let fury have the hour,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Agoge's third TDM! And the death of an important guy. And some very upset royalty.
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.

IT'LL BE FINE;

Paris, 1792: revolutionary france.

read the France setting infopages

arrival for new recruits

(Note: If you were one of the people who used the previous TDM and want to use that as canon while still participating in this one, feel free! The following will still happen, though the guide will apologize for a malfunction in your BCE causing you to zap through the intervening month instead of joining your comrades like you should have. You'll be assured the glitch is fixed now, and it probably is. Probably.)

You wake up in a Parisian hotel room with a kind woman standing near the door, waiting for you to awaken. You have none of your clothing, just black military-issued underwear, and none of your previous possessions beyond the one you chose (if you remember choosing) to bring with you.

The woman by the door speaks French, and if you didn't understand the language before, you do now. If you have questions as to what's going on, she'll answer: you are a member of COST, a paramilitary organization of time travelers fighting against the Regency, a tyrannous kingdom of the future who are trying to stamp out freedom and individuality in the name of peace.

She will provide you with the clothing necessary to fit in at this time, and show you how to use your BCE implant to look up information on this time period and its social and political mores. She won't let you leave until you're properly dressed to fit in, but once you are, she'll wish you luck.

KILL THE KING

It doesn't matter if you're new, or if you've been here a while. You'll hear about the execution going on today. It's as though the barely restrained urban chaos of Paris has ground to a halt. Everything is about the king. Is it really going to happen? Are they really going to do it? Can they do it? Is it even possible?

Anyone out of the loop will be filled in, but with no small amount of ridicule: Today is the day of the king's execution. His trial has wrapped up, and the National Convention voted to execute him for treason and tyranny.

The crowd at the execution is enormous, a riotous mob of passion barely restrained. Everyone is jockeying for a better view, with children and adults climbing up on nearby statues, lampposts, the sides of houses, rooves, some even hang from windows. Everyone watches the scaffold.

The prison cart arrives with no fanfare save the yells of the crowd. Within it sits a small, fat little man, looking like he's doing his best to remain composed. He's brought to the scaffold, and his crimes are read out: colluding with foreign powers, and the crime of royalty, which is anathema to the republic of France.

When asked for his final words, Louis Capet, known to some as King Louis XVI, speaks in a quiet voice. "I forgive my enemies."

When the blade comes down, the crowd errupts into cheers. Many rush forward to touch the blood of a king, dipping bits of cloth in it in an attempt to save it.

I PREDICT A RIOT

It's as though all the built up tension in Paris exploded when the king was killed.

Who knows what started it. Rumors spread like wildfire, and it doesn't matter, does it? In the end, most of Paris is swarmed with chaos, especially in the areas nearest to where the king was executed. There's no doubt that the riot and the king's death are directly related; no peasant currently throwing stones and breaking windows will deny it.

Fights are happening with great frequency. It only takes a word, a half sentence, for someone to decide you're some kind of counter-revolutionary. There is a current of anxiety in Paris that hasn't gone away; after reaching a fever pitch, it has expressed itself with violence and chaos.

let's visit the tuileries

The Tuileries was the royal palace in Paris, the last residence of the king before his death. Of course the people of France end up clamoring at its gates, screaming profanities and attempting to scale them.

The majority of the guard let them do this, making only the most token of efforts to keep the peasantry back. But one guard, a man by the name of Antoine Colin, seems to become spooked and shoots repeatedly into the crowd before someone knocks him out.

By then, though, it's too late. The crowd was rambunctious, but not murderous. Now it's bloodthirsty, and the gates are stormed. It isn't long before the common people of France are trampling through the corridors of power. Inside, they'll mostly find servants running and hiding, and lots of valuables to steal.

Most are content with that, but not all. Some clamor for the deaths of the queen and the royal children-- per the laws of inheritance, Marie Capet's remaining son is now King of France. Should he not die as well?

The queen is hidden in a safe room, a hollow wall inside her apartments. Do you try to find her? Try to save her? Try to kill her yourself?

...And what about those kids hiding in there with her?

BRING IN THE TROOPS

The riot in the Tuileries lasts several hours, well past nightfall. It's beginning to peter off, people loosing their energy or vigor, when the sound of gunfire echoes from the front courtyard.

