thenearshore | Curiosity killed the... [open]

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Curiosity killed the... [open]

Who: Zhao Yunlan & OPEN
When: The second week of February
Where: Far Shore - the library, near Ebisu's temple, the Western District; Near Shore - the ruins of a burned-out department store
What: Exploring, unwisely.

Library

[Zhao Yunlan is becoming a regular sight at a corner table in the library; he's accumulating a stack of books, filling them with bookmarks, taking copious notes in a cheap black notebook, swearing at them and not putting them away again when he leaves.

Research! He hates it. He needs an assistant who will do it for him, but in the absence of that helpful whoever, he's stuck hitting the books himself. It's going to age him posthumously.

Hopefully, no one minds the fact that a largely useless pile of books keeps being renewed on the corner table, and filled with paper scrap bookmarks that have to be removed before they're put away.]

Ebisu's temple

[Since he's died young regardless, Zhao is seriously considering switching from lollipops to cigarettes. There's something enticing about the smell of burning tobacco, and, besides, importantly: smokers can take smoke breaks. As a non-smoker, he's having to find some other excuse to sneak outside and see the sun every once in a while during his workday.

His excuse today is picking flowers. He doesn't recognize the flowers sprouting from the grayish soil clinging to cracks in the temple's modern-looking concrete courtyard, but they're bright, colorful, and have a non-zero chance of brightening the day of the poor white-collar workers typing their fingers to the bone on either side of his temp desk. Fresh flowers, an important part of office feng shui: or something like that.

(He's considering bringing in a houseplant. Those also make great excuses to take a break.)

He nips off the stem of a bright red daisy-looking thing, considers it, and turns with a shameless grin. Whoops, there's somebody, has he been caught skiving off?]

Here! It goes with your eyes.

Western District

[It's late on the night of the 12th, and Zhao had been working his way back home to Bakugou's place after a long day doing accounting and a few drinks out afterwards, except, annoyingly, his stomach is killing him. All right, so he'd skipped breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and: all right, the last time he ate something was yesterday when Bakugou'd made breakfast. But it's not like he ever gets more or less hungry no matter what he eats! He'd thought it was no big deal.

Apparently even dead men can get heartburn from strong liquor on an empty stomach, he reflects, and slumps down onto a comfortable rock at the edge of the road, indulging his solitude with a wince as he bends over and puts his head on his knees.

This is really embarrassing. He'll just give it a few minutes, and once he feels a bit better, he'll just drag himself back home to bed....]

Department Store

[Mysteries abound. These mysteries, though, don't look like they're going to be solved anytime soon. Zhao ducks under plastic disaster cleanup sheeting and looks around the dripping, ice-cold, smoke-blackened floor of the unlucky department store, and shakes his head. Any clues that might've once been here are long since gone. If the fire hadn't gotten them, the months of abandonment and subsequent investigation would've.

Maybe he can sneak in and pull the investigation files somehow. Shinki do tend to go unnoticed, so he's willing to bet he can shadow a cop into any police office he wants. Getting keys to get into their files might be a little trickier, of course....

Sighing, he turns to go, just in time to spot a pale, whitish, sheet-like thing that's not plastic lashing out towards his ankle across the debris-strewn concrete floor.

With a shout, he jumps back, landing in a puddle. Filthy water splashes everywhere, and the sheet rears up like it's been possessed by a cobra, striking out at him again. The edge of it brushes his hand as he scrambles out of the way, raising an instant, aching, purplish welt.

Well, fuck. He's just found his first ayakashi all on his own, he realizes, turns, and bolts for the stairs with a possessed sheet in hot pursuit.

This is making a lot of noise.

Hopefully someone's passing by.

Help?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Sunday night, and he's finally heading home. Last night's... he doesn't want to call it a party. Last night's event at the bar really wiped him out -- those guys have some stamina! It was nearly noon before he was able to kick them all out, and it took most of the afternoon and well into the evening to get the place set right again.

