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personavelvetroomdr2024-11-21 04:38 pm
vrdr_mods) wrote in personavelvetroomdr2024-11-21 04:38 pm
Entry tags:
[EVENT] Memory Tapes
On the morning of November 21st, denizens in the Velvet Room will awake to a message on their phones or by their bedsides in an envelope. Perhaps even on their computer screens.
Greetings! If you've received this message, then you've been selected as a participant in a new activity to strengthen bonds within this community.
In order to facilitate connections with your fellow residents, we advise you to watch this video. Watch it and return the tape to its rightful owner. If you lacked the means to watch VHS tapes before, we have provided you with the necessary equipment.
Failure to do so may put your own memories at risk. Do not be selfish, lest you find yourself struggling to recall crucial moments of your life. You have no way of knowing which memories have been shared, so ask yourself if it is worth the risk to selfishly hoard another's secrets.
They will soon find a VHS tape, with a case that gives off a soft, blue glow to symbolize its importance. If they lack a TV or VCR, they will find one in their living space.
What they do is up to them, but they should heed the warning, if they value their own memories.
[For links to characters' memories, please see this post in the OOC comm. Have fun!]
Greetings! If you've received this message, then you've been selected as a participant in a new activity to strengthen bonds within this community.
In order to facilitate connections with your fellow residents, we advise you to watch this video. Watch it and return the tape to its rightful owner. If you lacked the means to watch VHS tapes before, we have provided you with the necessary equipment.
Failure to do so may put your own memories at risk. Do not be selfish, lest you find yourself struggling to recall crucial moments of your life. You have no way of knowing which memories have been shared, so ask yourself if it is worth the risk to selfishly hoard another's secrets.
They will soon find a VHS tape, with a case that gives off a soft, blue glow to symbolize its importance. If they lack a TV or VCR, they will find one in their living space.
What they do is up to them, but they should heed the warning, if they value their own memories.
[For links to characters' memories, please see this post in the OOC comm. Have fun!]
no subject
But he returns to reality as Kira speaks, nodding along slightly as he considers it.
"Agreed. There's any number of ways this could have been handled, and yet we're left to flail about without a single bit of direction. It's quite... frustrating? No, stronger than that... Irritating...?"
He's still getting used to sorting the variance of emotional intensity and the words that suit each level, but the point still stands. It's very upsetting, presumably for every party involved... except Igor, that is.
The drops of the coffee that go into the carafe break the pause that follow, and Dove finds himself lingering on it. The idea that his past is there for casual viewing, the past that is already in question of legitimacy, and that it's at risk of being forgotten if it doesn't get returned.
"..."
...Is he going to forget even more of himself? How much of him will be left at himself? What if there is no more Dove? What if he truly does end up nothing but an empty, vapid shell, left without a single memory to call his own?
He doesn't have much longer to think on it when Kira opens his mouth again, and speaks with a lower tone. One that he feels he should be surprised by, and yet he isn't. It feels real and earnest.
"...I do as well. I can't speak for the others, but... my own past, being compromised to the extent it is, is not something I want being flaunted about."
He can envision it. The resentment, the confusion, the gossip, the corrections. He'd rather be left to experience his shame and guilt in peace than have the criticisms and the holier-than-thou pity surround him.
"I can't speak for what memories will have been leaked, but I hardly have an idea of what is real and fake to begin with, and the very idea that they are out there, able to be judged..."
For a very real moment, Dove feels a deep, twisted up knot in his stomach as his expression seems to darken. A somewhat hollow look appears in his eyes as that feeling of bitterness overtakes him, if only for a moment. At the idea that he would become the hot topic of town, everyone whispering behind his back about the pathetic illusions of what he believes his life to be.
1/2
He’s always been good at reading people—it’s how he survived for so long. It’s how he played into the timeloop mess for so long (one that he almost nearly gave up on), how he wove through the chaos of a world determined to break him down. It did to an extent. He could never have a chance at a normal life. And right now, he’s reading Dove.
The way his shoulders tense, the flicker of hesitation in his gaze, the darkness creeping into his expression like ink bleeding into paper. It’s that same look—that look. The one Akira had memorized before, in another life, on another Akechi.
That brittle edge of bitterness. The quiet fury, the weight of something too much pressing down on him.
