( semi-open ) though it may hurt today

[gradenine]

WHO: Roland (gradenine) & some of you guys
WHAT: July catchall + event
WHERE: Vaults, then some formalwear shop (get in losers we're going shopping)
WHEN: The rest of July
WARNINGS: Major Ruina and Leviathan spoilers in the first prompt. Death, murder, the usual Project Moon warnings apply, probably. Please refer to his opt-out for more info.




art credit | plotting comment | event log
hmu if you want a starter!

Comments

a. it's true, people take things but rarely. (reserved for ones with prior cr)

[gradenine]

[ well, at least this new location holds promise - or at least that's what roland thought when he first entered the bank. but after riffling through empty documents and opening up cash registers to find nothing of note, roland lets out an annoyed sigh. another dead end, as per usual. when will this place give him something exciting to work with, already?!

luckily, he too is drawn towards the sight of keys, one of which just so happens to have his name on it. curious, he ventures into the faults, eyes scanning the deposit boxes until it lands on the one with his name, and when he puts in his key and opens it--

he freezes, his blood running cold at the sight of an all-too familiar pair of ebony-black gloves. at first he doesn't take them, choosing to stare at them in utter disbelief. didn't the hana association confiscate these gloves after they demoted him? he remembers that much, so why were they even here?

he swallows, gathers as much gumption as he can before he's stable enough to take the gloves. he has to take care of them now more than ever, but when he takes them out of the metallic box--

the memory is blurry, as if he's watching through a shaky camera. he doesn't remember the exact details, he doesn't ever want to relive it again -- and yet here he is, trudging through the countless corpses and debris the litter what's left of the streets of music. maybe he'd held on to the hope that angelica was safe, but there was no anticipating the first distortions this world had seen.

it was easy to identify her through all the mess; her long silver hair's the only thing that he can make out of the mangled corpse of his dear beloved wife. the fact that their unborn child didn't even stand a chance in this vicious world either... well, it's too much. simply too much for a man who just wanted to live an okay life. just the sheer sight of it all is enough to make anyone pass out in despair, but not roland. he carefully takes off the gloves angelica's wearing, put them on together with his mask over his tearful face, and goes to finish the Pianist all on his own.

the memory ends there, and roland screams in agony. even after the fault closes in on him and any other unfortunate schmuck who's now stuck here with him, he continues to scream until he collapses on his trembling knees, hands clutching onto the gloves that no longer cover her hands. ]

( ooc: hello! prior cr means people who had already threaded with roland as himself can tag this! that means cr made on the anonymous post he'd made a while ago won't count. that said i am willing to make exemptions, particularly the ones i made plans with on the plotting post beforehand, so let me know through there if you'd like to tag anyway! i just don't want this to be anyone's first time meeting roland like this, eep. )

:)

[blattella]

[He doesn't recall seeing Roland around in the bank before now. Then again, all of that time spent poking and prodding and rifling for absolutely jack-shit doesn't seem real in the first place, with the way he's just been thrust back into the Smoke War yet again, the red, the red, the pieces everywhere of everyone else who can't regenerate, pieces of him, the flag, fluttering, and

Roland's screaming. Or just screamed. Hard to tell. Gregor blinks wetly, then tosses the flag across the vault as though it burns to touch. Wings, but they're both messes, on their knees just a few boxes apart. Roland's here.

Gregor better address him. Even if he's already sure that this won't end well in any capacity. Even if he's not sure that he can trust him fully, but damn it he wants to.]

........Hey. [Croaked out.] ...What'd your note say. With the-- whatever you got. Mine said something about sharing.

[but fuck that lmao!]

>:)

[gradenine]

[ in the midst of his mind palace falling apart, gregor's trembling voice manages to come through to him. roland blinks at the other man, vision already blurry with tears, and he swallows. bro don't you see he's fucking breaking down right now, come on. just give him a moment to recompose himself, breathe in and out as he holds back the urge to cry like a little kid because that's such a mood right now, haha!!

