genessia | [text&action]

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[text&action]

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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[ 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. ]

I, um, I can do my best. It would help if Tohsaka gave a hand, because she covers my weaknesses. Kind of like how I cover hers.

[He looks around the room, then adds:]

OK, so...so I think I should get started on dinner. Ms. Maiya, do you have any food preferences? Are there any likes or dislikes I should know about?

[He's not asking Kiritsugu because he knows his, and no, he's not making junk food. He's too proud to stoop to that level.]

( That implies Kiritsugu cares about himself on a fundamental level enough to ask and doesn't just eat whatever Shirou sets in front of him!! )

That would be ideal.

( Mentally, he has to keep himself from answering for Maiya, despite how natural it might be for him to do so. It's good for her-- he thinks, to express her own needs. )

[ Maiya expects that Kiritsugu will speak for her—but then he doesn't, and the pause at the end of his sentence hangs there for a second too long as she waits. Again, her eyes dart in Kiritsugu's direction, glancing at his face in the peripheral of her vision before she focuses on Shirou again. ]

...No. There's nothing.

OK. Then I'll stick to my original dinner plan. We'll be having chicken marsala tonight with a side of steamed vegetables.

...I'll go start getting things ready right now.

[With that, he starts for the door. This is still kind of awkward...]

( He's not oblivious to the way Maiya glances at him, but chooses not to acknowledge it-- or at least, not until the door shuts behind Shirou as he leaves the room. He isn't even certain what to say in situations like this-- somehow feeling as if he's failed her for a second time today.

His eyes focus on much of nothing, but seemingly directed towards his feet touching the floorboards. Kiritsugu might not be in the same, compromised state from before, but his thoughts could only be described as disjointed. )

Are you alright, Maiya?

( That's all he can think to say, in this moment, knowing she is not accustomed to handle him in his weaker moments, and almost inclined to offer her an apology. He doesn't, though, knowing she wouldn't care for it. )

Kiritsugu.

[ She answers him with a murmur of his name, then sidles closer, closing the small gap between them until their bodies are pressed hip-to-hip. From her new position tucked against his side, Maiya looks up at him, and when she opens her mouth next, what comes out isn't an answer to his question. ]

I asked if this is all right with you.

[ Her voice is mild—but as faint as it is, the chiding tone to her words is present, and that certainly shouldn't be lost on someone who knows her so well as Kiritsugu does. ]

( It's not, but, her chiding tone is what he needed to hear in this moment. She was upset with him. Perhaps, Maiya even understood that she was the cause of his anguish.

He's still not giving her direct contact, his eyes focusing instead on the wall, but his hand does remain atop hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was the most he could do without offering a straightforward apology. )

I've not been well, Maiya. ( He's not about to elaborate. ) But it is alright with me.

( His guilt for her shouldn't change his feelings on the matter. Or at least, that's what made sense to him. )

Edited 2019-02-22 06:50 (UTC)

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