genessia | [text&action]

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I. Text
[ The situation is overwhelming. Maiya had never expected to wake up again, never mind in such a foreign environment. As surreal as the space around her was, she would have nearly thought this were an afterlife she had never considered—at least, until she finds the pamphlet. Her situation may have seemed fantastical, but the wad of cash tucked inside and the note telling her to get a job were anything but. The hologram waiting for her seems to confirm that thought, but it does little to clarify that matter of how she could be here.

Left in a completely unknown, impossible situation, she has nothing to fall back on but the most basic impulse engrained in her: she has to contact Kiritsugu. There's no reason to imagine he'd be here as well, or able to see whatever message she sends out, but she can see no other first step but to try. They already have a code for situations not unlike this one, should one of them ever be captured and unsure of their location. ]

hanged man

[ There is one thing she doesn't mind about her situation. Text communication can't give an unwanted listener clues about her location the way radio can. ]

II. Action (Genessia City)
[ Maiya doesn't wait for an answer after sending that message. She's still moving on instinct, and her instincts say she needs a change of clothes. Part of that is an irrational impulse born of her last memories, telling her that her position has been compromised and that she needs an outfit not immediately recognizable by her enemies. And, part of that is because her clothes are covered in blood.

So, if you're lucky enough to have chosen this particular day to shop for clothes in Genessia City, you may find yourself approached by a serious-looking woman dressed in equally serious-looking clothes, her face utterly stoic despite her jacket being stiff with her own blood. ]

Pardon me. Do you know much about what's in-fashion here?

[ She needs to look unremarkable, okay.

Later in the day, once she has something new to wear, you might encounter her stuffing her bloody clothes in a public trashcan. Because that's normal. ]

III. Text (Anonymous)
[ It isn't until she's had some time to process her situation that she tries to address the general population of of Genessia. There's much she needs to come to terms with, but— ]

Is there anyone who remembers dying before arriving to this place?

[ That's the subject that weighs most heavily on her mind. She still isn't sure what to make of the discrepancy between her own experience and the language of kidnapping. But, maybe those who have been here longer can lay her thoughts to rest. ]

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( He'd blundered into it, allowing his guilt over Maiya's death, his disbelief in her presence, and his resignation to Irisviel's fate to colour his actions. He hadn't even considered himself into the equation, really, acting on an instinctive impulse to fulfill Maiya's needs. It's what he owed her, was it not? He'd always recognized she and Iri deserved far more than anything he could offer.

If it seemed like an overly sentimental gesture on his part... it's because it was. He'd grown relatively idle in his time here, in this new environment divorced from the war, and living with a boy who claimed to be his son. The unreality was not lost on him. )

Maiya.

( The words rasp from his throat as he remains here like this, gripping her tighter against him, hand slipping from her hair to her cheek. )

Iri would have wished for your happiness.

( It doesn't answer her question, but it's how he rationalized it in his mind. He hadn't the luxury to save either of them. So here, he'd do what he could to fulfill his beloved's wish. )

I know. She did.

[ Even if the happiness Irisviel wished for her to find was no longer obtainable. Trapped in this world like a ghost, she would never learn the name of her family or the fate of her son. But, she doesn't say that to Kiritsugu. It feels private, a precious secret shared only between Irisviel and herself, just the way so many of her memories belong only to him.

She recognizes the rasp in Kiritsugu's voice. Rare in years past, and more common now—Maiya leans up again, slipping her tongue past his lips. She should scold him for his sentimentality again, if a thing so small as her life is enough to move him, but... Instead, she resolves not to let him cry, kissing him to cover the sound. ]

( He easily acquiesces to her, parting his lips and gliding his tongue against hers as they have done many times before. There's nothing she can do to prevent the tears from streaming down his cheeks, having convinced himself this would never be a possibility again, but the kiss does serve to muffle the sound.

Mentally, he is by no means stable, but having her against him in this capacity does help him calm. Calm enough to pick up his feet, to continue leading her up the staircase.

