thenearshore | [semi-open] who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

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ω tatara totsuka | k

[semi-open] who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

Who: Tatara, castmates, adjacent CR, and you
Where: Minerva’s temple
When: May 18th-20th
What: In times like these, HOMRA shows its greatest strength: Solidarity.
Warnings: cw for alcohol, intoxication, and character death

Eye of the Hurricane: July 18th, morning; Tatara’s temple; open to castmates and housemates:

[ It’s not every day that one’s King comes crashing through their doors, harshly enough to damn near blow them both completely off their hinges. Miraculously enough, however, Mikoto seems unhurt; just… also unconscious.

Great lion of a man the Red King is, he couldn’t have done it without Shouhei’s help -- but eventually the two did manage to get him settled down in a proper place to rest. The rest of the night swilled away into an adrenaline letdown that had Tatara crashing hard, sleeping where he fell, not far from his king.

When the morning of the 18th comes, he sends out a belated message to all of HOMRA: ]

Just so you don’t worry, King is here with me. He’s safe. I’m watching over him now.

Come by, if you like!

[ Since many of them have never seen Tatara’s temple at all, now that he thinks about it. Plus, even if Mikoto’s out of apparent danger, it just feels somehow natural that HOMRA’s members convene here with their king. Though if they do show up, Tatara will be all-too-busy at first still running damage control for Mikoto, and later, Sakon. ]

The Story of Tonight: July 18th, evening; Sakon’s new room; closed to Sakon:

[ The man fortunate enough to at least temporarily be Johan’s shinki, he now knows is Sakon Shima -- a seeming warrior of a man, carrying swords at his side. He looks the part of a great protector.

Or, he would; but right now, he just seems a little out of his element, understandably. Tatara’s set him up with his own room within the temple, not far from Shouhei. It’s mostly empty, for now; but at least it’s got a large bed. ]

Sorry, sorry -- I kinda dragged you off here without any real pretense, didn’t I?

[ Going by Johan’s temple to find it and his constant companion gone was one thing; but seeing a shinki standing in the empty space where those used to be, homeless and lost, was a heartache that cut Tatara straight to the core. To be exact, he’s never seen a face so bereft, and hasn’t felt a stronger compulsion to hug another person -- even a stranger -- in his lifetimes. So of course the whole thing from that point forward was a little harried and rushed, with no real explanations offered. The most important part was getting Sakon out of there; the rest could be addressed later. ]

Eheh. Let me formally introduce myself: I’m Tatara Totsuka, incarnation of Minerva. Call me by whichever name you wish.

[ A small pause elapses; a near-awkward silence. ]

I’m sorry about what happened with your last god. I’m sure it was all very sudden...

[ That’s all he’s going to say about that for now. He puts a calm, placid hand on Sakon’s shoulder, expression sincere and kind as he peers at him. ]

Will you be okay? Is there anything I can get for you?

Raise a Glass: July 20th, afternoon/evening; makeshift bar in Tatara’s temple; OTA

[ As per usual, Mikoto takes his time with pretty much everything -- but most especially, waking up. Nevertheless, Tatara’s no less relieved to see those gold eyes reappear, visibly breathing out when his king finally comes to once more.

There’s something of an impromptu celebration after that, drinks all around provided by the Red Clan’s resident bartender. And this time, Tatara indulges himself -- amply. He’s tried going round-for-round with some of his clanmates, even, and that… hasn’t panned out very well. He’s left swaying in his seat for a moment before finally giving in, deciding the shoulder nearest him is the most comfortable place for his chin while he sobers up. ]

I think… I need to s-slow down...

It’s Quiet Uptown: July 20th, night; outside Tatara’s temple; OTA

[ There are some things Tatara wishes he could unhear.

He could celebrate, could lift a glass to Johan going home and being happy with his friends and family, even if it meant they would never meet again. But this…? There’s no reason to smile over this; no bright side to someone so sweet and innocent being brutally killed. The worst part is, somehow, Tatara knew all along. Johan would never simply leave him like that, let alone just abandon his shinki without warning. It had to be a death, not just a disappearance. Still, optimist that he is, he’d held out hope.

...Right up until the news came down definitively.

