there's a lot on ichiban's mind, but nothing makes it out of his mouth; none of the words seem to coalesce into anything cohesive. there are emotions tied to each scene, at least, all of deep empathy resonating with temenos's feelings—desperate anguish at roi's illness, fond exasperation at his naivety, the notion that something is very, very wrong at his terror.
and then, this creature in front of them, that same one from the biome who had been ever so curiously playful with them despite its grotesque form...
. . .
as he did before, once ichiban has his own sense of self back, he reaches a steady hand out to the creature as he begins to connect the dots. ]
[ temenos stays silent as ichiban does this - as the memory fades away entirely, he's left with temenos' emotions swirling around the space, too. there's something just...hollow, and a sense of grief that is so pervasive it could drown someone. temenos is so good at hiding his feelings, and even now, on his face, you wouldn't be able to tell, but emotion share makes a liar of him.
the creature gurgles. it's such a familiar noise - and it slowly starts to stretch its neck out. there's a rattle and a click noise, ligaments popping and bone shifting, and after a long, long moment, it rumbles out words. ] Cannot...trust...
[ each word sounds like it takes an extraordinary amount of effort. the monster takes a heaving, wheezing breath. ]
No longer.... allowed to exist....
[ there's a flicker in temenos' emotions around them - grief, again, loud and miserable, love and anguish as he watches ichiban reach out to touch it. ]
a chill runs up his spine when the creature speaks. he withdraws his hand as its bony face draws closer, his own head whipping to the side as he feels the flood of emotion begin to well up within his friend. ]
Tem—
[ it's not that he tries to protect temenos from the creature; when he rushes over and places his own hand at temenos's back, it's to steady the other man, to try and provide him an anchor before he loses his grip entirely. ]
despite that awful, depressive whirlpool of grief? he just says: ] ... I'm fine, Ichiban.
[ with a slight huff and a smile. he seems perfectly steady. perfectly calm - fine, really. the monster freezes too, and starts to slowly lower itself down onto its haunches, like its trying to lay down. ]
I suppose we will need to decide how to clear this void.
[ ichiban thinks "man, don't give me that shit right now", but he at least does not verbalize it, so there's that, at least. he makes sure temenos is okay to stand on his own before he lets go and crosses his arms, only to cast a careful look at the creature in its pitiful state. ]
...how much you wanna bet the answer is some stereotypical "confront your past regrets" stuff?
[ this just makes him give him that even more. that, or maybe temenos is just always like this? maybe he has just so badly repressed all of his emotions that calmness is his forte.
he does laugh a little at the question, though, looking down at the monster, which gurgles. he lifts his own hand towards it, and the monster begins to extend its neck outwards towards them again. ]
when the rift spits them back out again, there is a new figure standing—or rather, sitting—next to the skeletal beast. it's a younger ryo aoki, or "masato arakawa" as he was known once before. he's sitting in a wheelchair with a smoking gun in his hand, and his face is coveredin blood. he looks directly at ichiban, expression equal parts resentment and fear as he rasps, ]
Ichi... I fucked up.
[ ichiban, meanwhile, is frozen in place, his own emotions a haze. it's hard to separate any single feeling from the maelstrom, but temenos will not mistake the sheer strength of each and every tumultuous way his heart is wrested upon hearing those words. ]
[ first of all this game is gorgeous. second of all. WEH!!!!
as these memories go in pieces, there's this sense of empathy on temenos' end, too. at first, it's just recognizing - this sort of bitter unhappiness, because at first, the man - ryo aoki - reminds him of kaldena, but as it continues, that unhappiness changes. we're like the light and the shadow hits him so deeply it stops him in his tracks, and his hands curl tightly in the sleeves of his cassock. ichiban's desperation to try and give his brother another chance is so visceral that he can feel it, feel his own heart pounding hard against his ribcage with every part of the memory that passes, feels the way his voice cracks in resignation and raw desperation. because i don't want to see any more family die.
but as it turns out, there is no other option.
there's a sense of hopefulness that temenos doesn't necessarily resonate with - it reminds him for a moment of crick, of his dream to save the world, charming in its naivete (and yet the kind of thing that temenos has always wanted to emulate, too.) he doesn't find himself thinking this moment in front of the lockers will end any differently than it does - and watching ichiban try so hard to convince him is heartbreaking, a reminder of his sincerity that has shone since the first day here.