General Lafayette has arrived to save the queen, and brought with him a retinue of personal soldiers. All on horseback, brandishing firearms and sabers, they stream through the expansive halls of the Tuileries and attack anyone who looks out of place. They're here to clean up this mess with no concern for more filthy peasants getting in the way.

Aftermath

The night is a long one. Several fires break out in various parts of Paris, shops are looted, and several die in the Tuileries. The queen has disappeared, along with Lafayette. Some say she and Lafayette died, and they'll show you the bodies for a couple sou. Others claim they saw them riding off into safety just before sunrise. There are already talks of hunting them down, trying to find the traitors.

Only one thing is known for sure: It may be advisable to stay inside for the foreseeable future.

read the France setting infopages

NAV NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Comments

[lonelywar]

[It was a singularly unique experience that he had never had, having the sudden thrill and joy to hear his own language spoken after so long - for there were others among their number that spoke it (and some from times closer to his own), but he had not spoken to any in-person for over a month, since they had arrived in this city. Of course, with hundreds of years of linguistic and dialect drift separating them, he also received the unique experience of hearing a language he expected to understand, yet having pieces of it seem completely out of reach. As if he were a child again, listening to the complicated words of adults.

Still, he looks up immediately catching sight of someone silhouetted against the darkening sky on the roof of a nearby building. He was some distance off, and Ashitaka found an exhaustion beginning to permeate him down to his bones, so he raised a hand in a gesture of acknowledgement rather than put forth the effort required to shout back. He crosses a street over through a narrow alley, finding the doors of the tavern having been torn nearly off the hinges. He steps inside and carefully picks his way through the interior, which had already been tossed and scavenged thoroughly for anything of worth. From there it's only the matter of finding the highest window and making his way onto the roof.

He can't say it's the most graceful thing he's ever done, but he ends up standing on the roof with Ryuji nonetheless. It's strange, to have spoken so much with someone to where you felt you knew them and then meet them in person some time later. Another novelty. Ashitaka has to look up to him slightly, for the disparity in height. He finds himself having... a few questions about his hair, but definitely for another time.]

I am fortunate, then. [Answering what he had shouted just a few moments earlier. Part of him, perhaps the piece fused with Nago, insisted that he would have been able to handle it, but the general languid state at the moment argued against it, louder. The clothing he wore, something that had once been a uniform before he had removed the jacket and other parts that might betray his former allegiance, was torn in some places, coated with dust and dirt in others, and with a few splashes of something dark that might have been dried blood. Whether it was his own or another's, it was hard to tell; he did not seem injured (or he was very good at hiding it).

Typically, Ashitaka would have remained standing until given a cue otherwise. Here, he sits on the roof next to where Ryuji stood, his breath leaving him in a short sigh. The streets were darkening but still somewhat alive with occasional movement and harsh cries, fires burning at multiple places.

His left hand moves to grasp his right forearm.]

This is what history remembers happening here?

[Had they done it "correctly"? Looking at it now, it seemed nearly impossible for him to believe.]

[ryuji]

[Ashitaka is poetry made tangible, wrapping itself up around his movements, the way that formality metes itself out into its own verses dug deeply into his gesturing, the cadence of his speech a long since forgotten relic of a past Ryuji had never lived. It's like looking into the mirror of his culture, but the image reflected back is not that of cities, hyper-indulgence, restless masses in the subway with equally restless, blank faces. It's what Ryuji picks up the first time he opens his mouth to reply to him, up on the roof, and his jaw slacks a little.

The great Ryuji Sakamoto, brought to stupor by the ineptitude of finding the right words to say. He would have to study his words a lot harder if he wanted to be more comprehensible to the man that was joining him. Funny, how in exact opposition, where Ashitaka had felt himself a child in the face of modernity, Ryuji had felt the same reflected way. Like a 9th grader learning Shakespeare for the first time, and here he was, barely even knowing the end of the Tale of Genji.

He looks his friend over. Friend, right? They'd spoken enough about all sorts of things for him to think that something had been born out of it, but he's not too sure. Not yet. You can't judge a character just by texting with them, right? He looks exhausted physically as Ryuji does mentally. Even in this dim light, he can tell that's dried blood- he'd seen enough of it all over the streets of Paris, had come to know its smell, the way it lingered like rotten food. And he sighs, rubbing the back of his head precociously, knowing that whatever he said would end up embarrassing himself in front of someone so old fashioned as Ashitaka.

Nonetheless, he joins him, sitting down.