Getting wind of the details finally drives it home fully, and Tatara feels a whole-bodied ache that won’t relent -- even under countless layers of alcohol intended to numb the pain. They don’t. And there’s only so long he can carry that smile with such a heavy weight seated plainly on his chest. Still, he doesn’t want his clan to know; doesn’t want to interrupt the celebration that their king is awake and healthy, back to his usual self. It is a time for celebration, for all of them; it’s just irreparably marred by this news, for one of them.

So Tatara excuses himself as politely as possible, and thankfully, makes it outside before the tears start to fall in earnest. Eyes wrenched shut, he wraps arms around his own shaking shoulders, hands moving to his mouth to stifle himself as a sob slips through. He was so sweet, so innocent, so caring -- truly one in a million. And just as surely as Tatara knows his life has been taken now, he knows they could have had something amazing. The stuff of fairytales, where the good guys always win, and true love conquers all.

It’s a little too late for that realization now, though. Would it have played out the same if Tatara had been around more? Should he have done things differently...? He’ll never know. He’ll always wonder.

If he’s approached here, he’ll scrub at his eyes quickly and force a smile, saying he’s fine, he’ll be back inside in a minute. Everything is fine. Please, just pour him another glass. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The news wasn't one Izumo had wanted to hear either, one that he had hoped to keep from Totsuka, too. He's never met Johan, never given a description as to how he even looked like, but after the news hit and seeing the other man's reaction is enough for Izumo to realize just how deep the god really was.

He was leaning against the door that leads to the outside, cigarette between his lips. The sounds of muffled sobbing is clear to him, enough for Izumo to close his eyes.

Disappearing is one thing, but being killed is another.

Before Totsuka comes back, Izumo heads off again, pouring the god another glass. From the sounds of it, the other man needs something strong now to temporarily numb whatever he's feeling.]

[ Tatara doesn’t hear Izumo -- not over his own grief. And it’s for the best, anyway. His clanmates don’t know a thing about Johan because he didn’t want them to; but then again, there was always more time for that. Time enough for them to move things slowly, to build up to an eventual meeting. Now it feels as though one night they were texting, plotting a next meeting, and the morning after, he’s disappeared from Tatara’s contacts. From his life, forever.

Indeed, going home is one thing, a cause for celebration, even in separation; but there is no joy in a killing, loved ones left behind.

On that note, what must Ruby be feeling at this moment? She must have seen the whole thing... probably enough to scar her for life. Tatara would have saved her, too, but he doesn’t know the first thing about how to tend to her. Hell, he can’t even see her without Johan’s aid -- there’s no way he could have helped.

Still, in this moment, it feels just like another casualty all its own. And Tatara can’t help but blame himself, at least in part.

With such devastating news, surely this night spent frantically struggling for composure will be but one of many. For now, however, he’s got to wrap this up; to pack the hurt away and smile for his circle of friends. His family.

So he sniffles pathetically, swiping the wetness away from his cheeks. Granted, he still looks a mess, with eyes puffy and tear-stained, but he can do this. The show must go on, as they say.

Meandering back in, he finds his former seat, now with a drink in front of it. ]

Hm? Kusanagi-san, whose is this?

[He doesn't know how it feels to lose a loved one, or if he did, he doesn't remember.

But Izumo knows that seeing Totsuka in such a state isn't something to be discussed with others, not even with the man himself. He's grieving, and he's more than content to allow him to do that. With Mikoto still in his self-inflicted coma, there really isn't anyone Totsuka can talk to about this.

(Even if he isn't sure what kind of relationship Mikoto and Totsuka shared in the first place.)

So, when Totsuka comes back and takes his former seat, Izumo looks over at him.]

That's yours.

[ Tatara wouldn’t talk to Mikoto about this even if he could. It’s silly, really; someone once called so “cold-hearted” as he shouldn’t be so broken over someone who, honestly? He really only barely knew. But, here they are...

Blame it on how quickly they’d endeared to one another, perhaps. Either way, he’s grieving, yes, and likely will be for a while.

Is this what the others went through when he died...? Probably. Maybe that makes all of this his karmic payback, then; wiping his slate clean for all those tears he caused when he bled out on that rooftop in Yata’s arms.

Good thing none of them remember that here. As Mikoto once implied, it’s a mercy. Ignorance is bliss. ]

Mine?

