松野一松 「мaтѕuno ιcнιмaтѕu」 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ichininyaanshi) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lifeaftr2017-08-15 12:38 am
ichininyaanshi) wrote in lifeaftr2017-08-15 12:38 am
[day 13AUG] wake up, you're a drama queen
Who: Ichimatsu + ota
What: A man goes looking for cats. He gets one... in a sense.
When: August 13
Where: Enso D6
Warnings: Catastrophe, warnings to be added if appropriate
--
"I'm going out," he had told whichever of his brothers had been listening at the time. It might have been both, or perhaps it was neither -- if he were to guess, it would be the latter. Maybe it would have seemed a little odd to hear from the reclusive Ichimatsu, let alone in the middle of the day, when the sun was out and bearing down without relief. If so, Ichimatsu had likely shuffled off into the jungle without opening the floor to questions.
The truth is, he can't stand it anymore. It's been nearly two weeks of nothing but his brothers and a whole lot of strangers for company.
Ichimatsu needs to know if there are cats on this island.
He doubts it. Other than the fierce wildlife variety, that is -- tigers or leopards or whatever, he'd take it. Ichimatsu isn't picky. He'd just like to spend time in the company of something that won't force him to talk, or look at him like the sweaty garbage he is. If that means getting eaten by a leopard, well... no pain, no gain.
He begins at (i.) the pools south of the Storyteller's temple, to bottle and purify some water for his trip. From there, he picks a direction and goes. West, as it would so happen. With his hoodie tied around his waist and his knapsack drawn over one shoulder, he sets out on his search.
To be honest, it's all right with him if he doesn't find cats. He just needs some time to himself.
Ichimatsu spends some time simply (ii.) exploring the jungle. His knife finds its way through several trunks of trees to mark his path, and once or twice, his fingernails might be employed to do the job instead. Yes, really. A nap under the shade to escape the heat for an hour or so, or to hell with it: perhaps he simply sits on a rock, whittling away at a hunk of broken-off branch to ease his boredom.
It's just barely getting dark when Ichimatsu gives up his search for cat-kind, with less than half a bottle of water left, and begins searching for his nearest marking to follow his path home. Funnily enough, though his eyes catch a streak of clawmarks in the bark of a lush tree, something feels like it's pulling him in the complete opposite direction.
(iii.) Literally.
It's with a startled grunt that Ichimatsu jerks away from the physical pull, slamming into the jungle floor. He scrabbles at the grass, looking over his shoulder just in time to see one of his sandals come loose. A mass of black energy pulsates in an open clearing just a short distance away; a miniature, billowing cloud, a typhoon contained in its own vortex. He's never seen anything like it. A gravitational pull pounds through his skull like a sharp, sucking beat of tinnitus, and suddenly Ichimatsu registers what's going on.
Shit. He's gonna die.
That's fine, he thinks. He doesn't care. And yet he digs his fingers deeper into the soil, dragging himself forward inch by grueling inch until he can sling one arm around a tree trunk and hold on tight, his eyes screwing shut. What the hell is that thing? What'll happen if he lets go? He figures he'll find out eventually, but...
Yeah, he'll admit it. He's sort of scared to find out. So he grits his teeth and he holds on, weighing his options to the last.
Slowly, evening begins to fall across the island.
What: A man goes looking for cats. He gets one... in a sense.
When: August 13
Where: Enso D6
Warnings: Catastrophe, warnings to be added if appropriate
--
"I'm going out," he had told whichever of his brothers had been listening at the time. It might have been both, or perhaps it was neither -- if he were to guess, it would be the latter. Maybe it would have seemed a little odd to hear from the reclusive Ichimatsu, let alone in the middle of the day, when the sun was out and bearing down without relief. If so, Ichimatsu had likely shuffled off into the jungle without opening the floor to questions.
The truth is, he can't stand it anymore. It's been nearly two weeks of nothing but his brothers and a whole lot of strangers for company.
Ichimatsu needs to know if there are cats on this island.
He doubts it. Other than the fierce wildlife variety, that is -- tigers or leopards or whatever, he'd take it. Ichimatsu isn't picky. He'd just like to spend time in the company of something that won't force him to talk, or look at him like the sweaty garbage he is. If that means getting eaten by a leopard, well... no pain, no gain.
He begins at (i.) the pools south of the Storyteller's temple, to bottle and purify some water for his trip. From there, he picks a direction and goes. West, as it would so happen. With his hoodie tied around his waist and his knapsack drawn over one shoulder, he sets out on his search.