Akira doesn’t move at first, doesn’t speak. He just watches with an almost clinical interest, because it’s fascinating, in a way—seeing him try to grasp his own emotions. Akechi had always been good at hiding things. But this one, this Dove... he’s trying to figure himself out in real-time, trying to measure his own pain like it’s something tangible.
Akira’s heart twists.
His foot nudges against the bag at his feet. The tape inside. The one he’s just watched.
Memories being compromised.
The silence stretching long and hollow as the memory itself had started to dissolve.
As if it was only ever held together by invisible threads.
He frowns slightly, just for a second, before slipping back into something easier. Something lighter.
“Well,” he starts, breaking the quiet between them as he moves on to the final steps of the coffee. “I’m not gonna sit here and tell you people won’t spill bullshit about you.” His voice is easy, smooth, but there’s weight behind it. He tilts his head, eyes sharp. “But if they’re really like that? If they think they know you just because they saw some highlight reel of your worst moments?”
His grin flickers, something more mischievous settling into his expression.
2/2
He lifts the cup slightly, swirling the milk before beginning the latte art. His movements are practiced, fluid. A cat begins to take shape in the coffee, its round face floating, its tiny toe beans visible. But he keeps it angled away, just enough so Dove can’t see it yet.
"Distorted memories or not, you’re still you," Akira says simply. "Doesn't matter what’s real or fake—what matters is who you are right now."
He pauses for a moment, letting the words settle, before adding, a little more offhandedly, "Besides... I’ve got a tape myself."
The milk finishes its work, but Akira isn’t quite done. He moves over to the cabinet, fingers brushing quickly over the shelves until he finds what he’s looking for. Cocoa powder.
Returning just as smoothly, he sprinkles a light dusting of cocoa over the cat’s toe beans, giving them a soft definition. Perfect.
Only then does he finally slide the cup toward Dove, setting it in front of him with a quiet clink.
"Here. Try imagining yourself free from the whole tape mess for a sec."
His smirk returns, just a little as he leans on the counter again, chin propped up in his palm.. "I’d say it’s a solid distraction."
no subject
"Simply let them, you say..."
He looks off to the side for a second, pondering on it. Does what they say truly have any bearing on him? Realistically it shouldn't. The pieces of himself don't actually come from them, they come from within him and possibly from what he can ask his Ren. Or perhaps even still, from what he can squeeze out of Maruki.
That's the logic of it, at least. The sound, detective instincts working and churning to provide the truth of the matter. He needs to force himself to listen to that side more often, and to not give into that emotional side that grows more and more overwhelming and harder to ignore.
"Now that you say that, it does seem that it's the obvious solution to come to. To not be able to see it myself is... quite embarrassing I must admit."
But the cup is finished, placed before him as Kira regains that smirk of his. Dove can't help but regain a trace of a smile, feeling a bit more at ease as he goes to gently take the cup.
...But he pauses, his eyes taking in the fanciful latte art. It's wonderful, and yet...
"I wasn't aware you were fond of latte art. I must say, this is very well done, Kira."
His eyes raise back up to meet Kira's, his smile growing larger. In the back of his mind he thinks on the Sojiro impression, and now with the latte art, it's coming together. He could be the one that he's looking for.
Tw: blood related flashback related to the tape
"Oh, I just have a sixth sense for when an Akechi’s stuck in his own head," he muses, smirk widening slightly. "It’s not that you guys don’t know the answer—you just don’t know if you can trust it."
He delivers that last line with a wink, but his amusement doesn’t quite reach his chest.
Because really, wasn’t that the whole damn problem?
He swallows down the familiar pang of something too much before it can surface. The kind of thing that should’ve been said in another life, to someone who isn’t here anymore. To someone who sat across from him once, looking just as lost—just as trapped in his own mind.
But that’s not the reality Akira got. And this isn’t his Akechi.
It doesn’t stop his heart from twisting all the same.
And then Dove says that.
"I must say, this is very well done, Kira."
He doesn’t react outwardly—doesn’t let his fingers twitch or his shoulders tense. Instead, he just raises a brow, smoothly pushing himself back off the counter like that comment, like that earnest smile hadn’t just made his heart lurch in his chest.
"Oh?" he drawls, shifting his weight as if backing off from something too close. "Well if they ever do a competition for getting the title Joker I could~ compete with my expertise in coffee."
His voice is light, teasing, but his thoughts are anything but.
Because yeah. Yeah, he knows.
Knows how it must feel for him—for an Akechi who isn’t sure what part of his past was real and what was just a carefully constructed lie. Knows how fragile that uncertainty can make a person.
