thenearshore | [Closed] I am done with my graceless heart, tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

Ginia emanates nervousness, a change from the shifting sadness and occasional spike of anxiety and fear during the early hours of the last week. She watches the fish swim around the pond at Tsubasa's temple, losing herself in the ripples of water, the steady turn of their tails.

Her current outfit is the uniform of Ebisu's temple, though her tie is loose and suit jacket slung over her arm. A braided bracelet gives her wrist a splash of color as does the white ribbon braided into her hair. Next to her feet is a canvas bag with a faded logo on it.

She waves as she spots Tsubasa, waiting for her god to get closer before she begins signing.

"Thanks for agreeing on such short notice." She winces a little at how formal it sounds, but continues on. "I brought food."

Ginia's signs are perfectly clear to Tsubasa, as if she's known JSL all along.

To say that Tsubasa was still getting her bearings was generous. She was still getting her head together from being out of commission for how long she was, but she was of course perfectly happy to meet with Ginia.

She tilts her head a bit. "It is no problem, but - you know that short notice shouldn't matter. I can speak anytime."

She smiles lightly. "Food is appreciated, though." It's not needed, but she's certainly not going to turn it down. Still, the smile fades a bit. "Is everything alright?"

"I know. You're my god." But it's not just that. "And my friend."

Which in some ways makes talking a little harder. There's a lot she stands to lose and Ginia knows Tsubasa isn't the kind of person to leave if things are hard, but it's a constant worry. Her hands wring together as she tries to figure out what to say. The bracelet is nice in how it makes all her signing understood, but now she doesn't have the buffer of picking her words through her phone.

But it's probably better to be honest here.

"I don't know. I feel..." Her hands wiggle in a vague, meaningless gesture. "I got a memory back. A long one. Back on the third."

Tsubasa can at least see the obvious discomfort present, so she's not about to press. After all, she has more than a few things under her hat as well. As Ginia says, Tsubasa considers her a friend. Still, the way she looks...

...ah, there it is. She crosses her arms and nods quietly, for a moment, before continuing.

"...I get the sense it is not exactly... what you would have been hoping for, then?"

"I don't know if I wanted more memories."

Shinki forget their lives so they can have a second chance and not envy the living. What their generation remembers and go through is unthinkable. Maybe it's the sign they can't coexist for long.

"But I know more. It's...confirmed what I've suspected about myself."

Ginia pauses, throws her jacket over her shoulder as it slides from her elbow.

"I don't know where to start."

Tsubasa stares at her for a moment more, before nodding. "Believe me, when it comes to explaining certain matters, I can understand that feeling. If it helps, it doesn't really matter where you start - sometimes, it is just good to get it out. I have had to learn that the hard way... ah, multiple times, even."

Good to get it out. Into the deep end then. It's not as if Ginia hasn't had conversations where she gets into the meat of things. She still hesitates, staring back at the fish. Around and around they swim, paying no attention to the rest of the world, content in the pond.

No different than her in some regards.

Ginia exhales and turns back to face Tsubasa.

"I used to be an operative. An assassin. My team was tasked with assassinating a FBI agent."

"...ah." She straightens up, giving her a serious, but understanding look. "I am... not a stranger to such things."

In fact, her family has ninjas under them. Her guardian, and manager, is one of them. Assassins by trade, it may not be something that her allies dwell upon much, but... it's an undeniable fact that goes beyond and a fair bit more darker than her own actions as a government agent.

"More than you may realize, but... Having such a memory return all of a sudden would be alarming, I expect."

To say the least.

"I've suspected for awhile. What kind of person knows all the way to kill a person but can barely cook?"

Who could barely shop at a store on her own? Who had no idea how to fill her time outside of training. She's suspected for a long time. Obvious from the outside, but who could really say anything without sending her crashing into an ayakashi's embrace?

"We had to make the job look natural. She had a wife and an infant child. The baby never left her side."

That first question is almost a little too close to home for Tsubasa. She can relate to it a lot more directly, actually. "That part, I ... understand. A lot. But you have probably gotten that sense from me anyway, regardless."

After all, look at the mess she makes.

Still, not the time for much light hearted. She could tell this wasn't exactly going a pleasant place.

In spite of that she remains neutral looking, nodding to her. "Go on."