(it is the kind of sincerity that temenos admires, no matter how cynical he can be about it - it is the kind of thing that roi had. that crick had. the kind of thing that has to be cared for. that has to be protected. that the world just loves to snuff out. )
there don't have to be monsters, sometimes. humans make monsters of themselves, whether they mean to or not - whether they give into it or not. so it surprises him, when ichiban's talk starts to work, and then just like that - and sometimes, even when things seem like they're going to go right, they end like this. just a cold knife in a nondescript alleyway. they end in nothing.
that's how the world works.
as the memory ends, he exhales out - one long, slow breath as he steadies himself in his composure, even amongst the torment of ichiban's emotions. the futility of it all is so frustrating, but temenos keeps it off of his face, and he reaches out this time to be the one to steady him instead. he keeps a reign on his own emotions in exchange, pulling them back in to be something easily steadying, something gentle and supportive, something -
well, a little heartbroken, though you'd never be able to tell. ]
... Ichiban. [ temenos says, quietly, just like he had done for him. ] Take a deep breath.
I know. [ the breath he takes is shaky, but solid. ] Hah... I just had to open my big, dumb mouth, didn't I...
[ finally, he lifts his head again, eyes red as hot tears streak down his face. his mouth, however, is not turned downward in a grimace or scowl—no, it's in its usual state of a smile. it may not be as big as temenos may have grown used to seeing, but it's just as warm as ever, its radiance unmarred even as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.
that same hand reaches out to temenos in a show of camaraderie, a beacon in the cold, unfeeling void as the two figures opposite them wait with tense, bated breath. ]
Looks like it's time to be our brothers' keepers one more time, huh?
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no subject
there's a lot on ichiban's mind, but nothing makes it out of his mouth; none of the words seem to coalesce into anything cohesive. there are emotions tied to each scene, at least, all of deep empathy resonating with temenos's feelings—desperate anguish at roi's illness, fond exasperation at his naivety, the notion that something is very, very wrong at his terror.
and then, this creature in front of them, that same one from the biome who had been ever so curiously playful with them despite its grotesque form...
. . .
as he did before, once ichiban has his own sense of self back, he reaches a steady hand out to the creature as he begins to connect the dots. ]
no subject
the creature gurgles. it's such a familiar noise - and it slowly starts to stretch its neck out. there's a rattle and a click noise, ligaments popping and bone shifting, and after a long, long moment, it rumbles out words. ] Cannot...trust...
[ each word sounds like it takes an extraordinary amount of effort. the monster takes a heaving, wheezing breath. ]
No longer.... allowed to exist....
[ there's a flicker in temenos' emotions around them - grief, again, loud and miserable, love and anguish as he watches ichiban reach out to touch it. ]
no subject
a chill runs up his spine when the creature speaks. he withdraws his hand as its bony face draws closer, his own head whipping to the side as he feels the flood of emotion begin to well up within his friend. ]
Tem—
[ it's not that he tries to protect temenos from the creature; when he rushes over and places his own hand at temenos's back, it's to steady the other man, to try and provide him an anchor before he loses his grip entirely. ]
Tem, hey, stay with me.
no subject
you know
despite that awful, depressive whirlpool of grief? he just says: ] ... I'm fine, Ichiban.
