CLOSED;;

[withoutnobody]

Who: withoutnobody & nostray.
What: Riku sticks his fingers into some wounds, Renji finds out about his late-night visits to Zabimaru.
When: today
Where: 4-2
Warnings: Ssssome violence, some Renji temper-tantruming.

Comments

[withoutnobody]

[by sharp contrast, the ivory of his own fangs is a grin, as if that was a reaction he was looking for, expecting, betting on]

[he's been on Thor two years and the greatest threats he's faced have all been internalized -- it's contenting to know someone else faces those same conflicts, without an escape, right in his shitty little face]

Uh-huh. Tell me more.

[nostray]

What ya wanna know? That there's a whole ship o' aliens waitin' fer someone t'make the wrong move? Or that there's a whole universe o'potential enemies waitin' t'be recused from the ashes o'dyin' planets an' make that wrong move for us, or fer themselves if they decide on gettin' rid o'us first? 'Cause I'm pretty sure ya coulda figured both o'those out fer yerself.

[he considers letting the words calm him, releasing steam with them, but opts instead to keep his temper tepid, bubbling, ready to boil over or cool at the flick of a switch]

[he wants to be angry. he wants to let it out. maybe it's not fair to dump it all on Riku, but he's pretty sure that if that smug face means anything it means there'll be no hard feelings]

[withoutnobody]

So you sit in here by yourself, polishing a blade you might or might not have to use just on the off chance you do, instead of trusting it to be there for you when you're in a bind?

[pulls a knee up and leans on it, some distance closing between them -- more towards Zabimaru's more than likely still-easy countenance (the animosity is all in Renji)]

[I wouldn't want to fight a pristine blade, anyway]

[there's enough to blemish in this world, a weapon shouldn't be one of them]

[nostray]

It'll be there, alright. But if y'don't clean it, it'll rust. Ain't gonna be much use with a rusty blade.

[and up go the barriers again, tension pulling taut the ropes to close the gate just as easily as it had slackened them, freeing the outburst]

[this is no ruptured dam - it's a fully fledged, highly checked and carefully operated mood compound. in and outbound traffic checked with the border guards, no more room for produce inside and outward journeys to be made sparingly for fear of pollution]

Sittin' around's worse for condition than bein' in the thick o' things. I'm not jus' gonna let it rot.

[withoutnobody]

You.

[it's a gentle correction; he doesn't have near the artillery needed to blow open the front gates of a military base, but with a little luck and practice, he can sneak into the backdoor and steal something from the kitchen]

[the quieter admissions don't make his expression break in the least; he's as patient as before]

You're not just gonna let you rot.