|
|
Post by Testbug on Dec 6, 2010 17:55:33 GMT -5
ohmygodohmygodohmygod Taylor was running along the sands of the beach, his brain finally regained after a stern lecture from Carbuncle and a cleansing of his body from all traces of Alcohol. Following the traces of Yoshimitsu, he could make his way all the way to the boat. Pointing after the blue-haired teen that he had followed, he explained to the bouncer "I'm with him," And ran along onto the deck of the boat, waiting for it to set sail. NOW do it, faggot. |
|
|
|
Post by Hamuu on Jan 7, 2011 17:53:36 GMT -5
Mia bit her lip nervously. She had opted to stay on board with a few of the others and to check on Rick’s condition. His wounds had healed to the point he could sleep comfortably, by the time he finally woke they would be gone entirely. Now though she stood outside one of the other passengers rooms. She took a breath and composed herself.
“Miko.” She knocked on the door lightly. “I was wondering if we could speak for a moment.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on Jan 11, 2011 1:29:47 GMT -5
It was almost noon when Hector stumbled back onto the boat, clutching his head. He knew there was virtually no way to explain his disappearance until morning to Vathale, so he chose to avoid her for the time being. Reeking of alcohol, vomit, and infidelity, he walked into the bathroom and took a shower. He walked outside to the deck, where he saw Yoshimitsu and someone else he didn't know. Damn. He was hoping to catch him alone. There were... things... left to be sorted out between them and it was high time they got that out of the way. pssssst thats your cue |
|
|
|
Post by Yoshimitsu on Jan 11, 2011 1:46:05 GMT -5
Technically, Hector should recognise Samm because of the fight on the island. Also, gonna push the boat off while I'm here. When Hector stumbled onto the boat, in a worse state than Yoshimitsu had been last night, the blue haired boy turned and walked to the front of the deck. He wasn't surprised when Samm followed him, a curious expression on his face. Yoshimitsu didn't say anything at first, focusing instead on the churning waves. He heard the dull roar of the engine starting, and the boat shuddered into motion again. Obviously the captain had returned while the boy wasn't paying attention. "Go on, ask away. I can tell you're curious," Yoshimitsu said, not turning to look at his new acquaintence. "That boy..." Samm paused, waiting for the name to be supplied. "Hector Cruz." "Hector Cruz," Samm repeated. "You... have an issue with him?" "Something like that," Yoshimitsu agreed vaguely. "Care to share?" "It's a long story," Yoshimitsu warned. Samm laughed. "We were good friends once upon a time. The best friends two people could be. If you saw one of us, it was pretty much certain the other wouldn't be too far behind. The old days." "You're not that old yourself," Samm commented. "Nah, you're right. It just feels like a long time ago," Yoshimitsu said, turning to face the boat and leaning against the railings. He glanced over everyone who was present. So many faces. "We had out ups and downs, though. My old enemy, Vincent. Some stuff happened, but me and Vincent turned into friends instead. Hector was left in the dust." "That doesn't sound nice for him," Samm said fairly. "No, I didn't mean it... I mean, I didn't deliberately distance myself," Yoshimitsu explained quickly. "It just happened. Thing is, this Hector in font of me... He's not the same Hector I used to know. The Hector I used to know wasn't this womanizing creep." "I see..." At that moment, Hector decided to resurface looking slightly more presentable. Their eyes locked for a second. "Better make yourself scarce. There's no way this is gonna end well," Yoshimitsu warned. Samm nodded, and walked away. The blue-and-purple haired boy spared a glance at Hector on his way past. |
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on May 15, 2011 17:19:23 GMT -5
Hector took deep breaths and slowly, pensively, took steps toward the bow of the ship. He felt the dull weight of his conscience resting heavily on his shoulders.
It's showtime.
He might have had thoughts to reconsider, to turn back and think on what he was going to say somewhere inside one of the rooms, but then their eyes met and he was trapped. Nowhere to go now but onwards.
Where did we go wrong, Yoshimitsu?
Can you remember the exact time and place of the moment we started to drift apart?
I sure can't. Maybe that's part of my problem.
Maybe, if I had been more perceptive...
Maybe I wouldn't be in half the mess I'm in now.
