[ OPEN ] recuperation & reconciliation

[stresstokens]

WHO: riz gukgak & YOU!!
WHEN: post-fear event onwards!
WHERE: throughout etraya (shops & diners, hospital, training grounds)
WHAT: in the wake of the fear event, riz gets to work on getting stronger, smarter, and trying to be a better friend (outcome: undecided). I'm down for anything! if you'd like something different, feel free to take up the wildcard or ping me on discord/plurk!
NOTES\WARNINGS: discussions of violence & paranoia



a. around town.

[ Riz is not doing well.

Riz is, it must be said, rarely doing well. He's the sort of kid who never learned to relax; no matter what, he always seems to be worried about something, the indefatigable machine that simply sprints from place to place, problem to problem, existing on a diet of convenience foods and coffee when left to his own devices, rarely sleeping. To some, he seems no worse than normal; the deep purple shadows underneath his eyes and the propensity to get startled easily and the tell-tale tremble of his hands from too much caffeine just being a part of what makes Riz, Riz. The only other oddity is the fact that he seems to shy away from his own reflection; whether it's a mirror, a pane of glass, or even a metal napkin receptacle, it gets covered up, avoided, or otherwise pushed out of sight.

But he's doing what he does best, which is pretending none of it exists in the first place. Perhaps you catch him late at night at the coffee shop, whiling away the wee hours of the morning with a cup of coffee approximately as large as his head, scribbling wildly in a thick notebook, his square spectacles sliding steadily down his nose. He startles when someone else comes in, jolting in his seat and knocking his cup askew -- possibly spilling it all over your shoes. ] Shit -- sorry, sorry! I wasn't expecting anyone here!

[ Or maybe you run into him during the daytime, at the grocery store shoving an absolutely obscene amount of beef into a shopping cart far bigger than he is, at the clothing store hunting down clothes for himself in the petit section (or childrens section but, well, beggars can't be choosers), or scarfing down food at an alarming rate in the diner. He's a man about town -- and a man who doesn't particularly want to be home too much right now.

Or perhaps you run into him somewhere else entirely, wandering around Bangsan Market, fingers drumming on his elaborately tattooed forearms. ] Okay. Let's say, hypothetically speaking, you just had the worst month ever. What kinda gift would cheer you up...?

[ Or are all gifts meaningless when you don't have to spend any money on them? Hm. Troubling. Very troubling. ]

b. first-aid refreshers.

[ In the wake of everything that's happened and with no handy Cleric nearby, Riz has made the decision to freshen up on his first-aid skills. You can spot him at the hospital loading an obscene amount of materials into his briefcase, which appears to be able to hold endless amounts of supplies; gauze, bandages, needles and thread, antiseptic and antibiotics, and ice packs and heat packs all make their way in.

Otherwise? He's in a public place like the diner, with an enormous tome on first-aid in front of him that he's frowning at in-between applying his expertise to a suturing practice kit he has laid in front of him, his nimble fingers hooking the needle steadfastly through silicone skin. If he notices he has an audience, he might glance up with a sheepish sort of smile, the knitting of his brows off-setting the row of razor-sharp teeth. ] I figure I should get some practice in while I still can. [ He glances down at the wound kits in front of him with a frown. ] I still haven't got the wound packing quite right, I don't think.

c. training.

[ First-aid training is one thing. Riz is dexterous and nimble and has a great attention to detail, all things that have led to him being a dab hand at figuring out how to deal with battlefield injuries. The physical part of the equation is something else, and something he's decided to dedicate himself to, his own exhaustion be damned.

His gunwork is fine. Great, even. He hits his marks with the consistency and precision they require. It's everything else that he's lacking in. Which is how you might spot him doing laps around a field, in a rare showing of having changed out of his usual stuffy suit-and-tie number, and... honestly, not doing that great. When he finally stops, hands braced on his knees and taking a swig out of a bottle of water, he looks like he might keel over.

Otherwise, you might find him on the training grounds, staring dubiously at the weights (he picks one up with both hands, slams it back down again, dubiously walking down the rack as the weights get smaller, and smaller, and smaller...) and looking over at the rest of the gym as though it contains any answers for him. Strength isn't his strong suit, he knows, but maybe he could be stronger? Or, perhaps, you see him with his rapier out, doing the same drills he'd been taught all those months ago at Aguefort Academy. If you pop in and look interested, he may well flag you down and ask, ] Hey, you here to train too?

d. friendship tour.

