OPEN ❀❧ 『here's another pity there's another chance, try to learn your lesson but you can't』
Who: themothdies & YOU.
What: Random CR, really.
When: Today!
Where: Takasugi's going from his job to the third floor of the residency halls, so please to stop him anywhere in between! Especially feel free to tag in if you're a coworker (origami folding) or a roommate (3-13), since it's rare he actually visits his assigned room.
Warnings: Will be added as ( Read more... )
What: Random CR, really.
When: Today!
Where: Takasugi's going from his job to the third floor of the residency halls, so please to stop him anywhere in between! Especially feel free to tag in if you're a coworker (origami folding) or a roommate (3-13), since it's rare he actually visits his assigned room.
Warnings: Will be added as ( Read more... )
Your creation, I assume? Was it your intent to discard it?
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That is why it's on the floor, don't you think?
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[leans down to pick it up]
Quite the waste.
[cradles it in her palms]
The workmanship is excellent. Creases made with intent. No hesitation to be seen in undone folds. Though the way they're so harshly pressed in...
[a pause; contemplative]
Then again, who am I to speak? I've never constructed one myself, only seen this sort of symbol during political gatherings.
Haphazardly done facsimiles.
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[it's an accurate and immediate dissection of the object -- and thus, he knows, a fairly decent analyzing of himself]
[the only thing that begs his attention, however, is;]
They are haphazard for a reason.
[politics.]
[politics and war are too closely related, so he doesn't bother asking that question, but--]
Were they effective, on your world?
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[still toying with the paper bird; not really making eye contact]
More often than not.
But in the end, it's lack that constitutes a fall.
"More often than not" should have been "always."
But always? That's utopic.
[and the bird is crumpled and placed in her skirt pocket]
And utopia? Funny how individuals seek a notion that literally means "no place."
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It seems that, here, lack hardly constitutes the fall of worlds at all.
[one smooth exhale, her life's troubles against his one paramount]
More than a notion, really. But, what the peons must fight for, they shall such die for.
[his eyes close, though he's gaging her reaction immensely, with far more conviction than he'd protest the crumpling of his origami (or of his samurai spirit)]
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[a derisive snort]
Death. If only it were that easy. You die for your cause but that doesn't necessarily mean it will outlive you. To whom do you entrust the care of what you perished for? Will she succeed you? Will she fail?
[and the fact that she uses she... well, that's telling.]
I beg your pardon. It's the first time I've been in your company yet I chose to begin with an admonition. Justified as it may have been, I hear it's frowned upon.
[and a faint smile]
Should you opt to levy offense, please call me Lady Une.
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[he does indeed quirk a bandaged-cloaked brow at the pronoun; it doesn't seem as though she's familiar with the Japanese heritage he clearly exudes. to entrust a woman so deeply to the brink of death is practically a joke (then again, to Takasugi, trusting his own death to another being seems a fair punchline itself)]
[the sound of gunfire lilts through one ear and its powder likewise on his tongue -- he admired her aim more than her short skirt and exposed midriff]
[in the end, he doesn't reply to her questions.]
Takasugi Shinsuke.
[a beat]
...Tea?
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[She did, after all, pair pragmatism with hope. Probably why she kept that thigh holster on despite claiming to favor peaceful discussion.]
[She notes the quirk of his brow and chooses not to address it. This wouldn't be the first time someone was surprised by a woman of her position. Granted the responsibility of protecting the Earth Sphere as the leader of its defense forces and then thwarted by a meteor strike. She'd failed His Excellency. His death was in vain.]
A pleasure to meet you, Mister Shinsuke. If that's an invitation, I'll gladly accept.
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[he smells optimism all over her words, sniffing out each syllable for the faith they radiated. but she also held conviction and intelligence, the latter of which doesn't often come packaged with goodness. it makes him curious.]
It was.
[clipped words for an acquaintance (one that isn't a beast) is as standard as the sword weaved through the sash on his waist]
[he veers his destination away from the residency halls]
And what had your folds so "harshly pressed in", Une?
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Impetuousness and optimism rather than grief.
[No tears shed after his death. She simply started the defense force and had it functional in under a year. And yet, the government always demanded more. She'd refused to give excuses and simply pushed herself to the limit. But then...]
It led to futility.
[A pause; well, it would be insensitive not to address it; if he had a loss of his own. But she despised both receiving and giving pity. It was condescending.]
[A sweeping statement then.]
As did most things for the individuals now aboard.
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[things like optimism often lead to grief, and while she's a woman who's seen much, he realizes she's still chosen the wrong path]
[hate is the only thing that doesn't end in futility -- hate let him win]
[ding-dong, the wicked world is dead]
[(it's not what he wanted, because it wasn't through his fingers)]
The prayer of the refugees, full of sorrow and anguish? It is a sweeping generalization. I'm sure there are some that have become accustomed to their new home.
[with a resonating bell, he enters a small tea house stashed away in the mall's stores]
[he doesn't hold the door for her.]
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You're sure? In a vessel run on the very notion of improbability, you dare to be sure?
[a chuckle]
I would never have pegged you for being an optimist.
[and she follows him in]
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[he doesn't tuck sleeves in as he slides into the booth, leaving one sandaled foot hanging over the edge, comfortably slouching into a place where the smoke from his pipe can finally condense]
I have seen it with my own eye. ...Imagine a boy who has never had anything. The world, to him, didn't matter, he was only living in it and watching it go by, spinning until it made everyone else sick.
And then he found a home, in an unlikely place. It didn't matter that the home had defects or was full of flaws and mysterious and sadness--
[a pause with a wave at a waitress, indicating two of his usual; apparently he comes here with some frequency]
--it only mattered that he found it. His home is someone else's prison, and he doesn't care.
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A sincere sort of selfishness. That's refreshing.
[It wasn't sarcasm. She appreciated sincerity. Better to know upfront that your enemy wished you ill rather than be stabbed in the back. Noting that he's made the order on her behalf, she keeps an easy smile in place.]
My thanks for placing the order. Otherwise, I would have had to feign uncertainty for propriety's sake until you decided.
[a heavy sigh; it was a bad habit gained from the company she used to keep]
That is, unless you would have insisted on my decision. On my world, even meals were political games. Aristocrats had a propensity for trying to sound like they cared about what you wanted but, in the end, you end up with what they wish on your plate. The sort of people who like to make you think you're deciding for yourself when you really aren't...
Your straightforwardness is appreciated. Seems like you're quite the interesting character, Mister Shinsuke.
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I was never one for politics.
[they were all wretched bastards, in his mind, capable only of passing papers under tables and not getting anything accomplished]
[the only thing that spoke, to him, was bloodshed and beheaded shoulders]
It sounds like a time of great strife, if your mannerisms have anything to say of it.
[straight shoulders, firm face, eloquent speech; he knew it from a distance.]
[the comment on his character, again, goes unanswered]
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