OPEN

[lifespanned]

WHO: Misa & co.
WHAT: event aftermath!
WHERE: Achamoth, tiny smidge of Godsblood
WHEN: late Soviseri, early Firaseri
WARNINGS: will add if applicable!



I. early return (citadel, misa's room)

[ The return to Achamoth is, ironically, uneventful.

Misa is unconscious for most of it, and when she makes it back to the Citadel, those who see her right when the Godsblood envoy returns will see that she needs the servants' assistance walking to her quarters, and she favors weight far more to her right side. Even still, she doesn't wrap an arm around those who assist her, either, the reason for which is a net of bandages that cover and wrap around the entirety of her right shoulder.

Those who don't witness her directly may still become privy to her weakened state; she doesn't emerge from her quarters for a full day after after the return, which is highly unusual behavior for the outgoing and boisterous Misa, often seen around the Citadel bothering anyone she lays eyes on. Should any other Kenoma try to reach out to her with Communion, or further yet, knock at her door, she'll answer with a tired and irritable: ]

What is it? I'm trying to sleep, here.


II. later return (in the city)

[ When Misa gathers the strength to do more than keep herself contained to the Citadel, the first thing she tries to do is drag other people out with her. It's her number one way of dealing with anything unpleasant in life - to bury it, deeply, beneath something fun and happy and exciting. She's certain she won't be thinking about everything that happened in Godsblood if she spends a little time outdoors with a companion. And luckily, she'll drag just about anyone she knows out with her.

But it's perhaps that over eagerness to go do something to take her mind off things that prompts her to... push herself too fast. While she seems enthusiastic to go outdoors, the fact of the matter is that she's still not wholly herself - her hair remains un-styled, face bare of makeup, due to the lack of mobility in her right arm while it heals. Heavy blood loss in Godsblood has rendered her complexion a little paler than usual, and difficulty moving has rendered her wardrobe much less extravagant and cute than is typical of her outdoors fare.

Not long after she and her trusty out-on-the-town friend have made it away from the Citadel, she suddenly stumbles and slumps heavily in her companion's side in an uncharacteristically awkward fashion. ]

Woah...! I guess I'm still a little woozy.... [ She gives a nervous laugh, clearly trying to play off her dizzy spell— she even tries to reorient herself (with little success, still basically leaning into her Kenopal for support), sticking her tongue out cutely as if she'd just tripped on a rock instead of come close to fainting. ] Gosh, I feel so clumsy.


III. wildcard + closed starters

( feel free to reach out to me on plurk lunarians or in the discord if you'd like to do something aftermath flavored that doesn't fit into these! i'm ofc also open to communions for any pleroma that wanna do aftermath stuff, since it's not likely misa will be up and about in godsblood for long. anywho, i'll be putting closed starters below! )

Comments

[lifespanned]

I was shot. Twice.

[ Her words come out blunt— she's still pretty pissed about everything that went down in Godsblood, after all. Perhaps predictably, especially so for Gen, Misa leans more towards looking like she's annoyed over the matter than traumatized over it. It was terrible, and horrifically painful, but still— why dwell on thinking about the actual event? There's only her feelings afterward that linger in her mind. After that harsh confession, she takes a sip from her own drink - while she thinks he probably doesn't want to speak in detail about what happened to him, she has no problems elaborating: ]

Howl and I were keeping watch most of the time... They had to separate us somehow, so they went after me first.

[ As she continues, she fiddles with her own bottle, staring down at the contents rather than looking at Gen directly. Given the state of his arm, she has a feeling he might feel like what she's gone through is nothing in comparsion— it's a sentiment he's expressed to her before in other matters. It makes her feel... well, defensive, in a way, not wanting to show much vulnerability in front of him, even if she does nothing to downplay the severity of her injury. He might sense it from their Legacy, her being rather touchy, like she really won't react well if made fun of or grumbled at. In any case, she continues avoiding eye contact. ]

And getting shot a second time was the only way I could find where the shooter was. And you know? It hurts a lot more than you think... a lot more.