Once they start down the hall, it's not long before he's pulling away-- albeit reluctantly, when they reach the door of his room.

A part of him has to be thankful that the house is seemingly empty, in this moment, unable to bear the thought if Shirou were to hear him like this. )

Kiritsugu.

[ As they reach his door and he breaks the kiss, she murmurs his name again. This time, though, her tone is changed from before, a downturn in her voice that folds just the barest hint of scolding into the word. She brings both her hands to his cheeks again, just as she did outside that boutique in Genessia City, as much to hold his face toward hers as it was to dry his cheeks with her thumbs. ]

You shouldn't cry for me.

[ But despite her chastising words, her expression isn't disappointed in him, Maiya's face cast with a soft smile that even he had only seen in rare moments. To simply be at his side again is a happiness she had thought she had known for the last time, and in this moment, it's enough to warm her down to her bones. That's why, just as much as his weakening resolve—he shouldn't cry for her, when he's made her so happy. ]

Edited 2019-01-23 20:59 (UTC)

( For all his faults, Kiritsugu is at least, considerate of her. Shuffling her past the door before he walks inside, himself, and closing the sliding door shut behind him.

The privacy does make things easier on him, in a sense. He's no longer beholden to the same restraint he was prior, leaning into her hands with no inclination to resist, and trying to embrace the sensation of her skin caressing his own. It's hardly a good moment, but. If she were happy-- happy to see him, then perhaps he should try to return this in kind. Not that it was something he deserved. In his mind, it very much wasn't. But he was capable of feigning this, for her. )

I never thought I'd see you again.

( His words come out in a muted sob. That much, for him, is a confession in earnest. He hadn't. But the rest? The initiation of contact, the grip of her shoulders and brush of his lips against hers, this time. It's an act all very forced on his part, one meant to contain himself, for her. And in spite of himself, he gently leads her towards the futon. )

[ It's not a statement that bears answering. Of course he'd thought that. Of course she'd thought the same, thought that she would close her eyes and never see anything again. Whatever their circumstances besides, to be at his side again is a miracle.

So, she doesn't answer him. She doesn't even hush him, this time, merely leaning into his kiss as he draws her in. She lets herself be led to the futon, her own hands falling from where they had settled against his body to pull her new shirt over her head. ]

( He had every intention to just undress her-- himself, but easily pulls away from her face to wordlessly help her out of her blouse, showing little care for where it falls to the floor.

It's not long before his hands have wandered to the clasp of her bra, though, hastily working to undo it, even as he is now pinning her against his bed. )

Edited 2019-01-28 18:47 (UTC)

[ A small, breathy noise escapes her as he presses her downward, not just to sit at the futon but to lie against it. For as many times as they've been like this, it still makes her heart swell, those feelings of safety and comfort only multiplied by their unexpected reunion. Muscle memory makes her arch her back beneath him, Maiya lifting her shoulders so that his fingers can more easily open the clasp and strip her bare. ]

Kiritsugu...

[ Without thinking, she murmurs his name again, saying it merely for the sake of saying his name. Her voice is barely a breath, sighed against the side of his face as her fingers bunch in his hair. ]

( He was prepared to go through with this, mechanically as he was, mustering past whatever hesitance he had left by peeling away her bra, exposing her bare chest to the air. It's an instinctive move on his part, to immediately skim his hands downward, palming the weight in his hands and tweaking her nipples between his thumb and index fingers.

For as much as did want this for her-- the warmth spreading through his chest threatened to overwhelm him, to remind him of a time long past. To feel her, so tangible in his arms like this, he... )

Let me take care of you, Maiya.

( His words come out in barely a whisper, resolved to say them in Iri's absence. No, he wouldn't cry. He couldn't, not again. Not while she was so happy. He's going through the motions in his mind again as a means to steel himself, and buries his head into her shoulder, nuzzling and pressing kisses against her neck-- perhaps prickling her with his stubble. )

Edited 2019-01-29 00:18 (UTC)

[ She answers his words with a kiss, her face turning so that her mouth presses to his temple. ]

Yes.