Were they both defeated?

It's hard not to see the chaos still rampaging throughout the streets of Paris. Ryuji still felt guilt whenever his eyes had passed over them, but it was still better than the instant reply he got of seeing the king's head lobbed off when they were lidded.]

Yeah, pretty much. Some stuff is gonna happen, and then... there'll be peace for a while, I guess. Or not. It's hard to kinda know what the hell we're doin' here.

[But they have to believe that they're doing the right thing. It's what they both agreed upon.

And Ryuji just feels... lost, for a few moments. Like he had made a wrong turn and wound up centuries in the past, and he wants to find his way back to the smiling faces he had loved more than his own shitty, meaningless life.]

You, uh. You ok? You look kinda like you just got outta---- erm. [Right. Shakespeare.] You look as if you've been through a lot today.

[lonelywar]

[It's strange—there is, if he pushed his mind to imagine it, a straight line of trajectory from the life he had known in the village of the Emishi village, pushed through the focus of the people he had known in Irontown, eventually, hundreds of years into the future, to whatever Japan Ryuji hailed from. In a way, Ashitaka was anxious of knowing the future, knowing already from their discussions that the gods were dead—or, at least, which ones remained were twisted and domineering of the humans they coexisted with. It seemed to represent a future where he had failed, and the flames of human greed and ambition had swallowed up the last remaining vestiges of the ancient gods of the forest.

It was rude to think such a thing, though, and he had no proof that it was completely accurate. It was just another symptom of having been taken away from his quest and placed into COST's employ; it gave him too much time to think of the possibilities, when before he had been too concerned with his next step forward to pay them much heed.

It is nice, though, to share time with another. Ashitaka had thought as much along his journey with even the monk, Jigo, even though he had concerns of the man's motivations. Ryuji was far superior company, even if an initial meeting after so many discussions over the network was providing a little more awkward of an introduction than he would've anticipated. The timing didn't really help, but after everything had played out as it had, Ashitaka had found himself with no place to go. The picture of the sky that Ryuji had sent had seemed an option, so he had followed a whim here.

On a rooftop in revolutionary France, watching the end of an era.

He thinks of Eboshi, the battles she had led and won, the world that she envisioned carving out for herself and hers. Did she look upon scenes like this and feel nothing but victory? He wondered how.]

I see. [There was always peace — for a time. More and more it seemed to him that peace was just the breath between the howls of war.]

We have done our part, then.

[His voice rings hollow, something reflected in the furrows dug beneath his eyes.

What they had done was right. COST told them so, supplying that this, somehow, strove towards a future that was not reigned in tyranny. That was a foggy justification to Ashitaka, though; far more difficult to see than corpses in the streets, fires busy consuming pieces of a city that had just days ago been standing strong.

At the question, Ashitaka turns to face Ryuji, seemingly curious. He then slowly looks to his hands, the sleeves of his outfit, then takes stock of the rest of him. Oh. He had felt tired, complimented with the aches of minor wounds, but he'd felt that way before. It hadn't seemed pertinent.] Oh.

[He lowers his hands, resting them on his knees.] We have all been through much today. [That's... probably not the answer Ryuji wanted, though. He continues, almost hesitantly.] But I am fine. It is nothing that time will not heal.

[He looks pointedly at his companion.] And you?

[ryuji]

[If only Ashitaka had asked; the future isn't as grim as its portrait suggests. There are beautiful things in the world, inherently busting with their own inner aesthetics. Of course, it depends on who you talk to, but anxiety about the future is a hallmark of all humans. Go to college or start a different career path? Worry about the world your children will grow up in. There are so many different things to panic over, and only so much time in the world to give attention to. It's when you start letting those things become more than what they were, you realize the gap between what is and what should be. As for Ryuji? It wasn't going to do anyone any good if he was paralyzed by that fear, and talking to Ashitaka proves that to himself, at least a little.

We have done our part.

Hm. For someone who likes to grab life by the reins and shake it out, it's a hard pill to swallow, but a necessary one. Eren had warned Ryuji not to lose his humanity in all of this, and maybe he never would- maybe he would feel this way after every kill that was to come, or every mission whose resultant action led to something horrible and undetermined. But Ryuji couldn't loosen the grips around the implications of his actions, and it gets him to think, to really think, for a moment about how his actions have deeper rooted successes and failures to them. And when it's called into question, will he really believe that a success for COST is the same success for himself? That one's left up in the air.