[ The last task on his to-do list is the hardest one of them all: trying to get better at being a friend, and not just some mechanism made for solving mysteries. It's clear that his brain has been failing him these days, which leaves one more option: trying to become a better friend.

If you're one of Riz's friends or acquaintances, whether he runs into you by chance or he texts you directly, Riz is going to be approaching you to check up on you. It's time to talk. About feelings. Not his own, obviously, but he's checking in on you -- with maybe some food to help ease the blow, or an offer to just get wonderfully, fabulously drunk. They deserve it. ]

e. wildcard!

[ hit me up for anything! you can find me on the discord or on plurk @ wisdombitch xoxoxo ]

Comments

for gorgug!

[stresstokens]

[ While Riz would never admit this sorry fact out loud, things had actually been easier in the days immediately following the curse being lifted. He just didn't have the time or capacity to spend more than a little while thinking about everything that had happened; they had been in crisis mode, plain and simple. Nothing had been more important than getting Gorgug and Fabian home, dressing their wounds, and keeping an eye on them. And once Fabian had recovered, they'd stayed on top of their primary task: take care of Gorgug. Ask him how he's doing (too many times, way, way too many times), make sure he's eating and drinking, keep an eye on him for any side-effects or lingering remnants of the curse, make sure that even if he doesn't want to talk, you're at least somewhere closeby. It had been a team effort between the two of them, tagging each other in and out to ensure that their friend could be taken care of. Riz imagines that Fabian is doing a better job than he can, boisterous and charismatic and brimming with the sort of optimistic energy you need by your side during times like these, but he does his best. (Gorgug likes Fabian more anyway, a nagging memory reminds him. Riz doesn't bother to doubt that. If he were Gorgug, he'd like Fabian more too.)

It's not enough, of course. Riz isn't sure anything could ever be enough. What Gorgug really needed was a stay in a proper hospital for treatment, with a proper Cleric on-call, some time recuperating underneath the careful, loving eye of his parents, and maybe some time talking to a professional about it. Like Jawbone, maybe.

But they don't have that. Here, these days (without Adaine around; Riz allows himself some sadness about that, spending time in her empty apartment to take a breather or two, but is largely just happy she was spared from this mess), it's just the three of them. So they do what they can. Riz maps out the right things to do and say like he's solving a mystery, like there exists some magical combination of words and deeds that can make things right. He's felt like that for much of his life. It is not a great surprise to learn that it doesn't work now either.

Once Gorgug's up and running again, it gets harder. Harder to know what to do, what to say, how to express his worries in a way that isn't just smothering the guy, chasing away shadowed memories of days he'd rather leave behind. He refuses to admit that to himself, though, bound and determined to make up for everything that they lack. He's going to be a good goddamn friend if it kills him. Which it won't! Because friendship is great! And if he just does it good enough, they'll go back to normal, without Riz having to spill his guts about how horribly sorry he is for letting this happen on his watch, because every time he thinks about talking about it, he finds himself on the other side of town.

Today's task is: make sure that Gorgug doesn't spend all day in his lab instead of eating, in what feels like a strange twist on their usual routine. With Gorgug's usual order from the diner swinging from a hefty bag in one hand and his briefcase in his other, he knocks on the doorframe before letting himself in. ]

Hey! [ There's a crinkle of plastic as he wags it in Gorgug's direction. ] Lunch?

[tinflower]

[ The best part about his lab-slash-workshop-slash-fucking-around-space is that there's no one else in it.

It's empty, it's full; there's things that Gorgug can do, and there's technically a boy stuck in a mirror oblivious to what's been going on in the outside world, ignorant to what's happened. But for the hours that Gorgug wastes pretending to make metal fish, on reading words on artificing that he immediately forgets, and draining the power on his crystal to do nothing but play music on his headphones, there's no--and this is shameful to admit, so he won't ever admit it--Fabian and Riz.

There's no one. But the thing is, that means Fabian and Riz get a break. Except for when they feel compelled to come and check on him, which is actually pretty often. Compared to how it used to be, and it's the reason he leaves the door open to his lab, so that (he doesn't get spooked by the knocking) they can come in whenever they like. They want to do that, it makes them feel better; it's what they deserve, after everything. So he's trying to do his best to be a good friend, talking to them when they need him to speak, and to help everything get back to normal and to what it was before everything happened.

