[ ♠ ] Bleeding Out « #killjoy »

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: "im on a boat mf, dont you ever fugeyt"] - [element: metal]
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Jayce focused on the task at hand, his smile remaining smooth and suave. He was sitting behind Daichi, being careful not to do anything that could threaten the other. This guy was always on edge twenty-four seven, and that only amused Atkins. He was probably safer right now in the sharpshooter's care than he would be at any other point forwards. The mercenary cleared his throat when the man asked about his parents. His eyes closed briefly, and it was unknown to anybody outside his own mind of what he was doing. "Of course I remember them. But it depends on which parents you're talking about," he tapped his temple before continuing, "But my birth parents. Anthony Holland and his wife, my mother, Gracie Holland. Her maiden name was Graceland Keys. But Graceland Holland doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. You ask if I remember their names. I do. And I can see their faces when I close my eyes. See 'em as clearly as I did fifteen years ago." He kept quiet for a second, his focus still on sterilizing the needle. "But I mean, that's not saying too much. I also see my fifth foster parent's uneven brows just as easily." Jayce laughed, and it was hard to tell if the quick exhale had any resentment in it. Alrighty then.

Jayce finally looked up, pleased to find that his contract had taken off his shirt. But his approval on the matter instantly got replaced by a certain amount of exasperation. In the short span of the walk here and whenever else, the man's shoulder had sprung into a completely new world of hurt. It was in the middle of bleeding- pulsing to be more accurate. The mercenary's jaw shot open, and he let out a string of incoherent curse words. "What the hell did you manage to do with this shoul-" his brown gaze fell on the mirror which lay overturned. And having a photographic memory, Jayce knew it hadn't been like that before he went into the bathroom. His icy stare flicked between the mirror and Daichi. A small pang of... something, settled in his chest. Just how messed up are you Daichi Akino? The man let out a sigh, the exasperation only seeping away to be replaced again by his effortless demeanor. "I see... Well, not completely. Do I have to beg on my knees to get you to care about your own health?" He had to stand to get a few cloths and a bowl of warm water. When he sat back down, he set to work with a concentrated brow. Dipping a clean cloth in the water, he began to clean the skin around the wound -- wiping the blood away as gently as he could. And if you knew Jayce, you'd also know that he was one of the gentlest men on the planet if he wanted to be. And he wanted to be.

It was getting to be quite the problem, trying to work on the wound without risking skin contact. "You should, by the way," Jayce said, his voice low as he gave in -- lightly touching the skin around the wound so he could make the job smoother, "care about your life. That must sound laughable, coming from the guy that threw yours away for you. I don't know why you don't like to look at mirrors. I don't know why you don't bother fixing the lock on that door. Or why you'd let a wound slowly eat at you." As he spoke, he hoped that his words distracted as he moved the cloth closer to the bullet hole. The blood had stopped coming out in dangerous levels. As he worked, Jayce heard angry shouts. He saw more of Daire, even though his eyes were open and visibly, he could only see Daichi. Him placing his hand against Daichi's back turned more into a steady grip as he felt the other sway. So much blood. His contract had lost so much blood today. I'm sorry. It's easier to kill. I'm so sorry. "I do know that you're breathing because, for some reason, there's something out here that wants you around still. And you'd probably just flip that thing the bird, but don't throw your life away just to spite it." He quieted down after that, having finally begun cleaning the bullet hole itself, tightening his grip on Daichi's good shoulder. He just needed the man to stay conscious. "Just a little longer," he informed the other, hoping to pass along the fact that he needed the other upright.

When he finished with cleaning and calming the blood flow, he finally pulled the hooked needle out of the solution. Clean and ready to stitch up a troublesome wound, he took a little breath and smiled. "Gonna prick you. Don't faint on me, now," the man behind Daichi smirked, "That would be embarrassing." While he was in the middle of 'embarrassing', he pushed the needle in. It took a certain amount of control to work a needle and stay lucid while you siphoned up memories of another person. Each one was warmer than the last, and Jayce felt himself getting weaker ever second he had his hand against Daichi's skin. He wasn't just getting memories. He was getting the pain too. He was eating that up like it was a cake, and Jay was guilty of a sweet tooth. His head lolled forward, but his eyes stayed open, and the care he put into suturing up the wound was unrivaled by his current mental state. Just a little longer, he was telling himself, this time. Daichi's memories. Each one of them was heavier than the last. Small -- surface type things, but heavy in emotion. Vivid. Jayce Atkins was going to lose his mind. At some point, his head had fallen to rest against the back of Daichi's neck. He must have been done with the patchwork because he looked down at the wound, and it was hardly bleeding. His hands stopped working, and he slid them down Daichi's arms instead, his fingers dragging along Daichi's skin to pick up anything he could. Again, the action was desperate as he stopped to fold his hands over the tops of Akino's. "I'm... sorry," he managed to mutter, closing his eyes and letting the memories come as they wanted. Wait. What the hell are you doing Jayce? What he was doing wasn't right, and Daichi was probably about to kill him. Daichi could kill him. He would be lost in a different world. But.. it was simply intoxicating. Oh, how the human race was so complex in it's simplest form -- the individual. Earth to Jayce. You're not done. He almost had to ask what he had left to do, but he knew well enough. That wound would need to be disinfected and bandaged. Slowly, he coaxed his eyes open and groaned, but the groan just turned into a breathy laugh.

Jayce pulled his forehead away from the other's back, blinking out the effects Akino had on him. His hands had been holding onto both Daichi's hands and he pulled those away as well -- rather quickly, I might add. His breath was just as disrupted as it had been in the forest, but at least he had something to do to distract him this time. He wasted little time in gaining composure of himself again, grabbing a disinfectant and smoothing it over the clean sutures. "You get shot, not as much out of carelessness as you get shot by a sociopath with a gun, Akino," the mercenary corrected, finding his voice and cheer again. And the next thing Daichi had said made the younger man roll his eyes profusely. Of course his contract would go his whole life believing in something like that. He ought to punch the man who taught him those "honorable values" in the first place. "I agree one hundred percent that you should realize your mistakes, but Jesus, carry it? I carry my mistakes, but I do it in a much different way than you. Daichi, if I get shot - I am going to remove the bullet. And then I'm going to make sure I don't get shot again. But I won't spend my life in pain over my mistakes. What good are you to this world if you're in too much pain to do any good for it? No," he shook his head, and pulled the bullet he'd shot the other man with out of his pocket, "My mistakes and carelessness are my strengths. These scars of mine -- countless mistakes. They'll never go away, just like the faces of every damned person I meet will never go away." He moved the little bullet around between his fingers before taking Daichi's hand and pressing the little piece of metal into his palm, "You can still carry the bullet, but there's no good reason you should allow it to cause you hurt in the meantime."

