thenearshore

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Who: Ken, open
What: He preferred having no memories at all, thanks. Also he doesn't feel at all bad about stealing some asshole's motorcycle.
Where: Starting at Antheia's temple, in town, then up around the mountains in the Far Shore. Feel free to encounter him at any point.
When: June 13
Warnings: Violence, flashing back to violent murder ~~the guy totally deserved it~~, brief domestic abuse, parental advisory for crude language :(

[The memory rose up from nothingness, very nearly crystal clear and echoing--as if underground, surrounded by thick walls and monitors as they are.

There are no faces that got caught up in the memory, besides his own in the glare of the monitor. Everyone else is nothing but hazy impressions of what might be people, no discerning characteristics to them, as if they're ghosts.

Even the man in front of him, he can't see his eyes, his hair is only a vague impression, he might be wearing a military uniform, but it's nothing solid. All Ken can tell is that his expression is pained, bloodspattered, and he's crying the desperate tears of someone who knows perfectly well he's about to die horribly. He's pinned, like an insect to a board, arrows through his arms and legs and hopelessly tangled in the web of bloody razor-sharp wire digging into his flesh. The air reeks of blood and his fear.

That's not what's about to kill him.

What's about to kill him is the sawed-off shotgun Ken has shoved practically down his throat, so far he's drooling around it uncontrollably, muffling his pleas for mercy into something garbled and unintelligible.

'Akira. This is your revenge.'

Who Akira is, he doesn't recall. He just knows, viscerally, with absolute certainty, that this person whose name or face he doesn't recall deserves every single ounce of the buckshot Ken's about to empty into his skull.

He feels his lips curling upward, baring teeth in a razor-sharp smile as his finger tightens on the trigger. The roar of the gun in his ears is almost deafening, the smell of gunpowder, lead, and blood overwhelming from so close.

He can remember the blood and fragments of bone and brain matter splattering his face, the weight of the shotgun as his arm falls to the side, the terrified shrieking of a young girl somewhere behind him.

What he doesn't remember is feeling a single shred of guilt about it.]

------

[He still doesn't feel guilty when he wakes up, the memory clearly and undeniably etched into his mind, so deeply he knows it's true.

He doesn't know why he made some fucker deepthroat a shotgun, but hey, if his memory's to be trusted he deserved it. So, Ken doesn't feel bad. At all.

But he needs time to parse it nonetheless. He'd already figured whatever he'd done in life, it had been violent, after all he knew how to fight, where to strike the human body to cause the most damage with his bare fists. He was pretty sure he knew how to work a gun, and well...he'd just gotten proof of that.

But he was the shinki of the goddess of god damn flower crowns, not the patron god of violent homicide.

So, he goes to the city. He finds some drunk fuck with a nice motorcycle parked in the alley about ready to lay into his girlfriend and descends on them like the wrath of god, and he doesn't even feel bad about that. He'd been about to hit her, she'd been crying, begging him to stop, no one else paying attention--what else was he around for?

She had run the second Ken had dropped her shitty boyfriend, heels discarded so she could get away, and hopefully she wouldn't come crawling back to him.]

First off, you shouldn't hit your girl, and second, you shouldn't fucking drive drunk you piece of shit. You're gonna fucking kill someone.

[Ken punctuates his last word with a kick to the guy's kidney, not that he's conscious to hear it, and steals his jacket, wallet, helmet, and the keys to his bike.

An hour later he's outside of town, opening up the engine as fast as he can push it up into the mountains, until he finds a clearing of wildflowers overlooking the road below and makes a sudden decision to stop.]

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[Omi first spots Ken in the city intervening on behalf of the girl under attack. He almost calls out, but something holds him back. There's something unsettling here, and that concern only deepens as he watches from a distance as Ken mugs the guy and rides off with a bike that doesn't belong to him.

Omi follows him through teleportation-- partly out of curiosity and partly out of worry. And when Ken finally stops at the field of flowers, Omi gives him a few minutes before approaching.]

Hey, Ken... are you okay?

[Is it really mugging if you're confiscating the vehicle so he doesn't kill himself or someone else while driving under the influence?

...probably, but Ken doesn't give a single fuck.

He's settled in the grass and gently waving flowers--he doesn't remember the last time he did this, of course, but he feels odd here. Half at ease, half wound tight like a too-tight spring, ready to jump out of his skin.

He gives a full-body twitch when someone approaches unexpectedly, fingers digging into the dirt. At first he doesn't seem to know who's speaking, eyes wild, burning, and far away--then he shakes himself again, recognition coming back to his face.]

Omi. Yeah, I'm fine.

[(Almost) no memories and he's still a piss-poor liar.]

Edited 2017-02-13 05:01 (UTC)

[Yeah Omi sees right through that. The very fact Ken seems startled-- Omi hadn't been trying to mask his presence in walking up-- and the look in his eyes.

The assurance is wholly ignored.]

What happened?

[Ken's eyes close, he lets out a gentle puff of breath and flops backwards, so that he's staring at the sky. Getting dirt and crushed flowers all over his jacket and in his hair.

He doesn't hear Omi walking away. Even though he's quiet for a few minutes, waiting for it to happen. He kinda doesn't want to talk about it.

(Doesn't want to tell the kid about remembering a guy's head exploding like an overripe melon.)]

