DECEMBER MINGLE

[etrayamods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: December 21st - Early January
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: Newcomers, a surprise gift from Tatianna, and a visitor!
NOTES\WARNINGS:

⏵ arrival ⏴ Welcome to Etraya! Arrival goes as expected - characters awaken on hospital beds and are offered an explanation of their situation: that they have arrived in the city of Etraya, and they are their world's only hope. They are welcome to wander the hospital if they would like to - the upper floors are mostly empty, full of pristine hallways and numerous rooms filled with supplies, cots, and things one would expect from a relatively average 21st-century hospital. The lobby is filled to the brim with tables of freshly baked goods. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" banners are taped to the walls, and several other typical birthday decorations can be found in this area. A few of the baked goods tables are lined with massive cakes covered in unlit candles, just waiting for someone to grab a lighter and sing off-key. Is it anyone's birthday? Who knows! The companion bots seem to believe it's every new arrival's birthday and will greet them as such - with friendly waves and cheers as they make their way to the lobby. A coat rack is situated by the doors leading out of the hospital, covered in warm clothing that fits the new arrivals just right - whether it's to their preferred style or not is something else entirely. Some of them appear normal enough. Others? Well. They can't all be perfect, now can they? Outside the windows, the grass is covered in a couple of inches of loosely packed snow. We hope you enjoy your stay. ⏵ an unexpected gift ⏴ Out by the hospital stands a tall, decorated tree covered in candles and golden pinecones with a handsome, red velveteen tree skirt. In front of it are a few oversized wrapped gifts for show- and atop one of those sits a familiar woman. Or unfamiliar, if this is your first time. It's Tatianna in a slutty Santa outfit with a big ol’ burlap sack. “Hey, I got something for you,” she says, digging into the bag and rummaging for a moment. She produces a painted egg and holds it aloft. “It’s your Winter Solstice Egg! This is the egg holiday, right? Wait, shit. I’m mixing them up, aren’t I? ...Well. It’s a little late to change it. Here you go!” How one treats their egg is fully up to themselves. They can choose to ignore it entirely, or destroy it and leave the yolk and innards to rot on the ground. They can hand it over to someone else or care for it as if it were something precious. No one will prevent them from doing whatever they please with it! ⏵ naughty or nice ⏴However, how they treat the egg will define how the egg treats them in return. Those who keep the egg and tend to it will get the benefit of being able to watch it hatch seven days after they are handed the egg. Eggs that are treated with attention and love may yield a loyal companion, or a weapon of choice that always returns to its owner, while neglected eggs may yield a curious, cursed trinket or an animal who treats its new owner very much the same way its owner had treated it before it was born. Please submit an egg request below for what items you would like your character's eggs to hatch into! Please note that these cannot be things that would be applicable in the game. Those whose eggs are destroyed or forgotten will simply get the gift of... nothing! ⏵ free your spirit ⏴ With the winter chill gripping the air, a mysterious figure makes their presence known in Etraya - a towering, horned creature dragging a massive sack behind them. 𝓐 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖇𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝓴 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓. Regardless of a character's strengths or weaknesses, they will find that when Krampus raises his massive sack over their head, they are powerless to stop him from catching them. Those capable of great magical feats or other supernatural abilities will sense something... otherworldly about Krampus, but will not be able to place the source of that sensation. Once within Krampus' sack, they are welcome to fight, but escape is impossible. It will feel as if Krampus is dragging them over every rock possible, dragging the sack in through the rivers to the point it soaks through and drenches them - potentially almost drowning them. When the sack opens, they will find themselves in an impossibly dark space. Around them are others who have also been captured and dragged here by Krampus, trapped in small cages hanging from a massive, wiry tree. Krampus will return often, banging clawed hands and birch rods on the walls of the cages and knocking them into one another. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘. The whisper resonates through the darkened area, regardless of Krampus' presence. Confess your secrets, and be freed. Otherwise? You'd better hope someone figures out where Krampus has set up base; those who refuse to confess may find themselves stuck here forever. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ Krampus' base is under Etraya! Deep within the catacombs, he has set up multiple cages to capture those who inhabit Etraya to punish them for their naughty habits. Fighting him is possible! Defeating him by means of combat is not, however, possible. Think of it like fighting a god: Krampus creates the rules in the space around him, including who can use what ability. For all questions relating to this log, please refer to the mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

[kidnappered]

[...he's not wrong.

If Ouyang Duyu thought more highly of Chu Wenshan's intelligence he may have accused Chu Wenshan of being purposefully obtuse!]

