A TRAIN COMES INTO THE STATION.
You wake up on a train.
Your phone is buzzing. It's in your pocket, in your hand, on the seat next to you. It's a normal phone, and you're on a normal train car. One of the lights flickers, a little further down. The world is very quiet. It feels like you're right where you're meant to be. On the phone's surface is a white screen and the words—
WELCOME TO THE CITY. BEGIN ORIENTATION?
▶ NO
Please take a moment to complete your orientation.
Once you're finished, the subway doors slide open to let you out onto the train platform. To your right, the platform continues on and eventually ends; to the left is a set of stairs that will lead you up into the station itself. The platform is quiet, clean, empty–there's no one else around, and the only sounds you can hear are your own footsteps, your own breaths, and the occasional faraway sound of a creaking pipe or rush of air. The train you disembarked will stay there as long as you do, its doors still open, until you finally decide to venture up into this new locale.
As you make your way up the stairs to your left, you find yourself in the belly of City Hall station. The station is large, a sprawling underground mini-metropolis of corridors and storefronts. Here, you may find others like you, freshly-arrived city residents from other realms (or even your own). There is also a subway map, which will give you an idea of the layout of the neighborhood, and ticketing machines, which can currently only be used to buy tickets to a handful of stations located on lines 1, 2, and 9.
If you're hungry or in need of any kind of supplies, there are plenty of storefronts inside the subway station as well—snack stands, convenience stores, restaurants, clothing stores, a pharmacy, and a variety of empty shops that may or may not have ever been in use. Everything is unlocked, and you can take whatever you need.
Characters may stay on the train platform indefinitely, and may re-board and re-disembark from the subway as many times as they like, but the train will not depart nor will the doors close. Once they go up the stairs into the train station, they may hear the train doors closing and the train departing. Another train will not arrive, no matter how long the character waits. Only once they come up the stairs into the station itself may characters encounter their fellow newly-arrived residents and take advantage of what the city has to offer.
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WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
The station is located in the city center. It has three major exits that lead to areas of interest in the district, but there are several other smaller exits that lead in other directions around the neighborhood. You are welcome to use any of them, but may find the north, southwest, and east exits to be the most welcoming.
TO THE NORTH
The northern entrance to the station leads up into the sunlight and puts you out in a brickwork plaza. There's a modest building in front of you, three or four stories of stone with a welcoming facade. There's a sign above the entryway–it says City Hall. You may be tempted to explore, if you're interested in learning more about the city and how it functions, but prepare to find yourself disappointed–the folders in the records rooms are full of empty, blank sheets of paper, and the logbooks and balance sheets are similarly devoid of information.
Immediately to the west of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information kiosk. The kiosk is not currently operational, but you may want to remember its location...
TO THE SOUTHWEST
The western exit of the station takes you up into a city park, lush and green with a very light fog still hanging about the trees. There are lampposts on the walkways and benches where you could rest, and plenty of flora, although you can neither see nor hear any signs of animal life. You walk the paths that meander idly through the verdant grass and you feel a sense of peace, some of your unease about this place easing into a pleasant calm. The air smells fresh, like it's recently rained, and you'll find the grass ever so slightly damp should you decide to take a seat.
As you make your way deeper into the park, the trees grow denser and the smell of soil and plant life grows stronger. This is the older part of the park, very nearly a forest, with ivy climbing the trunks of the trees and plants and shrubs growing riotously around their bases. As you turn a corner, you find yourself first in the statue garden, although the statues are harder to see now, choked as they are with ivy. There are many statues, some partially obscured, some fully–very few of them still stand free of the vines and clinging roots. (It doesn't feel quite as peaceful here.) If a statue's face looks a little bit familiar, you may not want to look at it too long.
Continue down the path and you will find yourself in a graveyard, one that seems centuries old. Most of the headstones are worn away by time and covered in moss, rendering them impossible to read. The few that are free of moss are blank, or bear only suggestions of names too faint to be understood. (Was that the name of–no, it couldn't have been. Could it?) Many of the headstones stand at an angle or are toppled over completely, having been subjected to either strong winds or the roots of the trees that grow up from some of the graves, spreading branches toward the sky.
TO THE EAST
The final exit of the station, to the east, puts you out on a quiet surface street. Are you hungry? Or are you paralyzed by choice? There are plenty of restaurants, offering options of almost any food you can imagine. You could try a convenience store–it's well stocked, and the items there seem free for the taking. How about a restaurant? There's no one to take your order, but when you look in the kitchen, there's something on the stove, and it's just what you've been craving. Imagine that.
