ren amamiya 🌻 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
willowandoak) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
personavelvetroomdr2023-11-29 09:11 pm
willowandoak) wrote in personavelvetroomdr2023-11-29 09:11 pm
Entry tags:
old heat of a raging fire, come and light my eyes
He wakes up standing, which is weird enough on its own.
Instinctively, he tenses and bares his teeth, glancing around for threats, but there's no one around. He's in a long corridor, somewhat run-down but better than the home he's staying in, with numbered and named doors running up and down either side. He glances behind him to find another door, though this one has no nameplate beside it. An apartment building—but he's never seen it before, at least from the inside. It's like he was sleepwalking.
A key is in his hand. He tries the door behind him, which opens at once, already unlocked; inside is a tiny, lived-in apartment, with clothes strewn around and dishes piled up. A few books lie next to the narrow bed. None of it looks familiar, although all of it looks... comforting. Like he'd like to live there. Unnerved, he pulls the door shut and tries the key. He's not even surprised to find it works.
The building doesn't have an elevator, it turns out, but he's only on the second floor so it's not so bad. He emerges into Shibuya, recognizable by the buildings in the near distance, but they only hold his attention for a second before the people catch his eye. But he can see immediately that they're not people at all; they all wear the same blank smile, and they aren't paying attention to where they're walking, though none of them stumble. One of them stops to talk to a vendor down the street. The conversation is completely robotic. Goosebumps rise on Ren's arms.
He steps in front of one of the... whatever they are. She doesn't scowl at him or huff or do anything, just moves out of the way. "Hey!" he calls after her, taking advantage of the group home kid aura to make adults like him even less. "Asshole! Reeking puddle of liquid shit!" But she doesn't even turn around.
Then again, he doesn't really look like a group home kid, does he? His clothes fit. Jeans, a t-shirt and overshirt, and a pair of boots, one of which is weirdly stiff along the inside. And there's something strapped to his back, and other things tucked into the back of his jeans, hidden beneath the overshirt. It's like he was transported into some other kid's life, clothes and all. Ever since he awakened to Owain and learned about Mementos, he's a lot more willing to believe in weird stuff, but this... he doesn't know what to make of it. He doesn't know what to do.
He doesn't want to go back, though. Whatever other kid took his place—if anyone did, if that's what even happened, because if the not-people didn't prove that this isn't his Tokyo, the way it only takes him a minute to get places does—the group home is that kid's problem.
In the meantime, a twelve-year-old Ren is wandering around Shibuya. He's wearing clothes that look a lot like the clothes he wears as a teenager—jeans, heavy boots, a t-shirt, an overshirt, and the leather strap on his wrist, all of it somewhat shabby—but his hair is a mess. It looks like he hasn't washed it in a couple of days and hasn't brushed it in longer than that. There's a bulge protruding from the small of his back beneath his overshirt, visible mostly from the side or if he bends over. He is prone to mistrustful glares and snapping at people, especially anyone older than him, but should you choose to approach, you might find him in one of the following situations:
A. He has realized after cautious testing that the not-people don't care if you steal things, so he's going all out. All the food he can carry, and some books, and a brand-new Nontendo 4DS, and some games for it, and shit from the expensive stores his parents used to buy from but never bought him anything from, and... the bags are getting kind of heavy, actually.
B. He's located all the knives he's carrying, or at least he thinks he has. The switchknife, the huge knife strapped to his back, the belt knife. He's found the real actual gun as well, and even fired it once. He doesn't intend to do that again unless he really has to. It's not that it was scary, he just. Doesn't want to waste bullets. Yeah. Anyway! Now he's in a side street puzzling over the other red gun which was also stuck in his jeans. It's... fake? He's pretty sure it's fake. But something about it is still menacing. He just has the feeling that it does something. If only he could figure it out...
C. Wild card! (If you will.) Maybe you find him doing something else. He's wandering around Shibuya, poking his nose into things, trying to figure out what the hell's going on.
Instinctively, he tenses and bares his teeth, glancing around for threats, but there's no one around. He's in a long corridor, somewhat run-down but better than the home he's staying in, with numbered and named doors running up and down either side. He glances behind him to find another door, though this one has no nameplate beside it. An apartment building—but he's never seen it before, at least from the inside. It's like he was sleepwalking.
A key is in his hand. He tries the door behind him, which opens at once, already unlocked; inside is a tiny, lived-in apartment, with clothes strewn around and dishes piled up. A few books lie next to the narrow bed. None of it looks familiar, although all of it looks... comforting. Like he'd like to live there. Unnerved, he pulls the door shut and tries the key. He's not even surprised to find it works.
The building doesn't have an elevator, it turns out, but he's only on the second floor so it's not so bad. He emerges into Shibuya, recognizable by the buildings in the near distance, but they only hold his attention for a second before the people catch his eye. But he can see immediately that they're not people at all; they all wear the same blank smile, and they aren't paying attention to where they're walking, though none of them stumble. One of them stops to talk to a vendor down the street. The conversation is completely robotic. Goosebumps rise on Ren's arms.
He steps in front of one of the... whatever they are. She doesn't scowl at him or huff or do anything, just moves out of the way. "Hey!" he calls after her, taking advantage of the group home kid aura to make adults like him even less. "Asshole! Reeking puddle of liquid shit!" But she doesn't even turn around.
Then again, he doesn't really look like a group home kid, does he? His clothes fit. Jeans, a t-shirt and overshirt, and a pair of boots, one of which is weirdly stiff along the inside. And there's something strapped to his back, and other things tucked into the back of his jeans, hidden beneath the overshirt. It's like he was transported into some other kid's life, clothes and all. Ever since he awakened to Owain and learned about Mementos, he's a lot more willing to believe in weird stuff, but this... he doesn't know what to make of it. He doesn't know what to do.
He doesn't want to go back, though. Whatever other kid took his place—if anyone did, if that's what even happened, because if the not-people didn't prove that this isn't his Tokyo, the way it only takes him a minute to get places does—the group home is that kid's problem.
In the meantime, a twelve-year-old Ren is wandering around Shibuya. He's wearing clothes that look a lot like the clothes he wears as a teenager—jeans, heavy boots, a t-shirt, an overshirt, and the leather strap on his wrist, all of it somewhat shabby—but his hair is a mess. It looks like he hasn't washed it in a couple of days and hasn't brushed it in longer than that. There's a bulge protruding from the small of his back beneath his overshirt, visible mostly from the side or if he bends over. He is prone to mistrustful glares and snapping at people, especially anyone older than him, but should you choose to approach, you might find him in one of the following situations:
A. He has realized after cautious testing that the not-people don't care if you steal things, so he's going all out. All the food he can carry, and some books, and a brand-new Nontendo 4DS, and some games for it, and shit from the expensive stores his parents used to buy from but never bought him anything from, and... the bags are getting kind of heavy, actually.
B. He's located all the knives he's carrying, or at least he thinks he has. The switchknife, the huge knife strapped to his back, the belt knife. He's found the real actual gun as well, and even fired it once. He doesn't intend to do that again unless he really has to. It's not that it was scary, he just. Doesn't want to waste bullets. Yeah. Anyway! Now he's in a side street puzzling over the other red gun which was also stuck in his jeans. It's... fake? He's pretty sure it's fake. But something about it is still menacing. He just has the feeling that it does something. If only he could figure it out...
C. Wild card! (If you will.) Maybe you find him doing something else. He's wandering around Shibuya, poking his nose into things, trying to figure out what the hell's going on.