And I'm saying you can put me down!

[heavensnight]

[Maria ponders the offer. Sevika doesn't seem like the type of person to offer favors out of the kindness of her heart.

though she's not sure what is in it for her. knowing there's someone else that can defend themselves? someone owing her a favor? Maria doesn't know for sure but well, she did just talk about making good with people while you're here so Maria won't brush the offer off.]

Well, that's nice of you. I'll take you up on it...when I get a gun. I'll add it to my shopping list.

no that's just me taking every opportunity i can to goof up the html 😔

[clavesregni]

[The hiss echoes in her ears, and Caitlyn finds herself frozen in place for just a moment. It's long enough for Sevika to grab her and give her a yank — practically pulling her arm out of its socket in the process, it feels like.

Once they're ensconced behind the tree, Caitlyn holds her arm out in front of Sevika to keep her in place, instinctively trying to take charge of the situation. From the opposite side of the tree echoes the clack of what sounds like wood on metal as the creature rattles the hanging cages. Caitlyn's heart is pounding so loud she's sure it must be audible.

Slowly, the sound begins to move, and, equally slowly, Caitlyn begins to creep around the trunk in the opposite direction to it.]

[materialized]

[ So then what's the point?

There's no grander purpose to it. There's no love in it. There's no happiness that can result from it. There's nothing at all. It's no different than the dog chasing the car, but now with some pretentious crap about being one of the good guys.

Chuuya wouldn't want him back, and he's glad that Dazai left, but it only serves to frustrate him further that it had such lackluster results.

He doesn't ask himself if either of them are really happy. ]

I bet if happiness slapped you in the face, you'd peel it off and throw it in the garbage.

[ There's no real bite to that though, because it's hard to hang onto anger at a person who doesn't fight back. The Sheep's policy was always to defend themselves against enemies and to retaliate, but never to initiate, and he's no different. He doesn't bully for the sake of it. He can't hate a person for trying to carry on a dying man's wishes either.

But that isn't enough to heal the wound, and that doesn't mean he knows what to do here.

God, he hates this. This isn't right. ]

You just don't want to be happy. You never have. That's what I can't stand about you.

[ascarylady]

[ Thankfully, it's too dark for Caitlyn to see the look of utter offense she gets from Sevika when she has the audacity to put her arm out like that, as if she's protecting her and not the other way around. Of all the...

But the creature is moving. So is Caitlyn. That means that Sevika, too, moves, similarly circling the tree while the trunk is kept to their back. It carries on with its circuit until they've all done one big circle around the tree.

Then, it stops rather than leaving. There's a soft sniffing sound, followed by a low growl; quiet sounds for something that big in a place so silent may as well be bone-rattling screams, though, and even Sevika finds herself worrying they've been found out.

She holds her breath, waiting, waiting... and then there's the scuff of its feet on the cavern floor, turning away, footsteps receding. It feels like forever for it to leave but, eventually, it does. ]

[unaliveyourself]

[Dazai wonders what it would be like to have the shape of happiness within his hands and deliberately reject it; it might be easier, if that were the case. Akutagawa is a bit like that — feral, snarling, ready to bite, and yet desperate for a kind touch. Self-sabotage, in effect. He’s different from that, though. He’d once described himself as a man hated by righteousness, and sometimes he thinks he might be a man hated by happiness, too.

He shakes his head after a moment of internal debate. This has gone on too long; they weren’t meant to speak this openly or honestly with each other, not like this. He ought to get it over with as soon as possible. If he comes to a point where Chuuya of all people comes to look at him with sympathy, life in Etraya truly will become unbearable.]

Have you ever tried to pick up loose sand with just your hands? No matter what you do, most of it leaks out through the gaps in your fingers, right? It’s a little like that. By the time I have something in my hands that might be recognizable as something like happiness, it’s already slipped through the cracks, leaving behind only the rough residue of having once been there.

[He rolls a shoulder, casual even as he feels his organs crushing into dust. This part isn’t as hard to talk about, but it’s a little like trying to explain the experience of being blind to a person with 20-20 full-color vision.]

At a certain point, you’d give up and use a bucket instead, right? But imagine the bucket had a hole in the bottom. No matter what you use to plug it, the grains will leak out until nothing is left.

[He’ll never fill the bucket. Odasaku had warned him as much when he died, and he had been right. Even now, four years later, he still can’t even find all the holes to plug.]