A few blocks down, you come in through the lobby of a tall building and find yourself in a corporate office. The fluorescent lights are steady and unforgiving, and the cubicles and offices are empty. There are a few pieces of paper on desks, a few folders left in organizers, but everything is perfectly blank. Despite how empty and quiet the office is, it nonetheless gives you the feeling that just a few minutes ago, this place was bustling with workers going about their daily business.
You enter another building and find yourself in the lobby of an apartment complex–finally, a place to rest. The first door you try opens easily into a completely empty living room, freshly vacuumed but without a single piece of furniture. It's a nice apartment, quiet, but with a little too much echo for your taste, maybe. Still, and perhaps oddly, you have no trouble envisioning what life here would be like.
The second door you open leads to an apartment that feels lived-in. Why does it feel lived-in? It's fully furnished with items that seem to go together perfectly, true, but the feeling is more than that–the room feels like someone was just here, maybe standing right in the kitchen only moments before you swung the door open. The air is a perfectly comfortable temperature, and it somehow smells like home despite that you've never once set foot here before. The refrigerator is stocked, and the cabinets are full of spices and flatware and kitchen utensils.
As you look around the living room, you find that there are pictures in frames on the walls and some of the flat surfaces–a seascape, a field, a shot of a city park bench. In each of the photos there's something just slightly wrong with the angle, as though the photographer were aiming for a subject that can no longer be seen.
Characters are welcome to explore the district around the City Hall subway station to their heart's content. The City Hall building itself contains several floors of offices and file rooms, but none of them contain any particularly interesting information. Nonetheless, characters may wish to team up with other newcomers and try to find some hints about the nature of the city. They can also spend a while in the park, the statue garden, or the graveyard. In the blocks surrounding the station there are plenty of options for food and housing, as well as office buildings, storefronts, and alleyways to look around. There are no workers in any of the buildings, and there does not seem to be an honor system for payment, nor any consequences for taking food from the stores or setting up camp in an apartment or office building.
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A WASH, ANYONE?
The coin laundromat is tucked into the first floor of one of the tall apartment buildings. Soap is complimentary, and while the machines say that they cost a quarter per load, in reality they are fully operational without any money being exchanged at all. If you have any clothes that need a wash, perhaps items that have been dirtied by your explorations (or your travels before arriving in the city), you may want to take this opportunity to wash them for free.
From the soap dispenser, you can retrieve packets of detergent in different strengths. There's plenty of stock of for mild to moderate grime and for heavy-duty stains, but there are also a handful of packets with slightly less obvious purposes. For things remembered, says one. For unhappy accidents, says another. Feel free to use whichever seems most suited to your needs.
When your laundry cycle has ended, the buzzer sounds and the door pops open so the clothing can be retrieved. You grab a laundry basket and reach in to start pulling fabric out of the machine by the handful. But wait a second–the more clothing you retrieve, the less familiar the items seem, and by the time you've retrieved the last bundled sock from the depths of the dryer you're absolutely positive: These clothes don't belong to you.
You're sure that you put your own clothing into the machine, but these are someone else's clothes entirely. Did someone sneak in while you weren't paying attention and swap out your laundry? Or did you accidentally open up the wrong dryer to retrieve the wrong load? Maybe you'd better look around at whoever else is in the laundromat with you and have a go at trying to find the owner of these clothes.
Whether the characters have had their clothing swapped or simply opened the wrong machine to grab someone else's laundry is up to the player's imagination, but one thing's for sure: you have someone else's clothes in your basket. Maybe these are clothes that belong to another character in the laundromat, or maybe they're garments that belong to someone that character knew back home. Players are encouraged to mess around with the premise and use it to get to know other characters!
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COME ONE, COME ALL...
Have you ever noticed that flickering sign hanging in the window of that little building around the corner from the parking lot? The one that says PSYCHIC READINGS in bold neon lettering?
You step inside the shop and immediately smell a powerful combination of aromas: herbs, candles, incense, something spicy and warm underneath. It's a small space, cluttered with objects. A crystal ball covered in velvet sits in the center of a table, and there are tarot card sets and drawers full of dried herbs and flowers. On the shelves are various remedies with labels printed so neatly it's impossible to tell whether they're typed or handwritten. Headaches, or hemophilia, and also irascibility and fits of sighing. There are also jars full of less easily-identifiable contents, but a close examination may show you frog legs, fish eyes, rat tails. For some reason, it feels like sticking your hand in one of these jars might not be the best idea.
