I live today once there, I live to cry about it

[vocarrah]

Who: Ianchus and YOU!
What: Catchall for July; Ianchus dealing with the aftermath of his death followed by the Home Sweet Home event
Where: East Island; primarily the Orchard, his home, and the hot springs.
When: Backdated from the 3rd of July through present
Warnings: Discussion of death/gore will probably come up since (a) he just died and (b) considering his history. Includes family and child death. Also probably alcohol!



Ianchus is sure he's had lower points, but somehow they're hard to recall. Was it when he'd realized the man he loved didn't love him back? No, he'd played Pollyanna just fine. Was it, then, in that dingy alleyway with the knife and the hands on him like a vise? Ah, no, the severance of that particular part of him had also severed the last string holding him to a lifetime of political slavery and guilt. No, no, the flesh was surprisingly resilient.

This...It was like he'd lost his family all over again.

He'd thought the demoness killing him had been the catalyst to wake from a long dream. He'd seen Carrah again, Carrah of the Cepheos reign. He'd seen Dini, Kay, even Sehale had been there, had thumped him on the chest too hard in the way that hurt, in the way that was her own mean-spirited joke for him.

And Gennar had been there too, with his muscles and his shoulders and his scent, and when Ianchus had woken up (for the second time!) he'd realized that he'd made all the mistakes he'd made before.

And even Hadriel was no escape--not when he'd found out that Yusuke, of all people, had seen his desecrated corpse, and had been torn apart by that vision. Ah, that look in his eyes had hurt him deeper than Caedra digging inside him with her cursed claws. Physical pain was physical pain; the sensation of hurting the ones he cared for...ah.


And so, Ianchus has settled into a bog that he's surprisingly comfortable with. People on the East Island can likely see him skulking around between the orchards, the hot springs, his own apartment, and sometimes on the coast. He'll smile at you if you approach, but anyone who's seen him at the Bacchanalia will notice a marked change in his attitude.

Perhaps you saw him being carried by Yusuke and Michael to the temple after his unfortunate run-in and want to check to make sure all his innards are still intact. Perhaps you want his help on yet another project, after hearing how he tends to throw himself down in front of anyone in need of some decently strong arms. Perhaps you don't care about that and want to know when the next party is!

Either way, there's no telling what kind of mood you'll see him in. Maybe you'll catch him at a point where he'll spill his guts to you--figuratively, of course.

Comments

hot springs. 12th

[puzzlingly]

It's been just a few days, only for so long Atem allowed himself to feel fine, and it only took so long for that short period of tranquility to be taken away from him as well. He often wonders now if it's written in the stars for him to just not be able to get a break. But even so, he's not about to let his body to wear down, he's been there and it does nothing good for anyone, he needs to be fine, for others. No matter how stressed he is, he has to think about himself a little more, he promised he would do so.

Sleep can only bring him so much rest, nightmares still manage to haunt him every now and then, so he opts for something a little more forward; onsen is something he managed to become used to back when he lived in Japan, these springs are incredibly alike, it seems like a good way to spend time even if it is such a chore to get to them now.

By the time he makes it to one of the pools, there is someone already there; Atem's seen him around the network but has never spoken to him. There is something about the way the other just is there that doesn't seem entirely right, though, but for now he just settles inside the pool, not really wanting to disturb the guy but greeting him with a small nod. Ah, yep, the hot water is definitely what he had been needing. He lets out a rather long sigh and actually places his little towel on top of his head. Yes, that crazy hair starts flattening with the humidity. Idly, he brings a hand to his left shoulder, rubbing gently over what seems to be an old scar. Atem had never had that problem before moving to this particular planet, it is too damp and made his old wounds hurt, though, he really doesn't seem to be paying that much attention to that or anything at the moment, his thoughts wander more towards what he has to do when he's done here instead, so much for relaxing.

[vocarrah]

Ianchus doesn't say anything for a long time, silence stretching out between him and the other man. Idly, he wonders about that hair--that must be a pain to manage. There are usually two types to go to the hot springs: the types who have no worries, and the types who have too many worries.

"Old injury?" he asks, casually, watching Atem rub his shoulder from below his eyelashes. As much as he wants to be alone, he can't help but think of the hot springs as his territory, and playing the part of a host is a strong reflex for him. He can't be inhospitable; that just won't do.

[puzzlingly]

Atem seems to actually enjoy the silence, and doesn't seem to mind the company at all, not even when he's finally distracted from his many mussings and brought back to reality. He might not look like it, but of course he is one of those that has too many worries, in Hadriel, who isn't?

