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

[dipolar]

(can't resist moving when his sleeve's tugged, wrenching his arm away from it in an almost visceral reaction.

it gets done what ryuji wants done, however. his attention's pointed in the right direction, however briefly. it flicks away from the candlemaker's shop to avoid the possible attention before nodding once — and he tugs a shawl off of an elderly woman's shoulders and tossing it around his head and mouth to hide his face, flapping it away and holding it against his chest until the confusion passes and her family stop spying on the crowd.)

It suits you. (ducking, right after the clap-back, aiming for the door of the shop with a heavy shoulder and a hand on the door knocker.

the sooner they get inside, the better. whether or not the soldiers are looking will have to be left up to chance, but second the wood gives way to a large, warm space, counters, and countless candles, he feels far safer. and that's telling.)

Bar the door. I'll check the windows.

[ryuji]

[Social cues are not Ryuji's strong point, and personal space is even less of thing that he understands, at a fundamental level. If Hei's reaction at Ryuji's coy way of getting his attention without being noticed by everyone else is unwanted, well. Oops. It wasn't intentional, but the idiot is more or less like this with everyone.]

Eh. It's comin' off the second we get in there. [How in the world did they get to this point, exactly?

Oh right. Being fucking ninjas and Hei's glaring inability to avoid trouble, apparently. Now that the threat is over, for now, and Ryuji is busy trying to find something to push up against the door to keep it shut, he peers over to him as he works on the windows. It's still dark in here, but something about that image kind of suits the mood.

Eventually, Ryuji settles on pushing some tattered rug material up against the slit towards the bottom of the door. If they're going to sit in darkness, whatever, but if there's light, and- there's an abundance of that potential all around them- they don't need the shop to give off signs of activity inside. Next up is to move the heavy casing of the shop wares's shelving up against the frame.

He heaves a push with his shoulder, and eventually, it budges. Okay. Looks like he's secured entrance and exit. That should be enough for now, right? Last up, a candle.

Can electricity light a candle? Ryuji ponders this for a second or two, deciding, in the end eh, fuck it. What's the worst that could happen? before re-masking himself to channel kinetic energy into it until it sparks and lights.]

We got ourselves a bug-out, dude.

[dipolar]

(stilling by the curtain, he takes three seconds to gather his bearings and suck in a silent breath of air. it grounds him, keeps his mind as level as it can be, but he can't relax too soon — there's still a chance of intrusion, while ryuji shifts the room around in order to salvage some sense of safety from it all. a candlemaker's place is a commendable idea that the blond regrettably won't hear any real praise for and lighting any one of these creations won't be suspicious if the flicker escapes one of the thick curtains.

a sweep of the fabric, checking the exterior briefly and with his baited exhale. no sign of a threat nearing them, but the bogeys push away from the shop to heckle civilians with obvious descriptions of them. talking wildly with their hands to which the townsperson shakes their head at. for the time being, this will do fine for shelter and his weight shifts from the window, despite hovering near the wide sill. it'd be a decent place to sit, to keep watch even with how dark it is outside, but his silhouette might show in the window — he'll have to draw away and leave the duty to the straggling folk outside the door who come and go, all with different stories of the day.)

Clear. (a tight remark, while he rolls broad shoulders at the pain rest brings.

his adrenaline is flagging, joints are beginning to ache, and when his exhaustion reaches the point where his first comforting thought is taking a seat on the floor against a wax-drip shelf of myriad candle styles, he obliges it. back to the wall, he sinks and slumps.)

"Bug-out"?

[ryuji]

[Despite the fact that this is a shop specifically made to sell candles, one would think that finding a votive holder or some sort of chamberstick would be relatively easy- but it's not directly apparent to Ryuji's immediate senses. Which is kind of stupid, now that he thinks about it, so he starts groping around for something to stick it in. Takes a minute or so to do so, but he more or less ignores Hei's exasperated slump to the floor.

Fixating the light source in a properly secured fashion, he sighs. Every good thief knows what a safe room looks like, right? Sure, there aren't cognitive distortions coming out of every direction, but... he supposes it'll do for the time being. Funny, just a year ago he'd be so goddamn helpless right now, but he might have had a few good teachers lend him a hand over the period. If anything, he's a little proud that he safely got away. There's nothing more thrilling than the feeling of successfully getting away from someone trying to chase you down.]