But this exchange is all sorts of weird. It doesn't have the hallmark of the blond idiot invading personal space, hanging off the shoulder and ribbing, and teasing to the point of frustration. There's a lack of excitement about Ryuji, and it's probably what makes things a little awkward, in the end. He's always expected to be the mood lifter of the group, no matter who, or where he ends up.

And decidedly, this look just... isn't him. He looks up at the stars for a moment, remembering a time his friends took him to the planetarium, and he thought that it was the most boring thing he had ever laid eyes open. Practically a snoozefest. But looking at them now, it's easy to feel paled in comparison to how far away they really are. He closes one of his eyes to lose perspective that both open would provide, and holds out his hand, eyeball leveling with one of the twinkling motes millions of light years away, plucking it straight out of the sky.

If anything, it's a nervous reaction of anxiety towards not knowing what to say. Ryuji never knows how to sit still for extended periods of time.]

Good thing we've got all the time in the world then, huh?

[And as if it's no small task to lasso a star straight out of the sky, he holds his hand out the other, offering it dumbly. Ashitaka probably thinks he's a weirdo, or something, but, well. Ryuji kind of is. He finds encouragement from all the wrong sources and rarely ever has anything deep or meaningful to say. He's just guided by his earnestness, a trait that he can't hide from anyone as much as he tries to.]

'm okay. Pretty shook up, but, what can ya do? It's like trying to move the stars.

[He smiles, albeit a little jarred, a little mucked up, uneven.]

Here, hold onto this one for me.

[lonelywar]

[They didn't know where their association with COST would take them. Perhaps their plans led them forward, through the tangled avenues of time and history to a point where it would begin to resemble the world Ryuji was from. As hesitant as Ashitaka would be to see such a thing, he wouldn't be able to deny his own curiosity. Time had been such a limiting factor to him, his most dire and mortal constraint. There had been nothing but himself and the hours left before the curse would tear his life to pieces. There were a lot of adjustments he was making mentally, loosening those shackles, realizing there was more time to consider this, to see that, to set these things straight.

He felt as though he was cheating his curse, defying his fate, but none of it was within his control. Sure, he could remove his talisman and try to fight it, though he felt as though he was cut off from what might have lifted it in his own time. There was the possibility of what Ryuji had offered, to steal the curse away from his heart, but he wasn't confident about that—merely curious.

A quick glance sent Ashitaka's attention skyward as well, noticing seemingly for the first time the wide expanse of stars. That tapestry was one that felt familiar, far more so than the wartorn cityscape stretched before them. It was kinder, for a moment to simply turn one's eyes from the destruction and think only of the stars.]

I suppose you are correct in that.

[They had far more time than any one person should be owed. He wonders what its cost would be.

Motion tugs his attention back towards Ryuji, and he looks at the offered hand. It takes him a moment to link it all together, the gesture a moment ago to this one, then to his words. As recognition clicks into place, Ashitaka's impassivity breaks for a moment; he smiles warmly, accepting the idea that the other young man had offered him.] I will. [He withdraws his hand, clenched into a fist; he can almost imagine the heat of the captured star.] Until we can return it, that is.

[Why not? They had already done the impossible, in his mind. They were here.

Still, he is glad that Ryuji is not worse for wear.

He looks back up to the sky. Unprompted, an errant thought leads him to ask,] The time which you are from, is it a peaceful one? Or was your fight with that god part of something larger?

[ryuji]

[What would a person do if they had thousands of years to live, all in the blink of an eye? This was almost like cheating death, wasn't it? If anything, there's the infinite possibility of places to go, people to see, and an equally infinite amount of time to look within. Ryuji has a lot of road ahead of him, and he knows that- knows that he can't be the same person he was before he jumped into the chasm. It was impossible to not accept alterations, tailoring, different outlooks on life. How does the saying go? You can't step into the same river twice. He doesn't know what it's store for him, can't possibly know, but he tries his best anyway. Hopefully there never comes a day where some of that humanity inside him dies; where he doesn't feel so corporeally ill at the thought of someone dying by his hands. He needs to hold onto that guilt- it grounds him. Anchors him to a place like this rooftop, under the infinite numbers of stars above him. And no matter where in time they end up, these are going to be the same constellations that he sees. Isn't that enough?