I remembered something. That's all.

[And something in this case clearly meant something really upsetting. And that leaves Omi with a conundrum.

On the one hand, he knows from Weiss that there is sort of an ironclad rule about not probing into each other's personal lives much.

On the other hand, how can he simply walk away from someone he cares about so much at a time like this?

He settles himself on the ground a couple of feet away. Comfortable for talking without breaking the personal space bubble. And he thinks about what he can say that can communicate enough without treading into too much.]

I understand if this isn't something you want to tell me... But for what it's worth, if this is about something you did when you were alive, there's nothing you could share that I'd judge you for. I'm not as innocent as I look.

So, if you want to talk, I'm here to listen. And if you don't want to talk... I'm here anyway. You're my friend either way.

[Upsetting, like everything in their lives.

Ken doesn't remember this rule, obviously. And if he did realize that Omi had been part of this memory--he doesn't, but he had been there--well, he'd either be less hesitant to share or concerned as to why, exactly, Omi had been there.]

I don't know that I'm ready to go there right now.

[First, because he doesn't want to acknowledge it in the waking world, not out loud, and second because with that admission he's almost afraid as to what Omi would say.]

Thanks, though.

[And that's the end. Omi wishes he could be more helpful, but that's an all-too-familiar feeling with Ken and the other two Weiss. He has to respect that answer, and just focus on maybe he can do something that isn't listen to an upsetting memory.

So he smiles warm acceptance.]

It's okay.

[And he'll just smoothly change the subject and tip his head towards the parked motorcycle.]

Did you enjoy the bike ride?

[Well, it's not like you didn't know what happened. It's just that there's a lot of traumatizing memories over your years together, and it's hard to pick just one.

He puts on a smile, it doesn't quite reach his eyes and is a little hollow, but maybe if he leaves it on long enough it'll start to feel like he isn't slowly going crazy.]

Yeah, actually. Felt nice. No one really pays attention to us so I could go as fast as I wanted.

[And he didn't have to wear his helmet, which is one reason why his hair looks like he styled it by sticking a fork in an electrical socket.]

[Omi keeps his own smile, and as though reacting to the not-quite-genuine nature of Ken's, it reflects a cheer that is just a teensy bit forced.]

I see! We should bike together sometime. I used to have a motorcycle...

[He can't help thinking about his arguments with Youji and Aya about Ken's memories. It couldn't possibly be true. It just couldn't.]

Yeah, that one's...not mine.

[Ken shrugs. He (still) doesn't feel guilty about it. Which is good, he doesn't want to hurt Tot at all over something so fucking stupid.]

I mean, I'm still okay with it. Obviously. I mean, who doesn't like a road trip?

[He's had a lot of practice--none of it remembered--at trying to force himself to be Okay. He finds it comes easier than he'd like, and still harder than it had any right to be. Apparently he's not super convincing.]

[Yeah, Omi knows that already, but he doesn't say anything on it. Instead, he tries to focus on the acceptance of the suggestion.]

We could rent a pair. I'm sure there's got to be a place for that. Where do you want to go?

[Stay positive.]

[What Ken doesn't know that you know won't hurt him.]

I dunno. We're not limited to Japan or anything, are we? Australia might be nice.

[Just. Tossin' that one out there.]

[Oh.

Omi is struck by that suggestion for three seconds. Australia. That was where that girl he liked had invited him to go, right? Omi remembers talking with him about it after the fact. And that makes his chest hurt a little because it's a reminder of how close they used to be. And how they're not anymore because Ken doesn't remember him.

That isn't going to do. Cheery face on. After all, there's nothing to do but focus on being friends here and now instead, right?]

Australia...! Wow, that does sound interesting. I bet the landscape is completely different! Yeah, I think we can do that! I've teleported to America before for a prayer. Australia shouldn't be different.

[Maybe if he tries hard enough, Ken will find the smile that reaches his eyes again.]

[Did he say something?

Ken has his head tilted when Omi looks back at him, even with his cheerful smile Firmly In Place, Ken's still somewhat confused.]

Yeah, dunno, I've seen some pictures I guess and it looks a lot different. Not as many mountains. Lots of flat space, good for racing, right?

[The next moment, of course, Omi has to recognize the meaning of that place to Ken, too. Australia was where he'd wanted to escape to from Weiss, because he hadn't been happy. Naturally, Omi hadn't suffered any delusion that Weiss was a happy place for any of them. But Ken isn't in Weiss now...]

I'm not sure; I've not seen many pictures. But flat space would be good for racing! I can imagine large stretches of land with no sign of people but the road.

[Well, no, he's not. Even if he had his memories, he wouldn't be--he'd be in Kryptonbrand, and they'd honestly treated all of them much better.

But...]

Yeah, there's the desert or something. And we don't have to wrry about not having enough water, we can always just go back home.

Yeah, that's true! Although, we might need to return the bikes first...

[Don't mind Omi and his sense of duty talking.]

Hey, the guy who had that one was a drunk jerk and he was gonna kill himself by being a dumbass, I'm doing him a favor.

[Divine intervention! He's a guardian angel, practically a patron saint for stupid people!]

[Omi ducks his head a bit with a grin.]

Yeah, but I doubt he'll be the same person we rent bikes from in Australia.

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