[epiprocta]

[ Misa needn't have worried.

Gen does looks startled by the information that Misa dumps on him, responding with a wide-eyed blink at first. Looks back down, gently tipping the bottle in his hand one way, then the other, watching tiny bubbles rise from the liquid with brow furrowed as he thinks. Then finally he responds at a low mutter: ]

... that's messed up. [ He gives a low exhale and takes another long swig of his drink (another third of the bottle gone in one go) before continuing, his voice tense but his words indistinct and somewhat mumbled. ] -- I know we're killing each other here. But swords and magic -- that shit all feels fairer. Like it makes sense in a way. Just shooting you like that ... that's fucked up.

[ Is he making any sense? He's not sure. It's hard to put into exact words how he feels about this. It's not like he's blind to the fact that guns exist and are just as effective here as they'd been back in 'the normal world' -- Eustace uses a gun, and that entire trip to Godsblood had been to help Amos acquire guns, after all. But still. To hear that 'Misa was shot' feels somehow colder, crueler than knowing that 'Amos wants to shoot the Pleroma.' Worse, somehow, than anything that was done to him or he's done to the Pleroma.

He'd been staring down at his bottle, not knowing where else to look, but Gen finally does glance up to fix his gaze on Misa's injured arm. ]

You're probably lucky to have survived, if you got shot twice. Especially if they were trying to kill you, not just hurt you.

[lifespanned]

[ Oh..... well, now she feels vindicated. She nods once to his description, completely agreeing. In hindsight, it felt pretty fucked up to get taken out of commission by something so, well, human...? It felt almost too realistic, being nearly killed by something that could have killed her out in the real, actual world, rare as the possibility might have been. She frowns, honestly looking put-out the more she thinks back on the ordeal. ]

She said if she wanted to kill me, she would've shot me in the head instead. Or whatever.

[ So it had all been intentional, the shots to her limbs rather than her vital organs. Despite being spared, one can practically hear the eyeroll in Misa's response— because it had felt insulting, patronizing to be talked to by the enemy like that. She says her next words from around the bottle, tipping it back. ]

Like that makes a difference? I still almost died.

[ To her, it felt like a sorry attempt of the shooter absolving herself from guilt. So if she dies from blood loss from two non fatal gunshot wounds, then that's fine and better than just taking the shot to take her out? It feels dumb to her, perhaps because if she were in the other's shoes, she would've killed her without remorse. And while she's glad to have survived, she can't help but feel frustrated over not having been able to get back at the other woman more. ]

Taking the bullets out made it worse, too, [ She can see him looking at the wound, so she turns her shoulder a bit so she can look over it at the patch of gauze that's still taped over it. ] Isn't it messed up? It feels dumb getting hurt by something like this. We're so far away from home...

[ "Home," their home country, their Earth, she means. Achamoth is her "home," now, but Gen is the only one she'd ever talk about where she came from like that, instead of as "her world." But she feels like he'll get it. They're far away from everything that used to make sense to them, so it in turn makes violence in a recognizable methodology from home nonsensical here, almost. She's in line with him, after all— the weight of the act feels heavier, having some level of familiarity and point of reference for it. Magic and swords and all that is similarly still above her head in most matters, so getting shot by a fireball or an arrow feels more like, sure, why wouldn't this happen in this place? ]

[epiprocta]

... the hell kind of bullshit is that.

[ His low words are accompanied by a derisive huff. And while Misa might think for a moment if Gen had been directing the sentiment towards her, he clarifies quickly enough. ]

That's cowardly. If she was willing to shoot you without actually aiming to kill you. Just trying to avoid the responsibility for it -- it's scummy. Weak.