To be honest, it's all right with him if he doesn't find cats. He just needs some time to himself.
Ichimatsu spends some time simply (ii.) exploring the jungle. His knife finds its way through several trunks of trees to mark his path, and once or twice, his fingernails might be employed to do the job instead. Yes, really. A nap under the shade to escape the heat for an hour or so, or to hell with it: perhaps he simply sits on a rock, whittling away at a hunk of broken-off branch to ease his boredom.
It's just barely getting dark when Ichimatsu gives up his search for cat-kind, with less than half a bottle of water left, and begins searching for his nearest marking to follow his path home. Funnily enough, though his eyes catch a streak of clawmarks in the bark of a lush tree, something feels like it's pulling him in the complete opposite direction.
(iii.) Literally.
It's with a startled grunt that Ichimatsu jerks away from the physical pull, slamming into the jungle floor. He scrabbles at the grass, looking over his shoulder just in time to see one of his sandals come loose. A mass of black energy pulsates in an open clearing just a short distance away; a miniature, billowing cloud, a typhoon contained in its own vortex. He's never seen anything like it. A gravitational pull pounds through his skull like a sharp, sucking beat of tinnitus, and suddenly Ichimatsu registers what's going on.
Shit. He's gonna die.
That's fine, he thinks. He doesn't care. And yet he digs his fingers deeper into the soil, dragging himself forward inch by grueling inch until he can sling one arm around a tree trunk and hold on tight, his eyes screwing shut. What the hell is that thing? What'll happen if he lets go? He figures he'll find out eventually, but...
Yeah, he'll admit it. He's sort of scared to find out. So he grits his teeth and he holds on, weighing his options to the last.
Slowly, evening begins to fall across the island.
no subject
He doesn't really care, though. Not that much.
So he lets his charge sleep, his eyes darkly flitting between Sans and the vast panel of foliage surrounding them. Idly, he flicks the knife back and forth on occasion, trying to get it to do the flaming trick the kid had done -- to no avail. Frustration gradually curls his mouth into a frown, and he gives up to continue his vigilant watch of a whole lot of fucking nothing.
The kid better get back soon. If he stays into the night, his brothers... well, they'd notice, at least. He doubts they'd do much except wonder where he wandered off to.
The sudden question comes as a bit of a surprise. Ichimatsu's dull gaze turns away from a shadowy fern to pin Sans with a look of mild irritation. Jeez, why did he have to wake up? Clearly he's not in the shape for it, anyway.
"Dunno," he deadpans in response to both questions. He lays the knife over the top of his knees and leans back against his tree. "Said they'd be back."
no subject
There's a jumble of questions Sans wants to ask (and some he doesn't), but they're all snarled up in each other like a tangle of subterranean roots. What he ends up with is a bewildered:
"You stayed?"
Knackered as he was, even Sans could see that Ichimatsu wanted to do anything but. He doesn't think that knife is his -- or anyone's, it belongs to nobody, or nothing that ever existed -- and somehow it is. Right there. Inert and dangerous. Sans, eye lights fuzzy and unfocused, stares across at the human with open suspicion.
"You're easy to bribe." Because that's what it is, right? Bribed to stay? Surely it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart. Ichi has as many reasons to give a damn about Sans as the skeleton does about the human.
no subject
He doesn't give a damn, it's true. The skeleton saved his life, so by conventional morals he probably owes Sans this favor at the very least, but he doesn't have enough sincerity behind the gesture to point it out. The knife had only been a part of it. Mostly, he's sore and tired and he doesn't feel like moving for a while. He figures someone as disheveled-looking as this guy can understand that sentiment.
Maybe, just maybe... he's a little interested in seeing how this plays out, too.
"It doesn't matter to me why you think I'm doing this," he says bluntly. Then his muddy eyes slide to Sans, edged and jeering. "If I were you, I'd be asking those questions about someone else."
no subject
"Think this is fun for you, buddy? There's a kid runnin' around with a knife."
Because that other stuff isn't important.
It's not -- so why does his thoughts keep snagging on it like a knit sweater on a jutting nail?
"If that kid gets themselves hurt," warns the skeleton, "That's on your head."
Because it's not like Sans has ever handed young children the means to do themselves perhaps irreparable harm, or anything.
no subject
So what if the kid has a knife? It's not like they didn't have one before. Maybe the damn kid just likes knives. That's no crime.
"Sure, and it looks like they know how to use it," Ichimatsu drawls slowly. The jeering look is gone, replaced heavily with a mild disdain as his cheek falls back into his palm. The drama is rapidly losing its charm; as soon as this is over, he'll go find something else to do.