Toward the back of the shop is a glass case that holds the bust of a woman. As you approach, your movement triggers a light inside the case to illuminate the woman's face–or where her face would be, if she had one. The normal human features of her face are smoothed out until they barely resemble a face at all, with slightly hollowed divots for eyes and a faintly raised bump for a nose. The closer you get, though, the more strongly you feel that despite the absence of eyes, the woman is indeed watching you.
The lettering at the top of the case states FORTUNE TELLER, and a sign affixed to the front of the glass says, Ask for anything, but be careful what you wish for.
You form a question in your mind, then ask your question out loud. The woman shifts, straightening up, and you hear the faint whirring of clockwork and pneumatics moving inside her. She gathers her hands in front of her, cupping them like she's holding water, and strange light emanates from her palms, casting harsh illumination on the blank space where her face should be. Although she has no mouth with which to speak, you nonetheless hear a vaguely female voice intone, "Your fate has been read."
A paper slip emerges from a slot in the front of the case, your freshly-printed fortune, the ink barely dry.
Although the crystal ball will not actually show the future, characters with any kind of herbal knowledge may clock that the herbs and remedies in the drawers and shelves of the shop are legitimate. Characters can ask anything they want of the fortune teller, or make as many wishes as they like. They'll get as many fortune slips as correspond to the number of questions they ask. Players are encouraged to come up with whatever vaguely-accurate fortunes you think work for your character, but if you're low on ideas, you can always try an online Magic 8 Ball or fortune cookie generator.
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WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.
If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations.
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citycenter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citylogs2023-06-01 12:00 am
and so it begins
voltron doesn't have that kind of time. Keith doesn't have that kind of time.
so instead of making sure to build up stockpiles of ration of food and other supplies, keith has been on an absolute warpath trying to bruteforce his way to answers. so yes, maybe there was an attempt to start a fire. maybe there was even an attempt to commandeer an abandoned car. but it's all led to nothing so far. arguably, worse than nothing because this morning, keith's woekn up with a pair of handcuffs slapped on his wrists.
does he remember anyone approaching in the night to put them on? no. are there any signs of a break-in? equally no. but most pressing of all to his immediate needs, keith can't seem to get them off either. frustrated with his predicament as well as the implications of a silent police body watching them after all, keith ends up on a long walk through the city to try and clear his head.
an affinity for the wilderness over concrete landscape leads him to enter the park, and beyond that the cluster of statues that he hasn't thought to investigate. though he prefers quiet by default, the totality of it still grates at his ears. the effect is made eerier by the walls of stone eyes watching on either side of the winding path. still, keith doesn't take his cue to leave because there might be something here that can help break the cuffs, right?
a rustling noise from around the corner makes keith jump, ducking behind a hedgge before cautiously peering around to look at an open space with a cluster of three statues with twi apparently missing from the pentagon shaped platform.
but it's not really the statues that hold his attention. rather, there's a familiar figure standing there, dressed in black clothing. he can't possibly assume that it's shiro, but he freezes in place, heart beat accelerating so fast that the world does a quick spin around him before keith remembers to breathe and come out of hiding. ]
Shiro?
[ he knows better than to hope. truly he does, but that one name is filled with so much expectation and yearning for some sign of familiarity that in an instant he's made it clear to any potential enemy listening in where his allegiances lie. ]
begins with tl;dr... i set out to make this short
a rustle, a change in atmosphere, the hair rising at his nape… all of it points to having eyes on him and with that feeling, his heart rate picks up and his fingers clutch harder at his arms. the metal ones dig in too harshly and he has to consciously relax as not to give himself bruises. a recent addition to his appearance, the false arm is something shiro is still becoming accustomed to: its capabilities, its strength, its weight.
he does know its usefulness in a fight, however. so if someone is trying to get the drop on him, then…
shiro?
that’s all it takes to flip the script. giving up all pretense of being unaware of his would-be mugger, shiro whips around to the voice, face gone slack with surprise and soft, almost, with an emotion he hasn’t felt in eons. hope. arguably, he ought to have felt that the moment he woke up in the subway car. earth had come to mind and it still does with every part of the city he explores. there are humans here, too. he’s talked to them, some even in person, and yet, he’s maintained a detachment that has kept him from fully appreciating the kind of human contact that's been denied to him for months upon months.
it hits him now, though. because although the orange uniform is gone and age has made that face sharper, shiro knows him in an instant. ]
Keith? [ his arms fall away to hang at his sides, standing there vulnerable and defenseless for one, two, before his feet start moving. ] I can’t believe it.