For the briefest second, the young man seems a tad confused, until he realizes what the other is talking about.

"Hn." He nods, "As old as my time in Hadriel." That should be enough to go by, or at least let him know that it's something that happened here. "I guess it doesn't agree with the weather." Never had he ever had to worry about that. Law had done a pristine work at patching him up, barely leaving a jarring scar, but as it turns out, having your arm almost torn from you body, does leave some sequels.

For the first time, however, Atem lands his stare on the stranger for more than a few seconds.

"Do you come here often?" Yeah, he just asked that. Might as well break the ice a little further and not make it all about him, as he always manages to do.

[vocarrah]

Ah, he's met many with those kinds of injuries--he's lucky, he supposes, that he didn't end up having one. It seems utterly aggravating.

A morbid thought pushes his way into his head: If this man was injured in Hadriel, and he died, perhaps his shoulder would be fixed, ah? That had been what happened to his sore muscles and the light scratches in his back from all the other activities at his party.

But, ah. That was rude. Thoughts like that were to be reserved for himself and himself alone.

He gives a small smile.
"I live in the housing over there." He nods to the vicinity of Love's dormitories. "I suppose I've started considering these an extension of those." A little laugh. Yes, he comes here almost too much. But then, is it possible to come to a hot spring too much?

[puzzlingly]

"Ah, you chose well." Atem says as he sinks into the pool a little more — the water helps to cover any other scarring from that particular encounter, but only while he remains in there, at least; after so long, he no longer seems to care about them, about who sees them nor if they ask about it. It took him long time to accept what had happened to him after all. Either way, it's amazing how something so seemingly simple helps soothe not only the body, but the soul too, even if a little.

"Somehow, I don't think most of the residents appreciate this place enough." The offerings of the so-called gods hadn't always been well received, and he can imagine Love's surely wasn't either at the time. "I cannot blame them, I often don't realize how much getting a little break might help, specially in here..."

He allows a little pause before going on. "How has this place been treating you so far?"

Orchard, 11th

[abyssalarcana]

There's a rustling from some of the overgrown brush at the orchard's border. Having failed to find some of the plants Caedra wants for her unhallowing ritual, she's returned to look for close correlates. Particularly on her list are tomatoes. The sour green fruits, crushed to a pulp and mixed with salt, should carry some of the properties that the belladonna would have, or so she hopes. That's what Law had said and while she certainly doesn't put stock in everything he says, it seemed like a good suggestion to follow up on.

Behind her, blackness and decay spreads, as leaves curl and wilt and drop wherever she contacted them. She pauses at a patch of spindly-looking plants, all stretched from lack of sun and nutrients. The weeds have overgrown them here but still they send up shoots, desperate to survive. A hardy little thing - and the tiny yellow flowers and pea-sized balls of green hanging lower down suggest that this could be either what she's looking for, or very close to it. Might as well find out. She wraps the bold yellow and black handkerchief around her hand so as not to ruin the thing so soon, and grasps a stem, uprooting the entire plant.

And then notices she's not alone. Well, the orchards are popular, after all. But recognizing the shape that seems to be picking its way closer to her brings a smirk to her face, and she carelessly stuffs the plant into her bag and heads toward him.

"Well, well. Aren't you looking healthy these days," she teases darkly.

[vocarrah]

Something about the orchard puts Ianchus at ease. Perhaps it's the feeling of being surrounded by trees, the crowns stretching up above him, like some sort of cage. Some of the plants have been struggling in the new climate, and he's been checking sympathetically on them. The oranges, at least, are doing surprisingly well. He doesn't know much about horticulture, but perhaps it would be a useful thing to learn.

He picks a low-hanging orange, rolling it between his palms thoughtfully. And that's when he hears the voice, and realizes he's not alone. The sound, so familiar, makes the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand straight up. An utterly primal reaction.

He turns, tossing the orange up and down in one hand, a wry, cold smirk on his face.

"Ah, Caedra. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought that fruits and vegetables weren't your usual fare? Not wriggly enough?"

[abyssalarcana]

Ah, that courage. Or is it false bravado? It's becoming a new sort of pastime, approaching the people she has killed and seeing how they react. Charles was bland about the whole thing, although she could at least sense some amount of hatred from him and his pestering. Rita was cautious, but otherwise let it go. Margaery, though - now that Caedra knows her name! She has seen mentions on the network of charms against her kind, wards to hallow the sewing shop. Swordsmanship training. It's funny how seriously she took it all.

