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thefoundation2020-05-30 08:04 pm
foundationmods) wrote in thefoundation2020-05-30 08:04 pm
Entry tags:
Resume Play
After the collapse of the Winchester house, everyone will have some time to regroup. The dead can be given bodies, everyone can have the remnants of the miasma washed away, and the 2000's group can be brought up to date on what's been happening for the last twenty years. It's been a long day, and taking time to process it all is probably in everyone's best interests.
But they won't get to rest for long. About an hour after the house's collapse, several all-black vehicles will roll up on the site of the former Winchester house. Most people present should recognize the uniforms and logos plastered all over everything: this is a cleanup team, the kind sent in after a successful containment to make sure the locals don't talk about what happened. It must be nice to have a somewhat-positive reception for once, huh?
But along with the group, a certain misty-eyes O5 will make their grand entrance. And as they step out and look over the group, they have something important to say.
"You did it. I...thank you. Thank you for saving them."
There's still details to handle and paperwork and interviews to do, but that is easy compared to what's already been done. With everyone's efforts, a potential XK-class SCP has been neutralized, saving the world itself, all without any permanent Agent casualties.
You all have exceeded Foundation expectations.
Congratulations.
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It's fine. Sometimes one's temper outstrips common sense, but sometimes one's entire self also defies common sense so just now he's running on spite and fumes and all of the tricks of the trade he shouldn't be using.]
Hmm. We slept for at least twenty years, after all. [a faint sarcastic thrum that's not quite up to his usual standard but it's hard to say whether being frozen in time counted as sleeping; it's also debatable exactly what kinds of fireworks they've missed, overall, but it probably doesn't matter] There's no reason to keep going, and there's a lot of catching up to do...
[Hikage's people watching doesn't get remarked upon, given that they're both moving at a leisurely pace, but it's not entirely missed, either. He's doing his own measuring up, after all, once they get into the restaurant proper -- and it's perhaps notable as well that no one gives them a second glance or even a first one in the cozy space, though this time there's the faintest glow in Subete's palm before he turns it downward, a small limning of light that sweeps its way down to the floor and spreads out like the faintest ripple around their chosen spot.
(It's strange, in its own way, to see people that are the people of this era without being the Foundation's lackeys nor a stray hotel's minions; 2020 is still very much an unknown space, but just now is, probably, not the time he wants to be dealing with it. And all things considered, probably no one out here wants to be dealing with him, either.)
Subete gives the menu a thoughtful sort of staredown, but it only lasts a moment or two.]
... The premium sake on your menu, if you please. One of each of these. [a careless swipe of a finger down the appetizers column with nary a glance at the waitress who seems to be staring studiously at thin air, keeping the same unnatural quiet stance as their driver; he tilts his head at Hikage instead] Order whatever you want. It doesn't much matter.
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While this being functionally invisible is odd, it's almost similar to what he does when he takes a face to slip into somewhere. His head is quirked as the whole interaction (if you can call it that) with the waitress transpires, and at the end he actually chuckles a little with a small smile. ]
It doesn't? In that case: the renkon hasami age and the gindara daikon nitsuke. [ His taste is old and his appetite for food is not that big. All said with his smile that's turned from amused to straight polite, keeping up appearances matters, maybe. It's after she leaves that Hikage speaks up again with a light exhale. ]
If you're trying to impress me, you're not doing an awful job. [ Like before, his sarcasm is bright and playful; there might be a hint of something else but it's overshadowed by the other colors, at least for now. ]
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[The sleep that allowed them to Escape From All Of That, because frankly even with his experiences or possibly even with their experiences combined it wasn't exactly a picnic and Subete certainly wouldn't have called twenty years of that anywhere near his to-do list. There were certainly memorable moments, flashes, but even now so much of it is hazy under miasma and barriers and swirled together like a great big potpourri of not-so-living darkness.
It's better not to think too hard about the places he went when he was down there; better for now to concentrate on what's in front of him, and the scant things that were bright and flashing enough or perhaps simply maddening enough to float to the top in that particular sea.
And that's just what he does. He doesn't have to spare too much thought for the menu itself, despite the upcoming need to order main courses, the mystery of Japanese-American fusion cuisine and terms (tapas certainly isn't something that comes up in the menus back home, as far as he can remember); so he spends the moments watching the atmosphere and the shifting shades of the conversation, head leaned on a hand.]