[ and yet, there he is, different and the same all at once. caught up in the elation of not just a familiar face, but his best friend’s familiar face, shiro has yet to think of the odds and the implications of keith being roped into whatever this is. he isn’t tripped up by his scars or his white hair or his butchered arm, either. he’s outpacing everything that can ruin this. for now, he’s stepping off the pedestal and advancing on keith, gaze locked squarely with his, never straying to take in the glint of metal caught around keith’s wrists. ]
Come here, is it really you?
[ disbelief carries through his voice, but even so, he lifts his left hand as he travels, going for a mirrored version of their long overdue, patented hug. ]
shhh i accept you anyway
relief bursts out of the cage that keith has stuffed all his compartmentalized emotions into, and for a happy moment, keith isn't operating purely like a soldier or a palaidn worthy of being part of voltron. no, keith is simply himself and completely ecstatic to see his best friend coming forward. it's like shiro always says -- they can do this together. they're strong together.
his face splits into the widest grin as he jogs to close the rest of the distance between them. ]
Shiro!
[ wildly inappropriate as it is, keith actually laughs, automatically raising his left hand to clasp the one being extended to him, fumbling a beat as his right arm comes along for the ride. cuffs be damned though, keith doesn't let that slight bump in momentum stop him from the fist bump, clasp, and pull-in chest-to-chest routine. ]
Heh. Figures getting sucked through a wormhole couldn't keep us apart. You hurt anywhere?
yes good, as you should, bc /glues
what the hell?
momentum carries his hand through and they do clasp, though shiro goes rigid, missing the next beat in which he’s meant to pull keith in. in typical shiro fashion, he brushes over concern for his well-being, but at least he has an excuse here. he’s off-kilter and far too confused to process beyond the handcuffs and the utterance of wormhole. ]
Wormhole? What’re you talking about? I was – [ matt, sam. ] – we were abducted by aliens. Didn’t the Garrison…
[ report on that? okay, maybe it’s too much to hope that the running surveillance of the persephone as the three crew members traversed out on kerberos’ surface would have picked up that alien warship to ping the disturbance back to galaxy garrison. is that the explanation the brass gave, though? the persephone was lost in a wormhole? frowning now, shiro gives his head a quick shake and then grasps more firmly, turning keith’s hand over to see his wrist better. ]
Nevermind that. Why do you have these on?
no subject
we were abducted by aliens. garrison. bump, bump, thunk. keith doesn't have much of a poker face, and his owlish staring probably leans comical as he plays the words in his head a second and third time. concussion? maybe shiro had a concussion or something. it's the first thought keith has, and can't seem to shake it off. gaze shifting up higher to look at shiro's head, he forgets the fucking handcuffs just in time for shiro to finally notice them.
one more bump for the road, and keith blurts stupidly:]
There was an incident.
[ a beat. ]
Are you okay? Did you bump your head?
no subject
No?
[ partial credit. it’s confusing though, isn’t it? which question is he answering? both, honestly. no, he’s not okay, and no, he didn’t bump his head. well, at least in the sense that he thinks keith means. he’s been tossed around the arena more than a few times, rattling his brain something awful, but this isn’t about a head injury that left him with the scar across his nose, is it? it’s about – ]
You don’t believe me? [ he lets go of keith’s hand, frowning as he pitches his weight, taking a backward step. ] I would’ve thought you of all people would.
[ keith used to chatter about aliens and possible sightings all the time at the garrison. did he outgrow that belief in the past year? ]
no subject
What?
[ keith rocks back on his heels, staggering a half step back as he stops looking for a probable head injury to look shiro in the eye. ]
Shiro, of course, I believe you...?
[ thrown off and stung, keith looks and sounds both betrayed and confused as to why he's even being betrayed in the first place. hurt curdling fast, keith furrows his brow, expression hardening as he repeats more emphatically. ]
I always believe you. You know that.