"Sorry, but I don't feel like having that responsibility put on me just because you felt like taking a nap. Shut up and wait for 'em to get back."
/casually saunters back in
Multiple times, Wade had asked if they needed to stop. And multiple times, Chara had declined the offer, until it got to the point where they simply ignored the query entirely. It's pretty clear they're paying for it- red in the face, their first motion is to lean up against the nearest tree, attempting to regulate their breathing a little before calling out in a voice that's still a little too breathless.
"He's over here."
no subject
He hasn't realized that they've reached their destination until the child suddenly stumbles to the nearest tree and rests against it. Even then, Wade approaches them hesitantly, hand outstretched as if to clasp them by the shoulder but falling short. "Easy there, kiddo. Just focus on gettin' your breath back, okay?"
It's only then that he takes in the scenario in front of him-- and the individuals in front of them. The two of them-- Sans and Ichimatsu both-- look disheveled and worse for wear, though to what extent isn't immediately apparent right now. Wade's mouth quirks, and a jape is out of his mouth before he can stop himself:
"Well. Did I stumble on a hoodie convention or what's goin' on here?"
no subject
That he resents having blame assigned him because he took it upon himself to save their life goes without saying -- hell, it's probably the same resentment Ichi feels for being assigned responsibility just because Sans was otherwise indisposed.
Fortunately, he doesn't have to endure Sans's glaring for long, but of all the help that the kid could seek out, how convenient, how lucky it was that they found the one guy that Sans trusts implicitly. It's something that stands out like the kid's knowing stare had, but when Sans tries to question it, his skull pounds with a fresh headache that tells him he has other, better, less painful things to think about.
Why did the kid put themselves out like that?
Why does he care?
"...Yeah, it's like showin' up to the party in the same dress. To heck with this guy for jackin' my style."
And then: "You ok?"
no subject
Except holy shit. It's that guy again.
Ichimatsu starts rather abruptly, leaning forward with a soft noise of surprise before catching himself and jolting back into the tree. It's been hours since he overheard the creep and Tibia chattering away -- he seriously didn't think he'd run into him yet again. Ichimatsu's eyes sweep quickly for the little Pokemon, and when he doesn't see her immediately, he beats down his surprise by climbing quickly to his feet.
What a circus this is. It's not like he wanted to stay before, but he's definitely ready to hightail it out of here now.
"Keh. Only if your 'style' is garbage, too." Waving a derisive hand, Ichimatsu slides his knife into the pocket of his hoodie. "Anyway, I'm done, so I'm outta here. See ya."
And he indeed begins walking right off in a seemingly random direction.
no subject
It's both unpleasant and slightly relieving. What a waste of a day.
Attention on Wade, they don't answer Sans' question, a dirty look shot Ichimatsu's way as he takes his leave without so much as a pleasure doing business with you. They'll be seeing him again, absolutely...
"I take it you can't stand, still."
no subject
"I think you'll live. Some bed rest and you should be fine. Bet that's music to your ears, huh?"
He raises his head, whistling sharply at Ichi's retreating form to get the NEET's attention.
"'Ey! Not done with you yet, dude. I got someone here who wants to see ya."
no subject
Probably a topic for another time.
Only thing that arrests the gesture is the whistle at Ichimatsu -- Sans looks towards his retreating back, then to Wade, and finally to the kid.
"Why stand when I can catch a ride?" he jokes, his laugh sounding tired, worn thin. "...Thanks for gettin' him.
"You gonna be ok, kiddo?"
no subject
A sharp whistle sounds, and Ichimatsu knows it's meant for him. His feet root to the ground on pure reflex. He'd bite down an angry scoff at himself for acting like some trained dog, but really, he's too busy squashing the minor flare of anxiety at Wade's words. Because he knows exactly what the creepy old man is talking about.
So he wasn't mistaken. That guy... really is Tibia's dad. And what, she told him about Ichimatsu? Shit. It would've been better for everyone if she had just forgotten their entire encounter. He knows he's trapped, but Ichimatsu has never been one for going easily. He half-turns, eying Wade as if he's delusional and Ichimatsu has never seen him in his life.
"You have the wrong guy."
Believable enough, right? It's not like there aren't two others with his face strutting around.
... but he doesn't start walking off again.
no subject
"Perfectly, sir. Now that you have your assistance, I would like to take my leave." Like to, as if there's an option for protest.
There isn't.