Hector hung his head to avoid further eye contact, and slumped over the guardrail, staring off into the watery distance. For a minute, he didn't speak a single word, instead watching a school of dolphins swimming in synchronization nearby. Finally, he inhaled deeply and looked up at the horizon.
"It's been a while since... since we've really talked... Hasn't it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Yoshimitsu on May 15, 2011 17:25:46 GMT -5
Yoshimitsu had turned away, watching the ocean, but that did not stop him from hearing the footsteps. If he had to guess, the weight behind those steps were because Hector's head was hung and his shoulders slumped. He knew it was Hector. It wouldn't be anyone else. Hector stood for a moment, next to him at the front of the boat. It felt awkward. Stood side by side with a person who used to be his best friend. Yoshimitsu struggled for words, but was saved the necessity of speaking when Hector chose to.
"It's been a while since... since we've really talked... Hasn't it?"
Yoshimitsu didn't respond immediately. What could he say? That was entirely true. He caught the meaning, though. The meaning behind those words. Hector realised something was wrong, but he couldn't tell what or why.
"Yeah. It's like I said, we went our different ways," Yoshimitsu replied calmly. What would Hector say next? He couldn't reveal anything major, otherwise his former best friend would get concerned, and then involved.
|
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on May 15, 2011 17:38:42 GMT -5
The distance. Even standing less than three feet away from him, Hector felt as if his friend were miles away, the words echoing across. Talking is harder when the person you want to communicate with is so distant, you aren't sure the words will reach far enough.
Talking is hard.
Maybe this is why everyone's drifted far away from you, Hector.
Maybe it's because you can't communicate worth a damn. You can't express your feelings, and you sure can't listen worth a damn.
You should have listened.
You should have listened.
"Yoshi, there's a lot we haven't talked about concerning the past. I'm going to let you have the first word here." He felt his words echo across the metaphorical expanse. With his head resting on his hands, Hector swallowed and waited anxiously for his response, but mentally, he braced himself.
|
|
|
|
Post by Yoshimitsu on May 15, 2011 17:51:35 GMT -5
Yoshimitsu heard the words. He heard the meaning again. He heard the inner turmoil, the regret, the anger at himself, the sorrow. Everything surrounding them. All the emotion just put into one sentence, and Yoshimitsu picked up on everything. Hector was sad. Hector was regretting not keeping in touch. Hector was being the fucking hero he wasn't meant to be, the tragic hero who made all of the mistakes. He had always been infalliable. Reckless, but sure of himself. Always saw the right way forward, and the best way even if it was the stupidest.
All it took was those words.
"Yoshi, there's a lot we haven't talked about concerning the past. I'm going to let you have the first word here."
And Yoshimitsu snapped.
He grabbed the front of Hector's shirt, his hand in his former friend's face, with a ghostly silver glow covering it. There was pure aggression in his face, anger and hate and sadness and envy all thrown in there trying to fight for dominance. Hector's eyes kept on darting between Yoshimitsu's face and his hand, but he made no move to free himself.
"Hector fucking Cruz," Yoshimitsu breathed, his voice gruff and low. "You used to be amazing. You used to be beautiful. You used to be one of the few sources of pure Light on this planet, and you fucking ruined it. You have a family and people who love you, you have the best intentions that people kill for, you shit fucking gold bricks and you sit and you mope and cry and hurt the people who love you because of it."
Yoshimitsu raised his spare hand and curled it into a fist, visibly shaking as he let out his anger. Hector didn't even flinch. It was like he wanted his jaw broken. Yoshimitsu couldn't stop shaking, as much as he tried. All of his willpower was stopping him from punching Hector.
He stopped. He released Hector's shirt and pushed him back, before turning away and covering his face.
|
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on May 15, 2011 19:01:44 GMT -5
Hector stared apathetically into the diaphanous aura of Yoshimitsu's fist, inches away from his nose. If he did manage to sock him in the face, why should he stop him? Maybe he deserved a blow to the face.
This whole mess is your fault.
Let him hit you.
That's what you deserve for being an adulterous creep and a shitty friend.
Some hero you ended up as.
But instead of punching him, Yoshimitsu started talking in a growl. In the heat of the moment, however, it barely penetrated the thick, hazy fog of Hector's mind. The words burbled as if he were hearing them underwater, and he attempted to string them together into coherent sentences to process them correctly.