[ ...doesn't he? ]
i just realized you left me on read
a little over a year ago, they’d been standing in the shadow of the persephone, as close as could be and now, where are they? steps apart, keith looking stung, shiro feeling stung, the time spent away from each other opening up a whole chasm of doubt on shiro’s end. not just for keith, but for himself. afterall, can keith truly say he always believes him when shiro isn’t the same man keith thinks he knows?
an anxious, unsettled feeling kicks up and he weathers it by fiddling his metal fingers, curling in and curling out. the arena has, unfortunately, taught him many things, and one of the most paramount is to never show weakness, because weakness will be exploited. not once has he cowered in the face of those wanting to destroy him and yet, here, he shies away, gaze losing its strength as he looks down and to the side. ]
Even now? [ there’s a carefulness to his voice. a forced sort of neutrality that has shiro already bracing for a possible wavering of keith’s faith. ] When I’ve been gone so long because I was abducted by aliens?
... omfg LOL. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.
shiro is guarded -- acting like nothing between them is a certainty, and it ignites every anxious thread in keith's soul as he struggles to figure out why. the concussion theory never goes away, not even when shiro starts talking about his abduction like that wasn't a year ago, and maybe keith should have been wiser. people come from different times, places, and seemingly realities, too.
it's just that people aren't... shiro.
concern creeps back onto his face, even as keith straighens up to at least feel more firmly grounded. ]
Shiro. I will never give up on you. That's how it is between us.
[ remember? please remmeber. ]
But... [ a beat, a nervous mangling of his lower lip. ] .. is that really the last thing you remember?
LIKELY STORY
it’s confusing. it’s disappointing. it’s a whole lot of feeling that has shiro wondering, briefly, if he actually is crazy, because why isn’t keith, the resident alien aficionado, not batting an eye at shiro’s firsthand account? shiro quickly finds himself with the beginnings of a headache, one that he promptly combats by pressing flesh fingers to his temple, rubbing in deep.
is that really the last thing you remember? ]
No.
[ he remembers more than the abduction. he remembers so many things that he’d rather forget. ]
The abduction was months ago. I’ve been a prisoner since.
[ in a tiny cell, in a deathmatch arena, in a room devoted to twisted tests. he’s the glorified champion of those meant to die, what would keith think of that? ]
It’s difficult to keep track of time when I… – [ shiro shakes his head, making the nagging sensation throb harder, hand dropping to his side as he chances a glance at keith. ] – but you would know. How long have I been gone?
wow. it's not enough that shiro doesn't believe keit. ET TU, TERRA.
keith believes shiro, often more than he believes himself which means his best friend can't be lying right now, even if all those terrible things that have happened to him were months ago and they have even bigger problems to tackle. but how is he meant to say any of that?
the last thing shiro remembers was being a prisoner. his heart finds an even lower level to sink to, the need to clasp shiro's shoulder hampered largely by the unwelcoming look on his face. concussed or not, that was a hideous period of shiro's life and keith doesn't know what to say about it. he tries though, really tries, tone and expression somber. ]
A year.
[ again, that need to reach out and touch shiro's arm flares up only for keith to look down and away at his feet. ]
You were gone for a year. But somehow you managed to escape the Galra to warn us that they were coming to look for the Blue Lion on Earth.
[ brow furrowing, he hesitates and sneaks a glance back up. ]
... We found it before them and we've been fighting ever since. I uh... we fought them at Central Command just two days ago.
at least shiro is starting to believe that his head is messed up
you were gone for a year.
that should be the end of it, but it's not. one, two, three -- one after another, shiro is sucker punched with information that rocks the already flimsy foundation that shiro is perched on. he escaped? sort of. he is here now, wherever here is. it could be earth, but that's as far as the rationale goes. because shiro certainly hasn't warned anyone about the galra, fought at central command or found a blue lion…? what?
that isn't what slips out. what comes out of his mouth first is a mumble meant more so to himself. ]
Galra?
[ the confusion has nothing to do with the galra race itself. it has everything to do with the fact that he never told keith that. he's been calling them aliens this whole time. so how does keith know their name?
all at once, shiro doesn't know what to think anymore. he trusts keith, he does, and in this moment, he finds that he trusts him far more than he trusts himself. confidence broken and drive sucked dry, shiro seemingly shrinks in on himself, looking altogether lost as his chin dips and his eyes grow distant, searching inside himself for a clue that simply isn't there to be found. ]
I don't…
[ helplessly, he looks to keith. ]
I can't remember any of that.