...the note lies at his feet. how convenient.

he picks it up to read it, but he's so stressed at trying to comprehend any form of word that he just shakily hands it over to greg instead.

it's the same one greg has. go figure. ]

<:J

[blattella]

[bitch you are BOTH freaking out, nothing's real in this bitch!

Sigh. Gregor's at least somewhat used to having his trauma yanked out and paraded around in front of him by now, so he's able to crawl his way on over to Roland and sling an arm around his shoulders. Not tight. Just. There.]

Got you, man. It's okay. We'll figure this out in a minute. [Even if he keeps shooting the discarded flags looks, between his wobbly attempts to be so useful, so helpful, such a good buddy friend pal.

Better to focus on Roland than on the flag. The stupid fucking teenager plastered on it, photoshopped to high hell, grotesque and handsome all in one. What's Roland holding? That's more interesting. What's that? The note's identical to his, but he can't peg what Roland's holding, and he can't ask if brother's freaking out.] Breathe in, hold, out. That's what all the quacks told me.

a;

[immortalpoet]

[Again.]

[Again he's helpless.]

[What can he do? His hands are shaking, holding the photograph worn with years of age, showing damage from an incident he just is now trying very hard to deny he just relived, even for the moment. Vergilius stares over at Roland, feeling like the scream was something he should've let out when it all happened.]

[But he never did.]

[He didn't even cry.]

[His breath is ragged - he keeps staring at the collapsed Fixer, before he finds his voice again, as hoarse as ever.]

Roland. R-Roland.

[Roland, snap out of it.]

[gradenine]

[ vergilius. he can hear vergilius amidst the dissonant noise in his head that sounded almost like the eerie music the pianist was playing while it all went down. that's right, vergilius is the only one here who knew-- ]

...Angelica.

[ he manages to croak. he refuses to look at the other man, his tears welling up and dropping onto the soft fabric of the gloves. ]

It felt like it happened yesterday. It can't have, can it...?

[immortalpoet]

No. This is...

[His throat feels dry. He swallows, as if that will help. The thud of his heart beats against his chest, time and time again, as if to remind himself that he's alive, his kids are not.]

[His still-shaking hand moves to self-consciously run through his hair, uncertain whether to approach, uncertain about anything. It hurts, like an open wound.]

Something is...wrong here. I...I saw something. I assume, you did...you saw...

[Her.]

[limbical]

[The sounds of thread through cloth, needlework exquisite. Black hair curling over shoulders like a curtain, a smile. Stitches upon stitches upon--

The pained scream jolts him out of his headspace. It'd been easy to get wrapped up in his own thoughts, even after the memories of the sewing kit filled his mind. All he could think of was her and then her, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Death is meaningless.

He bites down on his lower lip, hard enough to make it bleed before he's turning to face Roland. A sound he'd never thought he'd hear from the other man, who has only appeared easygoing, but Daan knows what it means to wear masks for others, too.]

Roland.

[At first, the name is whispered, and he makes his way slowly over.]

Look. Look at me. Talk to me.

[It's hard to speak, his tongue feels too big, mouth too dry. That scream Roland made only echoes his own broken heart, after all.]

[gradenine]

[ roland's used to being approached by his fellow cityfolk about this. vergilius more than others, but they all know how horrid their city is to them, and there's no lack of stories like this. roland would know, from all the books he'd gotten from countless people he'd received in the library.

but not with someone he'd only met here. he does hear daan amidst all the noise in his head, he does see roland amidst the tears in his eyes, but the words don't register at first. can he really talk about this? is it really that simple?

of course not. it's ridiculous to think so. he doubts that daan is even trained when it comes to psychiatry in the first place. a flash of murderous intent comes and goes, and roland takes a deep, shaky breath. ]

I... My wife...

