松野一松 「мaтѕuno ιcнιмaтѕu」 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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
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.