[ Tatara eyes the glass, pulls it close, sniffs the contents -- but the latter is pointless, with how stuffy his nose is. Now he feels even more childish than before. ]

What’s in it?

[ Asked just before he takes a sip anyway. ]

[Izumo wouldn't know how it feels to reach that point, honestly. He's been here longer than Totsuka has, he's seen a lot of people come and go, and it's probably for that reason he hasn't really endeared to anyone until recently. But even then, it's not the innocent love Totsuka apparently had for the deceased god, but he won't rob Totsuka of that privilege.

He needs to grieve, and there's no going through the five stages of it.

Totsuka's a little more grounded for that, despite the smiles he seems to put on.

A glance over at him.]

Don't ask; just drink.

[He'll even have his own glass to share with him.

Besides, when has Izumo ever steered Totsuka wrong before? Not that he remembers, clearly.]

Edited 2017-05-24 22:24 (UTC)

[ Tatara wasn’t expecting to find love here. But of course, that’s always when it happens, isn’t it? When you’re least expecting?

Ah well. It’s too little, too late now. And, who knows -- maybe his intuition is off, and they never would have gone past the point of tangling fingers, comfortable leans against one another, and texts just to say “hello”. Maybe they would have split up in a month or two, deciding they weren’t as made for each other as they thought; or never got together in the first place.

The most painful part is, Tatara highly doubts all of that.

But not everyone gets that fairytale ending! That’s just how it goes sometimes. Not everyone can have their happily ever after; everything still works out in the end, even so.

This will be no exception.

He’s still got King, after all; his family is still intact, untouched, unharmed. They’re all he needs; he’d just selfishly wanted Johan, for himself. And this is where that selfishness got him: aching. Lonely, despite being surrounded by good company.

But before more tears can threaten, he moves to take a sip, pausing just beforehand. ]

A toast, then!

A toast.

[He raises his glass to Totsuka before he takes a sip of his own drink.

No one gets a happy ending, no one gets to really obtain what they want.

But that's not his place to question and he'll just be here to be a supporting shoulder for Totsuka in the meantime. For now, that's all he can offer. Trying to find out more about the relationship between Totsuka and whoever this Johan is, isn't something for Izumo to pry into, anyway.

Until he finds out what kind of drunk Totsuka is.]

[ They toast – and for a moment, it doesn’t matter to what. To King; to Johan; to lives both saved and lost.

To that night on the bridge, maybe; to sheepish smiles and pink cheeks and airy laughter; to the budding of something pure and innocent; what was and will never be again.

Or perhaps, just to family. The only true family Tatara’s ever had, that’s collapsed around him in this tumultuous moment. In times of grief and pain, HOMRA has always been there – even in matters of something so silly as a crush on a kindhearted boy he now knows got brutally murdered. Hopefully it ended quickly, and his last moments weren’t of fear and loneliness. That’s all Tatara would ask for now.

To all of it, he drinks up, and heartily. Izumo likely manages with ease, but whatever’s in this burns the other’s throat, though somehow he manages not to wince. And, as an added bonus, it clears his sinuses, too. See? There’s a silver lining to almost everything.

Almost.

He’s still having trouble seeing the bright side to someone so sweet and innocent being viciously killed, even if he’s able to (consistently, repeatedly) reassure himself that this, too, will work out in the end. ]

Thanks, Kusanagi-san. For being here.

[ For supplying both liquor and company in a... pretty dark hour. One where even Tatara is, admittedly, scrabbling to find the light. ]

[It's initially difficult for Izumo to understand Totsuka, and now is like that. Never knowing the murdered god, it's initially hard to ignore the fact that it's brought some change amongst them - to Totsuka. Throughout the many times he's encountered the god, Totsuka always kept a smile on his face and seemed so strong.

But what is strength if one of the pillars that supports it is gone?

No, Izumo rescinds that thought, because Totsuka isn't weak. Right now, it's a dark moment for him, one where the grief is too palpable to ignore that it's easy to think there's no light at the end of the tunnel for him to be reached. That kind of feeling, Izumo feels like he could understand, and it's for that reason that he's chosen to stay at Totsuka's temple, mostly to lend the god a shoulder if he needs it.