Huh? Yeah, man. Like... y'know, when a disaster hits and you find a place to hide it out. Zombie apocalypse or somethin'. Tch, you don't know much, do you.

[He draws his lips into a thin line, slightly judging him at least at the teasing level. It's around this time that he finds a spot on the floor to find himself some comfortable leeway. Using that spell earlier had drained a good deal from his energy reserves, and coupled with the physical threat of roof jumping and escaping pursuers, he feels a little beat, too.

Ryuji places the candle between them, their positions relative to each other about equidistant from from the small flicker of light that it provides. He looks over at Hei, for the first time actually taking in his features a little bit better now that he's not trailing him and running.

He looks... kind of busted up, honestly.

Ryuji's hand gropes at the shop counter, relieving the baguette that he had stolen from that depressing house they landed in. Pulling it down, he rips it in half, weighing which was the bigger of the two cordoned off pieces, offering the hunkier one to Hei, across the distance.]

Well... Here. [He sighs, not backing down from ensuring that the other would take the makeshift meal he worked so hard to steal.] My first candlelit dinner. Greeeat.

[dipolar]

(stares at him through the childish explanation and consequent insult, committing this moment to memory. this will haunt ryuji for the rest of his life.

aside from being someone who clearly doesn't know the difference between a joke and an assault on his character, he stays silent and considers the new phrase he's just learned. sayings aren't his forte and his exposure to the speech patterns of such a modern teenager is — well, it's sobering. he doesn't know much, not in this sense, but language is not something he prides himself in. it's a means to an end, learned in order to survive much like this french wasn't.

his eyes only drop when ryuji sits. drag to the side when he's scrutinized. he has nothing to say, but shouldn't he try anyway?)

You— (hm.

what he's met when his head turns to face the boy more stolidly is a bit shocking, stomach giving a very painful flip at the sight of the baguette. it looks delicious, if a bit old, but the hunger that suddenly gnaws at him is unbearable. enough to make him press a hand to the centre of his shirt, gloved fingertips dragging into the linen of the tunic, scraping the skin beneath it. fuck, does he even deserve half of that? is so precious a commodity meant to be wasted on his voracious appetite?

it's suffering now; he doesn't feel like eating. to anyone who knew him — knew —, that'd mean the end of the world. but ryuji doesn't and continues to hold it out like it means nothing, coupled with another flippant remark. one that takes the gravity away from accepting the husk of a real meal.

so he accepts it, weighing it in his hand. then lifts it to press beneath his nose, inhaling its scent quietly.)

So disasters and apocalypses have hit your world...?

[ryuji]

[Those dark eyes. That grim stare. Oh no. It's the feeling of being woken up at 2am in the morning and Samuel Jackson is hovering over your bed! How will Ryuji ever sleep?! (Quite peacefully, probably. In fact, after a day like today? Probably even more peacefully. Growing boys need, what, 8? 9? hours?). Needless to say, whatever ills that are being sent in his direction are rather disregarded for the time being.

Ryuji watches with some curiosity as to whatever the hell it is that Hei's doing. He's never seen someone lust after bread, before. It's kind of weird, makes him a little uncomfortable to watch, and puts into question how any man ought to be looking at a loaf of 2-3 day old stale yeast and flour.

He goes to open his mouth and ask whether or not he's going to consume it or just fuck it to death or something, when Hei interrupts him with the utmost perfect interjection to change the subject and steer suspicion away from the carnage his nose is laying waste to. O...kay...

But on a scale of 1-10, how rude is it that Ryuji takes a bite, you know, like a normal human being does when they're hungry? He swallows it down. God, the quicker he can get away from this staple of the French diet, the better. He longed for the days of rice. He never thought -that- would be something he'd come to miss once he left Tokyo, but here he is. Homesickness works in weird ways, probably.]

The world I left behind... uh. Well, it was headed that way. Thoughts were becoming reality and some holy grail was sucking out the desires of humanity to control our thoughts. It was some weird, trippy shit.

[And it also sounds pretty... damn near impossible.]

What about your world?

[dipolar]

(doesn't mind awkward false-start ryuji makes, when he gets around to telling him eventually. what's said is confusing, taking a moment to try parsing it.

thoughts manifesting in reality. as what? physical forms? this all catalyzed by a holy grail. the cup, or the concept? it's convoluted, it's a lot for having just met the boy, but he can't say he doesn't understand the situation (if only a little). dreams and nightmares are bad enough without any help from supernatural phenomena that happen in his own world. just the barest idea of what ryuji's alluding to is enough to make the conversation an uncomfortable one.

his careful appreciation of the bread is cut short, tugging it away from his face. he pinches at the crust that's hardened and peels it up, dissecting what parts he knows will be easier on his stomach.)

