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Entry tags:
Cry Wolf [Action, Open| Backdated 10/22]
[Genessia City - Memoria Park, midnight]
[He got off the phone with Anastasia, and learned the bad news: Star--Satsuki was gone. He'd known her for three years, which covered most of his life in Genessia. Her existence seemed so sure, so solid, so long-lasting that he never expected it could be lost. Imagine his surprise.
Normally he'd retreat into his bag, abscond from the world a while, mourn, then be back and smiling like nothing had happened. It wasn't his first loss, and it wouldn't be his last. Yet something was different this time. There was no void, no shelter. Nowhere to hide. And it was Satsuki. He thought she was so strong; that nothing could ever make a single dent in her resolve. Her loss proved that no one was safe.
Finally, his form. He's a werewolf at present, and so the means he had for being civilized, subtle, and silent were at their weakest. Raw passion surged uncontrollably, and he knew that if he didn't do something, he'd go mad with grief. He could only think of one place.
He trod to the Park slowly, head and tail drooping with a heavy gait. The rain was relentless, soaking him to the bone. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to see it. Yet he pressed onward inevitably until at last, he came to the slab.
It is his most hated object in all of Genessia. It's a testament to the world's failings; a monument as terrible as a mass grave. More and more names were added all the time, and the total length never receded. The amount of those consigned to oblivion, who found life in Genessia too much, or perhaps too little, outnumbered the living tremendously, and showed no signs of slowing. Amidst all this innocent greenery stood this solid obit, gray and cold and unyielding as iron. Yet horribly unlike iron, it grew. Perhaps he's gone mad, but sometimes he could swear it expanded to make room for more.
He scanned the list of names, downcast eyes headed towards the bottom. Hers was unmistakable. There she was: Satsuki Kiryuin.
Instinctively he grit his teeth and plunged his claws into his palms. He growled as his anger build, until finally he tore after the slab like the wild animal he couldn't resist becoming, roaring and ramming and clawing and biting, as if it could be broken. As if marring it could undo the bleak truth it told. Satsuki is gone; who better to blame? When violent deeds proved vain, he turned to violent words.]
You worthless, evanescent, transient, ephemeral, vain quitter! So this is all you amount to. Nothing! All those speeches, all that scheming, all that politicking--gas! Just talk! When the chips are down you fold just like everyone else. Some school principle you turned out to be with a botched attendance record. What about Anastasia? What about Koishi? What about me? Were we not good enough? Is existence too difficult without your usual retinue of sycophants?
[Sorrow was always in his partings, but not rage. Not the kind that pinned his ears back and bared his teeth. But why not? They're the ones who heartlessly abandoned people. They're the weaklings who succumbed to sloth. It's their fault.]
Well, there weren't any more sycophantic than me. What could I have done better? What was there? I attended every lesson. Whenever anyone showed up with the least interest or aptitude for scholasticism, I sent them to your gigantic, vulgar academy. Not because it mattered to me--God knows no one learns anything in this world--but because I thought it would make you happy. I prayed so often that you'd come around; that you'd find success in every good endeavor. Had I known this would be your reciprocation, I wouldn't have bothered.
[He couldn't keep up his anger any longer. The heat of his wrath dissipated under the rain, and with a shudder and a whine, he joined with it.]
Have you any idea what this feels like? To lose the ones closest to you again and again without so much as a farewell? You know I tried wishing one back, once? The spirits wouldn't have it, of course. Figures; resourceful or able as I am, I can't have anything I really want. We spent all those hours training my body and mind, weaponizing me into something so powerful even I'm afraid. Yet when it comes to you or anyone else that disappears, I'm impotent. Suppose that's your last lesson: no matter what I do or how hard I train, in the end I can't do anything for the ones I love.
[That central, primal word stopped him, making him weep and whimper and press his head against the slab.]
I'm sorry, I know I'm speaking horribly. It hasn't even been a day and I just...I miss you all so much! I'd hack my limbs off just to have a little more time. Suppose I haven't learned all that much; I'm just as pathetic as the day you took me under your tutelage. For the life of me I don't know why; I can't comprehend your charity. You gave me so much for nothing. Oh, you liked to make me think it had a price. Fibbed to me about a favor you'd call in any day now. And all the while you taught me everything you could, and by the end you tried to teach me things you didn't know how to teach! Never once did you want anything back; not once did you make the slightest expectation of return on investment.
You made me into a swordsman without peer; I came so close to besting you! I hate the very idea of fighting women, but...somehow, with you, I looked forward to every spar. How happy I was to edge nearer and nearer to victory. Was that why you left? Was the thought of losing to me so unbearable? I came this close to surpassing my teacher, and now...I never will.
[All these words, however earnest, still failed to root out and exorcise his grief. The knot in his chest had risen and lodged itself in his sore throat. A ridiculous, bestial idea suggested itself for what to do next.