//omg, so its long-ish. ishishly long. pay me no mind. maybe its not too long. who knows. i'll let you decide importoppotomus rex

come on. tell me that hippopotamus rex doesnt sound like it could be a dinosaur

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: townsend industries yacht
Daichi listened as Jayce spoke about his own parents, blinking slowly and tilting his head forward, down, eyes closed. Anthony and Gracie. His fingers clenched before uncurling, slowly, them quivering and shaking as he did so. Foster parents. His shoulder jerked back a bit, but he nodded slowly, letting his hands run over his face. But Akino would be lying if he said that Jayce's disapproval did something to him and that heart of his in regards to what Daichi had done. Didn't push his face away from his hands, no, instead, he squared his shoulders back and growled low under his breath. "Holland. Do you prefer Holland or Atkins?" he asked him, ignoring Jayce's stare. Slowly, Daichi let his hands drop away from his face, resting on the mattress beneath him and curling into the sheets beneath him when Jayce finally set to work on the wound. And he'd been shot before, yes -- but he'd never had the wound cleaned before. All of this was new to him, Akino taking to averting his eyes instead.

His skin shuddered and twitched underneath Jayce's touch, him not helping but to remember what he'd said about skin contact. Couldn't help it -- he pushed his shoulder back against his fingers, but not significantly enough. Listened to his words before narrowing his eyes, letting them flick closed after a while. Strained against Jayce's touch, especially when he realised that it was no longer just that, a touch -- Jayce was holding on to him. "You're the one who fired the gun, not me." Because if he wanted death so bad, he had all of the tools accessible to him, now didn't he? The man in question here was the very same who had such an affinity for blades, treating the array and sets and swords that fell into his hands as if they were living, breathing. And in a way, they were. "You shot me. You took me away from my home. Brought me here. And I don't know where I'm going, nor why I'm going. I just know that I don't have a choice," snapped his fist down on that word, flames taking to life around his fingers, curling sharply before disappearing, "but to bow to your words and follow." Daichi had planned to die inside of that house. Now he was never going to see that place again, let alone his homeland. And something about that wrapped its fingers around his throat, choking him, slowly. He reached up, clawing at his neck as if that would banish the feeling. But it was that thing that did so that kept him grounded, reminding him that he wasn't dead yet and that he wasn't going to go anywhere at all. Couldn't breathe. His lips parted as if to speak, but he said nothing, forcing his inhales to be slow despite the screaming in his lungs, the force that gripped his throat, and that distant sting in his eyes.

When Jay warned him about the needle, Daichi's eyes were closed, his mind trying desperately to balance him right on that knife's edge of consciousness, despite everything around him trying to drag him over. But it was the prick of the needle that caused him to snap his teeth, his eyes slowly opening as he sat up a little straighter in front of Jayce. Didn't tense his muscles, though, some higher force telling him better than to do so. Normally, Daichi's blood poured pure fire through his body, warming his skin. Now? That loss of blood left his skin cold to the touch, even for his own self. His fingers dragged across the inside of his wrist as Jayce worked to stitch the wound, him occasionally hissing and pushing back against the needle, but otherwise, he was silent. Said absolutely nothing, trying to keep himself awake, trying to busy his mind with actions. Slowly, slowly, he was slipping, his fingers falling away from his skin when he felt Jayce's head hit the back of his neck. Normally? His blade would be out in an instant, ready to take advantage of the state that the other was in. Ready to fight back, show Jayce that he'd messed with the wrong man, but, oh. His dark eyes flicked shut in an instant, mind begging with him to just let go. So he did. Despite Jayce, despite everything -- he was exhausted. Felt Jayce's touch on his arms through the haze that had settled over his mind, allowing himself to slip into a brief shove of unconsciousness.

But he was snapped out by the soft, distant sting -- body shoving forward and muscles tensing, eyes fluttering. Dipped his head, fingers flying down to his hips -- the belt of knives never forgotten, flicking one out purely by physical memory. His brain wasn't here, his mind was lost -- but his physical self sure knew where it was and what it was doing, operating completely on auto-pilot by now. Memory. Daichi twisted his wrist, about to flip his body around to face whoever was behind him with the blade before he heard the voice, the knife dropping into his lap. Jayce Atkins. The flat of the blade hit his leg, knocking straight to the floor. Forgotten. His mind slowly swirled into the conversation that the other man staged, Akino tipping his chin up a bit, staring at the ceiling. "I heard you. Behind me. I didn't bother to look." In the woods, Jayce hadn't even bothered to be quiet about anything that he did. It was the click of the gun that made him realise that who was following him wasn't the usual officer. That should have been when Akino turned around -- but he never did. Your mistake. "It doesn't hurt," he began, allowing his posture to drop, to relax, his eyes falling. Nearly shut, nearly open. "After a while." You got used to it. Got used to the weight. The soft clink. The shuddered movement. Everything, it was all quickly adjusted to. But this one was new -- Jayce took pride in his mistakes? Found strength in them? No, no, these things showed you just how flawed your logic was, and it was something that you should hate yourself for just enough to earn the drive to fix it. He turned his head just a bit when he felt the other move behind him, his fingers spreading out when Jayce opened them, placing something in the centre of his hand. Forced his mind to wake up a little more to register what it was, touching the bullet and gritting his teeth. "Give me the gun. The one that shot the bullet." Daichi wasn't looking to take the gun, or to even shoot the gun, no. Not Jayce, not himself. His fingers curled around the bullet, eyes trained on the opposite wall, stare blank.