Yoshimitsu let go and pushed him back. It was when Hector hit the deck with a dull thud that everything clicked into place and the epiphany hit with the force of an oncoming tidal wave.
That cursed blade.
And then the memory wipe.
Nothing had been the same since then.
Not even after he regained his memories.
Quivering frenetically, he struggled to bring forth the words between irregular, overwhelmed breaths. "I... I remember everything... I remember everything now."
"It all started with the mind wipe... Didn't it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Yoshimitsu on May 15, 2011 19:30:21 GMT -5
Yoshimitsu curled his hand into a fist again, his other hand gripping the handle of his Bahamut blade tightly.
"No, Hector, you don't remember at all," he snapped, half unsheathing his sword. "It's not as simple as that. What point, exactly, did you lose your morality and become this womanizing, drinking, pathetic excuse for a person? When, Hector?"
Yoshimitsu glared for a moment, then re-sheathed his sword and turned away.
"I always thought of you, Hector. I always thought you were the person I could rely on. Even when you lost your memory and had that fucking ridiculous sword that nearly killed Vincent, I thought you were the person who I could turn to when I needed help, or comfort, or reassurance. When I look at you now..."
Yoshimitsu spat over the edge of the ship, then turned to stare Hector straight in the eyes.
"I look at you now, and all I see is a child. You're not the person I loved. You're not the person I could trust. You're just some stupid kid, playing with toys he'll be bored of in five minutes. How does your wife feel? How will your kid feel when she grows up, knowing her dad was some slutty bruiser? Go on, tell me."
|
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on May 16, 2011 14:58:33 GMT -5
"My sex life has nothing to do with being a role model for my kid. Now, cheating on my wife, that's another story." Hector straightened himself up and lifted himself from the ground. He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets, and kept his head hung, but looked Yoshimitsu in the eye this time. "I know she doesn't deserve it. I know she deserves better. But do you blame a guy for hitting rock bottom when all his friends decide he's too degenerate to be worth a damn?"
Then, anger. Hector's gaze sharpened into a steely glare, nostrils flaring. "It's not like you're some saint yourself. What exactly have you been up to that you won't share with me or anyone? Why are you so shady all of a sudden? Who are you?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Yoshimitsu on May 16, 2011 15:09:29 GMT -5
"I've never been a saint, Hector," Yoshimitsu shot back, folding his arms in a defiant expression. "When have I ever saved lives without taking the riskiest course of action, the one that could kill just as many people? Just because I wont pull the trigger myself doesn't make me some sort of paladin and you know that."
Yoshimitsu let out an angry sigh, unfolding his arms and resting one hand on the hilt of his Bahamut blade.
"You're asking me who I am?" He repeated, though he didn't need the clarification. "I'm exactly who you see in front of you. I'm the genetically engineered bio-weapon from another dimension who went renegade because he has a heart, and I'm the broken teenager who's spent the past year trying to rectify his own mistakes. I'm Yoshimitsu, and who the fuck are you, Hector?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jun 7, 2011 13:31:11 GMT -5
Miko took another bite out of the generous pineapple wedge he’d carved himself. The noontime sun was bouncing off the waves, making the surface look like hammered steel. An army of sun cats raced around his room, crisscrossing and leaping from surface to surface. Rivulets of juice ran down his hand, leaving trails that’d inevitably become annoyingly sticky. He savored a pulpy morsel of the fruit, masticating it for a few good chews. This treat, the sweetness with just a faint trace of something like spiciness… The sun on his face, full of blinding warmth… Those were pleasures that the Summoners down south didn’t have. Things that they really COULDN’T have at the present time. If they’d thought ahead, been humble instead of imperious, peaceful instead of expansionist… The empire could’ve dissolved itself, peacefully immigrating into any nation they so