my montage of lost things, my shining trinkets of grief

[willowandoak]

((cw: hallucinations, panic, the general poor mental state of someone with a Palace))

Ren is not exactly at his most presentable. Like, yeah, he's clean and dressed, but that's about all you can say for him. His hair is a snarl of tangles, his skin is unhealthily pale, he holds himself rigidly, and the shadows under his eyes are so dark that it looks like they might never leave. And he knows he looks bad, but by now he's beyond caring. With everything that's happening to him, someone judging his hair is the least of his fucking concerns.

He doesn't usually like to go out, these days. A lot can happen when he's out of his apartment. Too many things he can't control, and too many places that remind him of home, which lately is to be avoided at all costs. But his apartment isn't much better. There's nowhere he can look where he hasn't seen Shido, or Akechi, or Shido and Akechi, or his parents or his orphanage directors or fuck knows who else. There's nowhere he can sit where he hasn't heard their voices. And when he's not hallucinating, he's alone with his thoughts, which is worse.

All that is to say, there was a whole thing earlier where he felt like he couldn't breathe, and it sucked, but it's over now! He's fine. Still, it made him want to get out of his apartment. So here he is, out in Shibuya. And outside has turned out to be as vertiginous and full of danger as he was afraid of, but, well. At least it's different.


1. all the things that i ran from i now bring as close to me as i can

He stands with his back to the wall of a storefront and searches the constant stream of passing cognitions. His expression is fraught. He knows he hasn't really been seeing people from his past, he's not stupid, but the idea of being blindsided by a hallucinatory Shido or orphanage director amidst the crowd is terrifying enough to keep him rooted in place, watching endlessly.

2. gripping hotel sheets with gritted teeth

He's finally escaped the crowds. Curled up on the grimy concrete in a Shibuya alleyway, his knees to his chest and his back once again pressed to the wall, he tries to calm down. Akechi made him breathe, that time when he freaked out in his Palace. He tries to match the rhythm he remembers, but it just makes him think about the Palace, so he abandons that plan almost at once and goes back to waiting out the terror. He'll be fine if he just grits his teeth and endures it. That... usually works, anyway.

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2

[pancakeboy]

Listen, Magpie didn't ask for this shit. He's on his way to the library, mercifully alone, and there is that guy twitching at the end of an alley like a Shinjuku junkie.

Acid fills his throat. He doesn't give a shit about that guy, or his Palace; is in fact doing his best to do no more than ascertain the bare facts of it. He wants to get the keywords out of Crow, show up at the entrance, and throw that guy inside. See if his own Shadow will eat him, like the ones in the TV world. That would be good.

But there are eyes boring into his spine again, into the nape of his neck. Some very, very like his own, and one pair that he ignores, a dark blue-grey that refuses to plead for mercy. And, deep down, like a thorn in his heart, more of him than he finds convenient still knows not to kick someone when they're down.

He lifts his voice, angry with himself. "Hey."

[willowandoak]

This day just keeps getting better. Ren should've stayed at home.

He cringes at the sound of Akechi's voice, rough and disdainful and wrong in a way that can only belong to one person. He wishes he could dismiss it as a hallucination, but every Magpie hallucination he's had has been of the kid. He hasn't even seen the real Magpie in person since December, except in passing now and then, and that one time that might or might not have been Magpie on a motorcycle. Mostly, they've had text messages and phone calls, and each one of them more of a delight than the last. This is gonna go equally well, he's sure.

His stomach churns. He doesn't even look up, just drops his head to rest against his knees. "What."

[pancakeboy]

Folding his arms, he leans against the wall. "You look like shit. Do you need"—he hesitates for a long moment before shifting away from help—"anything?"

Pathetic, Akechi. Well, let it be. When has he been anything else?

[willowandoak]

After a moment of blank incomprehension, Ren lifts his head to squint at Magpie in confusion. Yeah, that's definitely normal-aged Magpie, not the kid speaking with a deep voice, but what he's saying is more bizarre than the stuff Ren's been hearing from his head lately.

"Are you, like. Magpie cognition, second edition? Or are you the real guy?"

[pancakeboy]

Wait, this guy has a cognition of him? In the Palace Magpie's not supposed to know about, presumably. He stares for a moment, then shifts against the wall with a wince.

"Does it make a difference? Not as if you can do anything about me either way, in your condition."

[willowandoak]

"I wanna know." His tone could almost be sulky, if only he didn't sound so exhausted. "If you were seeing shit, you'd want to know if it was real, too."

You can't usually have a conversation with the hallucinations, though. And there is the age thing, too, all of it pointing him toward the same conclusion. "But you are. Real, I mean. So what do you want?"

[pancakeboy]

Too exhausted even to throw insults from his gutter. It's weird, unnerving; something odd and uncertain flickers in Magpie's eyes. "I told you. Do you want me to call someone?"