[ It's not that Gen takes the act of killing someone lightly. He doesn't. Despite his penchant for relying on his fists over his words, he's had years to internalize the tremendous weight of what it's like to take a life, and he doesn't consider it a trivial matter. Taking someone's life is a burden, and it's something he steels himself for as soon as he clashes with someone; he's always cognizant of the possibility that he'll have to live with another death weighing heavy on his shoulders, and he prepares himself for it. So the thought that someone could shoot another person -- twice, even -- and say that they hadn't intended to kill ...

It rankles at his nerves. On principle. It's unfair that anyone should get to evade their responsibilities like that.

Gen takes another long sip of his drink, polishing off the bottle, before sitting forward and resting his elbow against his knee. It angles him to give a better look at the bandaged mess of Misa's shoulder, not that he can stare for too long; keeping his focus on that cluster of gauze and bandages for too long makes an uneasy feeling boil in the pit of his stomach, and he looks away afterward to stare into the middle distance. Misa might notice that Gen's gaze is weirdly vacant and far away, like his thoughts had briefly drifted to someplace very different; even his voice is a little flat when he speaks again. ]

Who was it. That shot you.

[ It's not like he's about to specifically go hunting for revenge. Misa is alive, and so it would take more than just that to get him to personally hunt down whoever's responsible. But Gen's loyalties aren't so shallow that he won't at least commit a name or a face to memory, just in case. So that he knows how to respond if he happens to run into the culprit. ]

[lifespanned]

[ Quietly, she looks over at him, taking in his distant gaze at the space in front of them. To be sure, Gen always seems to treat serious matters with much more maturity and grace than she ever expects (when he's not pushed to lash out, at least)— maybe the firmness of his opinion is the mark of experience? Her mind doesn't immediately go to thinking he's killed before, but rather, perhaps he's been a witness to it. Witnessing someone be killed had been what made her think the same way, after all— that killing someone should be followed by a consequence and responsibility... unless you're killing for good reason, of course. She looks faintly serious for a change, leaning back against the bench as much as her injury in the back of her shoulder will allow. ]

Silco said her name was "Enforcer Kiramman."

[ Maybe Gen remembers more from the first communion, and maybe he doesn't, but she seems content just sharing that bit of information with him, and with the fact that he even asked. ]

I didn't see her that closely, but talking with her, she was super annoying and pretentious. And she had a stupid accent, like this, too.

[ Said just like a shitty, mean girl teen, fully doing a rude impersonation of the woman's posh way of speaking, before she polishes off another third of her drink. And perhaps more shittily, she's definitely not gonna discourage him from seeing her as more of an enemy, if that's what he aims to do by asking who it was. Misa is selfish— and sees herself as the victim in the affair. The more people she can get on her side, the better she'll feel about the ordeal. A part of her hopes someone close to her crosses paths with that woman some day, if Misa doesn't get to her first.

With her back leaned up against the bench, she very gingerly bends her arm at the elbow so that she can pick at the gauze taped to her shoulder with her free hand, turning her gaze away from him and towards the same middle-distance spot he's looking to. ]

...Aren't you going to complain about yours, too?

[ The person (people?) he obviously must have fought in Venera. She's attempting to give him a roundabout route to cracking the door open a little on his side of things, without outright asking jeez, so who did that to you then. There's no expectation in her voice, a casual note instead— she keeps her tone easy, in case she needs to smooth over the conversation if ends up bristling and shutting her out. It'd be fine if he did, she thinks. She can't imagine what's going on through his head, sustaining an injury like that. His life's changed, abruptly and suddenly, right? Maybe one thing can stay the same, if she can provide a facsimile of normalcy with her usual airheaded, gossipy antics. ]

[epiprocta]

... Enforcer Kiramman. [ Gen repeats the name quietly; his lips move as he silently repeats it to himself once more, committing those foreign syllables to memory. Then he nods. ] Got it.

