Curiosity killed the... [open]

[wildguardian]

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?]

Comments

[erogappa]

[ 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?

[wildguardian]

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.

[erogappa]

[ 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?

[wildguardian]

[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?

department store

[wingsofaid]

[Mysteries certainly do abound. Petra seldom strays to the Near Shore alone but after getting a close, personal look at just how unsafe Heaven can be, her reservations about visiting the Outside as she's come to think of it, have lessened. They haven't disappeared completely, the reluctance to move freely is too deeply ingrained but she, too, has been slowly reading up on events before her arrival.

It's pure coincidence that today happens to be the day that Petra decides to visit the site. The ruckus draws her curiosity.]

Hello? Is someone here?

[Zhao will spot a petite redhead in pastel winter clothing looking around by the stairwell and utterly oblivious to any threat of ayakashi. But there is a hefty looking two-by-four not too far from her feet.]

[erogappa]

[ 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.

Western District

[dredefulchilde]

“Well, you look like shit.”

Joscelin had been out for a late night walk, bundled up against the cold, when he came across Zhao. Now he’s crouched next to the man, head cocked curiously to the side like a particularly demonic puppy.

“Are you going to die? Er, again?”

[wildguardian]

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.

[wildguardian]

Watch out!

[He's bolting towards her at top speed: it's kind of dark down here in the basement, even with plenty of holes in the flooring above letting in light, and he doesn't know if she's spotted the thing at his heels yet.]

Ayakashi -- run!

[wildguardian]

Zhao cracks one eye open to see the knife kid, and manages a pallid grin. Great, just what he needed.

"Not unless shinki can die of stomachache," he informs Joscelin, and doesn't move. "I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."

Unless he freezes first. It is pretty cold out here, especially with the icy stone leaching the heat out of his body.

[erogappa]

[ 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.

[wingsofaid]

[Ayakashi? Petra doesn't see anything that looks like an ayakashi but then again, she doesn't really know what an ayakashi looks like. The giant ape had turned out to be a god. So she'll take the man's word for it and run - after she kicks the board so it skids toward him.]

Try to stun it if you can!

[Then she ducks back into stairwell. Every second counts during a chase though and running's too slow so instead of taking them normally, she takes a couple of steps and leaps to the top instead. Once she's at the top, she just keeps going to keep without a glance back to see if she's being followed.]

[wildguardian]

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.]

[wildguardian]

[Zhao's not sure how much whacking a sheet with a stick is going to hurt it, but it might slow it down, so he grabs the board and turns, smacking the wood down solidly across the fabric. It lashes at him, leaving purple welts on his hands and face, but it seems to be taking a few seconds to figure out its escape: Zhao takes advantage of it, and bolts after the girl.

He's taking the stairs two and three at a time, but he can't emulate the weightless leap that sends her from the bottom step to the ground floor in a single bound (or can he? No, this isn't the time to get cute.)

He's a dozen paces behind by the time he reaches the ground floor, but he's tearing after her towards the exit regardless.]

How's your borderline?

[He's not too out of breath to manage a yell, though.]

[erogappa]

[ 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.

[wildguardian]

[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?

[erogappa]

[ 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?

[dredefulchilde]

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound the least bit sorry.

“It’s odd that we can still get those, despite not having working digestion, isn’t it?”

The boy’s face gets even closer to Zhao’s. “You might get hypothermia if you just keep sitting there, though. Where is your temple?”

[wildguardian]

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...?

[wildguardian]

He really doesn't sound sorry. Zhao gives him a dubious stare over the edge of his knees, and manages to unwind one arm to wave vaguely at the large circular building looming some distance away.

"Over there. The coliseum.

"I'm not sure shinki can die of cold, either."

To be fair, he's not sure shinki can't die of cold. He's definitely shivering.

[dredefulchilde]

Joscelin tsks disapprovingly and offers Zhao a hand. “Right then, up with you.” He’s a fraction of Zhao’s height and weight, but he’s much, much stronger than he looks.

“Here.” He unwinds the long, wool muffler from around his neck. It’s the only warm article of clothing he thinks will fit. “Take this. It’ll help a bit, maybe.”

[erogappa]

[ 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.

[wildguardian]

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.

[wildguardian]

"You sure?" Zhao's reluctant to take the boy's hand, but as he does, he's startled by the ease with which Joscelin pulls him to his feet. He's not exactly steady on them once he's up, though, staggering and nearly winding up on his ass back on the ground before he catches his balance. He's still kind of pale as he glances at the scarf.

"--nah, my god's temple's right over there. I'll make it back okay. You keep it."

[wingsofaid]

[Petra looks back. Oh, good, he didn't die. Again? Again.]

I don't know-

[There's no time to question or doubt herself, though. She whips around, fingers forming the halberd shape, and draws. Then, practically in the same breath:]

Line!

[Once's he's clear, a very bright borderline flares up abruptly behind him, blocking the ayakashi's advance. She shifts her attention almost entirely to maintaining the borderline, barely managing to mutter a quick comment.]

If it breaks, run.