He really should have taken a nap, after everyone left. Pushing through and getting the job done had sounded responsible and impressive at the time, but here it is, the middle of the night, and he's been awake for so long he's not actually sure what day it is anymore. He shuffles along, mentally cursing Goku's temple for being so far out in the wilds... and he doesn't see the guy at the side of the road until he's standing in front of him.

Looks like somebody's having a worse night than he is. ] Oi. [ He keeps his hands stuffed deep in his pants pockets -- it's cold out here! -- instead reaching out to lightly kick the other man's shoe. ] You dead?

Technically!

[Ugh, ow. Zhao uncurls just enough to squint at the stranger kicking his shoe. Tall, lanky guy, hair that's shaggy and dark in the midnight gloom; there's just enough moonlight to pick out the lines of a nose and jaw, not enough to make out his expression.]

Just not buried yet.

[He tries to shove himself up to a less might-be-dead posture, and gives up as his guts clench and send him face-down on his knees again.]

I'll be fine, it's just a stomachache.

[ Gojyo scowls at the dim shape, then tilts his head back and sighs. He can't very well walk away now, can he? Dammit. ]

You'll be fine. [ Can Zhao hear the eyeroll that goes with that dry-as-hell comment? It was a pretty loud eyeroll. ] You blighted, or just sick?

[Apparently Zhao's just going to be talking to his knees for the duration. Nobly, he accepts this fate, and discards his remaining pretenses of dignity.]

Just sick. Hey, buddy... [He chances looking up, trying for a charming and beseeching expression. Most of it's probably being lost on his knees. Still, whoever this guy is, it's clear he's not buying Zhao's attempt to play it cool, and it's too fucking cold out right now to really embrace the idea of huddling pathetically on this rock until he can manage walking again.]

... my god's place isn't all that far away, think you could help me get there?

[ Sorry, friend. It's too dark out for that beseeching expression to look like anything other than a pathetic attempt to stop talking into his knees. Close to home, but still unable to get himself there? That's really pathetic. That's just about the most pathetic thing Gojyo's heard all day, poor bastard.

Come on, sick man -- Gojyo holds out a hand to help Zhao up. ]

Don't you get me sick, now. I've got a hot date in a couple days and if you make me miss it I'm gonna be mad.

Oh yeah? Did you get suckered into a blind date or two?

[Zhao takes his hand, wincing but managing to force himself to a shaky vertical-- and god damn, if he doesn't wind up nearly collapsing on his random savior's shoulder anyway. He catches his breath, and tries to sound breezy.]

I've got one myself, so let's hope this's just some shitty heartburn.

Zhao Yunlan. Genuinely pleased to meet you. Pretty sure I'm not contagious.

[ Good thing his random savior was expecting that. He gets his arm around Zhao's back, with a solid grip on the man's belt for good measure, and they're off!

Uh. Which way? ]

Heartburn, huh?

[ This close he can smell the booze. He probably smells like booze himself -- and cleaning supplies, and a lot of dried sweat -- but he's not the sick one, so there. Too much alcohol can give you heartburn, sure! But there's an easy remedy for that. ]

If you're too drunk, just puke it up. You'll feel better. [ Oh. Hmm. ] Not on me though. Aim off th'road.

Thanks, but I'm not that drunk! [Okay, sure, some people can sound this coherent while too smashed to walk, but Yunlan isn't one of them. He's in pain, here. Have pity.

All right, maybe pity is too much to ask for when this guy's already willing to drag him back to Bakugou's temple. He'll just take the help and lean, though at least he's managing to walk just fine when it's not asking too much of his poor aching guts.]

I've just got a weak stomach, apparently. It'd be real fucking useful if we didn't have to find this shit out the hard way.

[On the plus side: now he knows? On the minus side he doesn't like the idea of having to take proper care with his diet despite being dead. Talk about a waste of effort.]

[ Puking is a good cure for a weak stomach, too -- at least in Gojyo's book -- but if this Zhao Yunlan wants to keep suffering, that's his choice. ]

No kiddin'. You'd think that here we are, dead, don't have to eat, don't shit... [ Wait. Where was he going with that train of thought?

Crap. ...Nope, it's gone. Sorry, buddy. Gojyo adjusts his grip on Zhao's arm instead, and pretends like he didn't just trail off.