He gives a nod.]

You'd do the same.

[If their roles were reversed, but once Totsuka's done with his drink, he'll pour another.

Just keep drinking, just keep hoping there's good somewhere in the world somewhere. For now, let the pain become numb and reminisce on the good memories that were shared.]

[ It all likely seems so strange out of context, seeing Tatara so brokenhearted, crestfallen. Granted, the god still wears a smile all the while, but it’s clear that he’s devastated, if for no apparent reason.

Mikoto falling unconscious for days wasn’t cause enough. He’d fretted over the elder man, yes, but had always had every last confidence, reason to wholeheartedly believe he’d wake up again. After all, if one considers Tatara strong, he’s nothing against his king. Honestly, his strength, the younger god would say, is arguably born of their lionhearted leader.

It’s certainly being tested now, with the loss of such a close friend.

Talk with Fubuki had helped greatly. They were able to commiserate, to some degree; and Tatara realized then and there just how close he and Johan had come in such a short period of time. Truly something special, nearly uncanny. He could smile earnestly at that.

But that was before news of a murder became widespread.

That’s changed everything. Indeed, the very ground he walks upon feels as though it’s been shaken, disheveled somehow by one of those pillars of strength, support, and optimism that has been ripped away abruptly. Tatara knows now that this will be a pivotal point in his life – one that defines him, in a sense. Everything in his life before was one thing, and his life hereafter will certainly be another, irreparably shifted, forever changed.

Despite that, news of the murder is something he’s got to face alone -- he won’t burden his clan with it. He’s got to walk on, carry the weight of the tragedy himself; no one needs to know the brutal truth behind it all. It’s not too much; he can shoulder it. Somewhere, somehow, he knows Johan believes in him, too. If he were here, he’d rest their foreheads together and tell Tatara to be strong; to shine bright like a precious gemstone, even in the deepest, darkest night. He knows it, in his heart.

And while that knowledge makes him smile warmly, the tears still slip free then, shattering on the countertop of this makeshift bar.

It’s such a shame, really -- Johan always gave the best hugs. Tatara could really go for one of those right now. ]

Aah, you’re right. I would.

[This is different than from what Izumo's seen in Totsuka, admittedly. With Mikoto, there's that utmost confident because it's Mikoto; he will be alright.

But at the same time, Izumo can see the cracks in the god's mask, the way it seems to deepen since Izumo can practically see the dark clouds of grief hanging over the god's head. If it had just been that god disappearing, then there wouldn't be a need for such grief. It'd be fine enough if they were content enough to believe they've simply disappeared and gone back to wherever they came from.

This time, though, it's murder.

Izumo hasn't been given enough details, but he's heard enough to figure out how the murder was committed. But that is neither here nor now. Right now, Totsuka is the one who needs the company, the one who needs someone to help him keep going even a little bit.

It's a burden he'll allow Totsuka to carry himself, but one that he won't risk to allow the god to fall victim to.

The tears has Izumo sigh softly, taking a cigarette and lighting it.]

Talk about him. Talk about the memories you two have shared.

[A simple suggestion, one Totsuka doesn't have to go through, but if it helps, do it. Otherwise, the drinks will keep on coming.]

[ Tatara couldn’t be so upset about Mikoto, no; he’s Mikoto -- strong and powerful, everything the younger clansman has always respected; even idolized, right from the start. Seeing him wake again was met with a tidal wave of relief, yes, but no surprise whatsoever.

Against him, the loss of Johan shouldn’t matter at all, right? If only it were that simple...

Topically, the loss of the younger god is a tragedy just in the sense that no truly good, kindhearted person who wouldn’t ever harm a single soul should have their life abruptly taken. None. But it’s personal this time because of what Johan had meant. What their interaction signified. What could have been.

The time where Tatara Totsuka thought he might love Mikoto Suoh in a way exceeding the bonds of king and vassal is well in his past, tucked safely away there. And that’s no big task when he’d never had the chance to experience what a budding romance – one that’s actually shared rather than ignored – could be like. He’d never had butterflies in his stomach; a smile so permanent his cheeks hurt; the feeling of being able to retrace everywhere another’s hands had been, and how they’d felt.

The feeling of lighting up inside upon seeing someone’s face, or hearing their name.