Because then they'll get the real break. They'll worry less, they'll visit less, and they'll smile more while doing things that don't feel like they're for him, where everything is for him. And he'll finally do things for them as soon as he can think of anything, do anything; and actually, he thinks there was something that he wanted to talk to Riz about, but he doesn't remember what--

Gorgug startles, but then freezes pretty quick. He knows that knock, and he knows to focus, to he looks from where he is (from this angle, he must be where all the pillows and beanie bags and sitting arrangement is, next to Bryn's mirror--did he come over to read a book?), sees the green figure peeking through and-- lunch? Oh, it must be lunchtime. Gorgug pulls a smile on his face that feels appreciative, because that's what he's going for. That's what's normal. ]

Cool. I'm hungry.

[ That's normal too. He looks down to close his book, and finds his crystal there instead clenched in a hand. It's opened on a playlist that hasn't been picked, and he notices his other hand, sitting close against his stomach, palm facing up and, ah. There's a sting, a throb. That's right: didn't he burn it?

That's right. He think it burned it today doing metalwork, ran water under it and then--something else. But Gorgug can't think about that. If Riz is here, that means he has to get up, set aside his phone so he can go to the mirror; mumble it a quiet "Sorry, Riz is visiting" to a boy that may or may not be listening in, or off doing his own thing in mirror land.

Riz, you're welcome to wander on in. There's plenty of surfaces to eat on (even a proper kitchen space, if you're so inclined), but why would you pick any of those and not the space with all the pillows and beanie bags, in the corner that Gorgug's already in? Don't worry. Gorgug's already in the process of turning the mirror for you. ]

[stresstokens]

[ Gorgug is smiling, which is an improvement on the state of affairs as they've been thus far. It's probably not a totally real smile (who could really feel that happy after going through all of that; it's Riz's personal opinion that Gorgug faced the worst of it the past couple of months, and he doesn't think there's a person alive who could possibly argue with that), but it might not be a totally fake one either, so he'll take it. Everyone's fine. Nobody died, as far as Riz is concerned. But this all feels a little like the time after his Dad died anyway, months later, when the Gukgaks realized that grief was not sustainable and they went out of their way to at least pretend at being happy again.

Eventually, it worked. Eventually, they were happy again for real, their laughter genuine, smiles unfurling upon their faces unasked for, lightness returning to their lives. Eventually this will work too. You go through shit, you get over it, you move on, and good things are waiting for you on the other side.

Riz smiles back. ]

I thought you might be.

[ He knows Gorgug hasn't been going out much, which means he's not grabbing take-out much, which means he's not eating. And yeah, he notices the way that Gorgug turns the mirror around (it makes his ears go ruddy with embarrassment; he hasn't talked to Gorgug about seeing Baron, hasn't told anyone about his aversion to mirrors, but it was probably impossible for Gorgug not to notice while they're living together and Riz is continuously brushing his teeth sitting on the floor instead of looking in the mirror like some sort of crazy person), but he decides not to comment on it. It's fine. It's fine! It's just -- a nice thing he's doing, because Gorgug's nice, no matter how much some primal, animal part of his brain wants to disagree with that notion.

He gets to work disassembling the enormous bag of takeout. It's Gorgug's favourite - though Riz doesn't sacrifice much in getting Gorgug's favourites; Riz's favourites are much the same, being that Riz's favourite food is just food in general - all laid out on the table between the squashy bean bags. He surveys his handiwork, then nods, satisfied. It feels a little less meaningful as an act of service when he doesn't even have to pay for it, but whatever. He wouldn't be able to afford paying for Gorgug's meal back home anyway. ]

I probably got too much, but we can always heat the rest up for dinner tonight, and... [ His eyes dart over. Very little gets past him. ] Hey, did you burn yourself?

for fabian!

[stresstokens]

[ Riz has spent well over a week thinking about it.

Apologies, that is. To whom they're owed, and for whose benefit he's giving them for. It's how he gets sometimes. He gets so wrapped up in figuring out what the right thing to do is, he does nothing but ruminate on the why. Fabian deserves an apology, he's settled on that much. Things here have been a fucking mess, something Riz has been trying to deflect for months and months in favour of his trademark enthusiasm when faced with an impossible mission, and the ways in which he's failed his friends, been failing his friends is a weight he can't seem to shake. When he closes his eyes and thinks about it, his brain snatches more and more examples out of thin-air, of everything his friend has needlessly endured, and the long swaths of missing time when Riz doesn't even know what Fabian was going through.