Oh, right! Right. Speaking of finding things out the hard way... ]

Hey, if you're doin' that blind date thing, maybe you want to think again. The kid organizing it says she'll be watchin' people on their dates, and I'm not into that.

[Frankly, at the moment, he's banking on the curative power of sleeping it off. He's not going to judge Mr. Nameless Savior for trailing off, either -- it's late, he's probably tired, or buzzed himself. Whatever, Zhao Yunlan still owes him one.

He almost laughs at the warning, and then groans instead, and leans a little harder on the guy's shoulder for a minute. That was a mistake.]

Yeah well, there's gonna be enough of us--

[Ow. Okay, okay. Breathe. He manages to continue, with occasional pauses for careful breath.]

-- that I'm not too worried about it. I wasn't gonna do anything in public that tender eyes need shielding from, anyway. My god's temple's that big round one. The coliseum?

[ If he's not worried about it, then it's no longer Gojyo's problem... although he's really starting to get the feeling that everyone thinks he was planning to be an exhibitionist or something. It's the principle of the thing, okay? He wasn't planning anything inappropriate. So there, he growls at the imaginary Minako. ]

Is that what that is? [ Coliseum, huh? Isn't that another name for a football stadium? Gojyo heads towards the great round beast of a building, secretly proud of how even he's able to keep his pace. Look at him, awake for 36 hours and still walking in a straight line! ] What's he, god of goalies?

God of fights, I think. So sure, football. [Zhao's grin is sharp-edged, though he's not gonna give laughing a try. Lessons can stick for at least a few seconds.]

Hey, never did get your name...?

[ The god of fighting has a shinki who gets crumpled-up sick from a weak stomach? Man, whoever is assigning them to their gods is really not doing a very good job. Poor guy.

He ignores Yunlan's question, glossing smoothly over it and carrying on like the man never spoke. ]

Oh. So it really is like a big sports ring in there? That's pretty cool.

This big arena thing, yeah. [Weird, that this guy's zipping right past his question like that. Zhao's sidelong glance is thoughtful, but he doesn't ask again; there's not so many of them in the Heavens that he isn't likely to meet this guy again. It sounds like he's a shinki, too, or at least willing to sympathize with Zhao's shinki woes.]

Not that we've got enough people for a team.

[ Sha Gojyo's got too much baggage right now. He's doing better at being the man, doing better at figuring out who Sha Gojyo is, and what parts of him he's okay with. But tonight, he's tired. His brain's tired and his body's tired, and if this guy knows his name (Amaterasu's first announcement in weeks, and it was all about him and his stupidity) then that'll just be a whole big thing he'll have to deal with. Easier to just be a stranger. ]

There's a bunch of soulless, out at the edge of town. [ He's not really sure why he suggested them, instead of something like post on the network, make friends, do sports! Blame the exhaustion. ] If you're lookin' for teammates, I mean. They've got t'be pretty bored out there.

Do they get bored? [Well... why wouldn't they?

He'd heard there wasn't a whole lot to them, at least not anymore. Even house pets get bored, though, and these are people, "soulless" or not. After a minute, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he shrugs.]

Guess I'll check. Why's there so many? Have they all lost their gods?

[ Bitterly, under his breath: ] They've lost themselves.

[ Ah, shit, that was dark, wasn't it? He's trying not to do that. He's supposed to be a happy-go-lucky idiot -- that's the Gojyo that both Goku and Hakkai seem to like best -- and not somebody who talks about depressing deep shit. ]

Sorry. [ And he forces more enthusiasm into his voice, even straightening up a little taller (although there's only so far that can go, what with Yunlan still attached to his side. ] I've got no idea if they ever had gods. Some of 'em are new, like us... dunno about the rest.

[ Are they there yet? Seriously? He's so tired. ]

If we die again, sometimes we disappear forever, and sometimes we get brought back. But then we don't remember bein' here before. Maybe the soulless ones just died too many times, until they forgot everything.

Yeah. That, too. [It's the middle of the night: depressing deep shit suits the atmosphere. Zhao's silent for a moment.