[ it's perfect. mine is pretty long ?? but it's just spread out a little more over these four paragraphs. and as a man who studied and obsessed over dinosaurs for a good thirteen years of his life, i'm going to have to disagree. but keep trying ]

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: "im on a boat mf, dont you ever fugeyt"] - [element: metal]
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Jay was very conscious of his own heart beating hard in his chest at the moment. He glanced over at the man on the bed with him, keeping his energy levels low and calm. He didn't feel like the other would be able to handle a Jayce who was bouncing off the walls in every direction. But that was what he felt like doing. He rarely slept, and he moved on willpower alone, which had graciously been replenishing since the forest. He was back on a familiar ship, and all he had to worry about was the the other freaking out on him like he'd almost done earlier. Jayce had responded by shaping his own fingers into a pistol. You see, being a master of metal -- he hardly needed a real gun to shoot rolls of metal into the flesh of his opponents. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that. Instead, Daichi had relaxed again, and Jayce was moving so he wasn't sitting behind the other. No, instead he sat next to the contract, confident that he'd successfully tended to the man's wound. He could relax quite a bit now, the worry that had been pressing down on him lifting off his shoulders. "Atkins," Jayce replied quietly, his smile warm as the name rolled off his tongue. There was an amount of fondness in his eyes dealing with memories that Daichi would never be able to see. Memories that would play over and over in Jay's mind until the day he died-- which, due to Atkin's power could possibly be an incredibly long time if he wanted. "My birth parents weren't exactly there for me. They were both in the military for the better part of my existence while they were alive. The Townsends promised to look after me whenever they went off to serve. But when I was six, they never returned, and William Townsend was't willing to adopt so I got put into the foster system. About a million families passing me around like a bag of bad weed later, I was put with Donovan and Amelia Atkins."

His smile was sweet, a tint of sadness marking those lips of his and staining his eyes. God, he missed Amelia more than you could ever know. He... still didn't know how he felt about Donovan, but the ache of missing him had been plaguing Jayce far longer than the ache for his... mom. If only she'd stayed a mother in those last years. He was staring at the wall opposite Daichi and himself, as if there was some sort of answer to the universe scrawled into the surface. However, as usual, the wall was just a wall. Nothing more, and nothing less. He could have stared at it for hours simply because of that reason. But sometimes, Jayce liked to stare at things that overwhelmed him more than the objects that helped him feel nothing. So, his brown gaze naturally changed over to acknowledge Daichi. The words that came out of the man's mouth felt like knives, and he could only move that saddened smile over for the contract. Everything he said was absolutely true, though. Jayce had done this to him, but he still had to wonder what sort of life Daichi had been living before he shot him in the shoulder and stole him away from that house. Was he lonely? Did he experience anything that would show him life was good? "You strike me as a dead man walking Daichi," Jay's voice was very quiet, solemn and serious above all else as he regarded the male, "I'm sorry. I am. But, tell me something I wouldn't expect from you. Tell me that on the weekends you have people that you drink with and smile with. Tell me that you go on walks just to go on them -- and not to visit memories of your past. Tell me something that would make me believe you were doing anything other than waiting for death to come knocking at your doorstep." The words spilled out of his lips and he had a hard time stopping them. But that was simply Jayce on any normal day. He rarely thought about the things that he said before he said them. He rarely thought about his actions before he acted out.

Jayce didn't like to think about things, or get lost in his maze of thoughts and memories. It was a dark world in his head, perpetually a black out, where dark creatures had learned to thrive. But this world. Everything about it, the people and the experiences he could meet or make outside of his own mind. The steps he took to push into a new day added oxygen to his lungs. As far as Jayce Atkins was concerned, he would let the world breath for him forever. And he wouldn't allow himself to die unless it was for somebody else. He was unimportant. But Daichi. Why was Daichi any more important than Jayce? He smiled at the other, the small shake of his head accompanied by a laugh. "You could have turned around to look, and you could have done anything possible to try to stop me, Akino," he pulled out the gun that had shot his contract, "but when you heard the click, my sight was already aimed in your direction. You said it yourself. 'They're unhonourable. Too fast'," Jayce put on his best Daichi voice, and seeing as how he could literally steal the man's voice, it was a pretty damn good impression, "You were mine before you could have known I was coming. And until I deliver you, you're still mine. So please don't make me regret giving this to you." Jayce was grinning as he passed over Tails. The silver Beretta was absolutely stunning, and he was reluctant to see her in somebody else's hands at the moment. He almost got on Daichi's case about saying 'please', but he decided that it wouldn't be a very good idea. Instead, he remembered the knife that had fallen to the ground, and used his powers to pick it up so the other wouldn't have to bend over. He didn't make any move to take it; he just slipped it back in with the others.

Then he made a noise as he heaved his heavy body to his feet. The man stretched and brought up his hands to rub the exhaustion he felt out of his own eyes. It had been a long day, and Jay was spent on Daichi. He trusted the other to do whatever he craved with the gun -- against his better judgment -- to clean up the mess. He grabbed all the bloody cloths and the medical supplies, retreating to the bathroom with them. When he was in the bathroom, he didn't close the door but he would have if he wasn't just so done with everything for the brief moment he was in there. His reflection stared back at him in a certain amount of distress. His hair was doing whatever it wanted and Jay moved his fingers through it desperately. They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. So maybe Jayce really was insane when he tried to fix his hair obsessively. He must have been in front of the mirror for three minutes, just meddling. In the end he had to rip his hands away. Oh. There you are. He picked up a pen which had been lying on the bathroom counter and channeled all his obsessive compulsions into spinning the pen through his fingers. The action was therapeutic, and his heart rate had gone down immensely. With everything back in order, he moved back over to Daichi, just glad to see that the other hadn't used the gun on anything. "I have a question," he spoke, sitting down once again and leaning back so he could make sure the bullet wound was still fine. There was no crimson staining the bandage, so he was satisfied. Then he was back to staring at the man, eyes taking in the other's face like water in the desert, "You touch your face. A lot. Is there a reason, or is it as explainable as habitually spinning a pen around you fingers? Also... the mirror. Why? Please, some answers can't come from skin contact." He smiled uneasily, lifting the hand that was working madly on the pen.

//and your post is perfect as always. but im going to have to disagree with your disaggreement. i've found conclusive evidence that the hippopotamus rex was a real thing. UNDENIABLE PROOF THAT YOU WILL AGREE WITH BECAUSE IT IS SO REALISTIC YOU WOULD BE A FOOL TO TAKE THIS ARGUMENT FURTHER. CLICK HERE TO GAZE UPON ITS INDISPUTABLE EXISTENCE dont ruin my dreams import. i dont have many to hold onto.

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: townsend industries yacht
The second the gun was passed over to Daichi, he took it. Turned the gun to its side, using his thumb to flick the safety on. Instinct. Memory. Dropped the magazine, setting it to his left and shoving it away a little more towards Jayce. His fingers, his hand, it was shaking as he held the gun, sliding the action and soon thereafter, emptying the barrel. Then, with the bullet that had earlier been buried in his shoulder, he slid it in, resetting the slide and pushing the magazine back in. Flicked the safety off, letting the gun rest on his knee for the longest time. "Your parents were military," he repeated, nodding slowly. "My father served, kaijo jieitai. JMSDF. I did, too. Five years." He paused, before pushing himself back on track. "I'm sorry." Wished that he could sympathise with Jayce -- he really did. But Daichi had no personal attachment to neither the situation nor the man -- so he couldn't.