[ No, it's not a name he remembers from that first Communion. But it's a name he'll definitely remember now, alongside the notes about her accent and attitude. Now that he's starting to truly realize how out of his depths he is in this war, he's not about to go hunting her down brashly, especially not if she has a gun. But at least now he knows to go on the attack if he ever runs into her. Despite their differences Misa is still someone he's come to consider an ally, so this much feels obvious. Easy enough.

Easier than what Misa asks next, at any rate.

He can tell what it is that Misa's offering him -- an invitation to talk about what happened to him in Venera. About why he looks like this now. And it's not like he doesn't feel some crumb of appreciation for it. But still. It's only answered with a stint of silence at first as Gen continues to stare out onto the street, watching passersby wander past them once in a while, before he finally mumbles, ]

I ain't complaining about anything. D'you know how lame it is when guys whine about every little thing that happens to'em.

[ Of course he's the type to spout that toxic male bullshit. It's not just that, though. For Gen, sin and secrecy go hand in hand, a long-ingrained habit he'd formed years ago and never learned to shake off. If he dirties his hands, he's meant to keep it to himself; even knowing the nature of the war they're fighting, it's hard for him to break that unspoken rule and speak of these matters to others. Especially when this one is personal, not like the fight with Estinien. The fact that Misa's already seen him at his "whiniest" before -- already seen him lose control and lash out, spilling his guts in the ugliest fashion -- is probably the main factor in why he reluctantly buckles. Gen gives a short sigh after another moment's pause, looking down into his hand as he slowly tilts the bottle in his hand one way, then the other, watching light refract through the glass. It's obvious he's forcing his voice flat, fighting to sound as neutral as he can. ]

... I fought with that Pleroma guy, Dokja. During it, I -- [ lost my arm ] ... things got ugly. But I killed him in the end, so. It doesn't really matter. I'm fine.

[ He's not, and it's obvious he's not. But that last bit slips out of habit. ]

[lifespanned]

[ Her brow raises a bit at the name— frankly, with how long she's gone without seeing him, she finds she's hardly thought of him much. That gloomy guy could do this? She supposes it should be expected - Aions are unpredictable and always growing in power - but it is a sobering thought nonetheless, more so because she doubts Gen has faced off against someone truly trying to end his life before.

Or maybe he has. He looks so... out of it.

She doesn't buy that he's fine for a second. ]

"Doesn't really matter," huh.

[ Misa repeats, giving a soft and disbelieving hmph. ]

Did you... have to do it? Or did you want to do it?

[ Her question, serious as it is, is posed a bit flippantly - like she isn't going to be disgusted or turned away by whichever option he picks, if he even feels like answering her. There's justification for both, really. If he had no choice, then that was that. And if he wanted to do it, she's sure he had some reason outside plain bloodlust, whether that's the dry fact that Dokja is of the Pleroma, and Gen is of the Kenoma, or if there's something else she's not yet even aware of. In her heart, Misa feels very little overall sympathy for the Pleroma she doesn't know well, and would leave most of them to the wolves if given an opportunity, so she really doesn't show much outward distress over the revelation that Dokja was murdered. But Gen... is her friend, or something close to it, so she wants to find out, if only because she's so sure that she's in the best position to do it, sharing a Legacy with him and knowing bits and pieces of his past. She's seen - felt - what drove him to try to kill someone else before. It isn't a matter he takes lightly, but it's also something she doesn't know if he'd ever try to get off his chest without the right push. ]

[epiprocta]

[ Flippant or not, it's a good question. Gen frowns as he absently rolls the bottle over in his hand, watching the last few drops slide against the inside of the glass. 'I had to,' he vaguely remembers telling Eustace back in Venera. But in reality -- ]

... both.

[ Gen still sounds out of it, his words low and directed into the middle distance. ]

I think it was both. [ But not 'both' in the way Misa might have expected. Gen's frown deepens as he continues quietly. ] He said some things I can't forgive. I couldn't just let it slide. And back in Venera, he ... saw some things he shouldn't have. Stuff no one was supposed to know. ... I can't forgive that. And I can't forgive what he said then, either.