Edited 2019-06-30 06:48 (UTC)

There's a brief smile and a light tilt of her head, acknowledging Tsubasa's own domestic difficulties and a previous serious nature. In a vague way, Ginia thinks of Beth, so serious and stoic and focused on their task, grisly as it was.

"My memory isn't complete as I'd like. It's like coming into a movie halfway through. There were three of us. I was the long-range specialist. Beth was close-range. Erika on demolitions. We couldn't agree on how to handle the job."

Ginia briefly closes her eyes, trying to remember the specifics. The three of them in a bare apartment, equipment and plans spread out. Beth leaning against the wall, arms crossed, tired indifference as she watches. Erika, furious, jabbing at the photos and plans on the table, words hissed out.

{'We're running out of time! We do our job, we get the fuck out, how is this different from any other job?'

'I don't know, but I don't like it. It feels wrong,' Ginia insists, signs sharp, teeth clenched so hard her jaw aches.

Mentally, she taps into the private communication channel the three of them share. "We haven't seen any proof she's corrupt. None of the information we were given lines up."

'I don't like it, it feels wrong,' Erika mocks, signing Ginia's words back as her expression hardens. 'Yeah, well, doing things we don't like is our life story, isn't it.'

Mentally, Erika says: "We've only had eyes on her for a few days. You think you know better then people that had eyes on her for months?"

Ginia leans on the table, hands clenched around the edge, staring at the photos without seeing any of them. "You think they were ever honest with us?"

"They've never been honest," Beth's voice cuts into their minds. "But that means this is no different than any other job."}

Ginia rubs her hand over her face. Would she have taken the shot without question if a child wasn't involved? Let Erika or Beth do their jobs without question? Did the baby make that much of a difference? Yes, but no. Ginia's breath escapes in a slow hiss as another memory jumps to the forefront. Same room, but darker; the sun's gone down. Photos and papers scatter on the ground, Ginia's knuckles ache, her heart hammers in her chest. Erika has her hands twist into her shirt, practically dragging her down.

{'You think you've never hurt a kid before? All the cars you've taken out, people you've shot while they were minding their own business, you think there wasn't some kid in the backseat, some poor kid finding their poor mommy or daddy with their head blown out?' Erika's hands unclench from Ginia's shirt as she shoves back, rubbing at the blood trickling from her swollen lip with the back of her hand. She looks away, mumbling, 'We're monsters, Ginia. Don't pretend you're innocent because you looked a baby in the eyes and couldn't pull the fucking trigger.'}

"Sorry, it's... it's all me, it's real, but it doesn't feel like it. I wish I could say I balked because a child was involved, but I don't think that's true." Even if she can't remember, the deaths on her hands are still on her. If she's hurt, killed children directly or indirectly, that's on her.

"But I couldn't carry through with this one. It didn't feel right, I didn't want to do it."

Ginia runs her fingers over the bulletholes by the altar in Chris's temple, tracing out the letters hole by hole. There's a paper bag on the altar, an offering of fresh an pan from Kyoto inside. The nightmares, the mood swings downward, they aren't usual for Ginia, but the last week has been a bit rawer than usual.

She turns and waves as Chris enters. Ginia is dressed in her suit for Ebisu's temple, jacket next to the altar. Her tie is loose and there's a braided bracelet around her right wrist and a ribbon braided through her hair. Instead of reaching for her phone as she usually does, she signs once Chris is closer.

"Hey, I brought you an pan." Her signs are perfectly understood by Chris as if Chris has always known sign language. "Thought I'd bring a peace offering."

Chris had been expecting something like this, so once she senses Ginia's presence in her temple, she arrives in short order.

"You don't need to put it like that," she said, blinking at how she immediately understood her. "You've been going through a lot, I can tell. You don't have to hold yourself accountable to me."

A beat.

"But I'm gonna take the an pan anyway."

Edited 2019-06-30 02:42 (UTC)

Ginia raises her right hand and wiggles her wrist. The dangling ends of the bracelet wave a little.

"I got it in a gift basket as thanks for my wor with the cult," she explains, hunching the question was on Chris's mind in some way. "It makes it so people can understand sign language. Got it yesterday, I didn't say anything since I'm trying to see if there are any catches."

Who knows what abilities or even what people know might interfere with it. Best to go in and then adjust if there are any problems.

"Fresh from Kyoto, enjoy." But that's not why she's here. Ginia leans against the pillar, looking around at the temple. It's a beautiful temple, though she's not quite sure the decor fits Chris. It's a little more Ishtar overall.