"I'm not dead yet." Don't get your hopes up. Whether that thought was aimed at Jayce or himself, Daichi couldn't tell you. Maybe both. But it was Jayce's next words that brought his eyes to slide over to him, staring at him for a long moment. What would Jayce expect? What wouldn't he? Some nights Daichi stayed up late, drinking and regarding the closest wall with intent. Finally looked Jayce in the eyes, curling his fingers around the gun that rested in his lap. "My favourite colour," he whispered, sliding his thumb over the barrel of the gun, "is pink." Or was that not what Jayce was looking for? Flicked his eyes closed, thinking. "I cook. Bake." And honestly? He loved it. It gave him something to do, and often times, he had way too much food and desserts than what he knew to do with. Sometimes it would go bad. Other times, he'd give it away. It just depended on what how he felt. Typically, Daichi fit his schedule around other people. If he knew there was going to be a lot of other people around at the time that he looked to go out of the house, then he didn't go. When the sun was up, he was inside. But the only time he stepped out of that house was to go to the local shops that littered the corner on the side of the street across from the flat. But he still frowned to Jayce, finally opening his eyes again. "I suppose it's safe to assume that your days aren't spent like this, either, Mister Atkins." And the implications that the statement held: tell me about your humanity. Please.

When Jayce left him, Daichi picked the gun up again. Contemplated shooting it. The safety was off -- it was completely doable. Jayce was in the bathroom, doing gods knew what, leaving him technically unsupervised. The barrel was turned to the wall, Akino trying to will himself to calm the shakiness in which he held the gun. He slipped his finger inside of the trigger guard, hovering just over the trigger. He didn't see the face, but he saw the eye, staring at him. Blank. Emotionless. But not lifeless. When men accepted their fates, their souls were the first to go -- and that was shown through their eyes. Yes, he remembered the eyes of the man, but his face? Daichi lowered the gun from his aim on the wall, his finger brushing over the sight as he let loose a slow exhale. Experimentally, turned the gun on himself, but that lasted for all of a few seconds before he dropped it back to his lap, finger still poised over the trigger. It would be easy enough -- squeezing the trigger, feeling the kick back of the gun in his hand, watching the bullet fly and tear and destroy. But it wasn't enough. Didn't bring enough carnage to the table for him. He needed more blood. He needed to feel the flesh rip apart. Needed, needed, needed.

Jayce was quick to return, but it was his voice that was the herald of that before his figure even graced the room. Daichi felt compelled to roll his eyes, tipping himself to where his head could lean against the headboard. He was exhausted -- didn't want to have to endure this. Just wanted to curl up under the duvet and sleep. And really, was that too much to ask? There was an onslaught of questions that were brought down on him just then, Daichi curling his legs into his body and shoving the duvet up to cover himself, supported by the headboard alone as he stared at Jayce. Self-consciously, habitually, touched his cheek, the corner of his eye, then scowled. But he only addressed the mirror, turning his head away. "I don't want to remember what he looks like." Because Shiro always reminded him just how uncanny the resemblance between the two of them were. Hated it. Hated the fact, hated the idea. Daichi lifted the gun that he'd asked for from Jayce -- one bullet in the chamber. The safety was still off, Daichi passing it back to Atkins. Didn't let go of it, even when he had in Jayce's hand. Instead, he lifted it, gently tapping the other man's knuckle, pushing Jayce's finger into the trigger guard, pressed against the trigger. Not pushing. Just resting there. Finally let go, touching the barrel of the gun, and tipping it up until it was level with Daichi's chest. "Sometimes," he murmured, tapping the muzzle, "we're dealt an ace and we have no idea what to do with it."

[ it's a thing, just because you brought evidence to the court room. your case has passed. thank you for your contributions to the dinosaur society ]

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: "im on a boat mf, dont you ever fugeyt"] - [element: metal]
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"I guess I should say that I hope they were in the military. These days," he sighed, once again having it turn into a small laugh, "I'm not so sure they were good people. I was a small kid, after all." Wyatt Copperfield. The young man had been quite the character in high school. He used to tease Jayce all the time regarding the true whereabouts of his birth parents. None of it had had every really bothered the taller boy. His birth parents had served their purpose, bringing him into the world. They'd left their impression on him. He'd grown up with a love for guns and a desire to join the military. Despite what they did in their lives, Jayce couldn't honestly care. They were dead now, and he was alive. People left Jayce. That's just what they did, and he'd been taught the glorious life lesson of loss from a young age. When he wasn't trying to convince himself that he was numb to the idea, he was filling his life with distractions. But most of all, he filled it with other people. People that he would carefully care about until the day that he left them. He'd learned the secret to happiness a long time ago. Happiness was not giving a damn about what happened in the past. It was not worrying what might happen in the future. And it was found in the present. And presently, he was watching the Daich Akino roll Tails over in his hand.

Daichi's favorite color was pink.

The small smile split into something much brighter at the man's words. He hadn't been looking for an answer exactly like that, but he was certainly fond of it as one. He hadn't expected pink to be this volcano's favorite color. And then of course, he was also pleasantly surprised that the other baked. Although, Jayce could say that Daichi completely won out that particular life experience. Atkins wasn't a big eater, so he'd never really learned or bothered to know how to cook. He was awful at it. So, his little contact loved to bake and he loved the color pink. There were some things that Jayce could only get from word of mouth. His identity theft powers were great at grabbing information -- but like any decent search engine, it's priorities focused on things that were relevant. A favorite color was not one of those things. And perhaps he'd only learn about the cooking if it were anything but a hobby of Daichi's. Either way, he was glad that the other had shared this. But it seemed it was his turn, "Red.. is mine. But God, no. If I shared your life I would probably just wait for death to catch me as well," the man rolled his eyes, and though there was an energy in his words, he kept his voice low.