Ted raised his muzzle to the heavens, and took in the supernal sights. The jewels twinkling on black canvas brought his nickname for Satsuki to mind and infused it with fresh meaning.
Ted howled. He poured all his heartache into that low, mournful cry that rang through the night. It was eerie and sorrowful and went on for minutes, as though vying for response. He howled until he was hoarse for all the ones he could not hear again. The last of his strength seeped out, and he knew he was alone. At last he had some measure of peace.
He laid down in front of the slab, head resting on his paws. A small but sure flame, like the stubborn embers of an ending campfire, lit his spirit and bid him speak again.]
I'll win, Star. I'll figure the mysteries of Genessia and rescue every damned soul within and without. Thanks to you, I'm strong. Strong enough to remain even when all disappear. I'll save the world even if it kills me. And when they ask how a fool like me managed it, I'll tell them of you. That will be your reward. You'd...heh, probably enjoy that more than prom.
[A drenched pile of fur and fatigue lay there with eyes he could barely keep open. He'd save the world. Just...not tonight.]
[He got off the phone with Anastasia, and learned the bad news: Star--Satsuki was gone. He'd known her for three years, which covered most of his life in Genessia. Her existence seemed so sure, so solid, so long-lasting that he never expected it could be lost. Imagine his surprise.
Normally he'd retreat into his bag, abscond from the world a while, mourn, then be back and smiling like nothing had happened. It wasn't his first loss, and it wouldn't be his last. Yet something was different this time. There was no void, no shelter. Nowhere to hide. And it was Satsuki. He thought she was so strong; that nothing could ever make a single dent in her resolve. Her loss proved that no one was safe.
Finally, his form. He's a werewolf at present, and so the means he had for being civilized, subtle, and silent were at their weakest. Raw passion surged uncontrollably, and he knew that if he didn't do something, he'd go mad with grief. He could only think of one place.
He trod to the Park slowly, head and tail drooping with a heavy gait. The rain was relentless, soaking him to the bone. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to see it. Yet he pressed onward inevitably until at last, he came to the slab.
It is his most hated object in all of Genessia. It's a testament to the world's failings; a monument as terrible as a mass grave. More and more names were added all the time, and the total length never receded. The amount of those consigned to oblivion, who found life in Genessia too much, or perhaps too little, outnumbered the living tremendously, and showed no signs of slowing. Amidst all this innocent greenery stood this solid obit, gray and cold and unyielding as iron. Yet horribly unlike iron, it grew. Perhaps he's gone mad, but sometimes he could swear it expanded to make room for more.
He scanned the list of names, downcast eyes headed towards the bottom. Hers was unmistakable. There she was: Satsuki Kiryuin.
Instinctively he grit his teeth and plunged his claws into his palms. He growled as his anger build, until finally he tore after the slab like the wild animal he couldn't resist becoming, roaring and ramming and clawing and biting, as if it could be broken. As if marring it could undo the bleak truth it told. Satsuki is gone; who better to blame? When violent deeds proved vain, he turned to violent words.]
You worthless, evanescent, transient, ephemeral, vain quitter! So this is all you amount to. Nothing! All those speeches, all that scheming, all that politicking--gas! Just talk! When the chips are down you fold just like everyone else. Some school principle you turned out to be with a botched attendance record. What about Anastasia? What about Koishi? What about me? Were we not good enough? Is existence too difficult without your usual retinue of sycophants?
[Sorrow was always in his partings, but not rage. Not the kind that pinned his ears back and bared his teeth. But why not? They're the ones who heartlessly abandoned people. They're the weaklings who succumbed to sloth. It's their fault.]
Well, there weren't any more sycophantic than me. What could I have done better? What was there? I attended every lesson. Whenever anyone showed up with the least interest or aptitude for scholasticism, I sent them to your gigantic, vulgar academy. Not because it mattered to me--God knows no one learns anything in this world--but because I thought it would make you happy. I prayed so often that you'd come around; that you'd find success in every good endeavor. Had I known this would be your reciprocation, I wouldn't have bothered.
[He couldn't keep up his anger any longer. The heat of his wrath dissipated under the rain, and with a shudder and a whine, he joined with it.]
Have you any idea what this feels like? To lose the ones closest to you again and again without so much as a farewell? You know I tried wishing one back, once? The spirits wouldn't have it, of course. Figures; resourceful or able as I am, I can't have anything I really want. We spent all those hours training my body and mind, weaponizing me into something so powerful even I'm afraid. Yet when it comes to you or anyone else that disappears, I'm impotent. Suppose that's your last lesson: no matter what I do or how hard I train, in the end I can't do anything for the ones I love.
[That central, primal word stopped him, making him weep and whimper and press his head against the slab.]
