closed.

[frostfist]

WHO: wriothesley, various
WHAT: 2024 catchall log
WHERE: around
WHEN: march 2024 onwards
WARNINGS: n/a; will be added in thread headers

Comments

MARCH

[frostfist]

yuwon.

[frostfist]

[ It's not like he really wants to be paired up with Yuwon, of all people, but orders are orders and the sooner they bust into that club and put a stop to the illegal auction going on inside, the better. Besides, Yuwon may be a major pain in the ass (figuratively and literally) but surely he'll focus enough on the mission to ensure it goes smooth.

Or least, that's how it was supposed to go.

Instead, they're standing outside the club, dressed in their incredibly slutty outfits (bijou what is yuwon wearing, describe it to me), being grilled by an oversized security guard who is absolutely convinced that the two dudes in front of him are fakes. (To his credit, neither of them are doing a particularly good job hanging off each other.)

He squints at them both, a deep scowl on his face. ]

Yeah? If you two really are together, then how long you been seein' each other?

[ Time for the classic two different answers at the same time trope... ]

[yuwon]

[ unfortunately, yuwon is dressed like this minus the armour because i hate myself. who knows if this is even an appropriate form of dress for such an establishment, but if it isn't, he doesn't seem to pay it any mind. especially, considering that his current companion is dressed in a similar fashion.

while yuwon had done a few more covert tasks in the past, they also didn't involve much acting. though, even if he had, it probably wouldn't have involved a false identity and fake relationship. while he's attempted to temporarily put aside any of their difference and circumstances, it also didn't mean he was laying it thick with the affection, either. though, who knows if that would be worse or better. he honestly gets the feeling that they aroused suspicion from the start though he can't determine why...

(we know why...)

as if to feign a type of intimacy, he steps one step closer to wrio, the back of their hands touching as he self-assuredly answers: ]

Six years. [ looking at wrio who... did he also just see him open his mouth??? ]

ishmael.

[frostfist]

[ Well. That went terribly.

After not even being allowed past the front door - embarrassing, really - it's time to circle back and make better plans for Round Two, which goes far more smoothly than Round One, probably because he actually bothers to hash out the details with his partner first and also get changed into something a little more appropriate. (We ignore the timey-wimey bullshit involved allowing me to fake date like six people in one night, it's fine.)

It helps that he genuinely likes Ishmael and feels at ease in her company. There's no need to keep up his guard (moreso than usual, anyway) and they've developed a comfortable enough rapport from the past few months of working together that any banter needed to convince any suspicious staff lingering too close sounds normal instead of forced. And if he has to hang off her a little more than he normally would, with one hand wrapped possessively around her waist and his head constantly tipped towards her....well, at least he's not going to get punched for it.

Apparently there's another half an hour to go before the auction itself starts, leaving them with plenty of time to mingle and get comfortable. He maneveurs them towards the bar, motioning to get the attention of the bartender on duty and ordering them drinks. ]

You did say you wanted to see me drink, didn't you?

[ Something other than tea, that is. Technically they don't really need to do any of this, but the more they blend in with the crowd the better. ]

blade.

[frostfist]

[ how many fake dates can i cram into one night, time to find out

With some of the specimens already out on display and other fellow Outsiders already making enough of a distraction in the main auction hall, Wriothesley and Blade slip out looking for the storage room where the rest of the hybrids are being kept.

Slipping out proves easy enough, but it's not long until they run into their first roadblock: a particularly hardass guard that Wriothesley remembers from earlier, immovable both physically and mentally. Mere words probably aren't going to be enough to convince this one, especially when they're definitely in a hallway they shouldn't be while the restrooms are on the opposite side of the club.

Which means—Plan B. But first! Plan 0. Wriothesley tugs them both into a cramped corridor, eschewing a better view in favor of staying hidden while he gauges the frequency and loudness of the footsteps instead. ]

Think he'll turn into one of the other hallways first?

[ One can hope....also here is your designated slut outfit. ]

yuwon.....again.

[frostfist]

[ He should have known nothing good would have come from an impromptu summons to the sim room from someone other than Seok Dang. And he was right, because now he's here chained to Yuwon, of all people, kept within a two foot radius of the other man by a pair of invisible handcuffs and given explicit instructions to get along.

This really isn't the kind of handcuffing he prefers.

And where is here, one might ask? The communal bathroom, because despite it all nature still calls. He really thinks that they should have come up with some sort of contingency plan for bathroom breaks - hadn't some of the pairs been mixed gender?? - but he's not the one in charge anymore. ]

So.

[ So. Who is going to unzip their pants first to pee. ]

Nice weather we're having.

[ That's heavily sarcastic, by the way. It might have been nice yesterday but it's cold and blustery today. ]

APRIL

[frostfist]

winter.

