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[ OPEN ] want to be free
WHO: Kim Kitsuragi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aceslow) & YOU
WHAT: Various July activities -- both for the event (happy to receive items/memories too!) and for every day activities.
WHERE: Throughout the City; bank, shopping centres, parks, etc.
WHEN: Through til the end of July.
WARNINGS: Probable discussions regarding racism, loss, and the diaspora.
[ EVENT ] a. in the vault.
[ The deserted bank is an eerie place as it is. On a Lieutenant's salary, Kim barely has enough money to put in the bank as it is, let alone frequent one as extravagantly wealthy as this one; the minute he steps foot in it with his grubby boots and worn - though well-maintained - jacket, he feels immediately out of place, a sense of unease dogging his steps. His footsteps are loud in the echo chamber that is the grand hall. Eventually, he makes his way back to where the keys are, name after name etched on the side of the keychain. It's a trap if he's ever seen one. He hesitates, hand hovering just over the keys, brow furrowed. ]
This is almost certainly a trap.
[ Then, decisively, he yanks it off the wall, then glances behind him towards whoever his companion may be. ]
But it's the best lead we've got. You coming?
[ OOC NOTE: The item I've chosen concerns racism & the diaspora, please only respond to this prompt if those are subjects you're comfortable with! ]
[ EVENT ] b. out and about.
[ After the whole messy incident with the vault, Kim's taken to keeping the toy plane with him, burning a hole in his pocket. In all honesty, it's not something that brings him any solace, any comfort; if anything he feels desperately uncomfortable about it. But after everything, it feels almost sacriligious to leave it in the apartment he's hunkered down in, unguarded, unprotected, the sole personal possession next to the rest of the nondescript apartment. It feels equally as wrong to leave it in the bank where he had found it, as though abandoning it again means --
God, he doesn't know. He's not one for analyzing his own thoughts and feelings. Straight ahead, down his narrow, narrow path. That's how he's always been, how he'll always be. So he puts it firmly out of mind for the time being as he goes along his daily business, pacing about the city, investigating every nook and cranny with a fine tooth comb, and largely trying to keep himself busy, whether that's in the park, in a store, or even roaming once more through City Hall. Whatever public place you can think of, he's there. ]
[ OOC NOTE: We can wrap the event into any of the other prompts as well, but this one is intended for sharing of objects/memories! Please feel free to have your character share theirs first (or have only them share it, without that reciprocation) if you like; I never mind a backstory dump. :) ]
c. daily life (shopping / exercising / a midnight smoke).
[ With little else at his disposal other than the grim dawning realization that if he truly has to start making a functional life for himself here, Kim can be seen during daily life in the City taking what he needs.
Perhaps you find him in the supermarket or convenience store, the handle of his shopping basket nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he stares at the shelves with a light frown on his face, combing the shelves for this and that: salt, cabbage, meat and onions rank chiefly among his purchases, but it looks like he's working his way towards a very bland meal -- that, and he seems to be pretty concerned about getting really badly injured, if the amount of painkillers, bandages, and other first-aid goods are of any indication.
Or perhaps you find him in the park, jogging around its perimeter again, and again, and again, and again... he'll periodically stop, huffing and puffing more than he'd care to fess up to. There's nothing better to do around here, after all, and he feels a certain compulsion to remain in shape (though all embarassing stretches take place in the privacy of his own bedroom; an old man he may be to some here, but he's not old enough to start congregating in the park with the other seniors) to face whatever dangers he's convinced have yet to come. If you catch his eye, he'll nod in greeting with a small smile, wiping the sweat off his brow, suddenly self-conscious. ] Afternoon. Pity there's no gym in this place.
[ Or maybe you're another night owl, coming across Kim leaning against a wall, silhouetted by the street lamps above, staring contemplatively off into the distance as he lights a cigarette. Before he takes a single drag, he takes a deep breath, as though even contemplating his cigarette brings some measure of serenity to his soul. He takes that first drag like an addict does; savouring it, hoping it never comes to an end. But as he blows out a large plume of smoke, he'll look your way, nodding in greeting. If you're clearly of age and look interested, he'll extend the cigarette carton in your direction, asking, ] Want one?
d. weapon creation.
[ It's been long enough that Kim has gathered the fact that all of their weapons have been forcibly taken from them, right down to the blade attachment in his poor multi-tool. With just one glimpse of Kim, it's easy to see that he's not a man who's used to getting into physical altercations all-too often, preferring to rely on the security of his firearm, but it's not as though he can make a gun.
Besides, this isn't purely for self defense. Rather, it's an experiment: if weapons are so highly prohibited, then is the creation of them also prohibited? Will he wake cuffed like that fellow on the network behind him? It's a small punishment, as punishments go, so Kim decides to risk it, heading to park as the sun begins to wane, long shadows cast over the entire area. After gathering some of the natural resources around the park, as well as a few helpful items lifted from shops here and there, he sits cross-legged on the grass and gets to work, beginning by taking some kitchen utensils and industriously hacking away at a particularly sturdy branch to attempt to make a fine point.