[ with a slight huff and a smile. he seems perfectly steady. perfectly calm - fine, really. the monster freezes too, and starts to slowly lower itself down onto its haunches, like its trying to lay down. ]
I suppose we will need to decide how to clear this void.
no subject
...how much you wanna bet the answer is some stereotypical "confront your past regrets" stuff?
no subject
he does laugh a little at the question, though, looking down at the monster, which gurgles. he lifts his own hand towards it, and the monster begins to extend its neck outwards towards them again. ]
Likely so. I hope you've not too many.
no subject
i am not nearly as articulate or prepared as you, so time freezes once more as another set of memories plays: the first in a luxury office near the top of a high-rise building (20:58-30:18); the second in front of an unassuming set of coin lockers in a shadowy corner of a city. the common thread that ties this man to temenos's roi is clear as day—ryo aoki is ichiban's brother, the one he always looked up to and the one who deserved the world, the one who wouldn't make it in the end.
when the rift spits them back out again, there is a new figure standing—or rather, sitting—next to the skeletal beast. it's a younger ryo aoki, or "masato arakawa" as he was known once before. he's sitting in a wheelchair with a smoking gun in his hand, and his face is covered in blood. he looks directly at ichiban, expression equal parts resentment and fear as he rasps, ]
Ichi... I fucked up.
[ ichiban, meanwhile, is frozen in place, his own emotions a haze. it's hard to separate any single feeling from the maelstrom, but temenos will not mistake the sheer strength of each and every tumultuous way his heart is wrested upon hearing those words. ]
no subject
as these memories go in pieces, there's this sense of empathy on temenos' end, too. at first, it's just recognizing - this sort of bitter unhappiness, because at first, the man - ryo aoki - reminds him of kaldena, but as it continues, that unhappiness changes. we're like the light and the shadow hits him so deeply it stops him in his tracks, and his hands curl tightly in the sleeves of his cassock. ichiban's desperation to try and give his brother another chance is so visceral that he can feel it, feel his own heart pounding hard against his ribcage with every part of the memory that passes, feels the way his voice cracks in resignation and raw desperation. because i don't want to see any more family die.
but as it turns out, there is no other option.
there's a sense of hopefulness that temenos doesn't necessarily resonate with - it reminds him for a moment of crick, of his dream to save the world, charming in its naivete (and yet the kind of thing that temenos has always wanted to emulate, too.) he doesn't find himself thinking this moment in front of the lockers will end any differently than it does - and watching ichiban try so hard to convince him is heartbreaking, a reminder of his sincerity that has shone since the first day here.
(it is the kind of sincerity that temenos admires, no matter how cynical he can be about it - it is the kind of thing that roi had. that crick had. the kind of thing that has to be cared for. that has to be protected. that the world just loves to snuff out. )
there don't have to be monsters, sometimes. humans make monsters of themselves, whether they mean to or not - whether they give into it or not. so it surprises him, when ichiban's talk starts to work, and then just like that - and sometimes, even when things seem like they're going to go right, they end like this. just a cold knife in a nondescript alleyway. they end in nothing.
that's how the world works.
as the memory ends, he exhales out - one long, slow breath as he steadies himself in his composure, even amongst the torment of ichiban's emotions. the futility of it all is so frustrating, but temenos keeps it off of his face, and he reaches out this time to be the one to steady him instead. he keeps a reign on his own emotions in exchange, pulling them back in to be something easily steadying, something gentle and supportive, something -
well, a little heartbroken, though you'd never be able to tell. ]
... Ichiban. [ temenos says, quietly, just like he had done for him. ] Take a deep breath.
no subject
[ finally, he lifts his head again, eyes red as hot tears streak down his face. his mouth, however, is not turned downward in a grimace or scowl—no, it's in its usual state of a smile. it may not be as big as temenos may have grown used to seeing, but it's just as warm as ever, its radiance unmarred even as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.
that same hand reaches out to temenos in a show of camaraderie, a beacon in the cold, unfeeling void as the two figures opposite them wait with tense, bated breath. ]
Looks like it's time to be our brothers' keepers one more time, huh?