[frostfist]

[ So this is what they call an 'amusement park'.... Truthfully he doesn't see anything particularly amusing about it, not when all the attractions are broken down and the stalls lining the street are covered in a thick layer of grime, but maybe the whole place had a much different vibe back when it had actually been operating. It's like seeing the skeleton of an animal after it's been picked dry.

He leans over one of the abandoned booths and picks up a plush lion with the stitching undone on one side. ]

Guess it's not very profitable to run any sort of park when it's constantly in danger of being destroyed by monsters. Still, it's kind of sad seeing things in a state of disrepair like this.

[ Look at that sign over that, half-broken and dangling. It used to say GRASSHOPPER GARDEN and now it just says ASSHOPPER GARDEN. Tragic. ]

MAY

[frostfist]

i'm really still using this catchall huh

tfw we don't want to be perceived...

[wheft]

[ but hey, at least they were able to get out of the hustle and bustle of las vegas and onto the desert. the two advantages of her being behind the steering wheel is that 1) she'd be in front of the air-condition the entire time while driving them through the sand, and 2) she's actually... not a half-bad driver? definitely leagues better than charon, but steering a large van is still different from maneuvering a ship, so encountering some bumps along the road should be inevitable.

but details, details. they'd made a stop for the night, with ishmael making sure that the nearest camperva is within reach in case of emergency while staying at a comfortable distance from them. nothing too eventful had happened up to their bedtime, but anyone who still happens to be awake a little past midnight can hear the door click as ishmael ventures out of the van. don't worry, she's just setting up a little campfire nearby because insomnia's a bitch and she desperately needs to stretch her legs after driving the entire day...

kinda crazy how impossibly cold it can get here at night, though. but with fire at her side, it should be fine. ]

JUNE

[frostfist]

how many memshares am i writing, stay tuned

marcille. (cw. blood, death)

[frostfist]

[ The ride back to Las Vegas is a solemn affair, the brief moments of peace during rest stops spent hopping from van to van checking up on friends and other companions. But between the relentless heat, prolonged exhaustion from being out in the sun, and the sand from the violent sandstorms in the center of the desert, Wriothesley finds his eyes drooping closed more often than not, the physical drag on his body forcing him to slow down and sometimes even stop completely as his mind is lulled into a temporary daydream.

Though there's nothing pleasant or dreamy about this one, the harsh desert sun replaced instead by a solemn indoor nighttime. Specifically, the inside of a moderate family home, sparsely decorated but well-lived in. What should have been a pleasant sight is marred by the mess of books and trinkets on the ground, haphazardly tossed about, as well as a pile of shattered glass in the doorway to the kitchen.

Above all else is the scent of blood, metallic and heavy in the air. ]

vergilius. (cw. blood, violence, murder)

[frostfist]

[ Despite his best intentions to stay away, there's only so much space between the campervans as they all camp out for the night. It's not his fault that tonight his van is (unknowingly) parked next door to the other man, or that this particular night is when his implant decides to glitch.

(Sorry, Verg, for dragging you into this.)

This happens to be a street in a residential neighborhood, rows of houses lining either side, the streetlamps lit to chase away the darkness. A picturesque nighttime scene, except for the small crowd of people milling nervously outside. One of them peels away and hurries over to where Vergilius stands (who is, by the way, now dressed in a new pair of duds) to frantically tug on his sleeve and murmur under their breath. ]

There's something happening in the house at the end of the way, I think a-a thief might have broken in! Please, you have to go stop whoever it is!

ishmael. (cw. psychological and verbal abuse, manipulation, cult behavior, violence, death threats)

[frostfist]

[ One night, as Ishmael dozes off to sleep, she'll find herself in a familiar place in her dreams. Though more specifically it's someone else's dream, belonging to the man striding ahead of her, dressed once again a starkly contrasting outfit of black and red. (She's dressed up too in an outfit of white and gold, a floating companion at her side.)

Ahead of them is a crowd of people, of all ages and genders, united by the brown beret topping all of their heads. As they approach, Wriothesley slows, holding out one arm in a signal for her to follow his lead. He looks more serious than she's probably ever seen him, brows pulled together, mouth a thin line on his face, and eyes hard and devoid of all humor.

In the very front stands a man, voice reedy and full of anger, arms outstretched as he delivers scathing words to the crowd in front of him—and the man trapped in a cage nearby.

It's not a pretty sight nor are they pretty words, and the mood that hangs in the air is heavy and filled with fear. ]

elan. (cw. mentions of child trafficking and murder)

[frostfist]

[ Elan, at some point on his ride back to Las Vegas, will find himself in a very large and ornate opera house, seated in the audience alongside a number of well-dressed patrons all murmuring to themselves. ("I hear the defendant on trial today is just a boy!" "Yes, but supposedly he killed his own parents." "How awful, there must be something wrong with him!")