Hmm, those are about as close to the classics as you'll get. I'll call that rounding out the spread nicely until we can get to the main event.
[His taste is so old but Subete's commentary is incidental, letting one corner of his mouth turn up in not-quite-a-smirk. He's still recollecting bits and pieces of himself throughout the evening, like the day and ride had blown some dust off but also scattered things everywhere, but there are some things he can do reflexively as well, courtesy of perhaps too much practice.]
This, though, this is the bare minimum when you're looking for a night of drinking and company. [the curve of his mouth grows, like a shadow] It would be a pity if you thought this was the best I could do.
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Classic though, that really is a call out no matter how you look at it, but he can get out a sarcastic thanks easy enough. It wasn't really noticeable in the house but Hikage is an anachronism, even more so with a few more years between the most current set of memories he has. Given the time he'll adjust, even if his jiji taste is likely here to stay.
What it does mean for now however, is that he's off balance for their next step. He knows Subete belongs to the upper class of course (which he's no stranger to in his own way), but he apparently undershot just what that means in the modern times. ]
O-of course not. [ The bare minimum? He can't tell if that's realistic or if Subete is being Subete but he scrunches up his face momentarily anyway. He's somewhat saved at least by the waitress' swift return, and he picks a red sake cup from the selection as expected. And while this is when you usually wait to take the first drink together, Hikage needs the extra few seconds so #yolo he's just throwing back his first pour like a shot. He's already making a face it's fine, he has all night to appreciate how smooth and easy it is to drink. ]
...ha. [ A shift to a smile, just a bit lopsided. And a step back now that he's able. ] Is company what we're calling it? I was hoping for good company at least, considering how long the night will be. We might as well try to enjoy each other.
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Regardless, he's going to rest on his laurels a little despite the fact that they're both anachronisms now in some way: the funny thing is, Subete and those in his inner circle have always been out of time and out of place in some way -- ghosts in the machine in so many different ways, and now it's debatable whether they're still ghosts after their own fashion in the midst of this little bustling burb of California.
Some time jumps truly are larger than others, though: a child of the Digital Age, compounded by the addition of all kinds of mecha and metaphysical bullshit, probably has an unfair advantage at this point. Not to mention Subete himself is hardly the pinnacle of realism, either, because sometimes you have to have reality yield the way instead of the other way around. There's a self-satisfied spark to his eye, spilling over into his expression as he watches Hikage attempt to reorient.]
Good. Though really, this is more of a proper venue than I expected to find on such short notice. At the least, the city is more hospitable than its landmarks.
[Lordt, what does it say that all of this is still part and parcel of their first impression of the Bay Area; accidental cross-dimensional immigration really is a complicated affair, but they don't have to deal with that at the moment. Instead he selects his own cup, spring green veined through like cracks or branches, and while he's a little more restrained in his drinking he does finish the first one without pause.
The appetizers themselves, at least, arrive in short order -- a colorful spread of fried foods sprinkled with greens and seafood in various configurations, there's at least one or two salads and some octopus in there, maybe some of the croquettes.]
I would hope it's good company, given the alternative. [it's as light as their entirely careless perusal of top-shelf liquor, but there's the smallest brightness to it, too] A toast, though... to nightlife and freedom.
[Oh, he'll even be a good host of some kind and refill both their cups. No matter how obedient or convenient the service is, after all, this is between them.]
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That cloud of thought might be why he gives a perfunctory reply about the locale. ]
It would be more impressive if it wasn't. [ Really he's not one someone who has to live with luxury in his daily life even if it's what he prefers (your upbringing prepares you for many things), but weeks on end with rations and disgusting alternatives...the sight of real food, those that are nominally of his homeland is met with a few wide eyed blinks. (Has he even eaten today besides? Hm.) ]
...it is. [ Light, soft, bright; the cloud cover doesn't hide this hue, only frames it warmly. He hurries past it reflexively, reaching for a piece of ebi when the toast catches up to him. The longest blink at the seafood on his chopsticks, which he then sets down and...laughs. It's unlike any kind Subete has heard before, not laced with shadows or madness, but with true pops of joy not unlike fireworks. One, two, he catches his breath and himself at least a little. ]
Freedom? This really is freedom and it's—[ He laughs a bit more, reaching for his cup now. ]
Yeah, to nightlife and freedom. [ Proper cheers this time, the sake goes down smoother than the first time. ] This isn't how I imagined it, but I think I like it.
