ren amamiya (maruki's ending) (
flightpen) wrote in
personavelvetroomdr2024-02-02 02:51 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all your mother's weaves and your father's threads
Ren hasn't seen the Velvet Room in a while.
There was at time when he was in here every week, fusing Personas to Caroline's acerbic commentary or listening to Yaldabaoth mutter ominous words of praise. It was different in January, like a lot of things, but the point is that it's gone now. He's not even sure Lavenza and Igor survived what happened.
And yet here he is, in what's recognizably the Velvet Room. But it's changed. It's not a prison anymore, even though this would be the best time for it; Ren's heart is in chains. What was it Akechi said to him? Your heart is free. Maybe back then.
Never mind that. Igor, if it is Igor, is unforthcoming. Make bonds—as if Ren can make bonds when people can't even have a meaningful conversation. He'll be returned to the moment he left—as if he wants to go there. His friends are happy, Akechi is alive, and Ren, like Maruki himself, stands outside the world. When he tries to press, Igor gets cryptic and nonsensical, and that's so fucking familiar lately that Ren doesn't bother to keep trying.
You might find him in the following situations:
1: the rockrose and the thistle will whistle as you moan
Maruki has left him alone, mostly. God's favorite. As far as Ren can figure, it's because he knows perfectly damn well that Ren finds his reality repulsive, and he wants Ren to accept it on his own. The implication there is that Maruki also knows deep down that people aren't themselves once he changes their cognition, but that's not a surprise. Maruki talks a big game, but on some level he must know what he's doing. Surely.
Anyway, like we were saying, he's left Ren mostly alone. But he loses time, comes back to himself with the coffee cold or the sun at a different angle or an awful TV show at the end of its saccharine episode. And although he never remembers feeling what preceded it, he knows. Too much despair, too much bleak hopelessness, and Maruki turns him off like a lightbulb until it's gone again. Can't accept the new world if he's too depressed. The stupid self-defeating hypocrisy of it is annoying as hell—is he meant to accept the new reality of his own accord or isn't he? But there was a time when it would've pissed him off a lot more.
He stands in front of Igor's desk, in a place he doesn't recognize, unsure where he is or what's going to happen to him, or where his friends are, or whether this is a new stage of Maruki's reality or something entirely different, and despair swallows him whole. He waits to be shut down.
And waits. And waits, saturated in misery like he hasn't in weeks. For a split second he almost finds himself grateful to Maruki for taking it away, but he flinches back from going down that road. Like this, frozen, waiting to blink and find that his legs hurt from standing too long, he's barely aware of his surroundings.
2: all the pins inside your fretted head and your muttered whens and hows
Having pulled himself together (and not lost any time, as far as he can tell?), Ren decides that the obvious first stop is the conspicuous board that stands in the strange Velvet Room. It doesn't look... Velvet Room-y. It looks like it was brought in from outside, and as he scans its bizarre contents, he realizes he's right.
The business about Akechis and Rens being fated to be together makes him feel a little sick, so he skims it quickly and moves on. Demons, vampires, okay, that's... he'll deal with that when he has to. But as he reads the list of Akechi codenames, his eyes land on one in particular. In the middle of the corvids and the predators, there's Sparrow.
The description leaves him without any doubt. His stomach sinks. Is Akechi okay? Can he even survive in a place like this? How is Ren going to find him?
3: you gently gift it to me 'cause you've no clue how to sew
In a first, helpless attempt to locate his Akechi (different enough from other Akechis, apparently, to be identified on sight... well, that's true enough), Ren decides to head into Tokyo and go looking for places Akechi still enjoys. Kichijoji is an obvious one, with the jazz bar and Inokashira Park and his apartment, the location of which he kept behind his lips the entire time Ren knew him, only to immediately invite him over in February. But instead of taking the train, Ren walks. Travel is strangely quick, and it gives him time to look at the cognitions, which the board claimed were eerie.
The board wasn't wrong. They don't even seem like the brainwashed people Ren is used to—cognitions is definitely the better term. At least the people back home have some variability in how they act, and at least they have some kind of mild reaction if you inconvenience them. Ren steps in front of them once or twice, sticks out his leg to trip one of them even, and they don't even frown at him.