She lets Chris enjoy a few bites of the red bean bun before waving her hand to get her attention.

"I remembered something from my life. I thought you should know."

Chris nodded. "I see... I hope this doesn't mean I can't learn sign language from you anymore, though."

Chris has already taken out one of the pastries and started munching on it. She nods, respectfully, a few crumbs at the corners of her mouth, before saying with her mouth partially full:

"Go on. Tell me all about it."

Chris is far too tsundere to say something like "I'm here to listen", but she hopes it's implied.

If anything the bracelet will make it easier to teach sign language as Ginia can focus on teaching without needing someone else to explain or having to write things separately.

So. Tell her about it. Where does she even begin? Having told the story once, it's a little easier to find the threads to wind together and follow back to a beginning. But it's still an incomplete, unpracticed story.

"I'm an assassin. An operative. My specialty is sniping." The opening line, yet an obvious start. It's still strange to say the words with definite understanding. I am, not I think. "I remember a job I was on. There were two others with me, Beth and Erika. Close range and demolitions, respectively. We were assigned to take out an FBI agent. We were supposed to make her death look natural, an accident, nothing that would raise any brows."

The facts are easier to ramble off, but even then they still feel incomplete. Detached, when she should know more.

"She had a wife and an infant child. The child was almost always with her."

Ginia straightens her tie as she stands in front of the door of Ebisu's office. Would it be more intimidating if he looked like an adult or is it worse facing a child with the burden she carries? Or would it be difficult no matter what because she's a shinki about to speak about her memories, an otherwise impossible feat until her generation began appearing?

She knocks twice on the door before she loses her nerves. Her coworkers were pretty sure he was in the office. If not, it's a matter of finding Kunimi for the 99% chance they're together. Ginia exhales a slow breath, trying to smooth out her emotions, though she knows how frazzled she's been the last week. It's more notable with Chris and Tsubasa as she's their only shinki, but Ginia has a hunch Ebisu knows his shinki well enough he can tell.

Uncharitable or not, Ginia knows her emotional state has never been the best. At least now she has a better inkling why.

"Come in!" calls that same youthful voice almost immediately, as if it had just been waiting for the right moment to ring out. That much is true, honestly. Ebisu might not be able to tell each shinki's individual feelings of stress so easily... It usually takes a little bit of figuring out. Emotions sometimes blur together when he's connected to many, so, when he's really concerned, he has to go search out when there's a particularly worrying spike of stress.

Usually it's Takami. This time, however, he knows it's been different.

Ebisu likes to give his shinki a little bit of time to figure such emotions out. While some things are hard for him to understand as a recently reincarnated god, he knows well enough that he can't be there all the time for his shinki. Part of it is because it's not physically possible when he has this many named, but, more importantly, it's good for them to be able to know how to pull themselves up, or rely on others.

This is something his past incarnations knew as well, he thinks, considering how the temple manages to fare even now that he's a young child. The experiences and issues of a god that reincarnates so often.

When Ginia steps in, it will be in the middle of Ebisu moving some folders to the side so that he can better see the doorway. He has a few things he could work on, certainly, but instead he wants to make sure there's nothing inbetween them right now. "Hello, Jitsumi. Would you like to take a seat?"

There's another moment before Ginia opens the door and lets herself in. She bows at the doorway, careful not to let the door slam behind her. Her anxiety picks up a little now that she's in the office, but she manages it well.

It's not that she hasn't spoken to others about her memories, but they were all of people of her generation. They all know new shinki sometimes regain memories, it's easier to talk about. Ginia knows Ebisu is aware of this fact, but it still feels harder to broach.

One thing is sure: she hasn't breathed a word of any of this to anyone else in the temple. She knows others have noticed and expressed worry. Poor sleep is the only excuse she can give, any more feels too dangerous.

"Thank you, sir." Ginia signs as she sits down. The bracelet making sign language understood isn't a secret; she's been using it as much as possible since she got it, the joy of it cutting through her malaise. "I have something important to discuss, but I can come back if this is a poor time." She glances at the folders, but who doesn't have stack of work at their desk?

"It has to do with memories."

Ebisu will always have some manner of work at his desk. He wouldn't be a god of trade, or at least a very good one, if he wasn't busy. The work will always be there one way or another, especially as the world grows and forges connections within itself.