[ Okay his turn now to pour. ]
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It's difficult, after all, to climb higher if you've never seen the heights. They've looked, just once or twice -- at the varying qualities of color and light and their blending across the memories still trailing long shrouds behind them across years and dimensions, the miasma burning off quietly like the clear hum of sake on the tongue.
More vivid and beckoning still is this: Subete delicately holding his own sake cup up to his face and peering around it, falling behind on the drinking himself because these particular sounds and sights he hadn't expected at all even on this particular night. There are some things you do because they've been drilled into you, enough so that you can bring them to all new contexts, continents, company. No matter what.
The warmth and the laughter aren't part of it at all. For a long moment outside of himself he drinks that in instead, somehow falling back into himself and lowering his cup in time to murmur--]
... Yes. There's nowhere to go but forward, even in a world like this. [quiet and somehow uncomplicated despite the words, he closes his eyes finally and drains his cup] Or I suppose there's everywhere to go, if even my imagination can't keep up. I don't mind... a plot twist like this once in a while.
[A breath later he's going for the food, himself, beginning with the fish in a bid to distract his wayward everything in anticipation of more sake.]
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Ah, but he should eat; it's just one distraction after another but he doesn't mind, the almost forgotten ebi is eaten delicately because even not having had real meals for months is no excuse to leave manners behind. If there's a silly quirk to his lips he'll blame it on the food, one of the salads his next sampling because he truly is almost a rabbit and fresh greens might as well be gold. ]
A plot twist...that sounds better to me than an ending. [ Nibble, nibble and a sip of sake. There are barriers he has, but either he hasn't properly put them back up after today or he's left them down just to soak in all the colors and everything else ] I'm good at getting bad ones, so maybe I'll try something else this time.
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[The truth is that he's not real good at conceding anything either, but particularly when it comes to imagination and how it relates to the world, whether it be his own or someone else's. That being said hide and not-so-ghost seek hours are apparently now and continuing, because while Subete is not meeting anyone's eye at this point except possibly that of the fish he's consuming, it still helps to hoist himself on a hill of his own making somewhere amidst all the literal hills around them.
A little momentum and a good endless round of drinks can go a long way like this; and the warmer the sake settles the warmer everything is, and the easier it is to dispense with lines (but not lines). For the moment he continues to concentrate on the fare set in front of him, with the ease and grace of that same long practice at doing things like table manners with little more than half a thought -- a little for the taste, and a little for his companion's taste as well, because that's what hosting is all about, certainly.
Hikage will find more of the greens nudged his way, because at this point Subete is in danger of monopolizing the fried goods. Oops.]
After the last few endings, I think I'm down for that. [there's something not-quite self-deprecating, crisp, weighing the still-quiet words; a darker note sneaks in a moment later] I don't know what else will change, or if destiny... has anything to do with it.
But I do plan to keep taking back what is within my grasp.
[The ominousness is maybe mitigated a little by the fried maki he then stuffs in his mouth with a chopsticked flourish.]
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He's happy to indulge in more than his fair share of greens sans securing a piece or two of renkon-age with some inventive chopstick play. His companions back home were a good source of teaching on how to jockey for food; monopoly or not there's no way Subete could compare to Yamato who did his best at trying to eat the table on several occasions. ]
It'll be more fun this way. [ Repetition for himself and his company perhaps, spun with a playful edge that accentuates the crunch of the lotus root. A drink of sake later and a quiet blink at the dark note and pause. ]
Though I wonder if destiny could even follow everything we've been through. [ What number life was this? How many years old were they? It shouldn't be that hard to slip free considering all the loops they've been through. But speaking of loose things— ]
Mn, what was that about wandering hands again? Not that I'd mind. The rest would be fun to see too. [ That calls for finishing off his cup. ]
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(Their back-and-forth has a melody of its own, notes colored in familiar registers, not quite forest-colored: easy to follow, easy to lose oneself in. All the same it will probably take a little more time and sake to loosen all the way up after what brought them here, even were it not for his habit of dipping all his true colors in gray lately.
Maybe it's not so lately anymore; maybe in some senses it's always been that way. There are a lot of things about his old and new lives that are hard to untangle even side by side.)
Despite all the distractions and dissonances he keeps up fairly well on the chopstick front -- though Subete really has little experience sharing a table in this particular capacity and even fewer reasons to join the food fight, Hikage's sneaky grazing is enough to earn an amused half-smirk. It might be the conversation, too.]