[willowandoak]

It's on the tip of his tongue to say, Yes, call my Akechi. His Akechi is all that could form a barrier between Ren and the awful sense of potential threat that assaults him from every angle—him or Futaba, but she's in his Palace right now, and anyway he doesn't think it would be smart to get her and Magpie talking.

But Akechi comes to see him every day already, bringing food, and also, though he hasn't said so, staying to check on Ren and monitor him. Ren's not stupid; he can see it perfectly well. He's come every day without fail since he promised he would start. He doesn't need Ren bothering him any more.

He presses his lips together and shakes his head. He's always dealt with stuff on his own before, and it's always been fine in the end. This will be the same.

[pancakeboy]

Right. Well, whatever's between Frog and this guy is their business; Magpie's past tired of Frog's walking the line between improving himself and destroying himself, over someone who turned his mother into a weapon.

With a bit of a snort, he glares down at Ren, though the glare's lacking strength. "I never heard of that. Someone with a Palace hallucinating, I mean."

[willowandoak]

Ren gives him a tired glare. They'll be vague, Akechi said. They won't even mention there's a Palace, Akechi said. Sure. Ren knew how well that would work, and he was right.

"I have," he says, remembering what Akechi told him. It feels wrong to bring up Futaba by name.

[pancakeboy]

... riight. Because, of course, everyone knows more about the Metaverse than he does. Even now, he's shut out from what should be his own domain. "I'm sure you have," he says, ominously normal, ominously calm, and obviously a hair from snapping for those few seconds.

"What's your plan, then? To die in that gutter?" His lip curls, and he offers a calculated insult. "That does seem about your speed, now I think of it."

[willowandoak]

It hits home, in a way, but not like an arrow. It feels true, deeply and intimately, in a way few things ever have. It feels, strangely, almost like looking at his Palace.

He smiles. It's a joyless, empty-eyed expression, but it's sincere. "Someday," he says. "Today I'll probably just go home. Sorry."

(Inside his Palace, Futaba will see the walls of the house ripple slightly and then stabilize, as new words are added to the cognition that shapes them.)

[pancakeboy]

Okay, something is—as if he didn't already know—really, truly wrong here. The little wire in his heart, not the one marked Star but the far weaker one marked Sun, that is its twin, resonates unsettlingly.

He takes a step closer, away from the wall, almost to challenge. "Or you could get up on your feet and punch me. Fight back a little, if you even have it in you. Look at you. You're a mess. I can smell you from here, you know." He can't.

[willowandoak]

"I showered this morning." He spent more than an hour under the running water, until it started to run cold. He's still not over the luxury of being able to just... do that. And it's almost peaceful in there, relatively speaking. "Nice try, though. Is that what this is? You're angling for a fight?"

[pancakeboy]

"Sure. Why not?" Rather than step closer again, though, he leans back against the wall. "It's inevitable, don't you think? Half our prisonmates are likely betting on it."

They're not. He'd know.

[willowandoak]

"Okay."

The kids wander down the alley between them, hand in hand, not even looking at him. Little Magpie whispers something too low to hear, and Raven giggles. Ren watches them go. He hurts, deep in his chest, like someone's scooped out what used to be there and left a raw hole behind.

"I'll be honest, dude, I don't think I can fight. It'll be more of a one-sided beatdown."

[pancakeboy]

Judging by this guy's line of sight, something just wandered down the alley past him. The skin prickles at the back of his neck; he blows air through his teeth, disgusted. "I can just shoot you, if that's what you want."

[willowandoak]

He shoots Magpie a quick, irritated glance. "Everyone keeps saying that shit."

[pancakeboy]

"Then stop inviting it. You look like—"

He bites his tongue, paling. You look like my mother.

[willowandoak]

...Yeah, Ren's not touching that one. He looks away.

[pancakeboy]

Swallowing his conflict, he glares back, only to find Amamiy—that guy staring at the wall. It is like his mother. Worse than that, it's like the Ren who arrived from the future. His grey uniform, his grey despair.

Why won't he say something? He was quick enough that first time, and Magpie can't—well, he can keep a grudge going forever, frankly, unilaterally and without disarming. He is the crowned king of grudges. If it wasn't for Igor....

With a hiss, he pulls out his phone, and starts swiping to the keypad. None of this is anything to do with him.

[willowandoak]

He glances back when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. Something stirs, kind of like alarm but not enthusiastic enough.

"What are you doing now?"

[pancakeboy]

"What do you think?" Bringing up his contacts, he scrolls through them with a celebrity's adeptness. "I'm calling Frog."

Ridiculous name that it is.

[willowandoak]

The not-alarm gains a little traction. "Leave him alone."

[pancakeboy]

Interesting. "What will you do if I don't?"

He swipes up and down a little more, not looking up; he sounds bored.