And if Akira’s being honest with himself—well, he’s been doing a hell of a lot of thinking lately.
Enough to put time into perfecting this little craft of his.
It’s not like he didn’t have time before. It’s not like he wasn’t already spending nights in Leblanc, tucked away in that attic, making cup after cup of coffee until his hands worked on instinct alone.
He exhales through his nose, eyes flickering toward the ceiling as if he could see past it—upward, to something distant, something gone.
"...Wonder if my attic’s up there with the rest of them," he muses aloud, voice quieter, thoughtful.
For a moment, his mind betrays him, conjuring an image that never quite leaves.
Sheets. Stained in red.
His Akechi's warmth.
Damn it.
no subject
"Guilty as charged. I suppose it's one of my worse habits, being unable to take such things at face value."
Then again... what can he take at face value?
There's a solid of moment of silence as he stares down at the cat in his cup. He knows now what he needs to do, but he finds it difficult to look away from the silly thing. After all, he only has so long to enjoy its presence before it disappears.
"..."
Then Kira speaks again, about how he could use his latte art in a competition to claim the all too coveted Joker codename. Ah, perhaps the others would be jealous by such a talent...
He forces himself to look away from the cat, to look back at Kira. Oh, how much time he must have put into practice. The nearly endless days and nights...
...And to think, he's broken that privacy, that right that his secrets are his own.
The way Kira muses about the attic, the flash in his eyes that indicate he sees something beyond anything Dove can see... It's then that Dove finds his smile all but fading.
He gently sets his coffee back down, and reaches beneath his coat. He can't hide it any longer, he has to give it back. He had no right to this knowledge, this weight of tragedy.
As he reaches, moving to pull the tape out, he speaks again.
"Kira-san. Apologies for shifting the subject, but I believe I have something for you. Something important."
The look in Dove's eyes make it all too clear what he's about to say.
no subject
It was a stupid thing to let slip, really.
The attic, the memories, the red. It had no place in the conversation, no reason to be spoken aloud—but sometimes, his mind wandered places his mouth was too slow to stop.
And now, Dove was looking at him like that.
Like he knew. Like he understood something he was never supposed to.
And God, does he wish he could stop.
Even if it was hopeless. Even if it was painful.
Even if it was better than here.
Because this—this stasis, this endless waiting game, this world full of ghosts that are too jagged or too kind, ghosts that shouldn’t be here—this is worse.
Worse than facing him again.
Worse than facing any Akechi.
Worse than facing an Akechi that is alive.
So Akira does what he always does—he covers it up.
"Ah, my bad," he says lightly, waving a hand in dismissal, as if swatting the whole thing away like an errant coffee bean on the counter. "Just some stupid rambling—love my hotel room, actually. Five stars, would recommend. Great ambiance, totally amazed by an actual bed and not something supported on crates—"
He stops.
Because Dove is moving.
Because Dove is reaching into his coat.
Because the second Akira sees the edge of that tape, his stomach lurches.
His breath stalls.
His heart doesn’t drop—no, that would be too soft of a metaphor. It’s more like it gets ripped out and slammed onto the floor, because he knows, knows exactly what Dove is about to say before the words even leave his mouth.
"Kira-san," Dove says, and there’s something grave in his voice.
Akira stares.
The look in Dove’s eyes tells him everything.
It’s a look he’s seen before.
He’s seen it on himself, reflected in a dirty mirror after waking up from timelines he doesn’t talk about.
He’s seen it in the faces of others, in the way they hesitate before saying something they know will hurt.
And yet—
And yet, his mouth moves before he can think better of it.
"Shit—if this is a confession, I gotta warn you, I’m kind of a heartbreaker," he says, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Or, y’know, heartbroken, but who’s keeping track?"
It’s easy. It’s always easy. Throw out a joke, play the fool, keep the tension from sinking in too deep.
But even as he keeps the mask up, his fingers twitch against the counter.
Please be a wrong tape. Please be a normal damn tape.
And God, he doesn’t know if he can stomach watching it.
no subject
"...I'm sorry, Kira. I do wish that it wasn't the case, but I've come to realize that you are the one this tape belongs to."
He tries his best to keep his eye contact, but it's certainly not easy. He doesn't enjoy a single bit of this.
"I apologize."
And with that, he lowers his head in regret.
no subject
"I’m sorry, Kira."