But even if I can’t fill it, I can still choose how the bucket looks and feels. I can paint it with blood or in beautiful colors, you know? It doesn’t change anything, not really, but even so … it’s a more pleasant experience, scooping sand endlessly into a more beautiful bucket. Makes waiting for death to come for me a little more bearable.

[Ugh. He makes a face. That truly feels revolting to tell Chuuya in full earnestness. He can’t help but add:]

It’s for the best, though, right? Imagine how insufferable I would be if I wanted to harass you over a long and fruitful life.

[materialized]

[ God.

What the Hell is he supposed to say to that? What honest remark is there to give to make the door creak open fully? There's precious little, and that makes his frown deepen, because Chuuya isn't one to keep secrets; if his emotions are dishonest, it's because he does process them in such a simple and straightforward way - he hates Dazai. He hates Dazai. He won't let him die. As much as he bragged in his face about seeing him executed, if it had come about he wouldn't have been able to accept it; but he doesn't think of that to say it.

But he thinks that if there were a hole at the bottom of some bucket he picked up, then he'd find a way to plug it up. There's ways how to. But no matter how he looks at it, the Agency is no more beautiful or ugly than the Port Mafia. They're precisely the same, just a different veneer and different colors, and it's almost insulting.

It's like saying the moon and the stars that shine brightly in the sky so pale in comparison to the sun.

He's not Mori. He's not Dazai. He's not that anemic bastard the two of them were scheming against. Chuuya is just a person, so he can't understand the planning and scheming, but he does take a few moments to muddle over it all. ]

Yeah, well. I celebrated when I found out you left. I popped open my finest bottle of wine and threw a goddamn party for knowing you were gone. My life has been a Hell of a lot better since you left. Until we all had to, no one gave a shit where you've been.

[ Chuuya breathes in softly, lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck, not quite finished, but unsure of what it is that he wants to say next.

But finally, without acknowledging what he'd said, but not quite ignoring it either - ]

If you were still with the Port Mafia, the Guild wouldn't have stood a chance. It has nothing to do with loving Yokohama or whatever.

[ Though Mori does, because he protects stability, but that's not all it is. That's not all it is, and this isn't anything he wants to say, because it's between them and not Dazai - now an outsider, but whatever. ]

The Boss kept your seat open. The Boss still wants you back.

[ And that's frustrating, so endlessly frustrating, and he hates it, and he wants him to forget it, but - ]

He still thinks we work well together, and he thought that you needed bailing out. Great to hear knowing how unpleasant and ugly we are for you.

[ He scoffs. And as for Chuuya.... ]

Whatever. If it's that important to you, then you should at least find a way to patch up the damn hole in your bucket instead of saying that you can just paint it. I dunno your friend, but I doubt he wanted you to stop there. I wouldn't. I'd punch you if you seriously thought that was the best you could do.

[ . . . ]

Sounds to me like wanted you to live.

[wolfish]

"By all means. We've got a little too much free time now for my liking, egg-sitting aside." All the eggs need is cozy shelter, and while Yuri busies himself with certain aspects of upkeep, there's still too much time in the day. "One thing — my world doesn't have those electric lights, so it's sun or torchlight, unless I ask Aurora for a change to the amenities. Might be easier on your eyes as-is though."

In truth, Yuri was accustomed to the low light of Abyss and very unaccustomed to the low hum of eletricity. His stay in Moorecroft made him very aware of that.

[godsandbats]

"Yes. Dark rooms won't be a problem for me," Kirk confirms. Whenever he works in one of his labs, he generally keeps the lights dim. It's more comfortable to do his lab work without needing his goggles. Plus, it doesn't sound like electricity won't be needed too much for this magical endeavor.

"I'll need to get a better grasp of magic first before we try to mix it with my own work."

[wolfish]

"The library's got plenty of books covering general principles, from basic to advanced spells. I've got my own insights and observations — books are a great start, but there's a reason academies employ professors." Both the Officer's Academy and the school of magic in the north had faculty. It makes good sense to pass along knowledge and skills, after all.

He shifts his weight, bundling up his egg further as he considers. "The Shadow Library had more...unusual applications documented, though some of those texts were heavily redacted. When I've got the means, I'll see if Aurora can oblige me in bringing the underside of Garreg Mach here."

[unaliveyourself]

Life is ugly and unpleasant, Chuuya. That has nothing to do with the Port Mafia.

[Again, he meets the challenge of trying to explain a lack of something so fundamental to most as to be taken for granted. He wouldn't change the life he's lived up to now; when he says his world is more beautiful now, it's not that it was previously the inverse.