[ Her breath ghosts along his skin as she speaks, lips still so near that they brush against his cheekbone. When she feels his head move, her grip loosens in his hair, and instead her fingertips drag down the back of his neck, tracing the his spine until they dip between his shoulder blades. Her nails are cut as bluntly as they always are, but even so, with the way she curls her fingertips they press against him through the fabric of his shirt, touch tracing a long, slow pattern to his waist and back.

The brush of his stubble against her skin is familiar, too. It's a feeling her thoughts can only associate with Kiritsugu, and it makes her skin prickle, her chest arching up into the touch of his hands. She doesn't feel the least bit of shame in the way her eyes fall closed and her head tilts to the side, her breath quickening into short, airy gasps against the fabric of the futon below her. ]

( Every small movement and touch underneath him: her breath, her lips brushing against him, the way her fingernails dug through his shirt, is a constant reminder of her deeply seated affection and love for him; something he at once did not deserve and never felt he could never fully return. Still, he persists. Lips descending from her neck to her clavicle and finally resting atop her breasts, idly shifting his hands after giving her another, firm squeeze.

Even as his hands - now hovering against her waist - work to undo the zipper of her pants, he cannot help but focus on the sight of her face, eyes wide and drinking in her image.

He couldn't help it. To see that his ministrations have brought her this sort of blissful peace? He doesn't even register the tears streaming down his face before he collapses against her, allowing a hoarse wail to escape his throat. He'll remain there, nearly paralyzed from the shock, were it not for his sort, strained sobbing and heaviness of his breath. )

[ As easily as she falls into this simple, one-sided happiness, he jolts her out of it just as quickly. The way his weight suddenly slumps forward, that rough and anguished sound he makes, even the wetness of his cheeks as they press against the now-bare skin of her chest— She jerks upward onto her elbows beneath him, inhaling with a sharp—albeit much softer—sound of her own. ]

Kiritsugu—

[ She doesn't think as she lifts her hand back to his head, fingers threading into his hair. The reaction is startling, extreme, and not at all something she's accustomed to from him, and in her surprise, all she can do is watch the shaking of his shoulders with wide eyes. ]

[Shirou, meanwhile, has been having a perfectly average day (for his life in Genessia, anyway). He just got off work and is strolling into the house now.]

I'm home!

[His voice rings as clear as a bell through the house as he takes off his shoes and --

No, wait. He hears something. He's not the only one at home.

Is that sobbing? Oh no, is someone hurt? Shirou's Hero of Justice instincts kick in. He drops the bag he was carrying by the door and bolts in the direction of the sobbing. He pinpoints the source of the sobs, runs into Kiritsugu's room, and--]

[--every muscle in Shirou's body freezes. Even his heart skips a beat.

There he was. His hero, his savior. Sobbing into some unfamiliar woman's chest. Not to mention the state of undress she's in right now. The look of shock on his face begins to join forces with his embarrassment as blush spreads across his cheeks.]

W-w-w-w--

[Not even his tongue wants to cooperate with him. After trying to say something...]

AAAAAAAAAAAHHH?!?

[...He just lets out what could only be described as an ululation.]

( A h, this is how he dies. Crushed between the metaphorical strain of his son's wailing, and the physical mass of his assistant's breasts. Kiritsugu is so beyond his faculties that, even if he recognizes the sound of Shirou's voice-- that his son was present inside of the room, his attempt to muster his strength and pull away from Maiya is nearly futile. The response is enough to snap him out of this temporary stupor, however, and his crying ceases.

Weakly, he speaks: )

Shirou?

[ Everything happens so much.