He puffs some air into his cheeks, holding onto it for about 4 seconds before letting it go into the night air. Whatever, this is... it's too much thinking to have to do on a night like this. Ryuji's resolve wavers a bit, he leans onto his hand, interlocked hands supporting himself behind his head as a really bony pillow might.]

Mmn. I dunno. Is that weird to say? I lived my life in that time period only thinkin' about what was in front of me. [His voice, although pointed upwards to the road that bridged off into the heavens, was meant for Ashitaka. It's a little rude not to look at the person you're talking to, but. He figures the other won't mind too much.]

If I had to take a guess, though. It's pretty peaceful. The biggest wars we face nowadays are the ones inside ourselves. [Whoa, deep.

But, heart felt. Ryuji had seen what existed inside people enough to know what struggles they faced.]

Everybody just wants to be seen. Y'know. Loved and appreciated, 'n all that sappy shit. The problem's that... uhh... I dunno how to say it, really. But when everyone's only thinkin' about themselves, it's kinda hard to look out for each other. You shout like an idiot, just to be heard, but you're so caught up in it that you forget you gotta listen, too.

Can't say I'm any different. But that's my battle to fight. [He looks over at Ashitaka, now, smiling earnestly.] Sorry, I know I ain't makin' much sense.

[lonelywar]

[It was an amount of freedom and control that even Ashitaka thought was too much. To be able to go anywhere, be anywhere, at any time from immemorial to the apparent heat death of the universe. It gives him a twin feeling of respect and dubiousness towards the ones directing them, thinking that it took a great amount of forefront of thought to make such incredible and impactful decisions... but also a great amount of arrogance. Well, no. Perhaps that is not the right way to think of this. He didn't get an impression from the sergeant that they used this power simply because it existed, but because it was one of the few tools they had at their disposal to fight against a terrible eventuality.

He didn't have enough information to make judgments on that, so he simply remained cautiously relieved he wouldn't be part of the decision-making process in that regard, even if he was complicit in whatever they decided upon.

When Ryuji answers, Ashitaka doesn't think it's weird to say. Sometimes your life perched on the knife's edge, as his had in the village where he had grown up. They had peace in name alone, training all able bodies to wield weapons in the inevitable day the emperor would find them and try to rout them for good.

It seemed that that was not the same as what Ryuji had faced in his own time, but there are thin threads of similarity that run between.

As his friend speaks he lies back against the roof of the building so he could look up to the stars, hands resting on his chest.

He's thinking on what Ryuji had said when he looks towards him, so he notices a moment later, glancing over to him quickly. He shakes his head.] No. I believe I understand you.

[It was just different. Ryuji lived in a world that was crowded with people, where interaction was commonplace but truly personal interaction where you saw a person for who they truly are was rare. If you were so often reduced to just a forgettable face in the background, he could see how it would foster the evils in those people's hearts.

Ashitaka's experience was simply from a time where people were fighting too much for their own lives and survival to worry so much about such things. But it seemed a similar struggle, an echo throughout ages, as the battles he had seen between men and gods had also been about the battlefields within their own hearts and minds.]

I have seen much of war since I left my village. [The words are measured as he speaks them.] But whether it is a battle for dominion of land and resources, or to simply be seen and acknowledged... I feel as though it is much the same, from a similar place. There is a hunger for something with no clear answer how to sate it. It becomes easy to let it rule you and to strike out for what you feel would ease it, using whichever justifications help your cause.

[Eboshi could wrap her purposes in the guise of simply wanting to protect and provide for the people in her care, but he had seen the fires of ambition burning in her eyes; she was serious in her desire to rule the world, and everything else were simply supporting factors. He had felt it as well, when the anger of his mark had nearly caused him to draw his sword and strike her down; he had only stopped himself, knowing killing her would not fix any of the larger issues.]

People do not change, then. [He couldn't tell if it was comforting or depressing.]

[ryuji]

[Here they were, then, two people who were so unalike in their upbringing and what they considered normal, finding that the constant between the red threads of fate and time itself were inherent in all of humanity. It was a hallmark, then, one that didn't change despite cultural or temporal barriers. Ryuji stares up, comforted that, no matter what, this view would never change as long as they were still on this lonely, little fucked up planet.