What a miserable way for things to be, that she remembers each individual kill. That's how few there have been.

"They have uses, if not for eating. Besides, it's a lovely place to spend some time, isn't it?" she comments casually, as she turns to seek out another plant and uproot it. One more for the collection. "I hear sometimes Hope brings people back missing something, Ianchus. Did you lose more of yourself?"

[vocarrah]

Ianchus suppresses a dry laugh in his chest.

"I seem to be all here. But, pray tell, are you speaking from experience? What are you missing, Caedra?"

Agh, looking into her eyes is like waking up in the middle of the night and staring into nothing. Unpleasant.

Coast, 13th!

[demonsional]

Hayden and Ianchus haven't met, and Hayden's demeanor tends to flip flip between two socially inept extremes, either too shy to make first contact or absolutely disregarding another person's personal space. But, well, he's here, collecting rocks, as he does, and he can't help but notice the the way that Ianchus is carrying himself.

So, from a safe distance, Hayden shouts at him, rocks in his hands, eyes wide.

"You look sad! Hello! Hello!"

He's trying to help, he's just bad at it. I'm sorry.

[vocarrah]

Ianchus had been studying the coastline, idly wondering if there was sage in any of the gardens, and also wondering why he was wondering such a thing. He hadn't done that, that little ritual, at any point back in his own world--why was he considering it now? Trying to pretend that he was a good son, a good brother?

His musing is cut short by--a child? He lifts his head, raising his eyebrows a little. There's a runner of amusement that cuts through the melancholy.

"Hello! Hello!" he shouts back. "Tide's coming in! Careful that it doesn't sweep you out!"

[demonsional]

This is probably not what Ianchus was intending, but Hayden's expression flashes with fear at the warning and he abruptly looks out at the water, scattering his souvenirs as he jumps backward with a yell--as if a wave had been about to crash down on him, which it definitely wasn't.

"No!" He wraps his arms around his head. "I don't want to be swept! Sweeping is not for me!"

[vocarrah]

Ianchus laughs at that, turning and starting to walk towards him, glad to have a break from thoughts of funeral rites.

"Don't worry, you've still time. The waves are still low. Look, now. You've dropped all these." He bends down to pick the scattered rocks, looking one over, then throwing a glance at the toothy child.

Hot Springs

[stealyoursoul]

Leo's heading to the springs again. He's found a fondness for the place, being surrounded by heat. It relaxes him, which is a good thing when one is as uptight as he tends to be. He's got his guitar with him this time and is plucking away idly at the chords of a Fleetwood Mac song. He sings softly to himself. "And he was just like, a great dark wing, within the wings of a storm..." He's a good musician, the kind that has talent without having to practice. It's the natural ability of a Sunai monster to play one specific instrument beautifully. Leo's unique in that he can do it with any instrument.

When he sees Ianchus, he stops playing, looking him over. The man has a haunted look on his face. Not like that of a sinner. More like that of a victim of some sort. "You look like you could use a song." He means that in the kindest way that a Sunai monster can. When not immensely hungry and able to control himself, Leo's song can calm people, soothe their minds by taking away all their troubles, leaving them in a blissful state.

[vocarrah]

Ah, it's this man, the one from the world of sinners and demons, with the fascinating thoughts on morality. The music he's playing is like nothing Ianchus has heard come from a guitar before, but there's certainly something pleasing about it.

At the offer, he pulls a wan smile, tilting his head and resting his chin in his hand.

"I think a song would be wonderful."

[stealyoursoul]

"Then you shall have one." Leo starts in with a new song. This one has no name and no lyrics attached to it. This song is unique to Leo as his fingerprints, something that has always been with him, from the first day he was created. It is beautiful to listen to as all Sunai music is.

It creates a sense of calm and peace the longer someone listens to it, taking away everything else that is on their minds. Pretty soon, they are in a blissful state that will last as long as the music does. As he plays, a white glow surrounds Ianchus' skin. This is his soul rising up to the surface in response to the melody. But there's nothing to fear. Leo only eats the souls of sinners and so the one before him shall remain untouched.

[vocarrah]

Ianchus notices the white glow, and he runs his fingers over his skin, watching it with interest. But though it's odd, he doesn't feel concerned...he feels at peace, really. Why was he so concerned? What's over is over, after all. Wasn't he always the one who wanted to move forward?
He closes his eyes, tapping his fingers against the edge of the springs.

"Ah, how lovely."

coast; 13th.