Rather, there was nothing. There's still nothing; he won't ever find something that fills that hole inside of him. There's no great meaning he's found, in saving lives rather than taking them, nothing that makes him want to get up each morning. It's just that he could draw his attention away from that oxidizing world, just a little. A reason to live wasn't necessary to save someone else's, after all.]

You know why I joined to begin with? I had believed that surrounding myself with death, with violence and bloodshed and destruction might reveal to me the reason why people cling so desperately to life. ...I can't forgive Mori-san, but I don't regret that he brought me into the Port Mafia, or the time I spent there. It didn't help me find a reason to live, but before that, I had given up on even looking.

[Sounds to me like he wanted you to live.

Dazai knows that Chuuya isn't wrong, and yet those words might be the most painful ones yet, like that sealed vacuum inside has suddenly imploded, pulverizing what remains of the shreds of his insides. Odasaku did want him to live, for all he always humored his endless suicide talk, and yet went ahead and died without him.

How do you know? Dazai had asked him, back then.

I know. I know better than anybody.

Odasaku had wanted to live, too. He wanted to be a writer.]

...For all your claims of celebration, though, I think it makes you angriest that I could come back, but I won't. It'd be easier for you if Mori-san would want me hunted down, wouldn't it?

[It's cruel of him to turn the tables like this, to set his attention on Chuuya's door first. But he's realized, suddenly, what it wants from him. And he's not prepared to say it.]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco's lips curl upward, slightly. ]

It's a lesson I learned when I was... oh, just a little older than you.

[ Silco shut up you were in your early thirties probably. He reaches up, and tapped the skin under that eye. ]

Once learned, however, it is a difficult lesson to forget.

[materialized]

[ That's really the problem, isn't it?

Chuuya wears his heart on his sleeve. There are things hidden, but those things which are crawling beneath the skin, like maggots hidden ones blood, creasing ones skin and making it crawl and dance and writhe in some sickening manner. ]

Yeah. That's right. It pisses me off that the boss would take you back in a second. You want an award for guessing that?

[ No hesitation. No denial. It's the same as ever. That's ever the problem. Chuuya is too honest, and so all those things that should be hidden protrude and bloat beneath the skin, creating tents with it before moving on.

His eyelids lower halfway, looking lazily now, as though Dazai had told him that the grass was green and that the sky is blue.

Only a diamond can polish a diamond. They're a pair of diamonds, scraping against and refining each other, and that's ever the problem.

With a tired sigh, he adds: ]

Let me guess: You knew that the Boss wouldn't execute you. You had your "contingency measures," [ He gestures vaguely because who cares now, ] But that really wasn't the point. You knew damn well that Mori-san didn't want to harm you. And you figured that even if for some reason all of that failed, I'd bail your ass out, just like always. Am I wrong?

[ His initial plan was flawless, of course; without fail, it would succeed, but even if it didn't, there wasn't even the faintest possibility of failure.

And that's the trouble of it all.

Because neither Mori or Chuuya could ever truly want to see him dead. Niether of them could see him dead, now, because - ]

If Mroi-san wanted you dead, you would be dead by now. I got all excited, but that was just my hubris, [ He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, ] Not even you can escape the terrors of the night. If Mori-san wanted you dead, you would be dead.

[ And if Chuuya really wanted him dead, well... Who knows. They'll never know. They'll never know, because Chuuya never really thought about it that hard. ]

[unaliveyourself]

[He’s quiet for a long moment.

No, Chuuya isn’t wrong. Dazai did know that Mori wasn’t going to have him killed. He called the man out on such as he was walking out his door for the last time, a dozen guns trained upon him. If Mori wanted him dead, he truly would be. He wouldn’t have made it out of the building, much less to where Odasaku had breathed his last.

That’s not what stills him, though. After all, it’s a relatively straightforward conclusion to come to—Mori does not fail at his objectives. Anyone who attains any rank at all within the Port Mafia knows that. It’s the other part, all but buried within the middle of that rant.]

Would you have really come bailed me out? Even if it meant going against Mori-san?

[Even Dazai can’t predict everything correctly 100% of the time. If he could, he’d still be with the Port Mafia, and …. well, Ango would probably be lying in a ditch somewhere, taken care of, or have fled the country in a hurry. It hits him strangely to think that he might have read something wrong in Chuuya, the man he’s known for seven entire years.]

I would’ve assumed you’d sooner let yourself be consumed whole by Corruption before defying Mori-san’s wishes. It’s something that’s always annoyed me, frankly. Your unconditional loyalty isn’t something that could ever be reciprocated. You might even end up paying a blood price for someone else’s actions.