They haven't talked about it. How could they? There were wounds that needed dressing, a friend in dire need of their help, a routine to get back to normal, an empty apartment to clean out, and Riz had silently watched as Fabian set directly to work being the best friend he could be with new eyes after his little altercation with Gorgug.

So it was clear. Fabian deserved an apology. It had taken Riz a long time to gather up the courage to face down the idea of doing it, and even longer for him to interrogate himself: who would he be apologizing to Fabian for? Because Fabian should hear it? Or because Riz was seeking to somehow assuage his own guilt, making it an ultimately selfish act? Then that was a whole fucking thing, wearing a hole in the floor of his room, making a list of pros and cons (cons: Fabian might feel guilty about it? pros: Fabian has maybe never received an apology from anyone in his life, and that's a bad precedent to set). Eventually, he settles on trying to craft a proper apology, one that won't just make the guy feel guilty, one he can deliver without doing something embarrassing like crying.

It takes another week to, to be completely frank, stop pussying out. Riz is on his way to the kitchen to fetch himself another late night cup of coffee when he notices Fabian's light is still on, and he hesitates at his door, boring a hole into it with the pressure of his gaze. Now's a good time. Fabian can say he needs to sleep as an easy escape, Gorgug's light is already off so they won't be interrupted, and they have an entire night to sleep off any lingering awkwardness. It's perfect. Riz knocks on the door and cracks it open a smidgen. ]

Hey, still up? [ He jerks his head towards the kitchen. ] Just grabbing some coffee. You want me to grab you a hot cocoa while you're at it?

[ Baby steps. He can't just launch right into it. He'll probably die if he does that. ]

[maximumlegend]

[ It's been a busy while. And even though the main cause of said business has at least finally subsided - the horror attraction this entire place had turned into for over a month - Fabian still finds himself pretty busy. There's just too many people to check in on after that entire mess, too many people to make sure are okay. There's been a lot of work in making sure Gorgug especially is okay, given everything he had been through while under the thrall of that-- that thing.

And Riz has seemed.. well, Fabian isn't sure, really. They haven't talked about it. Instead he just made sure to try and help keep Riz occupied, since he at least does know his best friend thrives as long as he's got a job to do. He isn't sure how Riz feels about being around Gorgug, but there were still things Fabian could ask help with without making his two friends confront each other, and they had to take care of Adaine's place.. There was just a lot to do.

It's why Fabian was about to head to bed. He's been feeling so exhausted down to his bones lately, and the only way to keep going in that condition is to at least make sure he sleeps - especially since he's not like his mother, who could just trance, or like Riz, who seems to survive off nothing but coffee and wild theories most of the time. He's already changed into something more comfortable to sleep in, but he hasn't hopped into his bed yet - instead still standing there, turning his head to look and blearily blink at Riz in the doorway. ]

Huh? [ .. give him a second to process this. It's really not all that long, not long to seem excessively weird because he's already saying: ] Sure.

[ Fabian does realize that moving to sit down on his bed will likely just make him fall asleep though, so he instead moves closer towards the goblin. ]

I'll come with you.

[ Stretching his legs is probably a better idea, especially when he's not fully sure why Riz is offering this. Not like the other being nice is completely foreign or anything - but this isn't the sort of thing Riz usually offers around bedtime, and Fabian can't help but wonder if there's something a little bit more to his best friend's request. ]

Were you planning on staying up again?

[stresstokens]

I guess? It's not really about what I plan. Whatever happens, happens, [ Riz says breezily, as though consuming coffee all through the still hours of night is in any way conducive to sleep. He doesn't like sleeping at the best of times; something about it makes him twitchy and anxious, like something horrible will happen while he slumbers, like sleeping is somehow neglectful of some greater duty. He's especially not liking it now, not with his recent encounters with Baron and everything else that had happened, making him more prone to anxious nightmares than usual, which is saying something.