[whip_poor_will]

By all counts, Ianchus was a failure on Ravine's part. He may not realize it, but his murder had been a beacon that summoned the reaper to that party of his, as she so often is drawn to where death decays.

Although she had saved one life from that demon, it does not always feel enough. But she cannot stop every blood from spilling, just as she cannot control which way the river runs and time itself marches on, regardless of what she does.

When Ravine approaches, it is more likely that Ianchus does not immediately see her; she doesn't make noise and when she does arrive, she is just... there. A dark and towering figure compared to him, and with a gaze that is able to parse the details of what he is experiencing right now.

Dying is traumatic for most souls, not always a peaceful passage from one life to the next. However, it is a different story with the living who can't quite die, who are vulnerable to experiencing pain over and over and over. There are times in which Ravine almost misses it. Other times, like this? Not so much.

"I am sorry," she blurts when Ianchus does inevitably notice her. She can stay in the Zone where he cannot see her, where she doesn't have to have this talk with a man who has never spoken with her in person and only had one passing conversation over the phone. But this isn't about her discomfort. This is about suffering.

[vocarrah]

Ianchus is distracted as is, watching the waves break against the coastline just inches from his feet. It reminds him of another one, warmer, sprigs of sage planted into the wet sand for the water to pull at. The tide is going out now, it seems, which means that they would stand there for most of the day before the water would come to claim them and pull them out to sea.

It takes him almost entirely too long to notice Ravine, and he jumps a little when he does, feeling his heart leap into his throat. A moment longer and he recognizes her from the Network. His shoulders drop, though he's still trying to stop the jackrabbiting in his chest.

"Sorry? For what?"

[whip_poor_will]

She let's that recognition process through his eyes before Ravine responds.

"I could have saved you, but I saw what the demon was doing too late."

That's the problem when your sense of time is altered after thousands of years, seeing reality as Ravine does. Sometimes things that she could have prevented end up being too little too late to matter.

[vocarrah]

"...Ah."

Ianchus makes a little sound, between a huff, a laugh, a sigh. He shrugs, turning back to the sea with a smile that he doesn't really feel.

"It doesn't matter. I'm alive now, hale and whole. Don't worry about it, yes?"

coast;

[writtendestiny]

She spends her time here because being alone is still preferable to spending too much time in crowds. Because being alone has always been preferable to Poison, even when she hated her isolation. At least, here, she isn't completely by herself. A small black cat follows in her steps, and from inside her jacket pokes another feline face that looks slightly... off in a way that you might not be able to put your finger on until she draws the creature out and shows it to be a peculiar cat-octopus hybrid.

That Ianchus catches her eye is completely accidental, but her violet gaze lingers on him for a moment longer than a passing glance would take, and she slows her steps with a slight pursing of her lips. The small cat on the ground heads over to investigate the stranger, sniffing delicately at his boots, and Poison appears to take that as a good sign.

"Bat, leave him alone," she admonishes the cat gently, though the creature chooses not to listen. "He really likes people."

[vocarrah]

Ianchus laughs a little, looking down at the cat with a small smile.

"My. Isn't this one a little charmer."

He doesn't always like animals, but the cat is plenty cute--and his little sister had always liked cats. Perhaps the fact that he's been reminiscing about her has opened something up within himself. He crouches next to the cat, letting his fingers dangle between his knees, as he looks up at the cat's owner.

"I haven't seen you around before, hmm?"

[writtendestiny]

The cat reacts well to the attention, heading right for Ianchus' hand and rubbing up against his fingers. Poison, who puts a great deal of stock in what her animals think of people, decides that he can't be too bad if Bat likes him that much.

"I haven't been here long," she replies with a small, ever-so-slightly uneasy smile. The creature in her coat wriggles with the excitement of a potential new friend, and she's forced to relent and let it free. It attaches itself to her arm with six of its eight strange, tentacle-like legs.

"It's been... an adjustment." That's the right word for it, isn't it? "But it isn't as terrible here as where I was before."

[vocarrah]

"Oh?" Ianchus lifts his head to study the girl, his hand absently moving to scratch behind the cat's ears. He's had practice thanks to the sailors who insisted on taking cats aboard; he can guess at what parts on the small skull will draw those little purrs out. The fact that he can keep his eyes on Poison is actually rather impressive, considering how much they want to drift to that little monster on her.

"Small favors then, no? It's better the opposite." Many people can't stand Hadriel. He wonders what kind of a hell this girl came from if this is better.