Ha. At this point we might as well get what entertainment we can, now that it's not just playtime for unborn curses.
[Lightly, he snags himself some daikon, combines it with lotus root and unrepentantly continues making little mishmashes of flavor on the fly. There's table manners and then there's taking all the flavors you can, every flavor you can, in as many combinations as possible.
Sake for him, too, then -- dry as the cup he just drained--]
Destiny is a lot thornier than you'd expect. But I suppose that's what makes it worth plucking. [a breath, almost a huff, waiting for Hikage to put down his cup to pour again with his head leaned on a hand, but the smirk has curled a little more] I never did say I was one to keep my hands to myself either, you know. I've only just begun.
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The playtime remark with the whole food improvisation gets a light laugh, as even sudden improvisations are an improvement over the mewling of unborn curses. It's probably why he's a second behind in setting his cup down for a refill because there's so much for him to look at even if the subject of his attention is singular. ]
The difficulty is important. But rarity also matters, exoticness too—I didn't know I liked green flowers until recently. [ Patiently he waits for the pour, with a knowing quirk of his lips. ]
Ahh, so you didn't. I meant what I said earlier. [ He shifts a bit, having leaned forward at some point, but it's a moot effort as he eases forward again almost immediately. ] But thankfully there's other uses for my hands.
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So many things can sound the same with the right words, after all; even as he slowly discovers newer sounds, uncursed and uninspired by uninspired hivemind background radiation. It's Subete's turn to pause in his pouring, gaze moving to train carefully on the ribbon of sake and the tiny well of the cup.
His movements are careful, but that might just be because he needs a little extra coordination now for the sake. There's something like a laugh back, before he finishes up.]
Rarity, is it? The more things change, the more your tastes -- our tastes, I suppose, stay the same. What a difficult butterfly, but...
[His voice is languid now that the liquor is hitting, something elusive under the amusement, but he settles back against the table with cheek in hand again after a brief sip.]
What are you getting into now, hm?
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If you were to ask our former comrades, we likely share that too. Not the butterfly bit, of course. [ A touch silly and blithe, and a chance to take a breath and drink. He doesn't drain his cup, but it's close. ]
Sometimes, I wonder myself. [ A melodic hum that's not quite sing song, all too soft. He finishes his drink and sets the cup down, taking notice that the edges of the world have begun to blur like their colors. There's something funny in that, and he almost laughs. Almost, because there's still some room left to smile almost carefree. ]
Do you want to find out?
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[There's something mischievous mixed in with that, momentary but bright, because as muddy as all the moments of miasma were some were still too colorful to miss, and forward, forward they go until the scenery itself begins to fade.
It's hard to tell if there had been a line there or a true gap -- something unbridgeable or simply a bridge held up by hand or memories or the facsimile of memories. But as they say: time heals all ills, and they've already both figured out how to stretch their wings even without any room to maneuver.
In this case there's so much spread out before him (a feast? a mirage?) that Subete pauses for just a split second, maybe to think things over, maybe just to face the music and the aroma of sake all melted together. It's a shorter moment than even he thought possible, for all that he's used to decisions (impulses) like these. There are a thousand and one unanswered questions and unfinished thoughts and broken endings, about as many directions where the ground no longer exists underneath his feet, but:]
I intend to find out. [his gaze is sharp and flashing for that fleeting second, softened only slightly by drink, and he folds his hands and leans forward himself] You can't be the only one getting a show, Hikage.
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It's a moment made longer still by the sake and the weight of that challenge. ]
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That would be selfish of me. But I'm still a cheater, Subete. [ All this time and there's some things he's learned, he doesn't need to see that sharp gaze if he can hear it just fine. A curved smile follows, and only then does he look back to regard his company and the colors: green, purple, and red.
It's fleeting because without another thought (or perhaps any thought at all), he leans forward even more and completes the step, pressing forward into a kiss. ]
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But for the moment he just drinks it in the way he has everything, with a trace of hushed delight in the midst of the pause, vaguely wondering in the midst of currents of sake and slow-flowing tension between them how much more he can push--]
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This time, though, everything is so much more noisy and so much less at the same time: in the tide of a million and one things clashing and sparking in his head he lets himself get washed away instead in the cloud of warmth and contact, lets the rest of it go in a quick involuntary breath, ah, before leaning in in return.
Gamely, a little inexpertly somehow (maybe it can be blamed on the hour and the occasion and the drink or anything else), he meets Hikage in the middle.]