The boy himself stands center stage, no older than fifteen, a pair of handcuffs bright around his slender wrists as he stares towards the judge seated high above everyone else. He looks to be in a poor state, bandages peeking out from underneath his sleeves and collar, but there's no tremor to his stance despite standing in front of a crowd of strangers. A few more moments of hubbub and gossip pass before a sharp rap echoes throughout the room - order being called as the proceedings begin. ]

We will now begin the trial of Wriothesley, who stands accussed of killing his foster parents.

[ If the familiar tufts of hair weren't enough of an indication as to who might be up there on stage, the name certainly should be. ]

JULY

[frostfist]

yuwon.

[frostfist]

[ Having never been to any festival similar to Tanabata, Wriothesley spends a decent amount of time just ambling down the decorated streets, taking in the slips of holographic paper tied to branches and perusing the small stalls set up on either side of the street. Even with all the difficulties Neo-Tokyo's been facing lately, it's clear that efforts have been put into making this celebration as colorful as possible.

Even in the face of adversity, humanity always manages to push through somehow, ever persistent in chasing their dreams. It's times like these that fill him with some hope for the future of mankind, despite all the cruelties he's witnessed firsthand.

His own personal dreams are a different matter, and he spends a good chunk of time ambling through the bamboo, pausing every now and then to read the wishes written down on the slips of paper. Some are heartfelt and fervent, others downright nonsensical, but they're all wishes nonethless, made by someone desiring to see them come true. If he were to write a wish down, what would it be?

The answer remains a mystery, because it's at that moment he sees a familiar face. Mr. Yaoiwon—I mean, Yuwon himself. ]

Here to make a wish?

[ What would Yuwon even wish for....to reach the top of his tower one day? ]

vash.

[frostfist]

[ So here he is, blessedly free from his own fundraising stall shift to go amble around to everyone else's booth. This isn't the sort of thing he's ever taken part of - though it's not a bad idea, all things considered, and maybe he ought to implement something like it in the future if he ever makes it back to the Fortress? - so he spends a good chunk of time browsing through everything that's on offer.

The shateki booth in particular catches his attention, a recent conversation with Taryon floating to the top of his mind. He heads towards the counter, pays his requisite fee, and picks up the toy gun used to shoot at the target. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, he hits the target less than half the time. Sad. Who could have guessed that aiming to hit a guy's face close up with your fist would be so different from aiming a gun at a far-off target?

Please, won't someone give him a hand here? ]

gebura.

[frostfist]

[ So it's Tuesday. The appointed day, the prophesized day, the day that Wriothesley gets his ass kicked by Gebura (for a good cause). And here Wriothesley is, dressed down in a simple sleeveless shirt and athletic pants, doing a few stretches and warm-ups in preparation for getting his ass kicked. ]

Just to be clear: you're not going to break any of my bones on purpose, are you?

AUGUST

[frostfist]

ishmael.

[frostfist]

[ It's been a long, long day. Compounded on top of a long several weeks spent outdoors devoid of basic necessities (he'd kill ten kaiju for a hot shower right about now), and he's feeling particular lacking in patience, both his gaze and his expression stormy.

The decision LILITH's put in front of them - to assist or to chase - has only made things worse, the arguing from both sides sometimes escalating to a feverish point. There are merits to both options but with his mood as low as it is, he's having a hard time mustering up his usual rationality. So when he catches sight of a particular reply, he can't help but look over with both eyebrows raised. ]

'Sensible'?

[ To leave the helpless to fend for themselves and possibly die? ]

SEPTEMBER

[frostfist]

how tf am i still using this log

hunter.

[frostfist]

[ Well. That all went to shit in the worst possible way.

As if their failure on the battlefield wasn't bad enough, now they're being forced into (re)building team morale via some of the most questionable methods he's heard in a long time. Shaming? That's never worked. Still, the dinner buying option isn't half-bad (if only because it gives him a reason to (lovingly) harass a few faces he hasn't seen in awhile.

Exhibit A: Hunter (and Flapjack). It starts with a simple message. ]

How do you feel about dinner? On me.

[ i'm putting this in a log because i don't want to move it 4 comments in ]

callisto.

[frostfist]

[ can't believe idol au is real now

In a rather unfortunate twist of fate, Wriothesley finds himself back outside the Sapphire Room (or rather, a club similar to the Sapphire Room), dressed once again in a rather revealing outfit, and standing once more next to a man he really can't tolerate.

This time though, he's learned from past experience. He's staring at Callisto with a stony expression, voice clipped and serious. ]

Before we go in, we need to make sure our cover story matches.

[ He is not!! Making the same mistake again!!!!!! ]

sleepover...!!

[wheft]

[ knock knock, there's someone at the door minutes after the fiasco down the redemption hall had settled down, along with a couple more kaiju-like screeches in brimstone hall too. if wriothesley chooses to open it, he'll find a very disgruntled-looking ishmael in an oversized t-shirt and a pretty bad bedhead, lugging a pillow in tow. ]

...Can I sleep over?

[ me ecatsing this to give us both a break ]