Apologizing, again and again—like he pities him.
Akira’s fingers twitch against the counter.
His grin stays in place, but it shifts, sharpens, something almost imperceptibly wrong at the edges.
"Hey—cut that out." His voice is light, but it carries an edge now, a flicker of something more visceral beneath the surface. "You keep saying that, but you haven’t told me a damn thing."
He gestures vaguely toward the tape, but his eyes stay locked onto Dove, unwavering.
"So? What did you see?"
There’s something almost too casual about the way he asks it, too at ease despite the tension in his posture.
He keeps the mask up effortlessly, like he isn’t spiraling inside, like there isn’t a cold, creeping dread seeping into his bones.
"And, c’mon," he adds, the grin still in place, but his voice is sharper now. "You’re looking at me like I ran over your dog—what is it that’s so damn interesting about my history that it’s making you react like that?"
Kira has spent years pretending nonchalant and dismissive about the truth. He's spent a whole year fooling everyone by doing absolutely nothing and standing amongst the shadows of others as he let fate take its natural course. Without any of his intervention.
Fake it till you make it, right?
no subject
It's true. What's he doing, not even explaining it? He needs to be open, honest. Just hiding behind apologies and pretending he didn't see anything doesn't change a thing.
It doesn't make it any easier to tackle it, but he grits his teeth. He raises his head back up to look Kira in the eye. His eyes darken, and he gulps, trying to find the air to say it.
"...Time looping, over and over... You and your Akechi grew closer, and yet every time something broke, and you returned to the start. You couldn't bear to lose him, but you lost everything else you had... You-- You were..."
His voice cracks as he goes along, and his eyes try to tear up against himself. He tries so hard not to, but he can feel what he felt while watching it return to him. Those strange emotions he doesn't know how to process trying to overwhelm him again.
He can't help but slam one of his fists down onto the counter, and his eyes finally break away from Kira's as he tries to keep himself from crying outright.
no subject
"I-"
The memories are too vivid, too close to the surface. They creep in despite his best efforts to suppress them. His body shudders involuntarily, a faint tremor starting in his shoulders and working its way down. He feels the familiar ache—the one that settles deep in his chest whenever he lets himself remember that place.
"...I don't have anything special-"
When Dove’s fist slams onto the counter, Akira’s eyes widen slightly, startled. Not from fear, but from the sheer rebellion in the act—like Dove couldn’t stand the idea of Akira laying himself bare, all his shame and grief open and raw. And somehow, Dove’s refusal to let it go stirs something heavy in him.
He really had been ready to lie.
Ready to deny the tape, brush it off, and pretend none of it mattered because it clearly belonged to someone else. But Dove’s reaction makes the guilt twist harder in his gut.
The words of dismissal die on his lips before they even form.
Instead, he lowers his gaze, hands slipping into his pockets as he speaks, his tone so dark it almost disappears into the air between them.
A weak chuckle that follows cracks painfully at the end. He lifts trembling hands from his pockets and presses them over his face, as if trying to hide the shame etched into every part of him.
After a long, tense silence, Akira drags in a deep breath. Slowly, one hand falls to his chest, pressing firmly against the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. He can feel the outline of the ring—the one he and his Goro had shared in that doomed world. The only piece of that place he’d managed to keep.
But he knows better than anyone that leaving that way isn’t possible here.
When he finally looks up again, his demeanor is darkened, his smile small and brittle. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s the best he can offer.
"Guess my secret’s out now, huh? No more hiding." His tone is flat, almost resigned.
He watches Dove carefully, guilt laced into every word of his next apology.
"I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to see all of that- it must have stressed you out like hell, huh?"
His shoulders sag, exhaustion radiating from every part of him.
no subject
"You shouldn't be apologizing. It's... It's not your fault that your secret was handed out for me to see."
His eyes lower to meet the tape on the counter again, still looking dark, or perhaps... mournful?
"...I know that apologies and sympathies can do nothing to change the past, but... I felt something when I saw what you went through."
What? What does he feel? He's not entirely sure...
"It made me... sad. And angry, I believe. To see the both of you suffer so much. I wondered why. It... was unfair. Unjust, even. I still struggle to..."
He still sounds uncertain, and almost disbelieving. Like it's shattering something intrinsic to his worldview.
"...But please, do not apologize to me. I don't regret my emotion and energy being spent on wishing for your wellbeing and happiness."