He hasn't been in close proximity with one of the poor "soulless" bastards for long, yet; Bakugou doesn't have one, and it seems like they stick close enough to their gods. He's met a few, though. They give him the cold creeps, through no fault of their own.

They really do seem empty; they'll answer, but it's impossible to tell if they ever have any feelings about it.]

You think that can happen? Die enough, and everything gets drained right out of us?

[His tone's low, but dead serious, even though he waves his free hand a little in a down-the-drain gesture to match his words. He hasn't been here that long, after all. It's clear enough that there's a whole lot wrong with this place; but he doesn't have a good read on how much.]

[ He should sound worried, Gojyo thinks. Losing their memories is no joke.

How many memories would he have to lose to turn into somebody like Banri? Banri likes him, likes to be close to him. Keeps cleaning things nearby -- it's weird, okay? -- but that's got to be because Gojyo was his god. There's no way the Banri Gojyo remembers would want to hang around him and clean things.

Banri's just gone. It's a sobering fucking reminder that things really could always get worse.

Gojyo shakes his head. ]

I haven't seen it happen, but I know of at least one soulless shinki that used to be a person. A real person, like us. [ And he's been such an as-- such a jerk, but was this really what he deserved? ] He cared about shit and everything.

[This silence, too, stretches for several seconds before Zhao Yunlan says, flatly:]

Well, shit.

[What else is there to say? He doesn't know who he is, right now, doesn't know who he cared about or what he did for a living, but he's still somebody. He has strong opinions on nearly everything he's run across so far. He's got feelings.

The idea of death wearing him away like water on a stone, until he's sand indistinguishable from every other grain on the beach, is a deeply horrifying one.]

Guess you and me'll just have to be careful, then, won't we.

[ And here he was, having such a good night, too. ...Oh well. This is important for this guy to know. Sha Gojyo: Professional Buzzkill. It's got a nice ring to it. ]

I dunno about you, but I've had don't die on the top of my list of weekend chores for awhile now. [ Not that long, honestly, but that's not anything his new friend needs to hear about. ] Laundry, groceries, kick the drunks out, don't die, check check check.

[Laundry? Groceries? Does he live on his own or is he the one taking care of his god, instead of vice-versa?

(All right, to be quite fair, Zhao's found a laundry service and drops his clothes off there every so often, so that kind of counts as his doing his own laundry.)

And there are kid gods enough around here. They can't all be as domestically competent as Zhao's turned out to be.]

Yeah, well, what with all the man-eating ghosts around it's trickier than it sounds.

[He's trying to lighten the mood himself, though, frankly, it's not like he was having a great night before.]

So you're a bartender or something?

[ He doesn't actually have to buy groceries -- between Hokuto and Goku, he's pretty well fed. But a man should wash his own shorts, come on. Don't make somebody else do that. ]

Somethin' like that! [ Sorry, sorry... he neesd to pause for a moment, straighten up, stretch the crunchy noises out of his neck and back. How's that gut doing, friend? Any closer to walking solo? ] It used to be a bar, now it's, I dunno, a clubhouse for ghostbusters. Bunch 'a folks who think Bigfoot's real, you know?

[The gut is really not any better but Zhao is going to try to stand on his own over here, dammit, he's got standing-and-walking-forward momentum now, it's fine. This is fine. He lets Gojyo go to stretch his neck and shoulders out.

(This may not last long, but he's got some pride.)]

A ghost running a ghostbuster clubhouse? You've got big brass ones.

[He tosses Gojyo a grin and throws his shoulders back, squinting at the colisseum. The door's somewhere down in that Stygian blackness at ground level.]

-- you know what Heaven needs, streetlights.

Streetlights and taxis.

[ Sure they can dance on telephone wires and shit, but sometimes people get tired! Why isn't there public transit for tired people? It's so unfair.

Yunlan's place is even bigger close up, and the ground floor even darker. It looks pretty deserted... although, to be fair, a place that big? Would need a army camped out front to look occupied. ]

You think anybody's home?

Curiosity killed the... [open]

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