( 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.

o_o

[gradenine]

[ see, the thing is that roland is also used to hanving his trauma yanked out and paraded in front of him! though the difference is that it's within the confines of the library, and with the librarian in question having first-row seats to whatever roland's breaking down over at the moment.

but this time, he is making a fool of himself in front of people he barely know. he wasn't even sure if gregor wanted to talk to him after the bullshit he pulled on the network. and yet here the man is, guiding roland through breathing exercises, and roland is reminded of how he'd taught malkuth to breathe in and out when the patron librarian was getting heated up over their circumstances after l corp collapsed in on itself.

he inhales, then exhales. inhale, exhale. he takes his time until his head's clear enough to make sense of what's going on here, and he looks down on the fabric he's tightly holding on for dear life. ah. ]

These gloves... They belonged to my wife.

[ he swallows. ]

She was killed by a Distortion.

(。_。)

[blattella]

[It is what it is on this bitch of an Earth. They're stuck together, and he's. He's really not sure how he feels still, about Roland, but it's not hate, not disgust. Just unease, and that's not enough to make him abandon the guy at such a low moment, is it?

So stupid breathing exercises it is, letting his ears stop ringing in turn, right up until Roland lays it all out on the line.]



...Scheiß.

[What else do you say? 'I'm sorry'? That's not fucking helpful right now, and Roland's probably heard enough of that anyway.

Time to sit back on his haunches and simply pull out two cigarettes.] This place is awful, dragging that out for you to relive. Here. [Take the fucking smoke or he'll have to smoke it himself. He'll do it. He'll smoke two at once. Don't push him.]

...Makes sense you were married. You seem like the sort who'd want to settle down one day.

[gradenine]

[ he... takes the smoke, but he doesn't make the motion of lighting it up. just holding something else that isn't just the gloves is helping a bit.

that remark, though. it takes roland out that he raises a brow in spite of his disheveled appearance. ]

The hell does that mean... I don't really need jokes right now, Greg. No one in the city is fit for marriage.

[ and yet he went and did it anyway. he snivels. ]

I wasn't with her when it happened. [ "No matter what happens, don’t blame yourself for all of it. You know it won’t be your fault." ] I'll always regret that.

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.]

[gradenine]

[ he can only manage a small nod, still trembling from the effects of that memory he'd thought he buried away, along with the thousands of corpses he's responsible for in his wake. he wishes he could've had his mask with him, if only to spare everyone trapped inside this embarrassing sight - but vergilius would've seen through him anyway, no matter how dark it gets.

he swallows, misty eyes landing on the worn photograph in vergiliu's hands. the sight of smiling children stab at his heart. it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened, if vergilius is close to tears about this too. ]

They... they're gone too, huh.

[ he gotta ask anyway. if he dwells on this more, he might actually go into another meltdown, and he doubts that this vault is prepared for a realization battle. ]

[immortalpoet]

...They are.

[They only could live for so long in that City. Beautiful, pure young souls. And they were chewed up, spit out, like they were meat in a grinder.]

[The more he thinks on it, the more other emotions come to the surface - ugly, nasty, horrific emotions. The type that roil and burn in his chest like a flame. In that space of memory, he had seen her again. Those glittering snake-like eyes, that wizened mysterious smile. A mentor once. But then...but then she...]

[His lips curl back in a grimace.]

She did it. She released that thing. A monster of flesh. I thought she was dead, but she came back, and...

[He couldn't even stop her.]

[The words hiss out of his teeth.]

Iori.

[gradenine]

Purple Tear...?

[ his teary eyes widen at the name. what? but that's-- ]

I-Impossible...

[ it's impossible, because he and the librarians had turned her into a book when she willingly popped up at the library. how did she get out? her dimension-ripping powers? and on top of bringing roland to the library in the first place to kickstart this entire plot...

on one hand, this is enough to make him stop crying for the time being. but on the other, his mind is racing with theories. does that mean anyone can be unbooked, or is it just iori? she seemed like she's always one step ahead, after all, judging from the last time roland and angela had seen her prior to her reception. and the first thing she did when she got out is release some-- ]

Did she release some kinda Abnormality? Where is she now?

[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.

[limbical]

[Were.

That's the word the sinks in. Somehow, Daan never thought his heart could be broken more, but here they are. Daan's eye closes, and he feels a tremor pass through his body again, trying to hold everything back. He hates this, he hates feeling so vulnerable; he's learned again and again to protect himself because the world won't do it for you, but he has no where to turn here.

And right now, he almost sees himself. Roland is a mirror to his own mourning.

Slowly, he kneels down in front of the other man.]

I'm sorry.

[And he means it, so much more than words alone can express. He wants to tell Roland. He doesn't want to. The urge to scream with him.]