He should probably launch right into things. He doesn't want to waste Fabian's time with beating around the bush. But glancing over at Fabian's face, he can see the dark shadow underneath his eye, the bleariness of his expression; he had been about to go to sleep, hadn't he? Would it be kinder to wait until tomorrow? Or is that just cowardice speaking? ]

If you were gonna go to sleep anyway, you can go for it. [ He cracks a smile at Fabian. All things said and done, he looks astonishingly normal. He's always been good at that -- at appearing normal, even when things are anything but. Perhaps that's not entirely accurate: he's good at appearing as his normal. ]

coffee shop

[saudades]

[Riz cannot be blamed for his surprise, perhaps; Dazai is not only new, but a cryptid in his own right. He doesn't so much sleep as pass out occasionally, mind always running at too fast a pace to slow down enough for proper rest. Coffee isn't especially his poison of choice, but caffeine is better than nothing, and he hasn't found an actual bar yet in his explorations.

So he comes in, door jingling loudly even though it's 3 am and he really has no business making so much noise in public, and suddenly, there is coffee all over his shoes. He looks up to the person launching into apologies, a mental image of someone vaguely like Atsushi already forming at the back of his mind when he registers the goblin. Blinks, turns his gaze back down to his shoes, which he busies himself with removing instead of staring. He's a professional, thank-you-very-much. Getting caught staring would be sloppy and gauche.]

Ah, dear. Well ... no matter. Everything here is free anyway.

[He'd rather be the one stared at, anyway. Case in point, he is now balling up his wet socks and ... throwing them into the trash like they are basketballs. Makes both shots on the first try, too. He's not putting his shoes back on, though. That's something for future Dazai to deal with. Barefoot hours are now. He flops down on the seat across from Riz.]

Hey, hey, are you a regular, here? Do you recommend anything particular?

[stresstokens]

That still doesn't mean you want coffee on your shoes!

[ It's hard to take in just how small Riz is as he jumps up from his seated position to on his hands and knees in front of Dazai, remorsefully mopping up the spill with fistfuls of napkins. He'd always been taught to clean up after himself (it's only polite!), and he's honestly just mortified at his gaffe, large, bat-like ears pinned tightly to the sides of his head, carefully kneeling around the spill so that his formal trousers don't get equally as soiled.

Man, he's gotta get less jumpy. He has a gun. It's not a good combination, to be as paranoid as he is, as easily startled as he is, and to have access to a firearm at all times.

He glances up at Dazai's question. ] I guess I'm a regular here? It's the only coffeeshop around, so... [ He clears his throat, finally getting back up and tossing out wads of sodden napkins. ] I just get black coffee. But it's magic -- literally just think about what you wanna drink, and it'll show up on the counter.

[ Maybe this stranger's more of a caramel macchiato kinda guy. Who knows? ]

cw suicide "joke"/reference to attempts

[saudades]

[Now, Dazai could be a normal person and clarify that he'd meant not to worry about ruining his shoes, because he could replace them easily, but far be it from him to take the more straightforward path with anything. Instead, he flaps a bandaged arm, and declares cheerfully:]

It's fine, it's fine, I'm used to it! [what] There was a lovely river on my way home from work, so my clothes would always get pretty soggy by the time I got fished out~

[WHAT]

[He doesn't linger on the topic long enough for any followup questions, though; instead he lets out a thoughtful sound at the notion of a magical, mindreading coffee shop. It's not out of the realm of possibility, back in Yokohama. But there's just one problem:]

Alas, it wouldn't work for me. Magic and I don't mix! It's a bit like oil and water, if the presence of water could simply dissipate the oil like it had never been there at all.

[He did, originally, intend to keep that more on the down-low, but he accidentally broke an angel the other day, so he assumes that ship has more or less sailed. Castiel has no reason to keep secrets for him, so he might as well take control of the flow of information right out the gate.]

market!

[ornithologist]

[ Harold is starting to get a little alarmed about the mental state of the young people around here. They're old enough that he won't discount their maturity and capabilities, but to him they still seem very young, in that uncertain stage where you think you can do everything and haven't yet learned how to find your limits. At the risk of coming off paternalistic (in more ways than one) he finds himself trying to tentatively feel out if there's any way he could help.

Today, Riz isn't looking great. Harold just now notices the tattoos covering his green skin -- he had been otherwise preoccupied on their first meeting -- but this doesn't seem the time to mention it. Harold himself is in a much more staid suit from the first time they met, and carrying his own bag of supplies. ]

I'd think that depends on who it's for, [ he answers, composed. ] Are you well, Mr. Gukgak?