Even now, he can’t think of much he wouldn’t give to see it one more time outside of his own memories, even on a spotty, crackling video feed. Forget having a final day – he’ll settle for just one more smile. One more laugh. One more. Just a chance to say goodbye properly, that’s all. He’d never ask for a thing more, he promises.

But no one’s listening to those prayers. They can’t bring what’s been lost back, anyway; Tonatiuh will reincarnate, but it won’t be Johan.

And while he’ll never let those memories age or fade, keeping them forever safe amid the photos taken with his heart’s shutter, that doesn’t mean he wants to open the box where they’re safely stored. His goal is not to cry here; to save it for a time when he can be alone.

So there’s a moment where he wonders, debates. Should he feign ignorance? Tilt his head and smile and ask, “Him who?” Surely Izumo couldn’t have heard of the murder. And if he had, he couldn’t have known what his younger clansman and the now-deceased god had shared. Was it love? After only such a short time allowed together, no. But it could have been. And that’s what has Tatara shaking his head, reaching for that next drink. ]

Sorry... but I’d rather not.

[ He’s “cold-hearted”, right? So he’ll detach and let go, just the same as he has everything else. But right now, the wound’s still too fresh; give him time to heal, first. ]

[Izumo isn't surprised that Totsuka has rejected the suggestion. He doesn't know what they shared, doesn't care for it really, but whatever they shared, it's evident that the deceased god was someone important to him.

And how Izumo comes to know about the murder is something he keeps to himself; no need to tell Totsuka. It's a piece of the God that he needs, that piece he can selfishly keep to himself and lock away if it means keeping the precious memories close to him — to his heart.

A natural reaction, a natural defense to keep whatever important remain important.

So, he simply nods, pouring himself another glass and sipping it.

He doesn't plan on getting drunk, but he might do that to Totsuka. With Mikoto still in his self-inflicted coma and Totsuka's two shinki being somewhere, Izumo is content to be the one to keep an eye out for the god in the meantime. He has no intention of prying any further, nor is he too deeply invested to do so.

But nor will he allow Totsuka to drown himself in misery alone right now.

He holds up the bottle, realizing they still have more than a little halfway to go.]

Then hope you don't mind finishing the bottle with me.

[Let's drink until the night passes.

Let's drink until everything grows numb.]

[ They’ll keep their own secrets secret, then; it’s for the best that they do, anyway.

In this instance, Tatara’s two shinki aren’t of much aid. Shouhei is arguably just as kind as Johan was – no way could the god lean on him in good conscience. And Sakon has grief all his own to tangle with. Everyone who knew Johan does -- that’s what happens when a truly good person dies.

Taking himself out of the narrative, Tatara will tell his story. Maybe even help raise the next young Tonatiuh as a tribute, letting them know just how high the bar was set for them by the kind soul before them. There are ways Johan’s memory can live on. But this, sadly, is where their story ends -- and not with a flourish, but with a scream, unfinished sentences never written, right in the middle of chapter two.

They’ll never know what might have become of them if he’d lived. And perhaps, as Mikoto might say, that too is a mercy.

Ignorance is bliss. ]

Eheh... [ He sniffs and wipes at his cheeks as quickly and discreetly as possible. ] Kusanagi-san, that’s a little... much to split between the two of us, isn’t it?

[ But if there’d ever been a night worthy of getting blackout drunk, this is most certainly it. Just... don’t be surprised what comes out in the wash, Izumo. ]

[Grief is something that can easily be shared amongst others, but at the same time, it's too difficult to talk about it. Here, there are two people mourning for the loss of the deceased god, but even kindred souls would rather keep apart in order to mourn. No one shares grief the same, after all, and it'd be wrong to assume as such.

Izumo could do his best to be that supporting pillar, but it won't be enough. He's not close to Totsuka; he can't provide the light Totsuka seems to need. Being a right hand man is one thing, but being unable to share the burden is a burden in itself.

Even so, it might have been better if there weren't any news on the murder.

Allow the people who's known the god named Johan believe he left at peace.

Izumo shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face.]

It'll be fine even if we don't end up finishing it. We have a whole night and it'd be a shame to waste it.

[For now, take advantage even if Izumo would come to regret making him drink later.]