What was her name?

[gradenine]

[ he's sorry, he says. if roland had come from a world that treated him better, that treated death as something more than a mere inconvenience, he would've taken that laying down. but his fists clench until his knuckles turn white, and he's doing all he can not to punch the good doctor.

so he inhales, and exhales. swallows around the lump forming in his throat, until he can finally unclench - but he doesn't make any attempt in stopping the tears that fall down his face. there's no shame in crying once you've been pushed to that brink, after all. ]

Angelica. [ he manages to croak out. ] She... She used to be a Fixer, like me. But we stopped for a while, to... To settle down. Have a kid. She was coming along, last time I remember.

[limbical]

[His wife wanted children, he remembers absently. When she said that, Daan felt a brief internal panic. What example can I even live by? His own parents were worse than useless, how could Daan fair as a father? It never got to that point, though, and Roland was actually planning--]

What happened to her, if I may ask?

[As he asks, he's taking out a handkerchief, silently offering it to the other man. His heart aches for so much, but right now he feels the most for Roland.]

[gradenine]

[ he hesitates, before picking up the handkerchief and dabs it at his eyes. the feeling of embarrassment is setting in, but it's nothing compared to the hollow feeling of reliving it all over again. ]

I was... away, on a mission. A favor for a friend. But then a Distortion appeared in our district in the form of a Pianist that-- that played music. Blasted the most beautiful, dissonant music that... that killed virtually everyone in the surrounding area. Including my wife and our unborn child.

[ he sounds hollow, but talking about it does make him feel better. kind of. it helps that daan is patient. you sure you're not a shrink, doc? ]

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. ]

take it easy.....i hear projmoon fandom is going thru it right now u_u

[indwelt]

[ Saw....it?

His eyes flick upwards, away from the fallen man and back towards the interior of the vault. Cold, unfeeling deposit boxes stare back at him, gleaming dully in the low light. If there's anything to see, it's the pale faces that reflect back at him, devoid of their usual good humor. An already less-than-pleasant scene, made worse by the tension that hangs thick in the air. ]

...No.

[ The word comes out reluctantly, as if pulled out against its will. If he had seen, maybe he could have understood better. Then again, if it was something so wretched to elicit a scream like that, maybe it's for the best he hadn't seen. It must have been deeply personal. Deeply painful.

It doesn't feel right to pry into something that must have been deeply personal, deeply painful, and yet neither does it feel right to let this man suffer by himself. ]

What is it that you say? [ Ah, but— ] If it's too painful to talk about though, there's no need to. Focus on catching your breath first.

CRIES yeah we took so many Ls.... 😭 please bear with us till then u_u

[gradenine]

[ if roland could detect the hint of reluctance in the other man's voice, he doesn't make a note of it. too busy having a mental breakdown here and all, and judging from everyone else who looked so put-together after retrieving their precious belongings from their respective boxes, they hadn't gotten back memories that are as devastatingly bad as his.

that's really unfair. for once, he'd like it if everyone else knew the pain he's been harboring this entire time.

but for now, he breathes. inhale, exhale. he closes his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling, but to no avail. he sniffles, looks down at the gloves he's holding, and shakes his head. ]

No... It's fine. Things like these... They happen in the City all the time.

[ the city he's from, anyway. ]

I just remembered how my wife died. These gloves belonged to her.

take all the time you need!! i'm hoping for a good resolution for you guys 😔

[indwelt]

[ The words hit him like a punch to the gut, both in what's being said and the way they're said, a resignation to something that shouldn't happen all the time. His had reflexively curls a little tighter, from surprise and unhappiness, before loosening again.

He can't understand the exact pain this man must be going through, his own personal relationship experience sitting at a big fat zero, but he can sympathize with the loss of a loved one. The photograph in his coat pocket is a reminder too of all the people he's lost over the years. ]

That's a cruel joke to play on anyone. I'm sorry. [ Trite words for an awful situation, but they're all he has at the moment. ] It must have been unpleasant, for you to remember it so vividly.

clenches fists, thank you... 🥹

[gradenine]

[ he shakes his head. not only does he need sympathy for something so banal at this point, he just... isn't used to it. receiving sympathy in the first place, that is. usually most people will just tuck these traumatic moments at the back of their minds and move on with their lives. the fact that most people don't see this as anything normal, that it's normal to grieve properly...

it makes him angry, honestly. and he has half a mind to punch this guy out of sheer rage, but thankfully(?) his own sadness is dampening the urge to do so. instead, he swallows. ]

That's... That's the weird thing about it. The fact that it felt so real.

[ he can afford to think rationally here, too. he has to, or else nobody in this safe is getting out of here alive. ]

If you recognize the item in your box, [ sniffles ] don't touch it. If you don't wanna remember either.