From his grumbling, it's not going particularly well. He could really use a hand. ]
Ugh. I could really use my damn knife right about now.
e. wildcard!
[ Wildcard! Feel free to make up your own prompt - Kim can be found out and about the City at large - and I'm happy to roll with it! Feel free to brainstorm with me on my plotting post or hit me up on plurk! I'd be happy to write custom starters as well. ]
aceslow) & YOUWHAT: Various July activities -- both for the event (happy to receive items/memories too!) and for every day activities.
WHERE: Throughout the City; bank, shopping centres, parks, etc.
WHEN: Through til the end of July.
WARNINGS: Probable discussions regarding racism, loss, and the diaspora.
[ EVENT ] a. in the vault.
[ The deserted bank is an eerie place as it is. On a Lieutenant's salary, Kim barely has enough money to put in the bank as it is, let alone frequent one as extravagantly wealthy as this one; the minute he steps foot in it with his grubby boots and worn - though well-maintained - jacket, he feels immediately out of place, a sense of unease dogging his steps. His footsteps are loud in the echo chamber that is the grand hall. Eventually, he makes his way back to where the keys are, name after name etched on the side of the keychain. It's a trap if he's ever seen one. He hesitates, hand hovering just over the keys, brow furrowed. ]
This is almost certainly a trap.
[ Then, decisively, he yanks it off the wall, then glances behind him towards whoever his companion may be. ]
But it's the best lead we've got. You coming?
[ OOC NOTE: The item I've chosen concerns racism & the diaspora, please only respond to this prompt if those are subjects you're comfortable with! ]
[ EVENT ] b. out and about.
[ After the whole messy incident with the vault, Kim's taken to keeping the toy plane with him, burning a hole in his pocket. In all honesty, it's not something that brings him any solace, any comfort; if anything he feels desperately uncomfortable about it. But after everything, it feels almost sacriligious to leave it in the apartment he's hunkered down in, unguarded, unprotected, the sole personal possession next to the rest of the nondescript apartment. It feels equally as wrong to leave it in the bank where he had found it, as though abandoning it again means --
God, he doesn't know. He's not one for analyzing his own thoughts and feelings. Straight ahead, down his narrow, narrow path. That's how he's always been, how he'll always be. So he puts it firmly out of mind for the time being as he goes along his daily business, pacing about the city, investigating every nook and cranny with a fine tooth comb, and largely trying to keep himself busy, whether that's in the park, in a store, or even roaming once more through City Hall. Whatever public place you can think of, he's there. ]
[ OOC NOTE: We can wrap the event into any of the other prompts as well, but this one is intended for sharing of objects/memories! Please feel free to have your character share theirs first (or have only them share it, without that reciprocation) if you like; I never mind a backstory dump. :) ]
c. daily life (shopping / exercising / a midnight smoke).
[ With little else at his disposal other than the grim dawning realization that if he truly has to start making a functional life for himself here, Kim can be seen during daily life in the City taking what he needs.
Perhaps you find him in the supermarket or convenience store, the handle of his shopping basket nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he stares at the shelves with a light frown on his face, combing the shelves for this and that: salt, cabbage, meat and onions rank chiefly among his purchases, but it looks like he's working his way towards a very bland meal -- that, and he seems to be pretty concerned about getting really badly injured, if the amount of painkillers, bandages, and other first-aid goods are of any indication.
Or perhaps you find him in the park, jogging around its perimeter again, and again, and again, and again... he'll periodically stop, huffing and puffing more than he'd care to fess up to. There's nothing better to do around here, after all, and he feels a certain compulsion to remain in shape (though all embarassing stretches take place in the privacy of his own bedroom; an old man he may be to some here, but he's not old enough to start congregating in the park with the other seniors) to face whatever dangers he's convinced have yet to come. If you catch his eye, he'll nod in greeting with a small smile, wiping the sweat off his brow, suddenly self-conscious. ] Afternoon. Pity there's no gym in this place.
[ Or maybe you're another night owl, coming across Kim leaning against a wall, silhouetted by the street lamps above, staring contemplatively off into the distance as he lights a cigarette. Before he takes a single drag, he takes a deep breath, as though even contemplating his cigarette brings some measure of serenity to his soul. He takes that first drag like an addict does; savouring it, hoping it never comes to an end. But as he blows out a large plume of smoke, he'll look your way, nodding in greeting. If you're clearly of age and look interested, he'll extend the cigarette carton in your direction, asking, ] Want one?
d. weapon creation.
[ It's been long enough that Kim has gathered the fact that all of their weapons have been forcibly taken from them, right down to the blade attachment in his poor multi-tool. With just one glimpse of Kim, it's easy to see that he's not a man who's used to getting into physical altercations all-too often, preferring to rely on the security of his firearm, but it's not as though he can make a gun.