[ he looks down on the plain black gloves he's holding, voice sullen as he strains to keep himself together. ]

These were hers.

finally here for insanity days later

[indwelt]

[ Sometimes you see a man screaming on the ground and that's a normal every day occurrence for you.

Just kidding, it sure ain't, otherwise Welt would be a lot more indifferent to the sight in front of him. He had been slowly sifting through the seemingly endless vaults contained within the bank - is his own in here somewhere, are there any other names listed that might give him some sort of clue as to the secret behind this place - but the abrupt noise has his head snapping around and his feet moving forward of their own volition. ]

Hey—

[ His mind follows the frantic pace of his footsteps, conjuring and then dismissing possibilities one after another. One hand reaches out as he crouches down, fingers wrapping around the other man's. ]

It's alright. It'll be alright.

[ Maybe it won't be alright, he can't know that for certain when he has no other clues to go off of, but it's the only solace he can offer right now. ]

also collapses here a couple of days later.....

[gradenine]

[ in his incessant panic, roland hasn't realized that he might've attracted attention of some other people who are trapped in the vaults along with him. he couldn't care less about making a complete fool of himself, though. he just couldn't. he's so, so tired of having to keep a level head, especially upon remembering that awful, awful day --

but then fingers wrap around his, and he snaps back into reality with a couple blinks of his eyes. an unfamiliar-looking man is reassuring him, but welt may as well sound like he's miles away from roland's point of view right now. ]

I... I... [ his voice is still shaky. the shame is settling in now, and he swallows. ] You... You saw it, right? That memory...

[ this isn't the first time roland's memories are exposed for everyone to see, but he'd like to know if he isn't the only one experiencing this, thank you very much. ]

b. out and about. (ota)

[gradenine]

[ it takes a a few days for roland to calm down after that. thankfully it doesn't take him too long; it's kind of like recovering from the couple of meltdowns he had at the library. he breaks down, then comes back up again. nothing to it.

he does make sure to keep his gloves in a safe compartment in his apartment for safekeeping, though. he's not ready to take it back to his deposit box, but he doesn't want to part with it either. but with how loose-lipped he's become since donning the gloves, it's safer if it leaves them back home for now as he goes out to do some well-deserved retail therapy.

but hmm. the shop he drops in this time - one of those boutiques that sell all sorts of nifty-looking formalwear - is promising? roland doesn't change out of his trademark black suit yet, but he's holding up five different ties, all in black, and tries to catch the attention of whoever happens to wander in here to look into the goods. ]

Hey, uh. Which one would great on what I'm wearing right now?

[ why only black, though? because he looks really fuckin' good in it, duh. ]

[icanfixer]

[ considering sinclair is the one who usually gets their clothing,

don being here would be something of a surprise to those who know that fact. in reality, while she doesn't have much of a mind for fashion and the like herself (what's suitable is suitable, so long as she can fight in it it's fine) she has become fond...... of matching with friends....... she is here for accessories.

sort of like how roland's just here for ties, apparently, and don peeks above the glass case of sparkling bracelets by the registers across the way.

... ... ... ]

The polka dot one, for it gives thee a sense of fun!

[ gotta have a bit of pattern. she's going back to press her face against the glass. they're so sparkly. she can't take them. that's absolutely something she can't do. that's basically stealing. at least the other ones they could reasonably pay for should the owners return, but not these... no, not with how pretty they are, heart-achingly pretty... ]

As would a bit of color, Sir Roland! Why not try a red? Or green? Mine allies of a similar paleness to thee have looked quite good in the darker shade!

[gradenine]

[ is it really stealing when you plan to wear them at some point... they really need to figure out Intent as a whole when it comes to taking what you need in this city - whether it be food, clothes, or somebody else's life.

but hey, don's back! as expected. and judging from her usual chipper demeanor it looked like nothing much has changed too, at least on the surface. roland will try asking her about that later on. ]

Your allies of a similar paleness...? [ girl you are talking to a white man wdym ] Uhh, they just don't look too good on me. The other colors, that is. I prefer blending in the background even if I sorta stick out with my monochromatic style anyway.