It's not my world anymore. (what a vague... bitch...

no word of a lie, however, maybe even a bit watered down for ryuji. the realest answer would be that he doesn't believe it ever was his world, that he was a mistake and a foreign body that needed to be taken care of. that's how it treated him, at least, taking and taking and taking from him and never giving him anything back.)

I'm Hei.

(finally decides to take his first bite of the baguette, teeth pinching what softer bits he could sort out for himself and tearinga suitable piece off, chewing slowly. then quickly, barely managing to swallow and breathe in before he's taking another bite, then another, and another.)

[ryuji]

[He's got a tendency for being straight forward and blunt about whatever it is that's stirring up in that cobweb filled skull of his- so speaking about the current state of his home timeline is just an extension of that earnest honesty. He doesn't quite get a lot of it himself to begin with. The cognitive world, born from the collective unconsciousness that stirs below the level of the physical world, or Metaverse- any of it, really. It's a place where peoples' desires and hopes are stored, and it was being corrupted by a god who wanted everyone to think and act as one giant, uncaring mass.

Of course, the thing Ryuji had found most revolting of all that crazy shit was trying to take away freedom from people. Everyone should have choices, even if they're going to make bad ones.

Those problems aside, he takes in Hei's cool indifference to his origin point as a little off-centered. He imagines lots of people who joined COST of their volition ended up doing so to get away from their own problems, or to curtail issues that were inherently making life rough for them. Then there are the numbers who don't recall anything about the signup process.]

Doesn't look like this one is, either. [He offers a dumb smirk at that, all toothy and uneven. Hei might be trying to worm his way out of questioning, but Ryuji's an agitator. He's going to agitate.] Eh, but who's to say anyone belongs anywhere.

[... and by the way he starts to consume and devour, he gets the feeling that he probably doesn't belong anywhere. And because he likes to watch stuffy people lose their shit, he imagines this same scene at a fancy hotel buffet.]

Dude, slow down!

[Ryuji looks down at his own piece of bread, and for the first time in his life, feels sympathy for it. He's not nearly as voracious as the other, though, and sighs as he splits the remainder of his half into a quarter. Shit, if he's this hungry... he probably needs this a hell of a lot more than he does.

He offers a second unholy sacrifice to Hei's stomach, holding out the piece he just broke off. Enjoy your bread vore, dude.]

Ryuji.

[dipolar]

(feels like he could throw it all up the moment it hits his stomach, white bread balling up painfully at the pit of it, but it's necessary. hasn't eaten in days and hasn't wanted to, starving himself between binges only to keep his energy high and to make it through what trials he had to. this is overwhelming and he doesn't hear ryuji's bid to slow down or his name, things that will likely come to him later in dim impressions.

the second his fingers reach his mouth and he has nothing more to bite into, hei grabs for the proffered bread ryuji holds out to him and digs his teeth into it with a heavy stare at the far wall.

the crust he's picked at and pried off is turned to in time, crunching on that when he has nothing left to eat. it hurts his jaw, but is helpful in his reintegration to the present where ryuji sits staring dumbly and hei's left realizing that he's just ravenously eaten three servings of bread without a word of warning put out there. doesn't feel like an apology is warranted, at least, when he makes an awkward shift against the wall and presses a crumb-covered glove to his stomach with a close of tired eyes.)

What did you do on that roof?

(it's sudden and prying, but the lightning that was showered down on them was a startling thing to witness so soon after being displaced from his world... where something like that could be considered normal.

a deeper breath's taken to aid in the settling of the food, a quiet inhale, before a somber stare finds its way back to ryuji.)

That lightning... where did it come from?

[ryuji]

[You know, on second thought... he just puts the remnants of his own meal into his lap and decides that now's just not the right time. He'll revisit it later.]

Uh... it's a long story.

[Every time he had to explain it, he starts at different points. There's no rhyme or reason behind any of his abilities, other than the snippets that he does understand- it's a time like this that Akira or Morgana would be better to have around. Maybe not so much as the guidance that he prooobably needs, but more to help him know what's the upper limit of his poker hand that he ought not to dish out to people that he's just met.