[stresstokens]

Huh, me? Yeah, totally, all good here, [ Riz says with a quick and easy dismissal, a wave of his hand, a certain air to him as though he's baffled as to why anyone would even ask that question. He's not fine, of course, and even he knows that -- but he's getting there, isn't he? And even if he's not, he's good at hiding it. He always has been. Not in any way that speaks of his incredible acting skills, or the cruelty of adults around him, or the suffering of his life, none of which particularly apply to him, of course. His life isn't all that dramatic. But he's good at hiding it in the way that kids are sometimes, when their parents are pulling night shifts and falling asleep on their paperwork, and the kid knows damn well that their parent simply doesn't have it in them to deal with another bout of existential teenaged angst.

What he'd gone through isn't that, exactly, but it's close enough to count. He moves on swiftly. ]

A friend of mine's been having, um, a hard time lately? [ He puts one hand on his chin and tilts his head, frowning at the window as though it may in some way contain the answers he seeks. ] So I thought maybe getting something would help him feel better... something he wouldn't think to pick up for himself, even though everything's free here.

[ He shakes his head. ]

I'll figure it out. Whatcha shopping for, Mr. Finch?

[ornithologist]

Presently I'm being continuously disappointed in the sartorial options available.

[ It's such a trivial issue but one that makes him feel even more unmoored. He can't even dress like himself! Harold's sense of identity is fluid on a good day, and having control over his appearance is a key way in which he manages it. He also assumes Riz, with his nicely fitted and undoubtedly custom waistcoat, will appreciate the complaint.

However, he isn't going to let go of the original topic of conversation so quickly. ]

But don't let me distract us. If cost is no object, thoughtfulness is what matters. [ Don't mind him, Harold has strong, well-formed opinions on gift-giving as well as one-vs-many moral dilemmas. He clearly takes Riz's current pursuit with the utmost seriousness. ]

Might I suggest something that would give you an excuse to lend him your company? A game, perhaps, or a deck of cards.

training

[revengeisalie]

[ In the aftermath of her horrible experience with Im'mari, Rin spends a solid three days doing not much more than sleeping and eating. After that, she throws herself into house repairs, because something within her just tells her she has to. She has to keep the house.

The other thing she throws herself into is training. It's been yet another reminder of just how weak she is and refueled her determination to become stronger. So she makes her way to the training grounds, her sword bag slung across her shoulder as always, hair put up in a bun covered by a piece of cloth for ease of movement.

She's a bit surprised to be greeted by Riz immediately, but not unhappy at all, so she smiles at him. ]

Ah, yes... ! I, uhm, could really stand to pick it back up, after...

[ And she just trails off and awkwardly rubs her neck, because do they talk about it? Do they just smile and not in the understanding that it happened but they want to move on? What is the protocol of "hey so we were attacked by an immensely powerful supernatural being that played with our minds and memories?"

Oh, right. There's one thing she can say. She bows a little. ]

Thank you for helping me back there.

[stresstokens]

Oh -- don't worry about it, [ Riz says, hastily waving Rin off. Honestly, he knows he could have dealt with it better -- dealing with that sort of thing isn't his expertise at the best of times, and back then? He'd been so pumped with fear and paranoia, with impatient adrenaline and a driving urge just to get them to physical safety that he hadn't checked up on Rin afterwards nearly as much as he should have.

You can't be all things to everyone. Riz knows that, just as much as he knows that he wouldn't have been much help to Rin at the tail end of everything that had happened. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't still feel a little bad about it; Rin was the first person to greet him here, his first friend. She deserves better than that. ]

Honestly, I wanted to check up on you again after all, um... that. It was pretty intense. [ He looks up at her, prominent brows furrowed. ] You doing okay?

[revengeisalie]

[ Honestly, hearing him say those words warms her heart a little. These days, comfort seems a little hard to come by, so to hear someone express worry for her -- it's nice. She smiles at him. ]

Yeah, I'm doing okay.

[ She's got to. Even if there's still a part within her that is shaken from all that had transpired -- but she's got to go on. If she wants to save her friends at home, her world? Or else, find out what's really going on here? There's no way but forward.

A determined frown crosses her face. ]

I just... need to get stronger.