... but this aso makes me sad ._.
stupid. keith is lightning quick to chastise himself like that. idiot. thoughtless. shiro just said that the last thing he remembers is being a prisoner. what kind of selfish asshole would then try and make his best friend feel like he's got a case of brain damage too? regardless of what's going on -- concussion, amnesia, or some space bullshit from a wormhole corrupted by the witch's magic, there's simply no excuse for making shiro feel or look this way.
heart in his throat, and chest suffocatingly tight with remorse, keith quickly closes the gap between them to press his palm to shiro's left arm. ]
That's okay.
[ it isn't. even more questions fill up his head and keith wants to shout. but with only a best friend he's hurt in sight and no answers, keith swallows and tries to push conviction into his voice.
but how can he? through everything shiro's been through, he's always held his head up high, shoulders back and back straight. strong, unbreakable. but with just a few careless words, keith tore the confidence right out of his best friend, huh? expression falling, keith peeks up at shiro. ]
Maybe you're from the past. People here are from all sorts of different timelines and realities. I'm ... I'm sorry.
shiros are sad makers. it's what they are.
up until now, that is. he's either a prisoner to his own mind or dependent on keith. keith is his best friend. he trusts keith and values keith, but he immediately resents the idea that keith knows things about shiro that shiro doesn't know himself. or at least, about a shiro, because if they're from different realities… ]
So we're not…
[ he abandons that statement before he can fully voice it, not even sure of where he's going with it. they're not best friends? each other's counterpart? yes, no, maybe, it certainly sounds like they are intrinsically tied in the future. is that even shiro's future? perhaps he should be questioning keith on whether or not he hit his head, because disrupted timelines and alternate realities are the plot points of movies. so are aliens, though, and shiro's seen enough shit in the recent past to find that the universe is far stranger than any piece of fiction.
whether this keith is from another reality or from the future doesn't matter too much in distinction; the end result is much the same. it churns shiro's insides with disappointment. it's a petty feeling, one mostly born from the feeling of lagging behind. he hates feelig like that and thankfully, realizes how ungrateful it is. so he digs under that feeling, searching for his initial reaction and tries, quickly, to smooth over his prior words with a: ]
It's good to see you regardless.
[ even if keith isn't his keith. stop it. he needs to stop thinking like that before he gives himself another headache. later, maybe, when he's alone and can properly unpack, but for now, he brings his left hand up to cup keith's elbow, encouraging that bit of closeness. he looks keith in the face and tries, really tries for a reassuring smile that ends up looking far too brittle. ]
I missed you.
no subject
his heart sinks to his feet, even as shiro tacks on a it's good to see you regardless. honestly, he wouldn't have believed he really heard that were it not for the hand on his elbow keeping him half-tethered as his mind starts racing with possibility.
regardless. regardless of what?! regardless of the present fucked up circumstances? or regardless of technically not being friends? fuck. keith grimaces, looking increasingly lost as he stares at shiro, barely registering that he hasn't taken a breath until his chest aches and aches and then:
i missed you.
all at once, keith's shoulders sag, expression brittle as he mumbles a heartfelt: ]
I missed you, too.
[ not just now over these last twenty four hours of being separated from voltron, but in the past when he was still wearing the orange galaxy garrison uniform and staring blankly at the stars with a pilot error shaped void in his skull. ]
I...
[ .fuck. in the aftermath of shiro's unexpected return and their frantic search for voltron with the three stowaways clinging to his bike, keith is suddenly unsure if he even told shiro that simple fact. hell, he's not even convinced shiro had necessarily said i missed you either. biting his lower lip, keith blinks and despite the fucking handcuffs keeping him from giving shiro a proper hug, does the best he can by going up on his tiptoes to rest his chin on a broad shoulder ]
It's so good to see you, Shiro.
no subject
traditional greeting bypassed, shiro relaxes in tiny increments, each second bringing him closer and closer to reciprocation until he's completed a full breath that releases the last of his tension on the exhale. keith's words are a boon on shiro's soul, but more than that, it's the weight of his head on his shoulder and the offered closeness that begs and begs for shiro to move those damn arms of his. he only manages the one, forever wary of the metal one that hangs heavy at his side. his left is enough, though. reach long and grip strong, he loops it around keith's back and hugs him in. forgive him in that first moment, when the touch starved nature of his existence surges and causes him to squeeze too tight. catching himself, he consciously relaxes the bend of his arm and the press of his fingers, silently telling himself that it's fine. that it's okay. this bit of comfort isn't going to disappear if he lets up.