I'm sorry, I know I'm speaking horribly. It hasn't even been a day and I just...I miss you all so much! I'd hack my limbs off just to have a little more time. Suppose I haven't learned all that much; I'm just as pathetic as the day you took me under your tutelage. For the life of me I don't know why; I can't comprehend your charity. You gave me so much for nothing. Oh, you liked to make me think it had a price. Fibbed to me about a favor you'd call in any day now. And all the while you taught me everything you could, and by the end you tried to teach me things you didn't know how to teach! Never once did you want anything back; not once did you make the slightest expectation of return on investment.
You made me into a swordsman without peer; I came so close to besting you! I hate the very idea of fighting women, but...somehow, with you, I looked forward to every spar. How happy I was to edge nearer and nearer to victory. Was that why you left? Was the thought of losing to me so unbearable? I came this close to surpassing my teacher, and now...I never will.
[All these words, however earnest, still failed to root out and exorcise his grief. The knot in his chest had risen and lodged itself in his sore throat. A ridiculous, bestial idea suggested itself for what to do next.
Ted raised his muzzle to the heavens, and took in the supernal sights. The jewels twinkling on black canvas brought his nickname for Satsuki to mind and infused it with fresh meaning.
Ted howled. He poured all his heartache into that low, mournful cry that rang through the night. It was eerie and sorrowful and went on for minutes, as though vying for response. He howled until he was hoarse for all the ones he could not hear again. The last of his strength seeped out, and he knew he was alone. At last he had some measure of peace.
He laid down in front of the slab, head resting on his paws. A small but sure flame, like the stubborn embers of an ending campfire, lit his spirit and bid him speak again.]
I'll win, Star. I'll figure the mysteries of Genessia and rescue every damned soul within and without. Thanks to you, I'm strong. Strong enough to remain even when all disappear. I'll save the world even if it kills me. And when they ask how a fool like me managed it, I'll tell them of you. That will be your reward. You'd...heh, probably enjoy that more than prom.
[A drenched pile of fur and fatigue lay there with eyes he could barely keep open. He'd save the world. Just...not tonight.]
no subject
She waited for Ted to stop screaming to speak up, hand pressed firmly over the eye on her scarf.
"You shouldn't speak so disrespectfully of her, Mister Spades. She would sooner die then back down from a challenge." The little youkai's left eye was dark. Her teeth and claws on full display. Her third eye was bleeding on the branch. Her voice was heavy with a deep melancholy. Something he had not really heard from either of the sisters before.
"Humans all vanish one day. Even when they seem invincible. But even suggesting her will broke is entirely wrong. I doubt it was ever her choice to leave or stay."
no subject
He'd like to believe her assurance, you have no idea. Yet pattern recognition proved wiser than his optimism, and he'd known Satsuki's decline sure as any other. She'd withdrawn. Star had retreated from public life and ambition. She had zero presence on the network. Ted had noticed, but he'd tried to see the bright side of it. Smiled at how personable she'd become; explained away her inactivity as a result of refocus and meditation.
No such luck. There was no storm after that calm, just an increasing descent into the abyss. The quiet became the stillness of void. So was the pattern, he'd noticed, for all who disappeared. He believed strongly enough in choice to judge ennui as a choice, and they'd all chosen theirs.
What irony, Ted thought, for a mortal Youkai to pontificate on the transience of humans with immortal souls. If she only knew. He's in no mood to tell or argue with her, of course. Still, he felt the need to say something. To be strong for her, however ridiculous the notion. He'd always thought Koishi presumed herself a little superior, owing to age. Not that he'd blame her now; after that moodiness and noise no one would think him mature.
Still, he'd ended on a note of gratitude for strength. He could at least try to play the part.]
...I'm sorry for the loss.
no subject
"I'm sorry too." She shifted a little on the branch, one boot heel scraping the bark. "She was the first person to greet me when I came here. I can't believe I forgot that until now. I'm just glad I learned her name properly. So I don't forget entirely."
She opened her mouth to speak, pausing, and closing it once more. She was thinking. "... You should probably save your sympathies though. I can't feel deep sorrow anymore. Anastasia will need the comfort a lot more than me."
no subject
"She was so old?", he asked with weary astonishment. At times it really did seem like their life began the moment they arrived in Genessia, with Satsuki's four or so years making her many times older than the newer arrivals.
He wondered at "deep" sorrow. Was Koishi devoid of emotions completely, or did she only have faint remnants?
Her suggestion to think of others, of the future, to do something other than sit in the rain and lick his wounds did help pull his mind out of gloom. Anastasia, in her way, seemed stronger too. Or perhaps she was too dazed to cry? Expected it all along, perhaps? She did express an interest in talking to him, once they were themselves again. What could he possibly say that the others couldn't?
"...Was this as shocking to you as I? Don't suppose you were privy to any...last words, or anything?"