[ Izumo could be that supporting pillar, if Tatara would let him be. But if Izumo didn’t know him, then there’s no need to spread that misery around. The kinder thing to do is maintain ignorance. Focus on the here and now, and try to move forward. Time will heal. ]

Aah, we do have a whole evening, don’t we? Well then, I’ll do my best.

[ And likely suffer a massive hangover in the morning as a result. But that hour is going to be brutal anyway, rolling over in his massive bed alone as usual, only this time to find no messages waiting for him on his device. The headache will just be insult to injury.

Still, as he offers his glass, he seems to take heart then, bolstering his own smile somehow, even if it still feels more like a mask he’s wearing for show to keep his friend from knowing the ache deep down inside.

It’s not fair, what happened to Johan; not leaving, but being murdered. But this too must have a bright side -- Tatara just needs to find it. He’ll search for it; seek the light.

While Izumo pours the next round, he’ll comment, quietly: ]

Maybe... maybe wherever he is, his spirit is at peace now. That’s something worth hoping for, isn’t it, Kusanagi-san?

[ Rest now, Johan. Perhaps someday, we’ll meet again. I’ll look for you there, in the next life, and we can start all over again. Wait for me. ]

[Even if Totsuka doesn't tell him, Izumo isn't ignorant to the feelings of the people around him. He's perceptive, comes with dealing people as a bartender.

However, an incline of his head in agreement.

But anything that comes in the morning will be consequences they'll be forced to face. At any rate, Izumo isn't going to pretend and he isn't going to force answers out of him.

Izumo pauses a bit at the question.]

It is.

[So don't grieve too much, don't think about the bad things that's happened. ]

[ Izumo's probably got a pretty good idea of what's going on, even if Tatara is doing his best not to be so blatant; to show signs of that ache inside.

But he does hurt. Surprising, for someone so "cold-hearted", isn't it, to feel such a thing when he's always been so quick to detach? To cling to nothing and no one? Perhaps Johan would have fallen into that same vast, sweeping margin if he'd just left.

If. But there's no closure to this now; there's just a wound. One that, yes, he's stunned by and desperate enough to abate that he's agreed to share this bottle with his dear friend.

He sniffs. ]

Then I'll keep my hopes high for that.

[ And finish another glass. ]

[Izumo doesn't say anything more.

Rather, what else can he say? He's never been good at comforting people - children, perhaps - but not people. There's always been a wall there that prevents him from being able to do that, so all he can do for Totsuka in the mean time is simply be there.

He's already witnessed him crying.

He doesn't want to do anything else that would cause him grief.

So, Izumo simply hums in agreement, pouring Totsuka another glass. He'll only stop once he sees the god drunk or eventually pass out from the amount of alcohol inside of him. He's not sure how much liquor he can take, truthfully, so this would be a little amusing to find out.]

[ There is nothing more to say. Tatara had unwittingly let someone get sincerely, genuinely close to him, break down those so-called icy walls and imprint himself firmly into memory as well as daily routine, and he’d lost him in a vicious killing. Anyone would be crestfallen in the wake of that.

Tomorrow will hurt worse, undoubtedly, and for more than one reason. But perhaps the morning after that will be a new and brighter day; and the morning after that, and so on. He’ll say a proper goodbye to his dear friend and close the book on what would have been their story, all in due time.

For now, however, this is acceptable. He’ll allow himself to swallow down another freshly-poured glass in effort to ease the pain and shock, feeling tendrils of intoxication fan out through him bodily, an unfamiliar-but-comfortable warmth. It loosens his (metaphorical) jaw enough for him to quietly ask-- ]

Have you ever met a god who didn’t want to have a shinki?

[ And then, he chuckles to himself. ] ...Besides King.

[Izumo plays with his own glass, eyebrow raising at the question.]

No, I haven't. [Mikoto's the first person Izumo's run into and it would be his own god to say he doesn't want a shinki.

Then again, maybe it would have been better that way. Less headaches for Izumo that way, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to completely pull away from the redhead.

He pauses, thinking back to all of the people he's met so far.]

Well, not personally, anyway. Then again, there are some shinki who aren't satisfied with their gods either.