Nevertheless, Ryuji absolutely sucks at secrets and holding back. Maybe it's a constant inkling for recognition or the urge to be impressive, or something, but he digs deep into his pocket and pulls out his skull mask. He thumbs over the outline of the eyes, feeling its warm, almost vibrating presence stir in his hands. It didn't make sense- how this even existed outside of the Metaverse to begin with, or how Ryuji could summon in plain daylight.]

It's magic, I guess. Me and my friends back home... [A small pause, recognition to the fact that he feels more alone than ever without him at their side] ... we got these powers from accepting ourselves. Mythological tricksters that we summon to help us stop the assholes of the world from letting their fucked up desires run free.

[His eyes meet up with Hei's, recognizing that his attention is pretty much focused on him. Did he say something weird?]

That's... pretty much all there is to it. A bunch of vigilantes who got fed up with shitty adults.

[dipolar]

(the way ryuji forfeits the information without much deliberation is a relief. it means the kid's honest, at least for now, and hearing about someone else's abilities is something of a comfort. open with what they can do, it means he isn't in any danger of being attacked in the moment — as good an assurance as any.)

You summon familiars to fight for you?

(hm. there's a problem he has with that.)

I didn't see anything, when you brought that lightning down on the guards.

[ryuji]

[He had determined that before, when he tried out his persona summon on someone else- that whatever is allowing him to keep his bond to Seiten Taisei was still intact, but his actual appearance upon channeling him was sealed to anyone but him. Maybe it made sense, since this wasn't the Metaverse- the cognition of his visage wasn't something that appeared to the French people. But then again, he never tried to use his powers outside of the underworld. He never had his mask with him when he left, so he assumed it was impossible.

Ryuji can't make much sense of it, either, but it's nice to know that he isn't defenseless out there.]

Yeah. I guess they're kinda like that. Personas, at least. When Joker was making contracts with them, we'd hold up the shadows and negotiate until they agreed to give us their power. He can summon a bunch of 'em, but I only got this one.

[He can't sense hostility, if it's there, either.]

I guess they can't take shape in this world. Anyway, my magic's mostly centered around buffing strength and... the lightning you saw earlier.

[dipolar]

(personas, the familiars they summon to fight for them. like spirits or gods being called on to do work for the user. hei likens it more to the abilities of a doll, dead set on understanding the explanation by creating connections of his own — the only way he'll really be able to, if he can't see.)

Buffing? (considers this game term, one lost on him.) You mean strength through muscle.

(eyes dropping to ryuji's body, narrowing at his physique.)

...

(judges quietly, lips a firm line.)

[ryuji]

[...]

[ryuji]

[Don't you look at him like that. Ryuji just guffaws for a few seconds, realizing that he's just been sized up and deemed a whelp, and his face scrunches up.]

Don't judge a book by its cover, dude.

[Usually speaking, he couldn't care less what people thought about him; it's how he got through life, straight out of a page of the Slacker's Guide to Life, but with Hei he feels compelled to fight back at the words that are said without speaking.

It's always the scrawny guys that want to fight until they're ground beef.]

My physical attacks are pretty sick.

[dipolar]

If they're anything like your lightning attack, I'll agree with you.

(credit where credit's due. he's not the least bit aware of the things personas can really accomplish.

props an elbow up on the peak of his knee, leaning back against the wall.)

It must tire you a great deal.

[ryuji]

[Everything comes with a price, right?]

Yeah... If I use 'em too much, I'll die. Using your persona drains life outta you.

[He's never put too much thought to it. He just knows that after a particularly intense battle he feels like his limbs are about to break off and sometimes he feels lik he can barely move, but he's never gone past the limit of what seems right. At least, not to the point where if he summoned just one more time he'd be... well, gone.]

Eh, who knows. Maybe I'll die young or something 'cause of it. Not somethin' I can worry about. Either way, I gotta use it or else I'd be... kinda useless.

[Which... is the last thing he'd ever want to be.]

[dipolar]

(he knows the feeling and doesn't want to relate to it.

kind of impossible when there's nothing else to do but sit here and ruminate on everything. understands that he's a man half-alive and shouldn't even go that far, that ryuji is living unrepentantly and the way he likes — he can't compare himself to someone like this. "hei" is a tool of war, someone who does other people's biddings in exchange for small comforts he can't feel.

thankfully ryuji is a master of his own, using this persona most of the time instead of stretching himself too thin.)