chose. Russia for those that’d miss the old lifestyle, America for those that wanted to jump into the modernized world. The archipelago, for those that still wanted to retain their powers without having to hide them away. The world was a place massive beyond any mortal comprehension, of such breadth and depth that there was a perfect spot for anybody willing to seek it. In retrospect, the doctrines (or maybe, better said as dogmas) that he’d grown up with were nothing but pure and utter bullshit. Pride was a blind fool, leading all that worshiped at its alter along the avenue that ran from self glorification straight down to inevitable self destruction. By considering themselves as superior to the rest of the world, worthy not to be peers or servants, but only rulers, they’d consigned themselves to being the rulers of naught but an icy deathtrap. Miko couldn’t bring himself to entirely despise the feeling of pride though. It drove him onwards, gave him more strength than he had the right to as a fragile human being. He’d trained for every spell in his repertoire, fought for every Summon he commanded. It wasn’t the blind luck that had earned so many others their powers, or some gift at the behest of some other party. He’d earned the right, the competence, that allowed him to go toe to toe with beings that the normal people regarded as deities. He didn’t have much pride in the Summoners, but his heart swelled to the bursting point with his pride as a Summoner. Was it really hubris for him to- There was a quiet rap at the door, yanking him out of his reverie. Mia, judging by the voice. “One moment…” Miko threw the rind of the pineapple into a small plastic trashcan, the receptacle teetering before settling down again. He strode to the door purposefully, his shoulder throbbing slightly with each step. Magical healing could speed things along, but it still could miss little, nagging things here and there. He undid the latch, and opened the door wide with a sudden yank. Mia’s face betrayed momentary surprise. Probably shouldn’t make any sudden movements around the poor girl…“So, what’s it you need to talk about?” -------- “Dad says that there’s a boat coming along.” “And this is different from the others how?” “Yes, if he told you about it, it obviously is of some importance.” “From what he said, I think there’s another sister for us on board.” “So, it’s another delivery, then. It’d be nice if this one doesn’t die as quickly as the last one did.” “No duh.” “It’s not… quite a delivery. Dad says that there’s people defending this one.” “So… more practice for us, then?” “Against real live people?” “Far as I can tell. He didn’t really brief me anything more than what I’ve already told you… And that I should start thinking up a plan for bringing our new sister home.” “How many of us are going? Am I going?” “He said that you and Parsimony have to stay here. The other three are all free to go, though.” “Have you told them yet?” “You can’t really tell Eltas, stupid.” “I know that. And mind your language, Olivia.” “I’m on my way to tell them right now. I haven’t heard any explosions for a good half hour, so now probably is the best chance I’ll get.” “Unless he’s blown himself up for good. That’d work too!” “Olivia…” OOC: Sorry to diverge from the rest of thread a bit, but things without blue hair need love too! |
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 2, 2016 13:28:39 GMT -5
OOC: El, Loogs, how do we feel about calling this concluded, and just handling the other two big events (this "next island" and the South Pole) as separate RPs?
|
|
|
|
Post by Yoshimitsu on Feb 2, 2016 13:35:00 GMT -5
OOC: In hindsight, Yoshi's confrontation with Hector here kinda comes completely out of nowhere. I'm happy to consider it non-canon, honestly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on Feb 2, 2016 13:46:14 GMT -5
Yeah, I'm pretty down with all these suggestions. I think I might weave elements of this into Home is a Place, though |
|
|
|
Post by Beelzebibble on Aug 23, 2017 19:53:47 GMT -5
OOC - The thing is, Terrian could send his duplicates off into other topics if I wanted to be really strict about using him in only one active topic at a time, but his duplicates don't have the power of creating and absorbing other duplicates*, so they'd just be regular dudes if they were off by themselves. Anyway, I'll figure out a way to work him in later.