[ But then her smile's back again as she focuses her gaze back on Riz. ]

What about you? Did you make it out okay?

d. friendship tour | cw: self-harm (metaphorical)

[equivo]

[ Krouse hasn't been avoiding Riz specifically.

He's been avoiding everyone generally, whatever they know or don't know about him now. Dealing with people is like rubbing his hand over unfinished concrete. The rasp barely stings at first, but if he keeps doing it, keeps pressing, the skin starts to peel back.

But Krouse is a creature of habit. A particular habit that tends to have him in particular places at regular intervals. When he's in the apartment building, Krouse slips out the back to smoke, shoulders curled slightly against the growing chill of the air as he refuses to change into anything heavier than his red hoodie. He's a Wisconsin kid. Etraya is lucky he's never been a shorts guy.

He's not completely surprised to find Riz waiting for him in the smoking spot Krouse claimed near the back door. He is surprised to see what Riz has clutched in one small, clawed hand. ]

Fuck -

[ Krouse's laugh is startled out of him like he took an elbow to the side, a burst of rasping noise as he runs his hand through his hair.

I told myself you didn't deserve it, Luke said, when Luke still had to tell himself Krouse didn't deserve things. ]

Are those - ?

[ The question hangs unfinished. Cigarettes, or for me, or the question underlying both of those endings: why? ]

[stresstokens]

[ Riz knows Krouse's schedule.

Not all of it, obviously. He's not that creepy, or so he likes to think. But he knows enough about Krouse's schedule around the communal apartment, monitoring the doors and who's coming in and out to know around when Krouse will reliably go to satisfy his nicotine addiction, what brand of cigarettes he smokes (the smell is distinctive, at least to a Goblin's nose), and about how long he'll spend doing it. He hadn't really picked up on it on purpose; it's just what Riz does. He keeps track, he keeps notes, he picks people apart until he can understand them on an atomic level even if he'll never understand them on an emotional one.

In this case, his knowledge is coming in handy. See, he wants to check up on Krouse. Their last meeting had been... less than ideal to say the least, Krouse's protective shell peeled away to reveal what had been underneath it the whole time, and Riz was worried about him. Incredibly rightfully so; only someone completely heartless or completely foolish wouldn't be worried about him. But he knew equally as well that he's the last person in the world Krouse wanted to see right now, that his texts would go unanswered, his calls straight to voicemail.

So he does what he always does in social situations in which the other person doesn't really want to see him: he doesn't give them a choice in the matter. They get to deal with him if they like it or not. In his case, the answer is usually not (at least outside of his party), but he can work with that. Where Krouse only looks a little surprised to see him, Riz looks complete unsurprised, only a brief flick of his ear revealing that he'd heard Krouse coming. ]

This is your brand, right? [ He hits the bottom of the package against the heel of his palm so that a single cigarette pops out (he thinks it looks cool; he'd practiced), and holds it out towards Krouse. ] I hear it helps with stress relief. [ His mouth curls at the side, wry and a little fond. He doesn't grace the implicit question with an answer: because you're my friend, you dumbass. ] Maybe I should take it up too.

[equivo]

[ Krouse accepts the cigarette, his mouth twitching at Riz tapping his hand under the package to pop a single slender cylinder out. He knows it's practised. He practised the same move when he started smoking, because it does look cool. ]

This is where I should give you a speech about it being a filthy habit you shouldn't ever start.

[ He pulls his lighter from his pocket and flicks it as he puts the filter to his mouth, dragging in a slow, even breath to light the cherry evenly. He lets the lighter click off and exhales just as slowly, smoke curling in the air as he tips his head back. ]

But that's not why you should skip it. The stress relief wears off quick. Then you just keep doing it. [ He shrugs. ] Or go ahead. It's your life.

[ The protective shell is back in place, more or less, except for how it's fractured around his eyes. He manages to avoid eye contact with Riz without staring at the ground or something over his shoulder, small flicks of his attention from the cigarette to Riz's ear to his hands without settling. ]

Thanks. [ He says, quietly, his voice tucked in at the edges. ] How've you been?

D.

[levelshift]

[Accelerator isn't the kind of person who uses his earpiece for socializing, because he isn't the kind of person who socializes for fun. Most of his inbox consists of messages from Asuka, which is absolutely not socializing, thank you, it's checking up on a kid who has no adult supervision. Totally different thing.

