[catchall] time to live like we're dying

[gundemn]

WHO: Elan + you
WHAT: Catch-all with open and closed prompts
WHERE: Neo Tokyo and beyond
WHEN: November onwards
WARNINGS: Will tag if they come up!

Comments

November

[gundemn]

[open] the emo containment prompt

[gundemn]

[ Command has noticeably brushed the worst of Brasov under the rug, neglecting to acknowledge the Outsiders lost but wasting no time summoning more people to replenish their forces like they're just numbers on a spreadsheet. What's more, at least one of the dead is walking around base alive and without their memories. As if being killed in action wasn't horrific enough, the real Halloween scare is discovering that LILITH can remake you and, in effect, own you forever!

In light of these horrors, one teen has taken to a rooftop building to brood and have a smoke - yes, it's experimenting with unhealthy coping mechanisms hours. Elan leans against the railing overlooking the festivities below, a lit cigarette between his fingers. It's fine. It's the apocalypse. He won't live long enough to bite it to lung cancer, and he could use a pick-me-up right now to blunt his emotions, compartmentalize, and move on. He's lived his personal hell for ten months and counting, he's allowed to cope how he wants! Sometimes self-care means adjusting your expectations that you'll live a long and good life and accepting you only have the present. Lost in thought, he doesn't react right away to the presence of other people. ]

[newphew]

[ he is not alone in brooding on this rooftop. here is hunter, staring out into the distance, with flapjack on his shoulder. he likewise doesn't quite realize he's not alone, talking out loud to himself ]

Wriothesley... I.... failed you.

[ it's probably about then that he conveniently notices he's not alone being emo on this rooftop, because he smells the smoke and coughs. then turns to elan ]

The... robot witch?

[ he never got elan's name ]

[gundemn]

[ True, Elan never gave out his name. He still hasn't picked one, but honestly his lack of name is not even in the top 10 list of things that bother him right now and we're not here to unpack that issue. He looks over at the weird kid and his bird, the mention of Wriothesley making him take a long drag. ]

What happened wasn't your fault, you know.

[newphew]

[ maybe one day he will pick his own name. when he is not smoking dramatically on top of a building being emo with hunter. i'm sorry i have to make a joke i can't take hunter seriously ]

I should have been quicker to find him.

[ it's emo hours. ]

You were friends with him. [ not really a question ]

[gundemn]

[ Introductions are overrated! Bully first, ask questions later...but maybe not today, emo hours means serious conversations. ]

That was out of your control. Pretty sure he wouldn't want you beating yourself up for it.

[ Wriothesley wasn't his friend, exactly. Elan's not sure what the man thought of him, but he never gave him any shit for his attitude. He was chill and easy to banter with. If Elan was ever annoyed with him, it's only for kicking it to a bunch of lame cultists. ]

[coordination]

When did you start smoking?

[ Praise be, his voice is back. He's still rocking some light bandages over his right eye and neck as a result of those procedures, but they don't seem to have been grueling ones. Small blessings. ]

[gundemn]

I see your voice is back!

[ With the worst timing. Elan really doesn't feel like being grilled over his choices. Can we go back to exaggerated hand gestures? ]

You've just recovered. Try not to overuse it or you'll go hoarse.

[coordination]

[ Who said he was here to grill? Unless he's blowing that shit in his face, he couldn't care less what anybody here does. Unless they're Silco, doing it on a plane, but that's a different thing entirely. ]

It's back, and it's fine, now. I've gone long enough with only that ridiculous whiteboard as means to communicate. [ Ridiculous, he says, as if he didn't appreciate it, didn't shoot down offers of Dearka going out to find a different one, didn't tuck it away in a drawer in his room because he's a sentimental little dork. ]

[gundemn]

[ Who wouldn't think they're about to be reprimanded when Yzak comes marching up the picture of displeasure? Then again, his face might be stuck like that. Elan waves the joint around unconcerned. Tobacco tastes like shit and he's not sure it's making him feel better or worse for betraying his own principles. Maybe it's time to fall back on the simpler pleasures of needling other people for enrichment. ]

I dunno, I thought you communicated just fine with your glaring. On second thought, can we revisit the whiteboard?

[coordination]

[ It's not HIS fault he has resting bitch face. (and yet it's still so beautiful wow) ]

No, we can't! [ He huffs. ] I think I'd much rather never have to end up in a state where I'd need to use that thing again.

[ For all that it's a cute gift, well. ]

[gundemn]

Calm down, I'm kidding. But feel free to submit your complaints in writing anytime, seriously.

[ He'll take it over getting chewed out, he could use a laugh. Elan leans casually against the rails. ]

I doubt anyone wants a repeat of that mission. You missed the fun part where we fought amongst ourselves again! That's, what, two missions in a row that's ended in disaster?

[ He's starting to think if they're the 'heroes' meant to save the world, the world might be fucked. ]

@bakugo

[gundemn]

[ Elan can be found doing little but lounging around since returning from Brasov, feeling thoroughly exhausted, demoralized, and done with shit. LILITH in a rare show of decency has left Outsiders to their own devices, demanding no trainings or forced labor from them. Who knows how long that will last, and he intends to enjoy the break for as long as he can. Rather than see to important things like getting his robot repaired, Elan naps leisurely beneath a tree in the greenhouse, arms behind his head. His eyes are closed but true sleep eludes him, and occasionally he cracks open an eye at the beeping of a robot or at the arrival of an Outsider. ]

[blastedass]

[Most of the week after their trip back from Brasov, Romania, Transylvania, whatever the fuck (was that place even officially documented on a map considering the back-dated village culture and magic fog?) was spend distracting himself with his job, chores around the base, his boyfriend, his friends, one spot of training in the simulation before that was utterly shot from the rest of the month, and here... in the greenhouse.