Besides, this isn't purely for self defense. Rather, it's an experiment: if weapons are so highly prohibited, then is the creation of them also prohibited? Will he wake cuffed like that fellow on the network behind him? It's a small punishment, as punishments go, so Kim decides to risk it, heading to park as the sun begins to wane, long shadows cast over the entire area. After gathering some of the natural resources around the park, as well as a few helpful items lifted from shops here and there, he sits cross-legged on the grass and gets to work, beginning by taking some kitchen utensils and industriously hacking away at a particularly sturdy branch to attempt to make a fine point.
From his grumbling, it's not going particularly well. He could really use a hand. ]
Ugh. I could really use my damn knife right about now.
e. wildcard!
[ Wildcard! Feel free to make up your own prompt - Kim can be found out and about the City at large - and I'm happy to roll with it! Feel free to brainstorm with me on my plotting post or hit me up on plurk! I'd be happy to write custom starters as well. ]
no subject
It's fine. It's just not a very interesting thing to talk about. It doesn't bother me anymore, [ he lies. ] Get to my age, and fewer things will.
They're trying to get a reaction out of us. I don't intend to give them that satisfaction.
no subject
It's a message. That they know what hurts. They know everything about us.
[And by way of apology for digging up a wound and then just leaving it there, exposed to the air, he finally pulls the bottle out of his pocket, and extends it out for Kitsuragi to see.]
This was what I found at the bank. I...needed some shit to deal with a problem, and I was desperate enough I didn't care who I had to make deals with to sort it out. You can probably guess how it went in the end.
[Perhaps not the specific details, the part where he took a second bullet that wasn't meant for him, but he leaves that out intentionally. He has no desire to make himself look good in any part of this story, and it's not like he's lying, just .... arranging the implications in a way that likely fits assumptions Kitsuragi has already made from their interactions so far.]
no subject
[ They could be party drugs, but Aragaki doesn't strike him as the type. Maybe the sort to resort to drugs in order to make life bearable, like so many others have when left out on the streets on their own, but nothing for the purposes that so many people in Revachol West take it for, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, when the morning seems like too much to handle.
These look a little more like pharmaceuticals, though these days, it's difficult to distinguish the difference between the two. He's not entirely certain why Aragaki is showing this to him, save for tit for tat (though a stupid little toy really has nothing on a confession to drug use, for whatever reason that may be), but he takes it in stride nonetheless.
Alone, poor, young, desperate. What does that add up to? ]
...were you sick?
no subject
He shakes his head.]
Nah, nothin' like that. I just ... I fucked up, couple years ago, got in over my head with some shit, and I had to take responsibility for what came of it.
[He lets out a breath, and for a moment he seems entirely too tired for a mere eighteen years old, the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders.]
S'like I said earlier, a reminder of shit that oughta've been dead and buried along with me.
no subject
[ Fucked up, got in over his head. A classic tale of juvenile delinquency, and a road Kim himself may have well gone down if he were less rigidly himself. He knows that everyone discusses how the choices they made have changed their lives, but sometimes Kim can't help but think that he had no choice to be anything other than what he was now, that it's the same for most others. Some people are predisposed to such things, after all. Luck of the draw. ]
I don't know about should have been, [ he says mildly, but more or less leaves it at that. Instead, his focus is on something else entirely. ] The drugs. What are they? I can't say that I recognize them.
[ And Kim, for better or for worse, recognizes most drugs. ]
no subject
...You wouldn't. They're probably unique to my world.
[That's not an answer, is it. That Kim won't notice is likely too much to hope for, and yet he plays it off like the question wasn't asked at all.]
no subject
[ Kim may give people the luxury of an out when he doesn't think that it's necessary for him to press, something that many lost souls here seem to flock to, freedom from justification and explanation, to simply exist as another stranger in this strange city. The unfortunate flip side of the coin is the fact that when he does mean to press, he does so plainly and directly, calm as he ever is.
In this, he'll press. Aragaki had brought this up first, after all, and this is important enough that he feels he ought to know about it. Even if Aragaki doesn't claim that it's to treat some strange sickness, his confidence that it's unique to his own world is a compelling enough hint that these are no ordinary drugs. It's something he needs to know about -- if not for Aragaki's well-being, then for everyone else's. ]
no subject
Tch. There's no point explaining. They're useless to anyone who ain't from it.
[It was a dodge before, but this one's an outright refusal, as well as a warning in its own right. He's walked away from conversations with people he's known longer for less.]
no subject
I seem to recall telling you that if you don't want to tell me something, you simply have to say that you don't want to. None of those excuses.
[ And a stupid excuse at that. Useless to anyone not from his own world? Even if Kim believed that, that's not what he was asking. It's not as though he wanted it. ]
Don't let me keep you from your shopping.
[ People rarely walk away from Kim. He's good at walking away first. ]