The man across from him still looked like he was about to pass out. "Some days, I go for a walk out to this park. Just sit out there and people watch." You could learn a lot about people from going to the same place as a tradition. You learned who else went to the same place. You learned who they were seeing. Who they'd stopped seeing. He could watch the passing of time as the children he witnessed holding a parent's hand were now coming to the park holding hands with a first girlfriend instead. "Other times, when things are harder -- I drive. In one direction, for as long as I can until I have to fill up the tank in my car. It used to be the second closest thing to actually running away." He spoke about trivial things, running a company by delegating management. It turns out that he ended up having to become somewhat of a business man after all. He was just happy that he didn't have to be the one in the suit and behind the desk. "Then of course, the Boot. The old owner passed away while I was in the military. Four and a half years for me. Anyways, one of my best friends runs it now. I eat breakfast there every Sunday."

Again, he kept his voice quiet, watching the man fall back against the bed. His eyes softened considerably at the other's answer to his latest question. It looked like he wasn't going to be getting one for the face touching. Oh well. He'd try that answer another time. For now, he was fine with thinking about who Daichi could be talking about. Jay immediately thought about Akino's father, tying a resemblance there. But he couldn't really be sure. After all, there were a few people that Jayce wished that he could just forget. At the same time, he would never forgive himself if he forgot the face of Julian Denmark. Or of Donovan Atkins. Andrew King. Lyric Perez. So many people in Jay's life that hurt him to think about, gave him plenty of pain. But like Jayce had said, his pain was also his strength, and in the grand scheme of things, he figured it wasn't important enough to harbor. The world had enough pain and heartache without him adding his Titanic Load on the pile. It would be much more useful to share a smile than anything else. He was taken off guard when he felt Daichi press the gun into his hand. In fact, he was only more confused as his finger was set over the trigger. Ah. I see.... He didn't move. Not out of choice, but out of a sort of paralysis. This... this all felt too familiar. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to swallow hard to keep his composure. "Did you know that I can count the times I've missed a shot on one hand. Twice. Twice Akino," he repeated, leaning in and pressing the gun harder into the man's chest. Jayce could curve bullets in mid air if he needed to, but ninety-eight percent of the time, he was too good of a shot. "I won't miss ever again, do you hear me?" And he pulled the trigger. Click. Fortunately for Akino, the bullet wouldn't have gone off. "Much like a bullet that needs gunpowder to discharge, I need a reason to kill you. I have no need to kill a man who's already dead. Prove to me you're alive, and maybe I'll reconsider."

The last words were sharp and while not hostile, weren't exactly heartwarming and tender. He ripped the gun away from the man and left him to his own devises. Well, that had gone south quickly. He couldn't blame Daichi for bringing him back there... in memory. See? Jayce didn't focus on the past. When he did. He acted unpredictably. A wild card. But come on. This was Jayce. He took one look at the pathetic man on the bed, and instantly was brought back to himself, not some angry man supposedly tormented by his mistakes. "I..." he paused and groaned, "Sorry. You touched on a bit of a sore spot. But, you should sleep. I'll try to be quiet." The mercenary then set about getting ready to wind down, himself. He disappeared in the bathroom and came back out in some boxers and a white tank top. Taking one look at Daichi, he scoffed, having made the mistake of putting the other in the bed that Jay had been sleeping in. So, he simply got into the other one setting Tails out in front of him quietly. There was still the matter of maintenancing her, but he would settle with cleaning the gun instead -- taking it apart. Caught in the dull moment between a man and his gun, he vaguely remembered leaving Daichi's knife in the bathroom. As rectification of this matter, he summoned it out and let it fall gently beside Akino. "A deal's a deal."

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: townsend industries yacht
The muzzle of the Beretta was shoved into his chest, Daichi giving a slow exhale. Do it. He could make the other do it if he really wanted to: Just had to find the spark that would set the gun firing. Anger? Resentment? Disdain? All of it, he had uncontrolled, unrestricted access to it. But Akino was ready. Needed it, the bullet. He’d accepted his death, his fate, a long time ago. But here Jayce was, denying him. Daichi was almost certain that if he’d given any other man on th is yacht a gun and a simple plea staked after his own death, they wouldn’t even hesitate. His heart was pounding right beneath the muzzle of the gun, blood begging him to just pull. The. Trigger. Adrenaline poured through and into is veins, igniting every last nerve in his body. Synapses firing, hyper-active and hyper-away as if to prepare for the set of inactivity that death would bring. And Jayce squeezed the trigger, Daichi flicking his eyes shut, hand snapping out to curl around Jayce’s wrist. Click. The sound of an empty chambered gun firing. He loaded that gun himself.

Akino’s eyes snapped open, him staring at Jayce. Looked to him in pure confusion, reaching out, touching the gun, baring his teeth at him. "They’re going to kill me anyway. They’re just paying you to not be the one to pull the trigger." And there was a frightening amount of truth behind his words, even if Daichi wasn’t positive as to what would happen once in America with this… Townsend Industries. From what he could gather, they wanted him strictly for his powers. But if they truly knew what he was capable of… His body jolted, a shudder running down him as he maintained eye contact with Jayce. He’d wanted it, the bullet. Yet, Jayce… When he apologised, Daichi held up a hand, giving him a look that told him no. Half of him felt compelled to tell him that he could apologise when he was ready to load the gun and stand behind the trigger, but… No.

He’d be lying if he told Jayce that, no, he wasn’t tired, but it was the idea of sleep that already had his eyes drifting shut. "How long?" he murmured, lifting his hips a bit and unfastening and kicking off his pants, letting them hit the ground right alongside his shirt. Didn’t have a change of clothes -- and hopefully Jayce would provide him with that, or at least someone else on the ship. Preferably someone his height. Gods knew that if he did accept a shirt from Atkins, it’d likely come down to his legs. But right now? He still had his boxers on, and he refused to put a shirt on that would rub against the recently mended and still raw wound. "How long will it take to get there?" When he opened his eyes again, he immediately flicked his eyes over to where the blade had landed beside him, reaching out to pick it up. Then looked back to Jayce, picking up his discarded jeans that still held the attached belt, sliding the knife in. "You said when you were through with me," he murmured, rolling back onto the bed, refusing to put pressure or weight on his back or shoulder. "But you also told me that you wouldn’t be through with me until you got me to where you were looking to take me." Paused -- knew he shouldn’t argue, but. "So, why..?"

