ren amamiya (au) (![[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)
personavelvetroomdr2024-03-31 09:38 pm
willowandoak) wrote in personavelvetroomdr2024-03-31 09:38 pm
'cause laughing, right now, it's all that i have
content warnings: drug misuse, self-harm (both very mild/mentioned). (Also, Ren is going to develop a Palace in the no-longer-so-distant future so this is generally not a lighthearted post.)
So maybe Ren's had a few things going on lately. What about it? It's none of your business, and it's not a big deal. He's fine, actually. Back off.
Like, it's not that things aren't weird. His sleep has been restless and broken for months, and it's only getting worse. He wakes from nightmares he doesn't remember, terrified or murderously angry or filled with such despair that he can barely breathe. By now it happens over and over every night, until after days of it he's so exhausted that he takes three different sleeping pills at once. Which sucks differently, because then he can't wake up from the nightmares at all. They're always the same: He's trapped in a place where he can't see or hear or move, with all his worst, most secret thoughts taking substance and choking him, and with a skin-crawling sense that he's not alone and his unseen company's not friendly. He doesn't forget about the dreams when he wakes up after he's taken the pills, but! He's rested on those mornings. Relatively speaking. So it's fine. He knows what to do when the insomnia gets too bad. Barely even a problem.
(Recently, every time he jolts awake, he could swear there's something in the room with him. A figure he only sees out of the corner of his eye, that vanishes the next second. But then again, sleep deprivation is meant to make you lose it. So maybe he should knock himself out with the pills more often, but so far the mysterious hallucination hasn't actually done anything. And the sleeping pill nightmare really sucks. So you see, he has the situation under control.)
The loss of his first Persona is harder to ignore, the gaping wound in his heart where Owain once rested. But whatever. It was always gonna happen eventually. Ren's not the kid who awakened to Owain anymore. He was stupid to even be surprised. He'll get used to it.
He's distractible and fidgety, unable to really concentrate on anything because he keeps thinking about—stuff that's not important. He's pretty sure he's annoying Futaba, so he tries to focus, but everything is just so... so much. He's so much, but at the same time he's made of air. He can't turn away from it all like he could before that month or so when he was twelve.
But if he tries hard, he can act basically the same way. He's pretty sure he can pull it off. He just needs to work harder. So no issues there either, at least as far as anyone else has to be concerned.
Today, though, he's decided to have a day out. He hasn't gone out much in a while. Maybe that's the problem. He has five cities at his fingertips, where he can do whatever he likes. Except for any of the things he really wants to do, but besides those. Who knows, maybe he'll be less restless afterwards. Maybe he just needs to get this fucking... whatever this feeling is. Out of his system. Yeah.
1. where you see weakness, i see wit
Late morning finds him outside the angular grey-and-glass monolith of Shibuya Police Station, his bag weighed down by all the cans of spray paint he could manage to stuff inside it. Just looking at the fucking place makes his skin crawl, SHIBUYA POLICE STATION in unadorned, menacing kanji above the entrance and the height of the building like a malevolent god bending to observe him. It's almost enough to get him to draw his gun and shatter the glass door. Just because he fucking can. But he doesn't want to waste the bullets, so instead, baring his teeth in a grin, he reaches blindly into his bag and pulls out a can of spray paint.
He starts small, defacing the door and the front wall with insults and obscene phrases. But by the time he runs out of space—which happens soon; the front wall is tiny—he's gotten bored and is ready to put his limited artistic skills to use.
Dogs is the word some of his friends use. You don't say it in mixed company; you might as well just admit you're involved in organized crime as use some of the slang Ren knows. But with people you're sure of, yeah. The cops are fucking dogs. Ren dumps his collection of paint cans out of his bag onto the ground, picks up a brown can, and starts work on a crude but recognizable dog.
It's gonna take a little while, though. And he has some thoughts about what to add after that. Anyone could walk by and see him in the meantime, or see the front of the station and follow the trail of vandalism.
2. they'll speak of me in whispered tones and say my name like it shakes their bones
It's not that he thought vandalizing the police station would heal him or whatever, but he kind of hoped it would make him calm down. But that would be too easy; the itch in his bones only gets worse, the anger and the helplessness and the hatred louder and louder and louder until he's gazing out at Shibuya, its fake people and fake ads and fake traffic, and all of it silent.
Fine. He has a better idea.
His second idea carries him into parts of Tokyo where few of the real people here have cause to go, although as the afternoon carries on, they might encounter smashed and looted soda machines in unexpected places. And perhaps, in the distance, they might hear the cracking and rumbling of collapsing architecture. But by the time anyone reaches the buildings in question, they'll find cognitive orphans moving through partly-destroyed children's homes as if the homes are totally intact, with no sign of whoever or whatever did the damage.