[ Misa must be familiar with the faint emotion that creeps into her perception, a needling sensation that starts deep in the chest and seeps into the back of the throat, hot and persistent. The same heartache that he'd practically assaulted her with during their own confrontation in Venera. The intensity of what Gen's harboring now must be terribly obvious, given the clarity with which it reaches her even with their shards in place and without the Innocence's effects; even with those limiters in place, it must still be an unpleasant tightness around the lungs.

(It must be telling, too, that Gen had been furious with her in Venera, but even then, hadn't attempted to actually hurt her. Dokja saw him at an even more vulnerable moment. And what he'd said in response was worse. Far worse.)

That unpleasant sensation foisted upon her lingers for a moment, only subsiding bit by bit when Gen gives a hoarse exhale. There's the rustle of fabric as he sits back heavily on the bench and slouches down with atrocious posture. His hair's getting into his eyes, and there's a brief shift as he reflexively tries to brush it out of the way with his left hand -- only to remember he can't, and stifle a grunt as he settles for trying to scuff it out of the way with the back of his wrist. ]

... he's a piece of shit. He needed to die.

[ 'So I did it,' goes unsaid. Like that resolves the matter. It just comes out sounding far more tired than he'd intended. ]

[lifespanned]

[ There's still a level of mystery where this feeling comes from— but she can feel it, how similar it is to the burning ache she'd felt in Venera. This time, she's not caught so off guard by it, and simply takes it in stride, turning her head to rest her chin on her shoulder while she looks at him - his overgrown hair, the exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes, the slouch weighing him down. By just appraising him for a few seconds, her mind's already made up on how to approach this. ]

It's a good thing he did then, huh?

[ Because really— who cares? If Gen wanted to do it, or had to do it? So long as he had a reason, she would never let such an admission leave a notch on her impression of him. Misa could completely understand what it meant to want to kill someone so badly because they did something unforgiveable. To her... it doesn't really matter what that unforgiveable thing is - nor does she care to know the specifics of what horrible thing Dokja must have said to Gen (which, she assumes must have really been awful, since the two of them are still on speaking terms despite Misa bluntly telling him what she did in Venera.) Her brow knits a bit, trying to meet his eyes, wondering if trying to relate to him will help the situation more than it will hurt it. In turn to the tightness in her chest, relayed from him, her own heart and mind remain calm, steadying, assured. Maybe, in some sense, like an anchor for him. ]

Listen, Gen... I understand. When my parents' killer never went to trial, I wanted to kill him myself... he needed to die for what he did.

[ It's the closest thing she can think of to help him feel less alone— an affirmation that sometimes, people do something unforgiveable, and that they deserve death for it. There's nothing wrong with that, not to Misa - and it's certainly not wrong to act on it, either. Had she had the Death Note back then, she would have killed him in an instant. ]

Do you know how happy I was when that guy was finally dead? If you ask me... I'm glad you were able to get back at him.

[ If what Dokja did hurt him so badly, then she could imagine it was something of a relief to actually kill him. At least for her, it felt like a weight lifted off, finally being able to know the person you hate so much isn't breathing anymore. A macabre thought, to be sure, but she's on the same page as him. Sometimes, people just have to die for what they've done.

It's just that... she wishes he felt a little better about it. It's plain as day that the act, or the aftermath is still bothering him— perhaps it's because it isn't permanent, or perhaps it's just the burden of killing someone. Either way. If she can do something to reframe the situation for him, or at least let him know he's not alone thinking that way, then she'll do it. ]

[epiprocta]

[ It's weird.

When he was younger, back after he'd first known what it was like to have the weight of a murder bearing down on him, this was all he'd wanted -- for someone to tell him they understood, that he hadn't done anything wrong, and that he'd been in the right for killing someone who'd deserved to die. But now that it's actually here ... he gets the strange sense that this isn't quite right, either. Something about the casual way Misa states her approval doesn't sit quite right with him, and those placid words don't do much to ease the persistent, weighty feeling that's been bearing down on his lungs for days, now.