[ ew it's short :c ]

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: the yacht; bedroom] - [element: metal]
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jayce had to let Daichi's words go through one ear and out the other as he sat with Tails. And then there was the matter of the bullet that had no gunpowder attached to it. He took it out of the barrel and stared at it, wondering what would have happened if by some miracle, it had gone off a couple minutes ago. Daichi would be dead. Gone. Like everybody else that Jayce had killed. How strange of a thought death was. Jay cared little about what might happen if he died. As far as he was concerned, he had one life that he would experience. When he died, there would be nothing else. He was a man with an expiration date just like anybody else. Just because the man could theoretically extend his expiration date for as long as he wanted, regenerating cells and keeping up the identity of a younger twenty-four year old Jayce, didn't mean he wanted to do that. Like a lizard molting off its skin, Atkins could molt away his years. He'd never tried. But Irvin Graves had ensured him that it was possible. His death would be meaningless to him. So he didn't think about it. However, the people around him. Once they died, that was it. Wasn't it not the same as when he died? They could offer him nothing else but painful memories. They were simply minds in a body that he'd gotten to know intimately before he took the mind away from the body completely. One shot in the heart and Daichi would be cold to him forever. When once he could lose himself in that man's head, Jayce would be left with corpse in the sheets of his former bed. Would he still feel sentimental for the body if he was forced to stare at cold eyes? He... wasn't sure. In a lot of ways, Jayce was a cold man. He could change on you in the switch of a dime.

He had to stop thinking about whether or not he wanted to be cold to Akino. He had no idea what Townsend was planning to do with the man. Jayce could very well be only sending this man to his death. His hands stopped working on Tails, and he glanced over at Daichi, "I... am not a good man, Akino. I'm selfish- self indulgent. Arrogant at times. Heartless at other times. You hardly know me, so I should warn you that if the orders were for me to kill you, I would have, and you could have cheered as you spent your last breath." He turned back to his gun, running the bore brush into the bore tenderly before he continued, "But my orders were to take you in alive. So... that's what I'm doing... it would seem." Jayce didn't sound at all convicted to the idea of taking Daichi in at all. He was a possessive man when it came to hiss little neighborhood projects. And Daichi was his latest craving, he couldn't deny it. But he had to deny it -- deny himself, the pleasantries of a happy ending for either of them. He could only think of Julian and Zeveran Baxter. Everything he'd done since the military had been for his path of vengeance. He had to be through with Daichi sooner than later or he would end up doing something stupid.

He didn't glance up from his pistol as he answered Akino's next question, "Three days if the ocean's on our side. Six days if it's not. Hope you can learn to stand my company." He chuckled lightly, stopping his cleaning to let his head fall against the headboard and to the side. He was looking at Daichi, watching the man slide the knife away with the others. The man did have a point. Jayce had said that, but he wasn't really a man of his word in the best of times. Sure, he could keep to the big things and if he made a promise with conviction, he would keep it always. But somehow, keeping Daichi's knife seemed like it wasn't that big of a deal. "Who knows why I do half the things I do?" Jay murmured, his brown eyes locking on the man in the other bed. The smile that played on his lips only twitched before Jayce commenced his cleaning. "You must stop asking me why I do this or that. Most of the time I do things just because I want to. Come now, I didn't have to fix that shoulder of yours. It's not lethal if left alone. Surprise." Jayce emphasized as he admitted that the other could have made the trip without any sort of immediate attention. Jay knew how to shoot somebody where death was a far away option. Daichi would have simply been in an unbearable world of hurt until he got to Townsend Industries, and Jayce couldn't stand to watch something like that. He was cold, but he wasn't a monster. On the contrary, Jay's conscience was always buzzing and ticking loudly. Sometimes, the noise was unbearable. It had been humming the entire walk back from the forest. When he saw Daichi on the motorcycle, it had started to get louder. Yes, Jayce had wanted to fix Daichi's shoulder, and he didn't want to kill Daichi. He didn't want the other to die at all. In some convoluted way, he figured that if Akino died, he would win some invisible fight against Atkins completely. And Jayce felt his knuckles go white as he made a silent vow to himself. I will never lose to you, Daichi Akino. But man, oh, man. Jayce was heading up a massive front of opposition. On which side did he defend himself? To name only a few:


The side that wouldn't allow Daichi to die while in his company?

A physical or verbal strife that might awaken in the days to come?

Or perhaps the most dangerous fight of all -- attachment. Deadly and unadulterated attachment that would shatter Jayce into pieces.


//oml, shoosh your face. your post is perfect as always. 'size doesn't matter' ;p haha

this color just understands my soul. i swear.

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: townsend industries yacht
He should have kept a hold of that blade, but, well. Perhaps it was better that he had tucked it away. Jayce had taken to the other bed, Daichi's eyes flicking closed for a second as he listened. That one sounded familiar, but not coming from his own mouth. "A heartless man," he began, briefly touching his own chest as his eyes opened, "wouldn't have done what you did." Had Daichi been pitted with the task that Jayce had been given himself under that contract, he wouldn't have given Jayce the same mercy that he'd received from the other man. Daichi would have taken a shoulder, too -- wouldn't have wanted to inconvenience himself by taking a leg. But Daichi wouldn't have cleaned the wound. Wouldn't have taken care of the blood. Wouldn't have removed the bullet, wouldn't have stitched the wound. He would have taken all of the man's weapons for himself, not even offering him a word as to when he'd be seeing them again, because he wouldn't. And had he been pushed into foreign grounds to complete the mission, he sure as hell wouldn't have relied on Jayce for directions. Daichi could have just as easily led him elsewhere, because this was his territory. Home grounds and all that -- and Jayce would have been none the wiser. Would have forced Jayce onto his knees before him to let him know exactly what the rules were and who was enforcing them. More so, what. Did that make him a bad person? "A good person wouldn't have shot another man, mind you, but a bad person wouldn't have done this." Motioned to his shoulder, pushing his hand to his eye and exhaling. "I wouldn't have stopped you." Despite Daichi's quickness to fighting against orders, he wouldn't have tried to stop it. Would have pushed the other down low enough to where he got the upper hand -- just to make sure Jayce understood that he wasn't a coward. Daichi would fight, make the other think that he'd win -- but he wouldn't.