[materialized]

[ And really, this is what Chuuya hates about him most of all. ]

... I'd respect the Boss' wishes.

[ The world is sour, bitter, like he'd just chewed on something truly foul. Like just the though of their wishes being so out of tandem was something putrid and rotten. That was probably what happened with Dazai, but that only leads credence to his thought that Mori had been ignorant to it; the Boss, who seemed to know everything, who had such a gross oversight.

Chuuya, the leader of the Sheep, who had such a gross oversight that he wound up a member of the Port Mafia.

Dazai, who had such a gross oversight that he wound up a member of the Armed Detective Agency.

Chuuya hesitates, processing. After some thought he says, ]

... But the Boss would have spared you if I told him to. You're gonna ask why, right? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter a damn thing, and that's what I'd tell him. It doesn't matter why. Who the Hell cares if I don't want you to die? Why do I need a reason?

[ The Sheep were just good kids. They were kids who betrayed him. They stuck a knife with rat poison into him. They left him to die. They were afraid of him.

Who cares? He didn't.

But Chuuya doesn't think of things logically. He was only initially tempered by the Sheep begging him; his life is nothing, but in a different way.

Then, a bit more softly, ]

Mori-san can discard me if he wants to. That's why he's the Boss and I'm not, 'cause I can't make decisions the way that he can.

[ And there's the unspoken statement.

Chuuya is simple and earnest. He wouldn't have used logic. He wouldn't have talked it through. He would've run headstrong into it. He would've let Mori shoot him up. There would have been no negotiation.

There wouldn't have been any if Dazai had asked Chuuya for help either. If he'd asked Chuuya, who would have bitched but asked no real hard questions.

But he doesn't say any of that either. ]

And he's the Boss 'cause he listens to his executives and underlings. As much as I hate to say it, No Longer Human is too big of a sacrifice to make. And I'm going to be the one to kill you. I won't let anyone else do it.

The Boss gotta deal with that too. You ever thought about it?

[ What a delicate balance that is.

Or how in tandem they might be about Dazai. ]

[unaliveyourself]

[There is so, so much to unpack here. Dazai feels akin to a balloon, ragdolled about by gale force winds in every direction. I don't want you to die, Chuuya says, perhaps for the first time since they've known each other. It's not exactly a revelation, or anything, and yet to hear it makes him feel uneasy, like a child anticipating the return of monsters under the bed the moment it grows dark. He remembers Atsushi had said something like it once, beneath a sky aflame with fireworks. He'd pretended not to have heard him. Dazai wants to disappear painlessly from this world and leave nothing behind, not a trace that he ever existed. Odasaku wanted him to live, but that's different from not wanting someone to die. Not wanting him to die is a curse in the shape of kindness, binding him to someone else's grief. It curdles in his stomach like spoiled milk. He's not unaware of his selfishness, in this; he will never forget watching the light go out of Odasaku's eyes, after all.

The notion of a burden like that weighing down Chuuya's shoulders is strangely dissonant. It doesn't suit the way Dazai sees him -- too loud, too bright, too offensively much, and yet, for such somber things to dim him down ... it feels profane, in a way he can't define.

He's the Boss 'cause he listens to his executives and underlings.

If Dazai had figured things out sooner, if he'd been able to go to Mori and asked him not to sacrifice Odasaku, to find another way to obtain the Gifted Business Permit ... would it have changed anything? Would he have listened? It's not the first time Dazai's been haunted by the question. Yet too many of the pieces were obscured, and he'd been so, so stupidly blind to the rest. Could he have ever figured it out, before it was too late? Or was his mistake much, much sooner ... in not hunting down those former police thugs to the last man until they revealed exactly who was after that painting, and how much he could buy them off for, in not having rumors spread that the painting was in the wind again. Not keeping Odasaku far away from Mori's chess board to begin with so there would never be a risk of him being used in such a way.

The silence stretches even longer this time, the only sound breaking the stillness being the clank of the cages as their captor moves about.]

That's no good, Chuuya. You're not a beautiful woman, nor would you commit suicide, so I can't die beside you like that.

[Leave it to Dazai for that to be the first thing he says. Then, at length:]

You know ... you're quick to say you'd allow yourself to be discarded, yet you hate the notion of discarding others. You willingly left the Sheep behind so they wouldn't be slaughtered as our enemies. You resent me forsaking Mori-san and the Port Mafia for the Agency -- yet despite that, if I were to abandon them to return for some reason, it would bother you even more, wouldn't it? For you, the idea of severing a connection -- even to someone you hate -- is like ripping out your heart from its chest with your bare fingers.