Not that he doesn't still appreciate them.

He'd only given her a sideways glance past the scraggly shadow of his hair at first, looking at her at the fringes of his field of vision without turning his head. But when Misa lays down that final comment -- that she's glad he was able to kill Dokja -- he can't help laughing. It's a soft noise, barely more than a hoarse exhale, and lacking in any mockery or derision. If anything, Gen simply sounds disbelieving -- his words are muffled from the way he drags his hand over his face, trying to scuff the exhausted blurriness out of his eyes, but it does little to hide the incredulous edge to his words. ]

Y'know, I never thought I'd ever actually hear someone say they're glad I killed a person.

[ Just for a moment, Misa might feel a flicker of something hurt and bitter accompany those words, but Gen heaves a sigh, and it's gone. He slouches further down in his seat to rest his head against the back of the bench, pressing his knuckles against that point between his brows to ease the persistent headache he's had since returning from Venera. The lack of sleep probably hasn't been helping. Still, he struggles through that muddy haze that's been filling his head to try and think of how the hell to respond to everything Misa's said. ]

... mmn. Yeah, I know. I know I did the right thing. [ He does. But the fact that he says it out loud, even soft and under his breath, probably makes it evident he's still convincing himself of it. ] I knew that. But, just ... I guess hearing it from you doesn't hurt.

[ Ironically, the fact that those words are coming from Misa, specifically, does help. Gen knows that there is something deeply broken about Misa, that she's also someone who's been incredibly hurt and had her priorities skewed as a result of it. But still -- that doesn't negate the fact that she does seem to understand what he's feeling at least in part, even if their circumstances are different. And if nothing else, he knows Misa wouldn't lie just to make him feel better. She probably really believes what she's saying -- and that's somehow far more important to him than what she's actually saying. The fact that she's capable of being straightforward with him in this moment, and not looking at him with fear. ]

... I 'ppreciate it.

[ Those last few words are murmured quietly, audible only thanks to a lull in the foot traffic nearby. ]

[lifespanned]

[ She takes his incredulous reaction in stride - it wouldn't be the first time she's received such a reaction when declaring her acceptance towards others being killed. But Gen is different from those lawmen she'd talked to, he seems so much less... appalled, and more accepting, even if he sounds tired and not totally self-convinced that it's alright to think that way. All things considered, it's better than the typical reaction, which heightens her respect of him as a peer.

In fact, she even feels a little flicker of pride, getting him to admit that she made him feel better, even if it was for something like this. Aloof, lonely, tough-guy Gen. It's a comfort to her, too, to feel helpful and to feel appreciated, especially after a long string of what have felt like personal failures— failing guarding the execution of Vaeka, and failing to prevent Amos from nearly dying, too. ]

See, I knew you'd come around and appreciate me one day.

[ She hmphs, closing her eyes briefly with satisfaction, before tilting over enough so that she can bump shoulders with him in a light tease. But, instead of easing away immediately, she keeps herself pressed there, moving to keep the glass bottle still in her hand at her side. Due to the nature of her injuries, and the way they're sitting, she can't go all out on dealing out affection like she might with her typical forceful and energetic antics on a normal day— but maybe that's fine, anyway, given the solemnness of the moment. Selfishly, she just wants to feel connected to him, together with him, more than they are just through their Legacy. ]

Some people deserve it and stuff... just like Kira says. [ Because he must know of Kira; it was international news in her time, and she doubts the spectacle would be wiped away by a measly 16 years, even if she doubts she would've been acting as Kira herself in his time. The comment is said casually, like the context is obvious. ] You're fine. I don't think it's weird at all to think that way, even if you're making it seem like I'm weird.

[ Her words are light and encouraging, built on a solid, immovable foundation in her own mind that perfectly assuages every worry she could've ever had about all the lives she'd taken being something to worry about. ]