Maiya has barely had time to respond to Kiritsugu's breakdown when the door of his room is flung open. Reflexively, her gaze snaps toward the intrusion—only to be met with the sight of an unfamiliar but otherwise unremarkable teenage boy. Even as he struggles to speak, she takes him in with her typical cool and analytical stare, serious-faced in spite of the absurdity of their situation. She doesn't look away until Kiritsugu speaks to greet him, glancing back to his face still buried against her breasts. ]

You didn't tell me there was anyone else living here.

[ She speaks quietly, matter-of-fact, evidently not feeling particularly flustered by being bare-chested in front of a stranger. ]

[Shirou is now fiercely averting his gaze. His whole face is probably red at this point.]

What...is...I mean, what are you...what is this...?

[He's able to speak in sentence fragments now. Improvement!]

( He remains slumped against Maiya for a moment more, taking in her words and even his son's bluster. He's at least able to string his thoughts a little more coherently, now, pulling himself away from Maiya, and carefully considering how to explain this discrepancy. )

I go on to adopt a son after the Grail War. ( He explains, plainly, as if aforementioned son hadn't walked in their tête-à-tête. ) I'm sorry, I didn't think to mention it.

( And, like that, he's sitting upright now, drawing himself towards the edge of the bed and fumbling for Maiya's shirt on the floor, thinking it easier to focus on getting Maiya covered up than himself. )

I see.

[ When Kiritsugu pushes himself up, Maiya straightens as well. Shirou's stuttering goes wholly ignored, and rather than covering herself as she waits for Kiritsugu to hand her the blouse, she merely perches at the edge of the bed with her hands folded primly in her lap.

She bows her head in Shirou's direction. ]

Then, it's good to meet you.

[Well. This is awkward. Shirou still can't bring himself to face her. His own prudishness aside, Rin would probably kill him if she found out he saw some other woman topless before he saw her in such a state.]

I -- ah -- well, I mean --

[Deep breath.]

What is going on here?

( Shirou, Kiritsugu loves you. He would take a bullet for him!! But, he is not in the business of giving answers to questions Shirou already knows the answer to. He should know what they're doing. So, he'll continue on, as if this was any average conversation: )

Shirou, this is Miaya. ( He deftly sweeps the blouse from the floor, then hands it off to Maiya. ~~Consider your words carefully.~~ ) She was my assistant, and will be living with us from now on.

( ~~Nailed it.~~ 'Was,' having to mentally correct himself as he speaks. Because, that's normal. )

[ Silently, Maiya takes her shirt and pulls it on again. She has nothing further to say, apparently, having already given that polite (albeit restrained) greeting, but at least now Shirou's modesty is protected as she sits and waits for him to return it. ]

[All right. At least now he can stop averting his gaze. He takes a deep breath.]

Oh. I-I see. Sorry, I didn't know.

[Kiritsugu had never said a word to him about an assistant, after all. He bows, albeit awkwardly, in Maiya's direction.]

I'm. I'm sorry about that. My name is Shirou. Kiritsugu adopted me when I was still a child.

( Funny about that, Shirou. There's a lot Kerry hasn't told him. Kiritsugu, himself, seems collected enough now; focusing his gaze on Shirou and attempting not to mull over what Maiya had told him earlier. It's not something he's consciously aware of, but his hand gingerly rests atop Maiya's as he considers what to say. )

She'll need help adjusting to civilian life. ( THAT SEEMS LIKE A REASONABLE GOAL IN THIS PLACE. ) Could you do that, for me?

( She's really important to him, Shirou!! )

[ Ever-so-slightly, Maiya glances in Kiritsugu's direction. But, of course, she doesn't protest—not to his hand over hers, and not to the request he makes to Shirou. It's surprising, and strange to think of, but she supposes it's true that there's nothing left for her to accomplish in death.

Still without speaking, she returns her gaze to Shirou's face, expression faintly expectant. She can't help but think on his explanation as she does so. Kiritsugu adopted me when I was still a child. Her own history is hardly any different, and it makes her wonder after his circumstances, even if it seems imprudent to ask so directly. ]

[text&action]

His accomplice in dumbassery.

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