Bakugo lets the door swing shut behind him as he beelines towards a particular setup in the greenhouse. Shelves now adorned with an assortment of plants, cuttings, seedlings, and seeds that have yet to emerge. It took him all week to get everything he brought back with him from that shitty village into proper pots, some needing temporary placement from the travel sacks. The last group is his aim for today, eyeing a selection of flora nestled in moss-like cups.

Stone paths sprout one direction or another as he trails them to the gardening shed, only to notice a familiar figure under a tree nearby. Normally he's not someone to interrupt a person's nap, unless he needs them for some reason or the other. But... normally. Bakugo can still be an asshole. Meaning he's prefacing his vanish into the shed with a casual aim-then-thumb-flick of an acorn-like seed through the air. Arcing beautifully high to decent-

bonk!

-right on Elan's forehead. Unless he's actually awake and dodges/deflects.]

[gundemn]

[ Elan's awake but he's mentally checked out he might as well not be. The seed finds its mark. He makes a startled noise, one hand going to his head, eyes snapping open and pushing himself up to sitting at once. At first he looks up at the tree thinking some squirrel is being a menace until he finds the real menace a few yards from him. His expression turns unamused. ]

Very funny!

[blastedass]

[Bakugo snorts in obvious amusement. It was pretty funny to him! Elan's glaring challenge towards the tree made it look like he was ready to fight a damn squirrel for its wretched prank. Hilarious.]

You know how to plant things, Gundamn? [And in he goes into the shed, rummaging around to gather some material. Spades of different sizes, plastic planting pots, a big bag of soil, watering can.]

[gundemn]

[ Haha, very funny. Seeing as there's no real threat from squirrels (threat from ally TBD), Elan leans back against the tree. ]

You're talking to a Spacian. We didn't exactly have soil to plant things on!

[ Unless you're Miss Daughter of a CEO with your own fancy greenhouse. Not to say Elan hasn't looked into gardening since coming to Earth and maybe even had a few potted plants of his own for the fun of it, but looking at all the tools Bakugo's hauling out, it looks like work. ]

[blastedass]

[Bakugo returns to sight, balancing the stacked pots along his arm with the spades slotted into the tops, other arm curled around a bag of potting soil like a body builder pumping weight.]

Guess you're learning something new today. C'mon.

[Don't make him drag your ass over here. Of course it's work! Getting a damn shower or eating is also work! Jeeze, amazing this guy's muscles haven't atrophied yet.] Text

[gundemn]

[ Elan doesn't move from his spot. He's feeling pretty comfortable where he is, but his eyes follow Bakugo around the greenhouse. ]

Aren't there robots for this kind of work? What are you even planting?

@march

[gundemn]

[ Living in Neo Tokyo in the 23rd century means futuristic therapies exist for all kinds of diseases and conditions - including memory loss. Elan comes cross the ad on a billboard one evening, and normally he'd be more skeptical of the described treatment but lately? He feels like following his whims, taking risks and living it up. Caution matters less when you can die to kaiju any day, you know? Instead of ignoring the blinking screen, he activates his oculars to call March.

A week later, they end up being the youngest two patients sitting in the lobby of the clinic, seeing as those suffering from memory loss are usually elderly. Pamphlets lying around the room explain how the procedure works, described as a relaxing hypnotherapy session that involves putting on a helmet with a bunch of cables attached and being massaged with brainwaves. 'Go to sleep and wake up your old self!', the encouraging headline reads. Elan hands March a thin stack of paperwork to complete before the proceedings begin, which includes fields for name, age, medical history... ]

Seriously? Do they not see the irony in asking us to fill out this stuff?

[bowtography]

[ March makes a face at the fields, scrunching up at her nose. This sounds kind of... not like it's going to be very helpful, but she'd never turn down any attempt to try and unlock her memories.

She and Elan, who she can't call Elan anymore, aren't about to lose out on anything else at this point. Not in regard to memories, anyway. ]

Maybe they think the memory loss is incredibly specific for everyone and that they at least remember their names.

[ Writing what she can-- ]

Do you think they'll accept "I don't remember"?

[gundemn]

Don't sweat it. It's just for their records!

[ You know, like how you go to get a health check up and they make you fill out a bunch of stuff and make sure you don't keel over to allergies? Elan jots down the name on his fake ID and waves his pen in the air dismissively. Not to say it doesn't bother him that he can't remember basic things about himself, but he's trying to keep his expectations low and his emotional investment minimal. ]

If it works, you could walk out a new person anyway. If not, at least we'll have a nice nap.

[bowtography]

Oh, true. If that means we can't sleep tonight, we should sit up with hot chocolate or something.

[ We'll find a bright spot, though it would be nice if they knew who they were. She's just not entirely holding her breath here. ]

[gundemn]

Not a bad idea. If it does work, let's get drinks. We can celebrate the good memories and forget the bad ones again.

[ He's joking. Mostly. Just in case whatever they're hit with is too difficult to process sober. He's under no illusions his past self had it good. ]

[bowtography]

Some kind of fruity cocktail if we remember, and hot chocolate if we don't? Now you're talking.

[ It means more bonding time he's just signed himself up for, of his own free will-- ]