The exception is the final building, right at the edge of Shinjuku. That's a more frequently-travelled destination, and moreover, the sounds of destruction go on for minutes before they stop. If someone should happen to follow the noise, or just chance upon him, they'll find Ren with his red Evoker in his hand and an eerie, spindly-limbed Persona towering behind him. The Persona's body is covered in scales that look black but don't reflect light the way they should, and its head takes the shape of a gleaming animal skull, the exact species of which is difficult to pin down. As Ren watches with fixed, wide-eyed hunger, the Persona calls down a series of blue-white Almighty animals, a bear and a bull and a wolf and a dragon and then again from the start, to smash the building before them into finer and finer rubble.
Or perhaps you arrive later, in which case the Persona has gone and the building is little more than gravel and splintered wood, but not much has changed about Ren. He'll stand there for a long time, if he's not interrupted, just staring.
3. you are in the earth of me
It's evening by the time he's done with all of that. And he's practically in Shinjuku anyway. He might as well get drunk.
He no longer feels like he needs to peel off his own skin to let the restless energy escape, so that's something. But now he's just—tired. He misses his Akechi like a miner in a collapsed shaft misses fresh air. You can get by for a while without it, but eventually...
Then again, he could go home tonight and it wouldn't matter. If everything goes according to plan, Akechi will never look at him the same way again. He doesn't like to think about it. And usually he can manage not to, more or less. To some extent. Well enough to get by, anyway. But tonight is a bad night; thus, the trip to Crossroads.
You might encounter him on the way there. Or maybe you're at Crossroads too, and you only see him once he comes through the door and plops down at a barstool.
So maybe Ren's had a few things going on lately. What about it? It's none of your business, and it's not a big deal. He's fine, actually. Back off.
Like, it's not that things aren't weird. His sleep has been restless and broken for months, and it's only getting worse. He wakes from nightmares he doesn't remember, terrified or murderously angry or filled with such despair that he can barely breathe. By now it happens over and over every night, until after days of it he's so exhausted that he takes three different sleeping pills at once. Which sucks differently, because then he can't wake up from the nightmares at all. They're always the same: He's trapped in a place where he can't see or hear or move, with all his worst, most secret thoughts taking substance and choking him, and with a skin-crawling sense that he's not alone and his unseen company's not friendly. He doesn't forget about the dreams when he wakes up after he's taken the pills, but! He's rested on those mornings. Relatively speaking. So it's fine. He knows what to do when the insomnia gets too bad. Barely even a problem.
(Recently, every time he jolts awake, he could swear there's something in the room with him. A figure he only sees out of the corner of his eye, that vanishes the next second. But then again, sleep deprivation is meant to make you lose it. So maybe he should knock himself out with the pills more often, but so far the mysterious hallucination hasn't actually done anything. And the sleeping pill nightmare really sucks. So you see, he has the situation under control.)
The loss of his first Persona is harder to ignore, the gaping wound in his heart where Owain once rested. But whatever. It was always gonna happen eventually. Ren's not the kid who awakened to Owain anymore. He was stupid to even be surprised. He'll get used to it.
He's distractible and fidgety, unable to really concentrate on anything because he keeps thinking about—stuff that's not important. He's pretty sure he's annoying Futaba, so he tries to focus, but everything is just so... so much. He's so much, but at the same time he's made of air. He can't turn away from it all like he could before that month or so when he was twelve.
But if he tries hard, he can act basically the same way. He's pretty sure he can pull it off. He just needs to work harder. So no issues there either, at least as far as anyone else has to be concerned.
Today, though, he's decided to have a day out. He hasn't gone out much in a while. Maybe that's the problem. He has five cities at his fingertips, where he can do whatever he likes. Except for any of the things he really wants to do, but besides those. Who knows, maybe he'll be less restless afterwards. Maybe he just needs to get this fucking... whatever this feeling is. Out of his system. Yeah.
1. where you see weakness, i see wit
Late morning finds him outside the angular grey-and-glass monolith of Shibuya Police Station, his bag weighed down by all the cans of spray paint he could manage to stuff inside it. Just looking at the fucking place makes his skin crawl, SHIBUYA POLICE STATION in unadorned, menacing kanji above the entrance and the height of the building like a malevolent god bending to observe him. It's almost enough to get him to draw his gun and shatter the glass door. Just because he fucking can. But he doesn't want to waste the bullets, so instead, baring his teeth in a grin, he reaches blindly into his bag and pulls out a can of spray paint.
He starts small, defacing the door and the front wall with insults and obscene phrases. But by the time he runs out of space—which happens soon; the front wall is tiny—he's gotten bored and is ready to put his limited artistic skills to use.
Dogs is the word some of his friends use. You don't say it in mixed company; you might as well just admit you're involved in organized crime as use some of the slang Ren knows. But with people you're sure of, yeah. The cops are fucking dogs. Ren dumps his collection of paint cans out of his bag onto the ground, picks up a brown can, and starts work on a crude but recognizable dog.