[fussiest]

[ kaveh looks. it isn't the first time he's been asked this question, though the last time there had been a man with a bug arm and some kind of joint neurosis involved - this time, kaveh has an armful of what looks to be jackets of various cuts and shades, colours brimming forth from the already bright-yellow of the jacket he's chosen to don today. the blue of the thin, ruffled cotton shirt beneath trails in a way that complements the float of the teal feather tucked behind his ear. across from him, in contrast, is a man wearing the sagacity of the deep night, dark against white on a canvas of sharp lines and narrowed eyes. he is also holding an array of ties. they all happen to be black.

well, kaveh thinks, they're congruent. and then, because he's been asked to, kaveh really takes a look, ]

Well, first is that the blacks have to match. Do you plan on wearing what you've got on already? And where do you plan to go? [ that shouldn't be a question, though, kaveh realises, because this is the city where there really isn't anywhere to go. but it could be a date of some kind, or someone might want to dress up nicely for a fight. kaveh's seen enough these past few days that he's too tired to rule out any shenanigans.

he shifts his bundle of clothing in his arms carefully, then considers the man up and down. down, then with a slow elevator crawl back up in a series of mental measurements. ] And with your height, you'd want a tie that's a little bit shorter, unless you plan to tuck it beneath your lapel. Come here, stand in the light where I can see you a little better. Is your suit cotton? Did you have it tailored?

[gradenine]

[ ...eh?

now, here's a guy who looks and acts like a nest kid from the get-go. roland doesn't always know how to act around fancy-looking guys that aren't chesed, but at least this one knows what he's talking about? maybe?? who even knows. it's not like most fixers give a shit about fashion in their world, unless their office uniforms are already that fancy like the ones from liu association.

but roland... he's Just A Guy, a fixer from a one-man office. nothing special, in other words. he steps into the light as kaveh instructed watches the blond man give him the most judgmental once-over, mentally sweating at the questions the guy's firing at him. ]

Uhh, nowhere. Don't really have anywhere else to go from here. [ obviously. ] As for the material, I don't really recall. This suit's custom-made for my job, and it has to be durable as possible to endure all the blows I take, y'know?

[ he does not know, roland. the guy has probably never had the need to pick up a sword to fight in his life. ]

drip time let's gooo

[coolerjunpei]

[Objectively, there's no reason for Junpei to wander into a fancy clothing boutique. He's already found a) more t-shirt 6-packs, and b) a replacement cool leather jacket, so now that he's peaked? Style-wise? Fancy boutiques are useless to him.

So it's probably because he spots Roland that he ambles in here at all, and luckily the lack of employees means he doesn't have to feel out of place in his old jeans. Hey king, how's it going... Having a normal week just like Junpei, for sure...

He stares at the ties. Is this a trick question. A puzzle. To his credit, he really does try to look at each one in earnest and make a good decision, but--]

Uh, this one...?

[The polka dots. Do they make ties in plaid, maybe try one of those?? He frowns lightly, because he has a question, but it feels dumb even before he says anything:]

Aren't three of these just the same black tie?

[gradenine]

[ it's surprising to see junpei around here too, but the guy's the only familiar thing around. he himself had probably gone through some Totally Normal Week since the bank vaults opened, so roland's... not even going to pry. maybe. we'll see.

for now, roland puts down the other ties and brings the polka-dotted one to his chest to compare it with the plain black one he's currently wearing. ]

Mm. Maybe if the dots were bigger...

[ hmmm. ]

And look, they're not exactly the same? If you look closely, there are some subtle patterns in these plain black ones. You know, for a change of scenery.

[ ties are serious business, apparently. ]

Anyway, what're you doing here of all places? You looking for a suit, too?