Three days. Three days. Could Daichi hold on for three days? Of course he could. He could hold on for six. He winced a bit, pushing himself onto his left side, just... watching Jayce. But it was Jayce's confession that made him stop, made him pause, snap his eyes shut, and growl. He knew that the wound wouldn't have killed him. Jayce knew. Knew that Daichi wouldn't die. So then why did he help? His shoulder jerked back, a low snarl emitting from him. Almost asked him why, but, oh, Jayce had told him not to question what he did. His motives, the whys, everything. Daichi lifted his hand, touching his own neck, slowly curling his fingers around the base of it. And he stared. "You shouldn't have." But he didn't say it in the way that meant thank you, no. It was hard truth -- Daichi quite nearly warning him. Oh, he'd kill him for this. Not now, no. But soon. Very soon. His fingers and hands were still shaking -- even more so, now. He curled his fingers around the duvet that he'd wrapped himself in, the chill that he wasn't used to taking over his entire body. Daichi knew how to fare against blood loss -- because, again, this wasn't his first time getting shot like this. Wasn't his first time suffering wounds. Fatal ones at that. And it wasn't his first time having to bend a knee to the idea that someone else would be taking care of him. And he hated it. Self-reliance -- that was what Akino had quite nearly based his life around. Being self-sufficient was the most important value that he held. If he didn't have access to that, then he may as well die. Daichi could take care of himself, and though that care wasn't exactly the most attentive thing, at least it was something. Someone else giving that to him? Oh, oh, oh, it hurt him to no end.

He finally pushed himself to lay on his chest, arm curled beneath the pillow, his right one pushed out straight at his side. Didn't pull the duvet all the way up, despite the chill that he felt, in fear of tearing the wound from the friction of the duvet. His face was hidden in the pillow, him refusing to look at Jayce, though his eyes were open. "And what? What am I to do in the meantime?" His voice was soft, quiet, tired. Didn't have the same fire behind it as it he'd had earlier. What was he going to do within those three (or six) days that it would take to make it to the United States? Grow stronger. Physical therapy, self-reconstruction. He would make it to where his shoulder moved like it had never gotten hurt in the first place. Make himself stronger. And maybe, maybe... No. If he was to die, he refused to die by the hands of anyone but Jayce at this point. Daichi's eyes closed, his fingers curling into a fist beneath the pillow. And after that, it didn't take him long at all to fall asleep -- letting himself go to the exhaustion that had been biting away at the edges of his mind for so long now.

[ the colour is beautiful, truly. have to say it suits you, though i can barely read it. size doesn't matter, right, right, right. and don't use the "p" word in my presence you know i don't like it ]

[Aᴛᴏᴍɪᴄ.]

⚖ Ｊａｙｃｅ
[age: twenty-four // nname: blue, jay] - [location: the yacht; bedroom] - [element: metal]
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"Perhaps," Jayce replied in regards to what a heartless man would and wouldn't have done, "So maybe I have a heart. But I pick when I use it or not." Atkins felt Daichi's eyes on him, but he ignored it, keeping to the pistol in an attempt to block out the other completely. He wondered just how long he could spend with this man before he lost that vow. He could feel the threads weaving themselves, attaching to the other in an attempt to pull Jayce closer to Akino. But he held the scissors and he always had. He also controlled the light. There was the switch. If only he just had the heartlessness to turn it off, Daichi would be dead to him completely. But he didn't. It would have been easier for the both of them if Jayce was like all the other men on this ship. Daichi would be the prisoner, and Jayce would be the man that kicked him into the cell, laughing the entire way. But oh, how contrary that whole statement was. Jayce had the audacity to hurt for his prisoner, and was even so much as contemplating taking the kicks for him. And what kept him from doing just that? Townsend. The deal. What Jayce could gain in the future had to be better than what he could gain in the present, here. Besides, what could Jayce hope to gain? Daichi was an animal in a cage at the moment. The second Jayce let him out, he would likely be torn to pieces. He was no fool. He knew not to feed the wolves lest they turn on you.

I wouldn't have stopped you. A sick grin overtook his features, and his hand twitched as he stopped cleaning the gun. What? Why? Why was this the man that Townsend had sent him to retrieve? Did he know? Had that rich man known just the kind of person Akino was? If this target was so keen on letting somebody kill him, then Townsend could have easily gotten one of Owen's kids to do it. The Scars would do anything for some easy money, and that man's inner circle was full of the most twisted and dangerous power holders the County had access to. And then, of course, the Spades would be thrilled to throw their tails in between their legs to get in the good graces of Townsend Industries. Everything back at the County was connected and the whole of it was a well oiled machine. If one side were to collapse, then the whole system would fail incongruously. But none of that was the point. He shot a look at Daichi and his brown eyes shot into the icy blue of the man he knew with the coldest eyes, Owen Griffith. Sometimes they just did that. Jay's own brown eyes were always too soft... too warm... to harbor anger. But Grittith's. He'd been given the eyes of the devil himself. There's a reason that gang leader was named Seven Sin back home. "You want punishment for whatever it is you've done in the past?" his voice was calm, but there was a bit of venom in it, and perhaps pain of recognition, "Let me tell you something, dying is easy, Daichi. Living is harder. The only thing you achieve by dying is silence and death. Nothing more, nothing less. Some people get tears after they die. But people like us? Our funerals will be silent. Nobody'll be there to say, 'well, that's what they deserve'. You want pain? Accept that you're alive and fight for that even though you don't deserve it." Jayce had contemplated it before. Sometimes he wondered, during his time in the military, what it would be like just to fade out of existence. He'd begun killing people. People he knew nothing about. If you'd known of Jayce before the military, he would be the last person you would ever guess to take a fellow human's life. So many lives. And that wasn't even counting the 20-.... he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were brown, and just as soft as ever. Yes. Jayce had begun to feel as if it were only right that he die because of all the lives he'd stolen. But it had been Julian to pull him out of his drunken stupor. Life was hard. Each day was more painful. And that's when Jayce finally understood why he was in pain. He was alive. And it was beautiful.

True, that had only ever hit him after he left the military completely. After Denmark's life had been spent in Jay's arms. He went back to living, and he fought for every day like it would be his last. He smiled fondly again. He was worthless without a smile on his cocky mug. For that reason, Jayce was smiling now. He even so much as laughed as he began to put his gun back together. He couldn't spend his whole night debating with Daichi about life and death. Sometimes.... people just wanted to die. And as a man who loved heartbeats, it broke his own. He was giving Daichi a Jayce-like silent treatment at the moment, looking over at the other just to prove that he'd heard but was neglecting to answer. And when Daichi rolled over on his stomach, Jay never actually looked away. It was hard to look away from people when they had you hook, line, and sinker. He was indescribably frustrated at the moment, but he couldn't help but be a little amused at the same time. Nothing about this situation should have been amusing to anybody, but Jay was hardly an 'anybody'. He dealt with these things all the time, and the world was broken around him. He had to try to fix what he could or he'd risk stepping on all the broken glass. Jayce was a walker. He couldn't afford bloody feet. The rise and fall of Akino's chest told the mercenary that his contract was finally sleeping. Sleep well, Volcano.