Maruki's reality is still new. Maybe this is where everyone is going to end up; automatons, puppets, walking around like video game NPCs. His skin crawls. He stands to the side of a busy road in Shibuya and watches, stomach churning.
[[ooc: This is the Ren from
pheasantboy's universe.]]
There was at time when he was in here every week, fusing Personas to Caroline's acerbic commentary or listening to Yaldabaoth mutter ominous words of praise. It was different in January, like a lot of things, but the point is that it's gone now. He's not even sure Lavenza and Igor survived what happened.
And yet here he is, in what's recognizably the Velvet Room. But it's changed. It's not a prison anymore, even though this would be the best time for it; Ren's heart is in chains. What was it Akechi said to him? Your heart is free. Maybe back then.
Never mind that. Igor, if it is Igor, is unforthcoming. Make bonds—as if Ren can make bonds when people can't even have a meaningful conversation. He'll be returned to the moment he left—as if he wants to go there. His friends are happy, Akechi is alive, and Ren, like Maruki himself, stands outside the world. When he tries to press, Igor gets cryptic and nonsensical, and that's so fucking familiar lately that Ren doesn't bother to keep trying.
You might find him in the following situations:
1: the rockrose and the thistle will whistle as you moan
Maruki has left him alone, mostly. God's favorite. As far as Ren can figure, it's because he knows perfectly damn well that Ren finds his reality repulsive, and he wants Ren to accept it on his own. The implication there is that Maruki also knows deep down that people aren't themselves once he changes their cognition, but that's not a surprise. Maruki talks a big game, but on some level he must know what he's doing. Surely.
Anyway, like we were saying, he's left Ren mostly alone. But he loses time, comes back to himself with the coffee cold or the sun at a different angle or an awful TV show at the end of its saccharine episode. And although he never remembers feeling what preceded it, he knows. Too much despair, too much bleak hopelessness, and Maruki turns him off like a lightbulb until it's gone again. Can't accept the new world if he's too depressed. The stupid self-defeating hypocrisy of it is annoying as hell—is he meant to accept the new reality of his own accord or isn't he? But there was a time when it would've pissed him off a lot more.
He stands in front of Igor's desk, in a place he doesn't recognize, unsure where he is or what's going to happen to him, or where his friends are, or whether this is a new stage of Maruki's reality or something entirely different, and despair swallows him whole. He waits to be shut down.
And waits. And waits, saturated in misery like he hasn't in weeks. For a split second he almost finds himself grateful to Maruki for taking it away, but he flinches back from going down that road. Like this, frozen, waiting to blink and find that his legs hurt from standing too long, he's barely aware of his surroundings.
2: all the pins inside your fretted head and your muttered whens and hows
Having pulled himself together (and not lost any time, as far as he can tell?), Ren decides that the obvious first stop is the conspicuous board that stands in the strange Velvet Room. It doesn't look... Velvet Room-y. It looks like it was brought in from outside, and as he scans its bizarre contents, he realizes he's right.
The business about Akechis and Rens being fated to be together makes him feel a little sick, so he skims it quickly and moves on. Demons, vampires, okay, that's... he'll deal with that when he has to. But as he reads the list of Akechi codenames, his eyes land on one in particular. In the middle of the corvids and the predators, there's Sparrow.
The description leaves him without any doubt. His stomach sinks. Is Akechi okay? Can he even survive in a place like this? How is Ren going to find him?
3: you gently gift it to me 'cause you've no clue how to sew
In a first, helpless attempt to locate his Akechi (different enough from other Akechis, apparently, to be identified on sight... well, that's true enough), Ren decides to head into Tokyo and go looking for places Akechi still enjoys. Kichijoji is an obvious one, with the jazz bar and Inokashira Park and his apartment, the location of which he kept behind his lips the entire time Ren knew him, only to immediately invite him over in February. But instead of taking the train, Ren walks. Travel is strangely quick, and it gives him time to look at the cognitions, which the board claimed were eerie.
The board wasn't wrong. They don't even seem like the brainwashed people Ren is used to—cognitions is definitely the better term. At least the people back home have some variability in how they act, and at least they have some kind of mild reaction if you inconvenience them. Ren steps in front of them once or twice, sticks out his leg to trip one of them even, and they don't even frown at him.