[ It would be Mikoto to say he doesn’t want a shinki -- but not for the reasons one might think. Laziness, perhaps. But it’s more a matter of not wanting to see so many of his comrades downed, memory-less and wandering in the afterlife with nothing to go on but a gut instinct that tells them to flock to their once and former king.

It really is a cruel and tragic thing, the lot of them being here like this. He can understand easily why there’s such a vast and gaping divide between himself and King in this place, in contrast to their last life. After all, Mikoto isn’t an optimist, like his former third-in-command; he can’t see the silver lining to say that at least they are reunited, somehow or another. He’s not satisfied with that.

But every day it gets a little better, believe it or not. No longer is he getting strange looks from Izumo for the moniker of ‘King’, having to explain himself. With every meeting, Mikoto’s unrest gets a little easier to quell, even if Tatara still keeps his distance more often than not, be it deliberate or otherwise.

He stares down into the near-empty depths of his glass for a moment. Makes him wonder if this turn of events was the heavens’ way of telling him to redirect his focus to his family; to stop selfishly pursuing things like romantic love. Of course, he couldn’t have helped but to be curious about it, his last life too short to really, truly experience it before.

Now, if he does someday try again, he’ll have to build that relationship on top of a heavy scar. Tatara chuckles wryly to himself. Maybe he should just... not. Put the whole idea to rest with Johan’s memory. Be satisfied with the familial bonds he’s got lots of, and ignore everything else.

And that will be the most pessimistic thought he’s just about ever had. Blame it on the alcohol, perhaps, as he swallows down the rest of that round. ]

Aah, I’ve met one like that now -- Ross, I think his name was. He called their relationship ‘adversarial’.

[ Baffling, that someone would stay in a situation so adverse and uncomfortable.

...Says the man who died for loyalty, in essence. ]

But I’ve never met another god who didn’t want a shinki at all.

[Izumo wouldn't be Izumo if he doesn't pay attention to the littlest details. Like Mikoto's refusal to properly name him, yet they've worked together so well to the point where it's comfortable to just work together. As if there's nothing there to prevent them from doing whatever they want.

But he's not sure why the question was brought up.

He's aware Totsuka has taken in Johan's shinki, so it might be because of that. But at the same time, at hearing that wry chuckle, he wonders if there's more.

Izumo sips his drink.]

Did he now? I suppose the benefits of being with a god outweigh the bad.

[In a way, Izumo can understand the benefits. It's partially the reason why he's never had anything bad to say about the gods he's been with before, even now with Mikoto despite the fact his current god seems to make a mess of things unintentionally.

A sideway glance at those last words.]

For a god who doesn't want a shinki....they might have a good reason not to want one, even when a shinki is assigned to them.

Aah, he had good reason, yes...

[ He didn’t want to carry that burden on his heart -- that was when and how Tatara knew he needed to keep such a kind person safe.

Look who failed.

In his last life, he let his clan down by dying first, perhaps when they needed him most. And here, in the end, he let Johan down as well, by sitting idly by and relying on his own inherent optimism that things would work out while his dear friend was slaughtered.

My, my... alcohol certainly turns him into quite the pessimist, doesn’t it? Still smiling anyway, he chuckles ruefully at such intrusive, negative thoughts -- but discreetly asks for another glass anyway. Sooner or later, he’ll either find the genuine, irrefutable silver lining to this, or everything will go numb. Either way. ]

[Izumo simply inclines his head.

It's easy to notice the shift in Totsuka's mood, despite how optimistic he's trying to be? Compared to the first few times Izumo's met him, it's not that difficult to see how he's taking all of this. Definitely not in stride as if he was unaffected by the events that's transpired, but the shinki could only hold out to the possibility things might be better for Totsuka.

At the core of it all, Totsuka is a good guy. Not someone who deserves to be burdened with all of this.

Either way, he pours him another glass.]

[ It’s official -- Tatara needed to stop drinking about... three, maybe four glasses ago. And if he had, maybe he wouldn’t be rambling semi-coherently now, about something and someone Izumo might not even know.

Perhaps the lack of detail is what makes these confessions feel “safe”, at the moment.