It hasn't been a thing so much, up until now, but he realizes that as he talks to Ashitaka, it's a weird tightness that starts to build up. Like he's slowly realizing how weird it's been not having people around him all the time. Ryuji's had too much time to be by himself, which was never a problem before he had met the friends he eventually became close with. And here he was now, months later, barely hanging on because of watching an execution in broad daylight. What type of person could he be to COST if he could barely handle his own ineptitude when given a little bit of independence? He had to do better.

But, first thing's first.]

Mn. Yeah. It's hunger. I guess that's the right word for it. Sometimes it's good though. Being a little hungry makes you work harder, y'know? Guess everything just comes down to a balancin' act.

[He illustrates it with his hands, as if he had a pole in his grasp and was walking a tight rope. Then, realizing that it's pretty weird, he takes a moment to laugh at himself and then turns his head to face Ashitaka, who was now admiring the sky just like he was. The smile on his face at the sight is simple, earnest.]

Y'know. Like walking on the ledge of the roof. Not that I've got a death wish or anything. [Maybe in better spirits, he'd be doing that, right now, but... there's still a lot on his mind.]

Hey, man. Thanks for chilling with me. I know I don't say it enough to the people that matter, so that's all on me. [But I wanna be a better person.] But... yeah. Thanks. It means a lot.

[lonelywar]

I suppose you are right.

[He doesn't sound as assured as his words are, though. He continues to stare wistfully up into to the sky.

Perhaps that was a modern concept. It was a different world, a world where there were more people and less resources, where you were taught that you had to fight to make yourself seem more deserving, working more to earn more to be more. He had always learned to take only what you needed. Any more, and you threatened to offset the balance or anger the gods of the woods.

But perhaps Ryuji was right and it was just another balancing act. Enough impetus to keep mankind moving forward, looking to improve and grow stronger without taking away from what was around them. But to Ashitaka right now, surrounded with a city in revolt, it seemed like an impossibility.

He looks back to Ryuji at the sudden earnest admission. He looks a little taken aback for a moment, but he eventually gives him a slightly wan but gentle smile.] Thank you as well, Ryuji. [He shifts a little, one of his hands falling over the other.] I am used to facing things like this alone. [Even when being offered (temporarily) peaceful time with the people of Irontown and the beings of the wolf clan, he had felt alone, constantly stung with tiny reminders of otherness.] It is nice to be able to be like this for once. To be able to speak about things like this.

[ryuji]

Ah man... if you keep telling me I'm right, it's gonna go straight to my head.

[He's not a stranger to that feeling of aloneness- he'd been branded an outcast by everyone he knew for years before Akira came along and showed him that there were other ways to reject society at large. There's a time in his life where everyone around him expected nothing out of him and got their assumptions paid back to them in spades. But knowing that he has to work harder, now, more than ever, he needs to keep on the right side of the track.

Maybe it was a bit of a forward pass, but Ryuji is most at ease when he's able to speak his mind. It's been weeks, kept hostage by a job he hated in a role he wasn't very well suited for, and he had to keep his mouth shut for the entirety of it. To just have someone there by him, tonight, of all nights? He didn't know how deeply he could express his gratitude at that feeling of just... not being alone.

Something tells him that Ashitaka isn't very different in sentiment.]

Hm... yeah, it's hard to face the entire world by yourself. You just get shot down every step along the way as you swim upstream. [He watches the sky above them, too.] But you don't gotta do it all alone. Call on me when you need some help.

[lonelywar]

[Ashitaka smiles warmly.] Fine, then. [He looks back up to the sky for a moment.] I shall be sure to remind you of when you are wrong as well.

[Keep you in balance, at the very least.

He knows more than most the truth of that statement, that it was nearly impossible to stand as one against many, a single stone wishing to withstand an unrelenting tide. Even people who had begun to hold him in high regards had turned upon him when his different standpoints became obvious. Had the woman that had shot him the chest been one of the women working the bellows that evening he had gone to speak with them? He couldn't remember.]

I will.

[It's strange to have such an offer. He had only had himself to rely on for so long.]

It seems as though they will not call us to retreat tonight.

[Which meant they were spending the night in a town descending into war.]

[ryuji]

[A short bit of laughter breaks through.] Huh? You sure you wanna take that job on? I mean, you're gonna be super freakin' busy. [Just in case he doesn't get the point---] I'm wrong... like, all the damn time.