Still, his head was resting against the board, thinking about everything and anything in the low hum of the room. While you were busy, the rock of a boat was distant. That all changed when the rock was the only thing you became conscious of. Motion sickness. Of all the things that Jay had to be weak to... The rest of the night went pretty textbook for the man. He used his elemental powers to keep the metal springs from screeching as he stood to take a walk. The walk was then accompanied by a surprise hurl against the side of the boat. That was always charming. He spoke to Camden, who was on watch for the night with Craig. He watched the stars and the waves. Went back inside his room. Watched Daichi sleep. Cleaned his mouth out thoroughly. Watched Daichi some more and noticed that the other was much less irritating when he was sleeping. Then, he surrendered back to his bed to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. When that started to bore him, and his mind threatened to take control -- he began to clean Heads. There was nothing. Nothing left for him to do and it was... his brows furrowed in dismay as he looked at the clock. Only three thirty-seven? Three more hours came and went as Atkins spent his life awake, but as the clock hit six thirty his body gave out on him completely. The newly opened alcohol by his bedside table was the only evidence of a difficult night as the physically spent sharpshooter's eyes fell shut.

//alas, the misfortune of being bright blue. hard to read. i do agree. but uhhhhhhh.... what if i use the 'purr' form of the 'p' word. is that still forbidden? i think... i think you cant tell me what to do and im using it anyways. your posts are purrfect. moohaha!!

[important]

⚔ ── ＤＡＩＣＨＩ　ＡＫＩＮＯ
xxxxxxxxxxelement: fire • age: twenty-five • location: townsend industries yacht
Normally, it would take Daichi hours of lying awake to fall asleep. Staring at the back of his eyes, laying there, thinking. Everything that went through his mind, it was a process, an algorithm. He would go through everything, sort through the tabs, add files, delete them, change them. Sometimes it was automatic, that process. Akino's mind was controlled by something that he couldn't grab the reigns of, it taking its liberties to erase memories that were rightfully his. His memories, his thoughts, his ideals. Most of them were gone in the morning, and it was like starting over on a blank slate. Then he'd look around the room, and slowly, they would come back to him. Each piece of the room -- the picture, the bag of luggage, the missing door, sword, knives, box, closet, over-turned mirror -- would give him something, a memory, a piece of him. All he had on this ship was his sword and that photograph. What would he remember in the morning? Would it be enough? Enough to know who he was? Or would he be soulless, heartless -- a simple machine following orders and baring his teeth at everything that passed him? Where would his humanity go? Daichi was terrified to sleep most nights. Would do anything he could to stay awake, snapping himself awake when he'd start slipping. On the nights that he drank, he found it easier to stay awake. Seemed the alcohol worked its opposite affects on him, and rather than dragging him down into sleep, it kept him away from it.

But tonight? His body was begging with him to sleep. He'd been awake for far too long, had too many hours to catch up on, and his mind was starting to feel its effects. Daichi knew his body needed to restore itself, but that wasn't what his worry was. He needed to be alert, aware -- especially in this situation. Ever since he'd been discharged, sleep was his enemy. Now? He was back in territory that needed him to be at his one hundred per cent, and there was absolutely no excuse for being off guard. Instincts switched back over, the ones that told him to stay alert, stay alive. When dormant, he was nothing more than a sulking fight dog, snarling at anyone who came near him, whining for the gun to be pushed to his head. Active? He was a soldier. He needed that sting of pain, but he knew that he couldn't let it happen. Push on, push on, push on. That innate need to take to the sword, to hold it up and to show the world that today was not going to be the day. And his mind pushed him over towards that, sending his senses on alert, body needing him alive. Could feel the pain of his shoulder even as he slept, shoving the pain into the back of his mind and letting it fuel his anger, his vindictive nature that craved destruction and vengeance. And that was what he was going to get, with Jayce in the way or not. Alive or dead.

The only time Daichi dreamt was when he had alcohol running in his blood -- otherwise, all of his thoughts were still. Waiting. And he hated that silence, hated the nothingness that filled him, tore after his heart. It was hell fire and torture. He could hear and feel everything around him when his nights were dreamless like this, noticing every movement, every sound, ever flicker. But none of it was enough to snap him out of sleep, despite the burn of his instincts telling him to wake up, someone's in your house and is looking to end you. No. He knew better. So he forced the thoughts down, down, down, and letting the sounds around the room echo in his mind, fill the silence. It was all he had -- so he'd take it.

Then he snapped himself up, his good arm extending and bracing himself on the bed, shoulders, chest, and head up, eyes open but not seeing. Couldn't tell you anything in that moment -- his mind racing as it tried desperately to catch up with him, to fill the gaps, to give him all that it could to make him understand what was going on but it couldn't. Couldn't tell him where he was, or wh-- Daichi cut off with a soft and muffled cry, collapsing down on the mattress, face buried in the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. Pain was tearing through his system in waves, his spine dipping, body trying to curl in and writhe in light of it. Tried to bury the noise in his throat, arms curling around the pillow and holding on. What the hell happened? Tried to move again, feeling the familiar pull of stitches, torn skin and shredded muscle. Another noise of pain, this one a bit quieter than the last. Take in your surroundings. Breathe. Daichi twisted himself, lifting his opposite hand to gently touch his shoulder. Wounded. Blinked several times before letting his eyes wander the room, narrowed, calculating. Fell, first, to the door. Escape routes. Pushed himself off the bed a bit more to sit up, the springs in the mattress screaming at him, causing him to growl at the noise, warning it to quiet[ itself.

That's when he noticed the body opposite to him. Sleeping. It was sleeping. Daichi's shoulders hunched a bit, swinging himself to where he could grab his sword, which had been discarded along with his clothes, drawing it from the scabbard. Worked purely off of that flame of instinct as the rest of him and who he was tried to catch up. With the sword came the memory of his sister, Shiro's glorified form holding it out, her chin raised. Head up, soldier. The knives brought Daire, her smile, soft. He took a hold of one of the blades, pushing himself off of the mattress, standing between the two beds. Sword in his dominant hand, knife in his other. His calculating gaze slid over to the end table, noticing the bottle that stood there, open. Which, in the theory that he drank enough, the man should be in a heavier sleep than usual. Oblivious. Daichi pushed himself onto the mattress that the man was sleeping on, swinging himself over his body and resting back to sit on his legs, pinning him. Pushed the knife to his throat, then, hoping that would wake him up. "Tell me," he growled, low, leaning down a bit, "where I am."