He sips the newest offering, swirling it lightly, lazily. ]

Kusanagi-san probably wants to know what’s wrong, doesn’t he? [ A humorless chuckle. ]

The one who didn’t want a shinki... he was someone special. [ It starts there, tentative, and the rest seemingly comes out in a flood. ]

When he touched my hand, I felt a flicker. A spark. [ A hand touches his chest gently, hovering over the place his necklace sits. ] ...Warmth. [ a gentle tap to it ] Right here.

[ Tatara’s always been an optimist even in the gravest of circumstances. But when Johan rested their foreheads together, so simple and sweet, it felt like everything in the world was right. That anything at all would be hard-pressed to go wrong. ]

It’s silly, really. [ A rueful chuckle. ] But I guess I... I really did like him. As more than a friend.

And, that’s the truth of it! Eh heh. Of course, he never knew.

[ The return of a single tear, immediately swiped away. Tatara waves the conversation off with the same hand. The glass in the other nearly topples as it’s abruptly set down, still half-full. ]

Aah, it’s fine, it's fine... I shouldn’t burden you with this.

[ After all, there is still the very strong possibility that Izumo could find the concept of his companion’s not-relationship with another man disgusting, though that of course isn’t his first presumption. The bartender’s pretty open-minded, at least, even if his preferences are unclear -- even to someone as perceptive as Tatara. ]

It’s late, isn’t it? I should let you rest.

[ Translated: I want to be alone with this. Please. I’ll handle it from here.

Unfortunately, as he pushes to his feet, he staggers some. He... might need a little help getting to his room, intoxicated as he is. ]

[He listens without interrupting. It seems the alcohol has finally kicked in enough to make Totsuka's tongue loosen up to tell him everything that's been bothering him.

Well, mostly bothering him, anyway.

So that's what it was. This Johan that Totsuka is grieving over is more than just a friend; he was a potential love interest. Somehow, it makes things more disheartening since, before any true romance can blossom, Johan has been ripped away from Totsuka in such a cruel manner.

A spark.

A warmth in his chest.

Tell-tale signs of affection, of love blossoming, and Izumo does not envy Totsuka one bit. The god has gotten here, still relatively new and already, he's been forced to undergo a heartbreak that may potentially be difficult to move on from.

He reaches out to steady the glass before it topples over, watching Totsuka with a blank expression. He's not bothered by the fact Totsuka was in love with a man; Izumo's done some questionable things himself since he's gotten here, so the fact flies over his head.

Instead, he simply goes around to grab his arm to steady him.]

I'll help you to your room at least and then I'll leave you be.

[ That is indeed what it is. If he’d merely gone home without warning, that’s one thing. Sad, yes, but not without a silver lining. A murder is something that devastates; that cripples emotionally; and it will take Tatara ample time to fully recover from the loss of someone and something so sweet, innocent, and pure.

But even after hitting the metaphorical ground as hard as he is, he’ll bounce right back, he’s sure of it. That’s what optimists like him do.

For now, however, Tatara is not a proud man, and even if he wanted to pretend to be, with the room spinning the way it is, he wouldn’t try it. He needs this support at the moment just to properly walk a straight line.

This isn’t a good example for what kind of drunk he truly is. At another time, under brighter circumstances, perhaps it’d amplify his own inherently-cheerful mood, leaving him probably in a fit of giggles, lazily affectionate with whomever is nearest by. It’s only because of this news hitting home that he’s left leaning on Izumo just to stay on his feet while tears stream down his face, even though the ache that prompts them has finally dulled.

Staggering back to his room with ample aid, Tatara practically faceplants into his own sheets no sooner than he recognizes his bed, warm and gooey from head-to-toe, feeling almost liquid in consistency. Immediately, he twines around the nearest pillow, pulling it to his chest snugly, tucking his face into it. And amid that poofy cushion is a small and slurry murmur: ]

T-thanks... for always bein’ there... Izumo.

[Izumo doesn't say anything at first, simply giving him a sideways glance.

He sighs softly soon after, even as he drapes a blanket over Totsuka.]

Get some sleep, Totsuka.

[It's odd to hear his first name come from the God, but figures he's inebriated enough to let a few things slip. So, after he's sure the younger man is comfortable and less likely to vomit all over his floor, Izumo makes his way to leave the room.

A pause in the doorway.]

If you ever need me, just call.

[And with that, he'll leave.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[semi-open] who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

July 20, evening

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