weakness finds him in other ways, though. he doesn't have it in him to maintain his stoic persona, the one that allows him to keep distance, even at the peak of his tactile affection. in this particular moment, he seeks keith out with a turn and dip of his head, pressing his face directly into his hair. he breathes in, half-hoping for the familiar scent of the arizona desert. it's not there… but keith is. the warm, familiar notes of his best friend fill his nose and fill his head, grounding him enough to think home.
another beat, two, three, and then shiro releases the breath he's holding, using all his willpower to extract himself from keith's hair. ]
You really grew up.
[ he's a little taller, isn't he? he's filled out, too, shiro can feel it in the closeness of their bodies. it makes him ache, right down to his core, because although his own existence of the last year seemed to have come to a standstill of horror, life continued on elsewhere. obviously, of course, but to see how much he's missed in something as simple as keith aging and losing some of the softness to his face, hits harder than he's prepared for. swallowing through the uneasy feeling, shiro forges on, knowing there's no time for his sad, pathetic feelings when there is so much else that needs to be addressed. ]
You'll need to fill me in on everything… these included.
[ releasing his hold, shiro brings his left around and hooks his fingers on the chain between cuffs. manually lifting keith's hands higher, shiro scrutinizes the cuffs for a moment. ]
Let me get them off you first. [ he brings his right up, mouth open on an explanation that never comes, because he hesitates after that first breath, holds, blinks, and then abruptly exhales on a would-be laugh, if it weren't for the wry curl to his mouth. ] … I was about to explain but you know all about this thing, don't you?
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so maybe this is a sign that things will be okay. we're not and regardless don't have to mean that they're strangers. relief fills him up from head to toe, and he gently angles his head up against the press of shiro's chin just to properly settle into his role as chinrest.
except... that's kind of weird, right? you really grew up, too, is a new sentiment, one that tugs at heartstrings keith wasn't even aware existed somewhere in his chest. it's just -- shiro woke up, then they had to go find blue, and suddenly they were at the epicenter of war with little time to dwell on the flow of time or simply enjoy each other's orbit again.
increasingly unsure how to feel about this feeling of loss, keith allows shiro to extricate himself with a lost blink or two before snapping back into himself to watch attention go back to the handcuffs. ]
Oh. [ another blink. right. that could most definitely melt through the steel, right? his expression brightens before keith can think otherwise. ]
Right. I don't know everything about it, but here.
[ he steps back, armss extended as he pulls the cuff chains as taut as he can. ]
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should keith trust him so readily?
should he not hesitate when this arm is pointed his way?
does keith know, fully, what this arm has been used for?
questions circle and shiro’s confidence shrinks, his own expression wavering with uncertainty as he’s faced with keith’s exuberance. gosh, he just looks so… unguarded. naïve, almost, in how unquestioning he is to simply offer up his hands.
shiro pulls himself together, though. it was his damn idea, so why the hell is he the one hesitating when he gets absolutely no pushback? shaking his head to rattle his brain and force some sense back into it, shiro then draws in a steadying breath and brings his left hand closer. it’s not as though this arm came with a manual. no real explanation, either. just some shit line about being made stronger for his impressive feats in the ring. activation comes easily, though. like moving his feet or waving his arms, it’s as simple as wanting his body to complete a task.
or used to be.
his arm does light a fluorescent purple, but it’s duller than its usual brightness. he thinks little of that first clue and thinks heat and shearing and burn through as he brings his lit fingers to that taunt chain. nothing happens. he doesn’t slice through. he doesn’t even make the slightest of marks. frowning, he pushes his hand harder against it, and again, finds no significant change. ]
What the hell?
[ again, he pushes hard, focusing just as intensely and visualizing the burn through… but nothing. he pulls his hand away, frowning a perplexed gaze down at it. if he really concentrates, he can sense there’s something lacking in its power, but he’s yet to put together – or at least doesn’t want to acknowledge – that his bodily make up may have been messed with again. ]
It’s not working. [ a beat, the light of his hand fading as he powers down. ] I don’t know why.