[unrequite]

Depends on the image you'd like to project. What's the occasion?

[ This is a joke, there is uniformly no occasions in this city that don't involve stilted attempts at imitating humanity and, apparently, some emotional damage. Still, Midnight takes this very seriously, even though his entire wardrobe is black, some green, and pinks at varying levels of loudness. He looks at the ties, thinking. ]

Perhaps the better inquiry is whether you have anyone to impress or not. I'm already impressed, if it makes you feel better.

I WAS GOING TO TAG YOU BROOOOOO

[gradenine]

Ah, Midnight.

[ hey, buddy. he puts the ties down nearby and goes off to pick more swatches - in black and white, of course. ]

No occasion, unless you count that really drab party last month. I was just looking for new outfits to wear, and... well. [ he lets out a sheepish chuckle. ] I can't really tear myself away from the usual suit and tie that I usually use for work.

[appendages]

[ fashion was likely a part of the whole package yoshida labeled "normalcy." he supposed normal teens his age had at least a passing interest in the concept of dressing themselves. he supposes even creatures in the wild bare their colors, songs, and dances to attract mates and to simply increase their overall sociability within the constructs of their society. but, his thoughts on social constructs aside— as much as he is aware of that, he's always simply opted to what was safe and practical.

that said, he somehow manages to traverse to this specific establishment and he's met with a stranger who asks him for advice. there is a slight pause as he seems to mull over it.

there's almost a tension in the air as he puts his hand to his chin as if in deep thought. before he responds with a simple: ] Why these five? [ time to delve into the tie philosophy.... ]

[gradenine]

[ oh. roland doesn't always get to talk to teens - they all seem so rare back in the city he's from, on account of how children in general are being grinded to dust by the horrors of their world. maybe that's why he tried getting this one's attention: to figure out what the kids of today are into. ]

Oh, I just like 'em. I guess I have a thing for black and white?

[ says the guy who's never seen outside of his professional suit and tie. real salaryman vibes right here. ]

I mean, I guess I could go for a splash of color for a change. But I don't even know where to start with that. [ he shrugs. it's literally not that deep, because roland is not a deep kind of person. in fact, he's easily understood (lol). ]

( july event )

[cranekin]

(The city is different at night. It's unlike any view he's ever really seen before. Pitch-black in places with lights that sparkle and shimmer like stars all around him. For an old spirit like him, it feels as bright as day among them which probably explains why he's sulked off to some empty restaurant with a rooftop patio for solitude. He's hard to miss considering his bright white attire. You could probably spot him from a mile away in the dark.

Of course, no one is working, but the kitchen smells like seafood and some slow, nondescript song plays a relaxing melody no doubt meant to evoke feelings of being by the sea in some quiet little town or something. This would have been a nice little place to take someone out for a quiet date in a bustling city. Maybe it was (if people were ever here). Maybe that's what it's meant to be (now that the city is filling with people).

Leaning against the black iron balcony rail, he looks out at the quiet city below... and then up at the moon. When he senses that he isn't alone anymore, he calls out whimsically,)

Do you think it's real?

(The moon? The city? Something else???)

[gradenine]

[ this city is definitely different at night. there's always that feeling of being watched, but it's different compared to the prying eyes of the city roland's lived in, and he's not sure if he preferred this one of that one. it's one of those nights where roland hits up another restaurant to sample their wares - this time another seafood place whose food tastes... so and so, but serviceable. and since this place has a rooftop, then he may as well check it out.

it's that pale boy again. roland can only cast him a flat look as he walks over to tsurumaru, the chilly night air combing through his hair. ]

What's real?

[ great, more cryptic talk. angela would've hated this guy. ]

[cranekin]

The moon.

(He leans over the rail, practically hanging over it but still keeping his balance.)

It looks like the one back home. The same cold light, the back we can't see...

(He sounds a little wistful.)

And the same sea.

(Yeah. The moon has a sea.)