say he wishes nobody else has to die for them to leave, but he's not that naive. He hasn't spent the past three months cutting people down for the sake of survival to say something he knows is likely unavoidable, and someone like him shouldn't be preaching to the choir, anyway.
Yugamu's gaze gets icier. ]
Ignoring the fact people have actually made them, you sound like you know who and what. [ He doesn't like the sound of it, nor that it sounds like there's more than one. Don, he'd heard of, but... ] And on that note, which task was it? If it's still affecting you, then maybe it hasn't been sated enough.
[ His gaze flickers, still locked on that black mark which almost seems to writhe when he blinks. ]
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I know. I know. Sika.
...
Bloodshed. [His fist tightens, still with the pen in his fist. It lowers, slowly.] Cantarella already took me to the hot springs to try and calm me down.
[A beat, a shaking exhale.
The pen flickers immediately into the diamond dagger at his side, gripped so tight his knuckles go white.
The marking at his neck starts to deepen. To spread. Wrapping, wrapping--
But with a sharp exhale, Solomon throws the dagger down with one tense motion. The second it leaves his hands, it snaps right back to a pen, clattering off to the side. The sorcerer heaves deep breathes in as he digs his hands into his hair. The ends of his fingers are starting to color oddly. Darkening. Spreading.]
I... Yugamu, I need you to hurt me. Please.
[Hurt him, or he's going to hurt someone else.]
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Yugamu watches. Yugamu listens. Yugamu lets his gaze rake down over those white-knuckles, fist lowering every so slowly.
Then there's the dagger, inky black crawling and swirling up and over pale skin, and every muscle in his body coils tight in reflex to match the way a pale hand darts into his sleeve so fast it's a mere blur—
The noise it makes when it clatters to the floor, shifting from blade to pen, seems to echo painfully loudly in the stone-wrought hall. When Yugamu's daze darts back, it's to Solomon hunched like a man in agony, black staining his fingers like blood stains Yugamu's own.
Aaaah, how he wishes that request could excite him as much as it usually would. ]
...Is that really what you want?
[ No real hesitation, no doubt, no refusal. But his steps are swift, and he peers up with a clinical stillness, fingers still in his sleeves. Coiled around a hilt.
Just one reaffirmation is all he needs. ]
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[Choked out, immediate.
There's no sign of a rose anywhere on his body. Only inky black.]
J-just... just bring me back to my senses, please, anything--
cw gore i guess AGAIN i live in hell
[ Yugamu is smaller, but there's an unprecedented strength in those modified bones; a taloned hand curls in the front of that shirt, and one firm push takes them down with the resounding chorus of rattling lab equipment.
It's a shame, is the vague thought behind the cold surgical steel of his gaze. This is a nice outfit.
The glinting steel that slips out of his sleeve is unfamiliar, ceremonial, something plucked from the costumerie for the purpose of this task alone. It brings a comfort the infuser can not, a familiarity that feels both light and heavy. Especially when he angles it, because— there's a gap between the stomach and the liver, thin and slender.
The hand on Solomon's chest is merely to keep him still, sinking the blade in like a knife through butter. ]
cw: gore
His hands grip on reflex to Yugamu's shoulders, darkening fingers digging in tight with an agonized keen through clenched teeth at the hot feel of steel slicing right into his midsection. He shudders, choking on his breath as his eyes stay clenched shut, fingers flexing tight against the teenager's upper arms.
Not bracing through the pain, but as though he's trying to let it overwhelm him. To keep him still in the only way he can, right this second.
A beat, two, and Yugamu will feel him start to struggle under the pin, sharp breaths of pain vocalizing at the effort. But he does not try to free himself.]
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Solomon is the same as Fandaniel was, skin thin enough to break. The hands on his shoulders are new, but the pained noises are not. They do not deter him in the slightest, even as he slips the knife free, red catching the light of cathedral windows and soaking into fabric. Despite himself, the sight earns a shudder.
For all little he weighs, when Yugamu presses his weight down, it almost feels like iron. Keep him still, stop squirming. Same with his grip, as it shifts to latch onto Solomon's forearm, knife flipping in his grip to better slip it straight through the meat of his upper arm. No bone nicks, no arteries, but painful.
It has to hurt. It can't be permanent, but it has to linger. Things he can fix with needle and thread and a steady hand painted in red. ]
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Despite the pain that rocks him, the longer he drifts in it, the more clarity seems to drift into his pained features. Something, something, to break up that strange pull inside him like the icy grip of hell.
His eyes stay firmly shut, wheezing under the pain and trying not to grow sick from it. But his injured hand still grips tight against Yugamu's shoulder, even as his other drips hot, fresh blood into so many fabrics.
One more. One more time.]
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Just work, in some way, focused and quiet. A form of love to help, in another. What a war he wages, the pink tinting his ears at odds with the act itself.
The grip against his shoulder is not a move to stop, so downwards the blade treks, settling on the tightened muscle of a lower thigh. Yugamu's gaze is locked onto Solomon's face for another moment, only pausing to actually speak in a cooled tone that matches the look in his eyes. ]
Solomon-sensei. Breathe.
[ That's all he gets before metal slides in to the hilt, past the skin, through the muscle. Wake up. ]
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Metal cuts through flesh, and the pain rips through him like a white-hot whip. His entire spine jerks underneath Yugamu, what vocalization that wheezes out caught between gritted teeth as his face starts to grow pale. The adrenaline rushes, and his chest aches, and--
The grip against Yugamu's shoulders digs, and then weakens, loose fists sliding down his arms detatched.
Breathing. Just breathe.
The act hurts visibly, now that he's purposeful with it. But he tries to force it back under control, the pain vibrant on his features through his attempts at concentration. Waves pass and his face screws tight.
When he finally opens his mouth, it feels like cotton. Dry and sticky and trapped in his throat.]
Enough...
T...that's enough...
[He hopes. He prays. Just give him a moment to let the adrenaline calm...]