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keith is equally as perplexed by it, the sure smile gradually fading as the metal chain links hold fast. keith glances up, troubled but already quick to try and rationalize it away. ]
That's okay.[ but it isn't there are implications here that are wholly unpleasant, though perhaps not unique to shiro. ] I can't feel my bond to Red either. I think this place os messing with that somehow.
[ he takes another half step back, lowering his arms before sheepishly adding: ]
Red's the uh... lion robot I was talking about before. There are five lions. Red Black, Blue, Yellow, and Green. The lions combine with each other to form this super robot called Voltron, and we work with these two Alteans, Coran and Princess Allura to fight against the Galra. The lions are... I guess, kind of alive? Red usually knows when I'm in trouble and comes to get me, but everything was crazy and I think I fell through a corrupted wormhole while I was piloting Red and then... I woke up on that train.
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fuck. he’s been lying to himself this whole time.
this upgrade of an arm has carried him through some tough pinches; he can’t refute how useful it is having a literal weapon attached to him. it’s always within reach and he can’t be – heh – disarmed of it, at least not easily. it’s what he’s needed to maintain his winning streak in the ring and what he’s been subconsciously banking his safety on in this unfamiliar, possibly disastrous new reality.
how prepared is he to protect himself? to protect keith? because of course he’s already taken on the responsibility of seeing keith through this, even though keith is a seasoned warrior, too…?
the information dump is dizzying. he follows the words, but locks up on the meanings, because lions and voltron, and princesses and what? between the confusion surrounding his arm, the extent of its current strength, and the progression of keith’s life, shiro wavers between wanting to ask questions and to simply turn his focus elsewhere, to balling that metal fist to try punching through one of the nearby statues. is this arm strong enough to do that anymore?
the pulsing is back in his temples and the ache between his shoulder blades, up all the way to the top notch of his spine; it hurts to exist in the moment and god, how melodramatic is that? he sighs to compensate and slowly gathers words. ]
That was… a lot. Let’s go over it again… but slower this time.
[ a gentle shake of his head that neither exasperates nor alleviates the aching and then he’s looking beyond keith, toward the path. ]
And after we’ve moved somewhere… [ safer? more private? ] … that's not here. [ he frowns as he returns his gaze to keith. ] I secured an apartment, let’s go there.
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You're right. I'm sorry.
[ fuck. he keeps saying sorry, keeps apologizing only to keep making things complicated. ]
I'll tell you everything that's happened. Slower and you can ask as many questions as you need and --
[ rather abruptly, keith trails off as something about the three statues draws his attention. without the usual crayola colors splashed onto the armor, it's taken a second but .... the details carved into the stone are a little too familiar. keith looks up higher, following the chest plate up to the face, and squints.
the details of the face are greatly weathered away, by exposure or time or whatever else, keith can only guess, but there's just enough character left in an overly broad smile and that ridiculous finger gun pose. ]
...no way.
[ freshly horrified, keith looks at the tallest, stockiest statue then to the shortest. again, the features are too smoothed to capture detail, but the proportions. hunk. pidge. two twin blows to the gut as keith looks at the two empty spots on the platform that correspond to the right arm and the head of voltron.
freshly dizzy, keith starts moving closer, hand outstretched to touch the shortest statue. ]
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the pieces don’t align. they’re all there for shiro to make an educated guess but the overwrought of emotion that’s hit him in the last ten, fifteen minutes is doing a number on his deduction skills. space suits and five platforms, two of which are empty… – keith said there were five robot lions with bonds to… well, one to keith, which means the other four probably have something similar to three others and shiro…?
the understanding still isn’t setting. it’s there on the periphery but he doesn’t make the jump to assumption, merely watching keith step closer to one. funnily enough, it’s the one shiro was most perplexed by earlier. ]
What is it?
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what gets him to refocus, however, is shiro. keith straightens up, looking over his shoulder to see that his paranoid suspicions have had a ripple effect. keith turns his back, clearing his throat to recompose himself.
what is he even asserting here by getting paranoid over three statues with a vague likeness to people arranged in a particular formation? ]
I... I'm not sure.
[ he backs away from the statues, eyes on shiro. ]
I think I recognize these statues, but that doesn't make any sense.
[ uneasy, keith folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head. ]
I don't know if it's just weird coincidences because this place has already gotten me jumpy, but... I think they're the other paladins of Voltron? I don't know what that means, but I think you're right. We need to get out of here and talk at your place instead.