It's gonna take a little while, though. And he has some thoughts about what to add after that. Anyone could walk by and see him in the meantime, or see the front of the station and follow the trail of vandalism.
2. they'll speak of me in whispered tones and say my name like it shakes their bones
It's not that he thought vandalizing the police station would heal him or whatever, but he kind of hoped it would make him calm down. But that would be too easy; the itch in his bones only gets worse, the anger and the helplessness and the hatred louder and louder and louder until he's gazing out at Shibuya, its fake people and fake ads and fake traffic, and all of it silent.
Fine. He has a better idea.
His second idea carries him into parts of Tokyo where few of the real people here have cause to go, although as the afternoon carries on, they might encounter smashed and looted soda machines in unexpected places. And perhaps, in the distance, they might hear the cracking and rumbling of collapsing architecture. But by the time anyone reaches the buildings in question, they'll find cognitive orphans moving through partly-destroyed children's homes as if the homes are totally intact, with no sign of whoever or whatever did the damage.
The exception is the final building, right at the edge of Shinjuku. That's a more frequently-travelled destination, and moreover, the sounds of destruction go on for minutes before they stop. If someone should happen to follow the noise, or just chance upon him, they'll find Ren with his red Evoker in his hand and an eerie, spindly-limbed Persona towering behind him. The Persona's body is covered in scales that look black but don't reflect light the way they should, and its head takes the shape of a gleaming animal skull, the exact species of which is difficult to pin down. As Ren watches with fixed, wide-eyed hunger, the Persona calls down a series of blue-white Almighty animals, a bear and a bull and a wolf and a dragon and then again from the start, to smash the building before them into finer and finer rubble.
Or perhaps you arrive later, in which case the Persona has gone and the building is little more than gravel and splintered wood, but not much has changed about Ren. He'll stand there for a long time, if he's not interrupted, just staring.
3. you are in the earth of me
It's evening by the time he's done with all of that. And he's practically in Shinjuku anyway. He might as well get drunk.
He no longer feels like he needs to peel off his own skin to let the restless energy escape, so that's something. But now he's just—tired. He misses his Akechi like a miner in a collapsed shaft misses fresh air. You can get by for a while without it, but eventually...
Then again, he could go home tonight and it wouldn't matter. If everything goes according to plan, Akechi will never look at him the same way again. He doesn't like to think about it. And usually he can manage not to, more or less. To some extent. Well enough to get by, anyway. But tonight is a bad night; thus, the trip to Crossroads.
You might encounter him on the way there. Or maybe you're at Crossroads too, and you only see him once he comes through the door and plops down at a barstool.
no subject
As well as he can, Akira looks at Aletheia.
INEVITABILITY COMES FOR US ALL, she says, sparing a few of her tireless hands to gather him up into a single ball.
breathe in, breathe out. 'i know.'
THERE IS ONLY TIME
breathe in, breathe out. 'there is only time.'
The copper hands are a cold comfort against the warm feelings in his chest, but a comfort nonetheless. His eyes close--
-- and he drops back into his body like a stone into a pond.
"Hey, Dove," he groans, rolling onto his side to get up. "Sorry for scaring you like that."
no subject
"You had me worried for a moment, you know... but there's no need for apologies."
He actually smiles a little as he says that, shifting a bit to give Akira room to turn and try to stand.
"Do you need help? Or are you able to stand?"
He readies an arm just in case Akira needs the support, but waits to see how he does first.
no subject
"I'm-- I'll."
"Take." Deep breath in, deep breath out. "A hand. Thanks."
no subject
"Take it slowly, you may have gotten injured when you fell."
He keeps his speed in line with what Akira does while he's moving, making sure not to go too fast while supporting him.
"Is this all right?"
Maybe he's being a bit of a worrier about it, but Akira did just faint!
no subject
no subject
But it seems Akira can get easily overwhelmed with emotion, huh...?
"I should apologize in that case. I wasn't aware I was overwhelming you."
...But at the same time he can't help but feel a little better, hearing the praise. How odd. It's not like it was anything special, he just chucked some glasses at the wall.
"I wouldn't say it was anything quite so praise-worthy..."
He pauses, trying to think of exactly how to describe it. He supposes if he had to describe it...
That small little smirk appears again. It's natural. Comfortable, even.
"...I simply let myself indulge in a small amount of chaos, is all."
Said with a hint of... sentimentality, perhaps?
no subject
no subject
"I will. I'll be visiting again, that's for certain."
After making certain Akira is all right, he straightens himself up a bit, and... oh dear, the exhaustion is kicking in two fold now. Between the visit to Mementos, the emotional outburst, and the adrenaline from worrying about Akira...
"...It's getting rather late. I'll visit again soon."
no subject