[He gets the sentiment though, and he appreciates it. Ryuji holds it close to his heart, and feels comforted by it. It's hard t find people out in the world that share some of your own aesthetics, but he thinks that, out of everyone he's met in COST so far, talking with Ashitaka makes him feel more calmed and at ease. He closes his eyes, imagines a time when the other might've been thrust into modern Tokyo. How funny would it be to see him and Futaba bicker?

He's getting ahead of himself, though, and he has to remind himself that this isn't home. He can't keep referring to a time or place that has never technically happened yet, or else he won't be able to move forward himself. This was just the beginning of a new chapter in life, and he'd have to accept the newness to it all without judging everything against the standards of his old life. It's rough.]

It's pretty safe up here. I've barricaded the door so no one can get up unless they climb.

[He holds a bit of hesitation inward, towards his chest and- since he can't ever hold a thought in for very long] Stay here with me? At least I can sleep better knowin' the both of us ain't in danger.

[He knows the phrasing is selfish, but... it's easier to say that than to stick with the other, more obvious reality of the situation. That he doesn't want to be alone tonight.]

HE IS SO SWEET...

[lonelywar]

[Ashitaka turns to Ryuji with a wide smile.] I am not sure you give yourself proper credit. [He thinks about it a moment, seeming to find the words that he wants.] You are not wrong about important things very often. The other times... it is funny, right?

[From what he can tell... let's just say the winds of humor in Japan changed quite a bit from the Muromachi Period to modern day. But still, he can sense Ryuji's joviality about it, and that was just as well.

He is actually very relieved at the offer. The palace was a picture of perfect devastation, which included the housing which had functioned as the barracks for the guards. Ryuji had just saved him having to ask, which was fine by him. He knew the truth of what he said, having gone through the efforts of having to climb up here himself. He can't imagine COST leaving them behind in this city for too long, so they could just wait it out until the call to retreat sounded.]

Of course. [It's said as easy as breathing; if he caught any of Ryuji's hesitation and inner conflict at the question, he surely doesn't show it.] It would ease my nerves as well.

[He had felt a strange impetus to spurn companionship on his quest, growing momentarily close to the lives of those he met to understand them but keeping them at arm's length so attachment didn't cloud his judgment. San had been something of an exception to that, though she was an exception to everything — but he had known she would act along her own imperatives and those alone.

Regardless, there was much of being with COST he found troubling, but the fact that he could begin to rely on people and grow close to them was one thing he found a comfort. That he could feel more secure, knowing both that he was with his friend and that he was not in danger.]

THIS THREAD IS GIVING ME CAVITIES. also, to tidy up, the end?

[ryuji]

[The feeling is of warmth and companionship- seeing Ashitaka smile at him. It's weird at best; since coming to France, Ryuji hasn't felt much kindred-ship to anyone around here, and yet here the two were, already being joked on as being a giant goof in the midst of a riot. It makes the delinquent feel at ease, more than he's about to let on, so he just waves the words away like they're raindrops sliding down shingles. Still, being able to be himself, and just stop worrying about the anxiety and crushing feeling of the world around him?

It's good enough. He couldn't ask for anything better.

Although he doesn't know enough about COST to have an opinion, all he can go by is whether or not he still feels like he's working towards a goal that he finds agreeable. Ryuji's never been one to accept authority blindly, so there's bound to be areas where he's going to disagree with their motives, but learning some discipline in his otherwise unruly state of life is going to do him some good. Even if it's not martial discipline, like how to take orders, but more along the lines of what it takes to find the inner strength to stand on your own, he's happy here. It gives him purpose and something to march forward into.

Back home- there was nothing for him anyway. College dreams weren't possible with his already abysmal grades, track scholarship was tossed down the drain ages ago, and he'd otherwise be in a position where he watched all his friends move on to bigger and greater things than he could ever accomplish. It's a reality that he's come to accept. But when he's laying down on a roof in Revolutionary France, and Ashitaka is by his side, the limits of his own inner strength and the future both seem as blurry as the operative capabilities to throw them through the throes of time and space itself. There's possibilities here; he's learned it. You can be a soldier guarding the palace or an art thief bent on changing the way society felt towards something. The combinatorics of routes and paths are innumerable.

For once in his life, he doesn't see an end point when he looks within. He sees an infinity. And whether or not that path is strewn together with death, well, that'll be something he'll need to come to terms with. But, whatever. It'll come with time. One step, and another, and another.

He looks over at Ashitaka and gives a thumbs up.]

If you snore, I'm throwin' you over the edge.