All that to say he isn't expecting it when Riz texts him. The goblin seems decent enough, though their last interaction with that whole Baron business was really bizarre. Neither of them died though, so whatever! It's fine! Bad things happening in Etraya is perfectly normal, Accelerator has been here long enough to be well aware of that fact, so you just need to compartmentalize and move on.

Anyways. It's about two hours before he sees and responds to the text, having been taking a nap instead of doing anything productive.]

The fuck do you want?

[Sorry Riz this is how he talks to everyone, even well-meaning not-friends.]

[stresstokens]

[ The thing is, it takes a lot of courage for Riz to reach out to people. He could blame it on the apology - apologies are hard for anyone, especially prideful teens like Riz - but he knows that's not the sum of it. The truth is, contacting anyone for anything personal is difficult for Riz; he's fine at initiating conversations for the mission, for information, for the job.

But not as Adventurer Riz Gukgak or Private Investigator Riz Gukgak or Undercover Celestial Agent Riz Gukgak, but just as Riz? Whether that's asking for help, asking for company, or asking for forgiveness, it's hard for him. He's not sure if that will ever change.

And so, gracefully, he responds: ]

Wow, okay, fuck you too then.

[levelshift]

[Accelerator, to his credit, is completely unbothered by Riz's response. For someone who grew up with nothing but hostility and violence, 'fuck you' is basically hello.

The problem lies in the fact that reaching out in an unofficial, social capacity being difficult for Riz is flying completely over his head. He assumes this is anything but a social call, because no one ever calls him for that reason. Clearly, clearly this is about something important, like all of Etraya burning down or Aurora getting infected again.]

What is it? More serious shit going down? Don't tell me that Im'mari bastard is still around.

Around Town

[once_reborn]

[She'll make a point to keep an eye on him. He's been through the ringer and seems...well, not to be dealing too terribly well with it, not to put too fine a point on it. And the Bangsan Market isn't a bad place to be, under such circumstances. Granted, what she wants to do is plop him down in the rolling grasslands of Dantooine - maybe the gentlest, nicest planet she's ever been to. Let him camp out for a few nights under stars, enjoying the gentle breeze and the swaying, endless vistas.]

[Let him watch the Fabools or something. Just something...good.]

[But that's not a choice and so she just keeps pace with him, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, turning in surprise at his question.]

Huh? Oh, um.

[She gets a look on her face that might suggest she's struggling a bit with the concept. Well the gift side. Most of her life had been bad months, really.]

Uh - hypothetically, in turn - what if that person had never actually, you know, gotten a gift before...? And didn't... [She vaguely moves the hands in her pockets, as if trying to summon words.] know what they'd want?

[stresstokens]

...wait, Mal, are you telling me you've never received a gift before?

[ Riz's brows shoot right up into his hairline. Gifts weren't exactly common in his youth - they were pretty strapped for cash - but not to the extent that he didn't get at least a couple a year, for Yulenear and for his birthday, even if it was just a secondhand copy of a beloved book, or his very own tie (his mother had regretted that choice). ]

Not even when you were a little kid?

[ Sure, he knew her life was -- what it was. But surely she'd had friends and family to celebrate with her prior to the whole persecuted-by-the-galaxy thing started, right? Right?

Man. That's depressing. ]

market!

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

Ooh!

[ Doreen, who's carrying several heavy-looking bags with no problem, perks up immediately. Literally, her tail sticks up like an exclamation point. ]

Well, the best gift all is friendship obviously, so I think your pal who's had a bad month would probably appreciate quality hangout time. But! Gifts are pretty awesome too. What kind of stuff do they like?

[stresstokens]

Well...

[ It's going to be so obvious who he's talking about. But Doreen's really cool about pretty much everything, almost certainly knows that Gorgug had had a bad time last month, and will probably keep her mouth shut, so he decides to deem her as a safe, trusted ally.

It's fine if other people know that Gorgug had a bad month, anyway. The only people who didn't probably just don't have any emotions whatsoever. He counts off on his fingers. ]

His big thing right now is tinkering and inventing, and I was thinking about something for that, but I don't know anything about that kind of thing. I wouldn't want to just get him useless crap. He drums, he's on the Bloodrush team - that's a little like football to you - and he likes um... [ He cups his hands over his ears. ] Really loud music. Lots of yelling.

[ Riz is not personally a fan. He will never to confess to this out loud. ]