These new shinki are much more ephemeral and unknown, in contrast, and he straightens up with immediate interest at the news. A tinge of worry crumples his brow as well, although it's a faint little gesture. "There's no need to worry. None of this requires my immediate attention." He wavers for a second, clearly thinking. "Did you...?"

"Remember more about myself? Yes."

Ginia finishes his sentence and finds herself at a loss at where to begin. Where is the beginning when all her memories begin in media res? When she can infer the context around things but can't confirm or press too much?

It was easier with Tsubasa and Chris. They understand the ways humans can be and what they can do, from personal or broader experiences. They're human. They fight as a part of their daily life. But maybe they're all excuses.

Ebisu's being as a god first and foremost has never bothered her, but now she falters.

"I mentioned once I remembered my birthday." The signs are halting as she grasps at the threads of her lives and tries to knot them together. "It was more than that. It was a few hours of memories, roughly a day. Faces, names. I share a birthday with eight others. January first. We're named alphabetically."

It's as suspect as it sounds. Ginia has always considered it so.

"My more recent memory is longer. About a week long. Some of the same people are in the memory, though we're older." How much, she isn't sure. Time is a fickle thing. Ginia pauses, hands balling as her words creep closer to a truth she hasn't wanted to face or admit to.

"We were tasked with assassinating someone." Ginia smiles, but it falters. "I suppose in hindsight it's obvious what I did in life. I came with a very specific set of skills and little else."

Even removed from humanity as he is, being what he is, well. Ebisu still loves humans, still manages to absorb a great deal of information about them. So, inhuman as he may be, he knows enough to understand that the first scenario is already highly suspicious enough. The more details she gives, and it becomes very clear why that is.

A bond isn't necessary to tell that she's worried about this, and the young god surveys her carefully for a moment before sliding out of his seat. For once, there's no disaster in this process, or on the way to her, where he takes her hand.

What he says is simple. "You're still you."

Ginia watches him work his way over, remaining seated though her legs brace in case she needs to leap to catch him. She holds his hand as he takes it, though it flies from his grasp as she signs, "I don't know who I am!"

A heavy sigh escapes, anger, confusion, loss felt as she wrangles her feelings back together. There's nothing wrong with how she feels, she doesn't take them back, but she needs a calmer mind. The truth in his statement is not unknown either. She is not a single-minded assassin. That much is clear.

"I know I can do good. Be good. Bring happiness to others. I know I have plenty of admirable attributes." He hands shake a little as she repeats the truth others know about her, what she's trying to remember about herself.

"But I've killed people here because I thought it was what I was supposed to do. The right thing to do. Hurt countless others without a second thought. I wouldn't hesitate to protect you or anyone else here. Violence is in my nature, as much as I wish it wasn't."

Patiently, he weathers through the storm of her emotions, both those that she signs to him and those which crackle through their connection. Even young as he is, in this incarnation if nothing else, this is not the first time he's waited alongside one of his shinki as their emotions have wracked them. As she begins to wind down, he sets his hand along the crook of her elbow- out of the way and yet still a touch.

"How do you know?" he asks again, another simple sentence that almost doesn't seem like the question it is. A second later, and he at least makes sure to add more to it. "You've only remembered that much, haven't you?"

"A shinki acts based off their core being. They may adjust their behavior depending on what people react, but at the start, all we have are our instincts." Not all that different from a newly reincarnated god. But where a god knows who they are, a shinki is malleable.

But her hands ball together as she thinks about the things she knows and the actions she's taken. She held back in the forest when Celestia asked her to. She changed her plans outside the compound at Aomi's quiet disapproval.

"I didn't kill my target. At least, I couldn't do it. She had a wife and a baby son. She was rarely away from him. I couldn't figure out how to make her death look natural without killing him too."

Ginia rubs her face as the argument with Erika and Beth replay in her mind. No, it was really only an argument with Erika, Beth didn't want anything to do with it. Maybe she'd already made a decision. Maybe she was letting the two of them argue it out. A ragged breath escapes and she peers at Ebisu from behind her fingers and smiles weakly as her hand falls away.

"I suppose children are my weak point. I killed a cultist for hurting children and feeling no remorse for his actions."

[Closed] I am done with my graceless heart, tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

Closed to Tsubasa

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CW: references to murder, child harm

Closed to Chris

Re: Closed to Chris

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Closed to Ebisu

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