Maruki's reality is still new. Maybe this is where everyone is going to end up; automatons, puppets, walking around like video game NPCs. His skin crawls. He stands to the side of a busy road in Shibuya and watches, stomach churning.
[[ooc: This is the Ren from
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
no subject
"Yes. It was the same for me. I left on April 1st, but the date here when I arrived, by my phone, was September 6th." He remembers the dates so precisely that it's haunting. "So I've been here quite a while. It's one of the tricks this place has. Like so many of them, it can be disorienting."
Something about the way he says that last part is grittier, somehow. Something here has disoriented him.
no subject
no subject
But his face falls. "It's things like... I need to tell you, because the strong likelihood is it will be the same for you. But can I see your phone?"
He hasn't forgotten what he wanted to check, either, that started all of this off.
no subject
no subject
*NEW* Goro Akechi. +5418-xxxx-...
...and then turns to Ren, radiant. "It is you. Look, here. See the code at the start?"
He has his thumb over the date.
no subject
"It's an identifier?" But it's not identifying him, it's identifying Akechi, so something is weird.
no subject
*NEW* Ren Amamiya. +5418-xxxx-...
"See? That's you. Same world code. And if I click..." He touches the name. "There are our messages. Yesterday, I suppose, for you." Inane on his end, noncommittal on Ren's, they certainly are the same messages. But Akechi is so relieved. "You see, the place is kind in that way at least."
no subject
The board.
no subject
"What did it say about me? Though I suppose it would be funny, if you read some dreadful description and thought ah, yes, I know him."
no subject
"It wasn't bad. It's just. I talked to another one of you, and he mentioned you kind of. Check out sometimes? When it comes to certain things. And the description brought up something that was kind of related to that stuff, so I don't know if I can..."
God, this is awkward. At least at home, he could say whatever, and then Akechi would just forget about it. He seems to retain some memory now, which is... good. It's good. Of course it's good, why was Ren even questioning that? Fuck. But it's hurting him.
no subject
Because what would that imply? If Akechi has these episodes that have disturbed everyone so much, and Ren, who is from his same world, who has these same episodes at home—what would it mean if he's just fine?
no subject
"Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
no subject
He can't think of another of him who's taken such a consistent interest in—well, everything. Even Magpie still just glares at him in the corridors.
no subject
I have to know.
no subject
"Listen, do you want to come upstairs? You can see my new apartment." New, tee hee. "You should probably eat something, too. Or would you rather stay outside? It is nice here."
Every so often, a cognition or two walks past, blankly smiling. Akechi doesn't seem to notice.
no subject
no subject
"I'm afraid you'll find it a familiar tale. I'd rather talk of nicer things." Nice this, nice that. "And things that are more interesting, too. Come on." He turns, to head for the park gate, and across the street—which is missing its usual quiet traffic.
no subject
"Okay. Then tell me interesting things about this place." He follows behind Akechi, hands in his pockets. Everything's fine now. He's found Akechi, and okay, maybe Akechi is unhappy, but he isn't—torn into pieces by demons or Shadows. So everything will be okay. It will be. It will be. It has to be.
no subject
"First, the business with the parallel universes. Many copies of me. Fewer of you, for some reason, and fewer again of Haru and Futaba-chan. There are a few others around—Takamaki-san is here, though not the one we know, and Sakamoto-kun, too."
They leave the park, and cross the street towards the building.
no subject
no subject
Stopping by the elevators, he hits the call button for the top floor, just as he did that first time he invited Ren over, as if it was nothing. He skips over the next most interesting thing, which is how everyone has superpowers (that he can't remember) and comes from a world with misery and pain (because something tells him he won't like the look on Ren's face).
Perhaps in this scenario, Ren is aware of something the rest of you are not... Who had said that to him? Was it Crow, too?
no subject
That's kind of interesting. He watches the floor number on the elevator tick higher and higher. This whole thing is like a dream.
no subject
The elevator stops, with an annoyingly tasteful ding. Akechi gets out, and heads not for the west-facing apartment Ren might remember, but to the next side of the building where the apartments face north.
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)