*FOR NOW ANYWAY! We have Pohatu's word. He'll be working Terrian into this topic somehow.  "Holy Marassa Jumeaux, look at all these bars!" The mere sight of all the liquor – and all the ladies – excited Terrian. Whatever was bugging his duplicates could wait until after a Three Wise Men. But where to start? He took a moment to check his hair, impeccably styled with just that one little tuft all anyhow in the front, and proceeded to prowl the area for a suitable bar. Wait, wait wait, something's missing. He stopped at a vendor's stall and picked up a pair of, I don't know, New Wayfarers, or whatever a reader in 2017 would register as the trendiest pair of sunglasses available. NOW you're ready to party hard, Terrian. Now you're ready. He settled on an open bar with one of those kitschy-looking thatched roofs and tiki torches lit with flames of an excessively flamboyant color. Silver! Silver flames. Terrian didn't know what kind of chemical havoc you'd have to wreak to make flames look silver, but the other patrons seemed to be having a normal time doing normal things like laughing and breathing without doubling over and choking to death, so his well-honed danger instincts lay restful. One of the bartenders, an attractive redhead with her hair tied back with a bandanna and a low-cut neon green tank top, approached him and asked, "What can I get ya?" "How about a B-52? Though, getting an eyeful of you is good enough too, you—" "—you blazing bombshell," she finished. "Yeah, I've heard that one." "Oh," said Terrian. He added, half-under his breath, "Oh sorry." The redhead had pulled out a shotglass for him and clanked it down onto the counter at the same moment he spoke, so she probably didn't hear him. The redhead procured some bottles, pouring the coffee liqueur first and then adding the other liquors on top so that they settled neatly into distinct layers. "Do you want it flaming? Or can you do it yourself?" "No, uh, please, go ahead," said Terrian. She shrugged, meted in a few drops of dark rum, and then took out a white cigarette lighter with a blue cross pattern from beneath the counter. She lit the drink aflame, then slid it along the counter to him. "Never got the hang of smoking, you know," he felt the need to add. The redhead leaned against the back shelf and watched him appraisingly. "Last guy to come in here and order a B-52 set it on fire with a snap of his fingers. Then he drank it without even blowing it out first." "Oh. Ha ha ha! Ha ha," said Terrian, wondering whether she was joking. He blew out the flame. Then he knocked back the drink and came up sputtering slightly. The bartender arched an eyebrow and gave him a half-smile, clearly unimpressed. The alcohol hit him almost immediately; he'd had very little to eat on the boat. He relaxed, propping an elbow on the counter. "Only thing I can do by way of tricks is drink twelve of these simultaneously," he admitted. "Really?" The redhead's lips pursed. "Sorry, man, I'd have to see that to believe it. Based on how you handled the one..." "Oh, it's easier than it sounds. I can duplicate myself. Take down as many of 'em as you like! Only we'd have to wait about a day to re-merge, or else I'd go on the books as the fastest ever death by alcohol poisoning." Yes, it was really taking its toll. The silver flames were swimming hazily in the corners of his view. "And it's cheap for you, 'cause you only have to make the one. I can duplicate drinks, too! Or whatever I'm holding onto..." "Is that so?" She reached above and behind her without looking, and drew down a bottle bound up in twine and containing a rich brown liquid. "So you could duplicate this 1952 Rhum Clement?" "Sure. Easy. Whatever you like. Money, whatever you like. I made quite a penny on a one-man counterfeiting operation. Tried investing it into legitimate ventures for a while, but that felt like an unnecessary extra step. So now I'm finding ways to put it to work directly. I've been a couple of big-name political donors in the Archipelago and the States, looking to set up some more in other countries, where they could use it. I know it's dishonest, but I really think I could do some good for the world..." "Wow, really? That's so fascinating." She drew closer to him, but the half-smile was fading. Her voice dropped low and soft. "Because I'm a leftist militant expat from Finland, and I'm on a mission to liberate the Altaric Raiixians from their bourgeois oppressors on the mainland. And my comrades and I aren't too keen on plutocrat kingmakers like you, no matter how 'good' your intentions. So I'm going to suggest you get your filthy money out of politics, friend, or else I might have to fit you and your little clones out with a set of matching bullet holes." She reached out a finger. "Happens I've picked up a real knack for landing the shot right..." She tapped him on the cheek directly below his left eye. "...there." She held his gaze for a moment in silence. Then they both burst out laughing. "Okay!" said Terrian, rubbing his eye. "Okay. I hear you. That's enough bullshit out of me." "No more bullshit from me, either," the bartender grinned. "Starting a tab?" "Yes, please," he said, handing her his credit card. She took it and sauntered away to the cash register. Terrian watched her go, considering whether it was too soon to order another drink. He could try for the other bartender, a dark-haired man. He was terribly embarrassed that she'd caught him on the "blazing bombshell" line. Apparently she too had bookmarked Cruzin' for Chixx, subtitle A Digital Primer to Hitting on Women in the Sexiest and Most Direct but Also Most Respectful Way Possible, No Redpillers Allowed, sub-subtitle Go Ahead and Internet Archive This One, Because There's No Way I Will Ever Regret Starting This Webpage at 3AM on a Boozy Tuesday Morning!!! He slid the empty glass between his hands and wondered what an Atlantic Reyxian was. |
|