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I think...that counts as a show, even if I didn't use my hands. Yet. [ The most satisfied smile that belies the light pink dusting on his cheeks. He attempts to resettle a little and takes a sip of water that was previously untouched, but really he's just doing his own play at hide and seek. ]
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There's a brief waver when Hikage moves back, somewhere between indecision and simple lack of balance, but ultimately Subete manages to pull himself back on his elbows as well. There he stalls for a second, and at this angle it's easy to see that he's brightly flushed up to his ears, lighter complexion doing him no favors here.
It actually gets worse once words come into it, and he fidgets with the sake cup.]
That's-- [whether it's a lack of breath or a lack of composure he's forced to clear his throat when his voice cracks a little; Hikage gets away with his hide and seek because Subete is too busy downing the rest of his sake] That's cheating and a show. Figures you'd somehow combine them...
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I told you, and you seemed to like it anyway. [ A small laugh that almost makes him spill his water, but it would have been worth it even if he did. He sets it down though and carefully refills both their cups, blinking at the now empty bottle. Quietly after, he adds: ]
But so did I.
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And just now not even that: there's a small huff as the words and Hikage's sly expression hit him at once and he probably would have gone even redder if the sake and the situation hadn't already conspired to max out that particular stat.]
Well, yes, I-- [it's probably a measure of just how flustered he is that he doesn't even try to dodge, or maybe the actual dodge is the fact that the waitress appears with precision perfect timing to spirit away the sake bottle; there's a hasty nod for a replacement as Subete schools his features slightly, apparently forgetting the lack of need to actually put on any appearances in this space and under these conditions of his own making] ... We'll be ordering entrees next, I imagine.
[It's debatable who he's even speaking to, but maybe it makes everyone feel better to actually talk to the waitress regardless of her state of slightly uncanny compliance. A breath where he picks up the sake cup again in both hands and regards Hikage across it with some color still left in his face. His voice is a little lighter, smoothing out.]
It was pretty compelling, though. For an improvisation.
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It's getting harder and harder to differentiate between his thoughts and impulses, but he can control his smile by folding it into his hand as he soaks in all the still visible colors. If only his eyes and tone didn't say enough already. A quirk of his head at the waitress and the new order, followed by a huff. Well then.
He'll wait to comment until the appetizers have been cleared away (hm there's more free space on the table now), straightening up and sipping at his sake until the waitress is out of earshot.]
The last time we drank like this, a roomba wound up involved... [ He runs a finger over the rim of the sake cup. ] I'd pass on that repeat, but I wouldn't mind dragging you to bed instead of Date.
[ A slight pause as the waitress returns with menus and a new bottle. ]
Ah and that just means I need to show you what I really can do. It's a date, then—not tonight of course, but I'll keep going with that "improvisation" tonight too.
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[... It's at this point that Subete plain gives up and just puts a hand over his face, though it's not particularly effective given the renewed flush there is easily visible through his fingers and he's well on his way back to scarlet again. He probably should just resign himself to color-coordinating with Hikage's sense of fashion between the guy's motormouth and the flow of sake at this rate, but there's a certain stubborn echo in his mumble.]
I'll pass on that too. Honestly don't know if I want to know what you're talking about.
[It's a weak enough protest given that his tone seems caught somewhere between laughing and grumbling, but that's what you get for bringing up Date and beds in the same sentence at this point in time; whether or not Hikage was privy to that particular shenanigan in the swirling maelstrom of the hivemind, it sure does fold itself well into their mess.
After a moment he blinks his gaze away from Hikage's movements and busies himself with the actual sake bottle; there's pouring to be done even amidst all the unasked for callbacks, and while this isn't exactly negotiation it is on some level still a continuation of that dance started too long ago under the gloom of a foggy morning and the soft hum of too many kanji.
Now as then he spends a split-second too long simply contemplating what's laid out before him, somewhere above the actual table's surface, holding on to the sake bottle (maybe it's just the stage of drunk when everything seems slower, maybe it isn't).]
... But okay. [the fact that it's spoken a touch too quietly isn't quite enough to disguise something shining through the one word, before he speaks over it] The show must go on, after all, though I don't know if that means I should be keeping score. I'll have to think about it if we're doing an encore.
[And that almost manages to be playful apart from the fact that he's still studying his cup and the menu with that same not-quite-drunken care.]
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