Be careful of your limits. (an obvious suggestion, pausing before adding another:) If you die young, be sure to resolve your regrets before that time comes.

[ryuji]

[Quirking an eyebrow at Hei, he finds a bit of weird incredulity to the entire conversation. Is this supposed to be some sage wisdom or something?]

Regrets... [Maybe watching Hei eat was one of them, but-]

I dunno. If you go through life worrying about regrets, then when it's all over, at the last minute, you probably won't die happy or something. It's like...

Y'know. The things we've done or wished we could've done better are a part of who we are.

[Don't live with begrudgingly, basically.]

[dipolar]

(listen... a starving man's gotta eat...

hei isn't concerned about dying happy. he knows he won't; he's never known a life without regret. he does, however, agree with ryuji where the latter's concerned.)

They stain. (after a moment of thought, almost respectful.) The things done in life. They stain. You know that, don't you? If they're apart of who you are, then you should be careful where your future with COST is concerned.

[ryuji]

I uh... I know what I signed up for. I didn't really have much of a future back home, so when I saw the opportunity to be some... dumbass intergalactic hero, I wanted to sign up, right away.

[He probably could've thought about consequence a little bit more, but he knows he needs to see change in himself to be a stronger person, or else everything he's done in life would be for nothing.]

So, it's okay. The stains, I mean. Just gotta hope your heart is strong enough to keep you clean.

[dipolar]

You don't want that.

(why would anyone? he wouldn't change the way his life's played out, having accepted his lot a while ago but — it haunts and ryuji will come to understand that now that he's chosen this.)

"Hero". Heroes don't exist.

[ryuji]

[The second Hei starts by insisting something about his own desires, Ryuji's mouth opens to go and correct him. It slacks, for a second- the kneejerk response here is always to tell anyone who thinks they know Ryuji better than Ryuji knows himself is to fuck off, but is being a hero what he really wants? He bites the inside of his lip, and there's an awkward silence for a few moments, before he shrugs, letting his head lean up against the counter behind him, staring at the ceiling.]

I never really made anything outta myself where I was from. Just gettin' everyone worried about me or thinking that I was garbage and didn't have a future. It kinda gets to you after a while, y'know? I don't know shit about heroes. I just don't wanna be the same person anymore.

[He takes a bite of his remaining piece of bread. He realizes that it's probably weird to say something so candid to an absolute stranger, but, whatever.]

[dipolar]

(god, he doesn't want to hear any of this. he doesn't want to have any excuse to care, any opinion on him at all. it's uncomfortable and he considers leaving.

but ryuji needs to understand something.)

This is not going to help your identity crisis. Don't you understand that you'll only make it worse?

(it's his final warning, nothing for it now. if ryuji's made up his mind then no one can help what he'll become in the future. if they're thrown into battle after battle, something that can be expected from the war they're fighting with COST, then there are far too many chances for this boy to make irreparable changes. killing men doesn't give someone a choice, it takes that choice away.

if he can prevent that, he will. if he can't, it's none of his business after this conversation.)

Life is not so black and white. Think harder about what you want, instead of accepting the first thing that sounds the most glorious.

[ryuji]

[Identity crisis? That thought is... it's so weird to Ryuji to think that this is what it could be. In his mind, the very act of accepting a persona is to find that identity that you've pushed aside and locked away from the rest of people to see. What he summoned when he made that first contact, when he ripped the mask off himself and accepted the world for what it really was- it was the mask of rebellion. It was the desire to fight for those who couldn't fight, and taken down the people who held the whips and the chains against everyone else.

That... well, that hadn't changed. Ryuji still feels it. Just because the stakes were going to get higher, doesn't mean that he didn't want to stop protecting those that needed protection.

It's dumb. He's dumb. He knows he is.]

I'm sorry. [He takes a breath inward, carefully thinking about what he wants to get across.]

You're right. I ought to think more. I never really do... just kinda jumping into what feels right and not caring whatever happens to me.

I'm sorry too... that you musta been through all of it to know what the difference is like. To like... have to stand back from things and feel like that.

[He's never met a person like Hei before- and it's the little things that's tipped him off to believe as much about him as he has in this short period. His mannerisms, the way he doesn't care about anyone else but himself... but then he's here, telling Ryuji not to follow a path he can't tread backwards on. He sees the disdain in his features.

He's never looked at a person before and felt what hell can wrought through a man, but Hei is pretty damn close.]

What do you want out of life, Hei?