Shun Kurosaki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
revolutionfalcon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thenearshore2017-08-25 11:32 pm
revolutionfalcon) wrote in thenearshore2017-08-25 11:32 pm
[open] then i'll raise you like a phoenix
Who: Shun and you!
When: August 18th-19th
Where: Various Far Shore areas
What: An extremely unfortunate spider lily encounter...
Warnings: PTSD (including flashbacks, both visual and auditory)
[A: August 18th, Day]
[The spider lilies have been around for a little while now, and Shun's largely been ignoring them. He knows Ren likes those kinds of flowers, but he must have seen them himself by now, and other than being a distracting shade of red, they're not really bothering Shun any just by existing.
It's sheer luck it takes him this long to get close enough to them to hear. Just walking by them doesn't do it, but there's the rustle of something small in a patch of them as he passes, and Shun pauses as the motion catches his eye. It might be a stray spirit that didn't get caught up in the mass exodus from the other day, but it could be something else, and Shun doesn't hesitate any longer before he leans down to investigate.
And when his head comes within about a foot of the blossoms, a cacophony of screaming breaks out in his head - thousands of people, and millions more he can't hear beyond that.
For a fleeting moment, he thinks it's a flashback, and the images that break through to the forefront of his mind at the sound don't help at all. He recognises the sounds, remembers that day all too well, and what the flowers are causing and what his own mind is supplementing it with start to blur to the point of indistinguishable.
Anyone in the vicinity may notice the unnatural, instinctive manner of his movements as he backs away from the flower patch. It doesn't quite seem like he's aware of where he's going or where he wants to be other than not here, and what to him is a comforting change of the sound under his feet indicating progress will be to others him darting halfway across a nearby bridge before stopping rather abruptly in the shadow of a small, covered viewing area.
He's still not fully aware of his surroundings as he winds an arm around one of the support posts and simply drops into a protective crouch at the base of it, fingers trying to dig into the wood, but as absent as he is, the sound of approach still puts him on alert. It takes perhaps a little longer than usual for his attention to snap to the sound of approaching footsteps. Long enough that it's likely easily visible he's shivering and pale, even as his eyes narrow and he grits his teeth in a characteristic attempt to push through it.]
What are you looking at? [It's ground out, and it's definitely not his proudest attempt at trying to drive people off.]
--
[B: August 19th, Morning]
[He doesn't sleep well that night. It's just a one-off nightmare, or so he hopes, but it's as bad as the ones that cycle back around every few months and keep him awake for days on end, so he's not holding out too much hope. He is, however, doing his level best to distract himself with whatever means he can.
Unfortunately, he's found enclosed spaces like his usual training area only really serve to make things worse on the front of his memories. It means he's dragged a punching bag outside with considerable reluctance, set up a little behind his temple garden so it's not as easy to spot for people coming to his front door. Not that it's not easy to spot overall, though - his temple hill is still surrounded by open plain on all sides, and even with the hill and garden blocking two of those, that's plenty of approach visibility.
The sound might catch attention first, though; the heavy, repetitive thudding of a sandbag taking a rapid and considerable beating. Shun doesn't really care how exhausted or exerted he might end up looking - right now, he just wants to forget, or at least take out his frustrations, and it's pretty obvious he's doing just that. His attacks on the bag are focused and brutal, and they only get harder and faster until he finally lets out a frustrated yell and drives a fist into the bag hard enough that the clip outright breaks and the bag flies for a short distance before thudding bonelessly into the grass.
Straightening up, Shun finally starts breathing again, the efforts heavy and laboured. His knuckles are bright red and starting to crack from lack of protective covering, but he doesn't seem to particularly care about that.]
When: August 18th-19th
Where: Various Far Shore areas
What: An extremely unfortunate spider lily encounter...
Warnings: PTSD (including flashbacks, both visual and auditory)
[A: August 18th, Day]
[The spider lilies have been around for a little while now, and Shun's largely been ignoring them. He knows Ren likes those kinds of flowers, but he must have seen them himself by now, and other than being a distracting shade of red, they're not really bothering Shun any just by existing.
It's sheer luck it takes him this long to get close enough to them to hear. Just walking by them doesn't do it, but there's the rustle of something small in a patch of them as he passes, and Shun pauses as the motion catches his eye. It might be a stray spirit that didn't get caught up in the mass exodus from the other day, but it could be something else, and Shun doesn't hesitate any longer before he leans down to investigate.
And when his head comes within about a foot of the blossoms, a cacophony of screaming breaks out in his head - thousands of people, and millions more he can't hear beyond that.
For a fleeting moment, he thinks it's a flashback, and the images that break through to the forefront of his mind at the sound don't help at all. He recognises the sounds, remembers that day all too well, and what the flowers are causing and what his own mind is supplementing it with start to blur to the point of indistinguishable.
Anyone in the vicinity may notice the unnatural, instinctive manner of his movements as he backs away from the flower patch. It doesn't quite seem like he's aware of where he's going or where he wants to be other than not here, and what to him is a comforting change of the sound under his feet indicating progress will be to others him darting halfway across a nearby bridge before stopping rather abruptly in the shadow of a small, covered viewing area.
He's still not fully aware of his surroundings as he winds an arm around one of the support posts and simply drops into a protective crouch at the base of it, fingers trying to dig into the wood, but as absent as he is, the sound of approach still puts him on alert. It takes perhaps a little longer than usual for his attention to snap to the sound of approaching footsteps. Long enough that it's likely easily visible he's shivering and pale, even as his eyes narrow and he grits his teeth in a characteristic attempt to push through it.]
What are you looking at? [It's ground out, and it's definitely not his proudest attempt at trying to drive people off.]
--
[B: August 19th, Morning]
[He doesn't sleep well that night. It's just a one-off nightmare, or so he hopes, but it's as bad as the ones that cycle back around every few months and keep him awake for days on end, so he's not holding out too much hope. He is, however, doing his level best to distract himself with whatever means he can.
Unfortunately, he's found enclosed spaces like his usual training area only really serve to make things worse on the front of his memories. It means he's dragged a punching bag outside with considerable reluctance, set up a little behind his temple garden so it's not as easy to spot for people coming to his front door. Not that it's not easy to spot overall, though - his temple hill is still surrounded by open plain on all sides, and even with the hill and garden blocking two of those, that's plenty of approach visibility.
The sound might catch attention first, though; the heavy, repetitive thudding of a sandbag taking a rapid and considerable beating. Shun doesn't really care how exhausted or exerted he might end up looking - right now, he just wants to forget, or at least take out his frustrations, and it's pretty obvious he's doing just that. His attacks on the bag are focused and brutal, and they only get harder and faster until he finally lets out a frustrated yell and drives a fist into the bag hard enough that the clip outright breaks and the bag flies for a short distance before thudding bonelessly into the grass.
Straightening up, Shun finally starts breathing again, the efforts heavy and laboured. His knuckles are bright red and starting to crack from lack of protective covering, but he doesn't seem to particularly care about that.]