[He looks...tired, as he says it. He can't really understand what that feels like, as someone who struggles to connect to humanity at all. But then -- there's Odasaku, there's three glasses of whiskey at the bar. Someone to say goodbye to, a goodbye to lament from the bottom of his heart. It's the evidence that something was there, and real.]

What would you do, then, I wonder ... if one of those connections were to be sundered by someone else, too late for you to put a stop to it?

[...]

[He lets the moment hang, then drops the metaphors and insinuations and states it openly:]

Mori-san knew Ango-kun was with the Special Division. He looked the other way to bring Mimic to our doorstep, so we could have the Gifted Business Permit for crushing them. If he'd intended the Sheep to die in that crossfire, rather than Odasaku, would you still have been able to bear the weight of any atrocity Mori-san committed, for the Port Mafia's sake?

[The black hole inside him feels like it's expanding, like he'll take others into his gravity now as well, crush them at the event horizon simply by being there. He doesn't like saying any of this to Chuuya, would rather take the source and scope of his resentment to his own ever-elusive grave. But it's as though they've been injected with snake venom, and the only option is to bleed it all out at once. If nothing else, he's certainly built new resentments in Etraya that far outstrip anything he could feel for Mori, now. Someday, he'll tear Echo apart, piece by piece.]

It's my fault, too. I didn't see it soon enough. Didn't want to see it, perhaps. But I can't forgive him.

[The door all but rattles. It's so close now, the latch holding back one last notch before it comes loose. Something still held back, clung to by the fingernails in vain hopes of being released before offering it. Chuuya can probably feel it too. Their escape is imminent, but the last part of ripping off a bandaid always hurts the most.]

[godsandbats]

“Thank you,” Kirk says. Magic may not be the same as decrypting a dead planet’s data but it seems like a worthy endeavor. “Why were they redacted?”

[levelshift]

[Wow, that's one way to never forget a lesson. When it's completely fucked up half your face it's going to stick with you for the rest of your life, whether you want it to or not.]

I was wondering about that. It doesn't look like a normal eye injury.

[He's still seriously wondering if the guy can even see out of it.]

Was fucking up your eye purely out of survival, or did you get something more out of it?

[nobraincell]

[But he wants to carry you...!!

Chu Wenshan gradually slows down...slower...slower....aaaand stop.

He then sets down Ouyang Duyu with noticeable reluctance, though there's nothing visible on his face (as usual).]

...Can you keep up?

[zauneyete]

[ Silco's eye narrowed, the other staring out as always, but there's suspicion there.

How interesting. ]

And each one more and more complicated?

[ He knows what it is to be alone. Silco does not seek out comfort, human contact, not without a specific plan. People are meant to be resources. Allies, enemies, and pawns. (ONE EXCEPTION.)

He also does not feel loneliness. Ever. ]

And what good does your work do? What are you caretaking? More of your Drzyr? Do they know you exist?

[zauneyete]

[ Silco looked down at his vest. Yeah. He needed to fix this pronto, actually. There were going to be more questions the longer he went on with it, and that was going to lead to more awkward conversations. After all, it's difficult to express in a way that is not alarming: "my daughter killed me with her mini gun".

His lips spread into a thin line. ]

No, I was healed when I arrived, I am perfectly fine.

[ Ok, so there are also cuts on his cheeks, a stab wound here and there that he's bandaged. He might have...already gotten into a fight.

Don't worry about it! ]

Just a recent altercation that my arrival sought to undo. I am much more interested in your notes.

[ Of course he is!! ]

[zauneyete]

[ He looks him up and down, a second glance. It's curious, interested. ]

And do you find that you regret that?

[leastdramatic]

I don't like where my head was at when I chose to do all that training.

[Jason hopes he never has to unleash that darker part of him again]

[zauneyete]

It isn't.

[ He says, but it's not defensive. Just that usual sour tone Silco often adopts. Annoyed, sharp, but... normal. ]

It was a normal injury, up until I decided to... take a dip in a toxic river.

[ The sarcasm is there though. There was no deciding to take a dip. ] I don't know what you mean by "something more".

[zauneyete]

Oh? Why not?

[ He doesn't see the worry in such things, but then again, in a place like Zaun, "not liking where ones head is at" is a luxury they just simply can't afford. ]