synflux | [ closed ] why hold onto all that?

Lost?

( izou repeats, confusion amplified by the pain and exhaustion that's yet to subdue until they've had a few nights rest at least.

a few seconds later, after a decent attempt to concentrate, he finally begins to recognize the figure speaking to him through the unexpected echo of sloshing water as it slides through his thick hair in splashes. his muscles twitch with the heat and with indecision, as he isn't sure whether to keep leaning into the water or to straight up book it. )

You're... ( don't even say it. remember what happened last time. ) ... Ren, huh.

( guess this is the wrong bathing quarters. an occasional stream of red trickles beneath their feet, as well as the feet of the others who are nursing their wounds right now, into the drain, and then, a minute later, as he reaches up, he runs fingers through his hair, throwing blade the occasional sidelong glance as he recalls how they teamed up the day before: )

The way you fought out there—why're you like that?

[ The pause is noted. At least Izou is aware enough to not repeat what nearly set Ren off last time. It makes him more amenable to the other man's presence, even if he isn't in the right shower wing. Not that it matters— he supposes it's all the same. They're all here to lick their wounds and let the hot water wash it all away.

His eyes trail back to the rivers of red flowing into the drain, as if considering his words. ]

Why am I like what?

[ Izou is going to have to be more specific than that, if he wants better answers from Ren. ]

It's how I've always done it.

[ Not quite reckless, really, but the way he fights often betrays how little he cares about his own life. ]

( and that's exactly it. aside from what he's been told and their one-time exchanges, izou doesn't know or care much for blade personally, but that unrestrained sword technique and the intensity it carries... the language encoded in every thrust and strike of a weapon... that's something he can look at and understand without blinking. when blade acknowledges what he's taken issue with, izou's eyes squint with distance and irritation.

always, huh. )

Can't say I like it.

( he's just throwing his opinion out there unwanted, easing very comfortably into the fact that he's in the wrong wing entirely. it's not as if anyone's gonna throw him out. probably.

then there's a slight tremble in shoulders, a wince, and a hand placed gingerly just under his ribs to partially shield gills from a spray of steaming water. he would turn his body to hide them if he could, this strange modification that feels like an open wound, but he can't. not here, in the showers, where they're so open and obvious.

one eye moves up through dark hair again to meet blade's gaze, if he's into that: )

Guy as strong as you is just wastin' his potential, hurtin' himself like that.

[ Oh? What an interesting thing to say.

It seems Izou's words have captured Ren's attention. Being told that they don't like how he does things isn't something that happens all that often. Perhaps the other Stellaron Hunters might have made an offhand comment or two in the past, but nothing so direct as this. It's almost as if Izou cares— even though Ren knows that isn't exactly the case.

Their eyes meet, but Ren is the first one to look away. ]

Whatever potential I have isn't mine in the first place. It should go to waste.

[ This is always hard to explain, because it involves exposing parts of him that are better off buried six feet under. But he doesn't know how Izou will react to the half-truths he can offer. ]

But I don't see why that should bother you.

( the answer doesn't seem to satisfy him, but when has izou ever looked satisfied since arriving in this dying cityscape marred with technology? it's nothing new, being thrown into timeline after timeline that sparkles but is ultimately falling apart at the seams, but it still just so happens to be the country he was born in, and a far cry from the old-fashioned streets and alleys he once strolled through at that.

izou's weary gaze follows blade as he glances way, and it feels like the only leg up he has on him right now, especially when he's about to admit something difficult. )

Whaddya mean, "not yours"? When you were one-a the toughest out there, just...

( he trails off, the words cut short by a sharp intake of breath. it's only natural that the pain gained from wrestling with those beasts wouldn't abate in a single day, but that doesn't stop it from being any less frustrating.

or maybe his acknowledgement of blade's strength and expertise is what's elevating his own distress, when here he'd thought it'd be nothing in comparison to izou's own... when here he didn't expect the man himself to downplay. )

If anything, you should be holdin' your head high. I don't wanna ask for a duel from a guy with no pride.

[ If anyone else had received such words of encouragement, they might have been swayed by the sentiment behind them, but since this is Ren, only silence follows after Izou's voice. Silence, and the continuous free-fall of water coming from the shower. It stretches on for as long as it takes Ren to think about what he should say.

What could he say, that would feel satisfying? He doesn't think anything he'll come up with is going to be the answer that Izou is looking for. ]

You're welcome to find someone else to fight. This monstrous strength isn't meant to be celebrated.

[ The flesh of an Emanator of Abundance thrives within his own, twisting what he used to be into something unrecognizable. If anything, he'd rather carve himself out and rip what he could into pieces if he was allowed to. But something like that will always be fleeting— a temporary relief that will always feel out of reach.

Softly, he sighs. ]

Was that all you wanted to say?

( the silence is almost unbearable at first. and awkward. just two dudes in the nude, not saying a word.

there's a clear look of disbelief on izou's face at the reply, a shock at how his words have been seemingly dismissed, where he had figured that accosting blade with this observation might clear up some of his own personal discontent. it's not as if izou were a noble warrior or anything. if anything, he was a wild moth enticed by the flame of other people's prowess, eager to demonstrate at any moment's notice that he was everything he said he was... to keep anyone from criticizing him. denying him.

izou scrunches his locks with both hands, water seeping from it to the floor in loud splashes. )

Nah. I got plenty more where that came from.

( here's where izou approaches blade... in the shower... sorry not sorryyy, bare feet stomping on the hard-packed tile. he stops just short of them being chest-to-chest, as if this makes him appear more intimidating. )

Who d'ya think you are to go blowin' me off while flauntin' your strength in the same sentence?

[ The distance between them is crossed once Izou approaches. Ren remains silent the entire time, the water a constant white noise in the background. The other man seems affronted for reasons he can't fathom, but maybe the next few things Izou will say is going to illuminate it for him. Or so he thought, but that's not what happens.

In the end, he's still left confused. ]

What makes you think I'm flaunting?

[ He called his own strength monstrous. Declared that it shouldn't be celebrated, no matter what. Which part of that is arrogance?

When he continues to speak, he sounds so, so tired. ]

If you really want a fight, I can give it to you.

[ closed ] why hold onto all that?

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popping blade into yt to see how he fights uhmmm

he's a mess......

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cw: self-harm thoughts

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