[open] you know what your problem is?

[baltimores]

WHO: Amos, any Kenoma
WHAT: Amos rewards himself for being cured of Innocence by going on a depression bender.
WHERE: Throughout Achamoth
WHEN: Towards the end of/after the event
WARNINGS: Depression, self-loathing, a little suicidal ideation, lots of drinking, references to brothels, discussion of domestic violence/sexual assault/prostitution/child prostitution; will update as necessary



[ So, this sucks.

Getting out of Venera as soon as possible had been the only thing on Amos' mind once Misa had forced him out of Innocence's grip. That thing had exploited his vulnerabilities, manipulated him, turned him into a puppet to spread its nonsensical, fucked up somewhat understandable agenda, and he needed to leave immediately, before he fell victim to it again.

His legacy's shrine is one of the closest to Achamoth. Easy.

He had to swim across a lake and spend days walking across farmland in waterlogged boots before he actually made it back to the city. Less easy.

Though for all of the personal discomfort and frustration that brought with it, it was readily ignored by spending that time mentally reviewing everything he did while he was fucked in the head, now that he could with proper context. All of the harm he'd caused, all of the ways he'd refused to listen to reason, being reminded of the fact that all he's really good for is ruining other people's lives. Turns out that sucks.

Then there's the fact that ever since an initial mishap during one of his first days in Achamoth, he's been careful to not go out into the city with his shard exposed — but since anything he'd used to cover it up had ended up getting destroyed in Venera, he has no choice but to subject himself to. This. When he's the last person who should be revered or admired in any way, and now he has no way to avoid it.

The first stop on Amos' list is somewhere that can get him clothed again, courtesy of I don't have any money but I am an Aion can I please just have a shirt now. All subsequent stops are, well... ]


i. so just drinking and fucking

[ Going back to the Citadel isn't even remotely on his mind, certainly not when he's got plenty of self-pity to wallow in.

Amos sticks to the seedier parts of Achamoth, weaving his way through various bars and brothels as the mood strikes him. He still doesn't have any money on him, so it's a whole lot of showing off his shard to get either free booze, comped sex, or serve as a credible IOU (and one that, to the meagre credit he has left, he'll actually fulfil once he's had the chance to get his head back on straight and reacquire finances from the Citadel). It isn't hedonism he's fully sinking into so much as I'm a bad person, I feel like shit, I'm going to do things that physically make me feel less like shit. There are worse coping mechanisms, he figures; if there actually aren't, he doesn't care.

He ignores all communion messages he feels coming through; the best anyone can hope for if they try to reach out to him directly is a tacit acknowledgment that he's still alive, combined with maybe a somewhat hazy impression of his immediate surroundings, if that latter part ends up slipping through.

That, or maybe you just so happen to run into him in some shithole dive bar or upon leaving a brothel.

Either way, there really isn't a whole lot he can do if you end up in physically the same space as him, is there. ]


ii. till they run out of one or the other

[ At some point, he actually does have to go back to the Citadel.

He's clearly worse for the wear when he finally shows back up there, rough around the edges when he finally delivers his report to Xishen — several days late, but who's counting — and then has free reign of... well, not the entire place, but the usual.

Fuck, does he need a shower. And a nap. And maybe another drink, because why the hell not. Even though he may not necessarily look it, Amos is certainly feeling better; otherwise, he wouldn't have ended up back here.

Maybe he's dishevelled, maybe he's finally had the chance to clean up; maybe he's briefly roaming the hallways, maybe he's taking advantage of having his own spacious room again. Either way, he's certainly more receptive to company, having gotten most of... that... out of his system in the city.

Though Amos isn't forgetting how easily led astray he was, all in the name of hurting people, anytime soon. That part still bothers him, but when hasn't that been a regular part of his psyche, anyway. ]


iii. wildcard

[ I'm at arii#6412 or cadiai if we need to talk specifics. ]

Comments

i + wildcardish, misa and gen retrieve amos in their get along shirt

[lifespanned]

[ When she initially reaches out for Gen's help, she's expecting a cold shoulder at best, and a reignition of their argument in Venera at worst. And because of that, when she does actually get through, she keeps her messages short and curt, seeking only information. Amos is missing, have you heard from him? Just a yes or no is fine. Any details about her knowledge of the matter were kept vague if Gen asked, with her only explaining that she was the last person to see him before he left Venera, and that she knows for certain that he's in the city. All that, along with an assurance that her asking this of Gen is for Amos's sake, not hers. She can't imagine Gen feels like doing her any favors right about now, after all. But, for Amos, maybe...

Thus, it's a welcome surprise when she actually manages to get him to agree to look around the few areas that the pair have frequented, especially given that she almost never ventures that far into the seedier parts of Achamoth. Only her inexperience and desperation to locate their companion allow her to surrender her pride like this, and to control herself from acting out to intentionally worsen things between herself and her fellow teenaged Aion.

When Gen comes upon their agreed meeting spot, he'll see that Misa is in markedly different condition than her usual flair: dressed down to simple clothes, hair not styled, her makeup understated and doing little to hide how exhausted she is. On any given normal day, she gives off the impression of someone who is simply not paying attention to anything about her surroundings, but at present, she seems remarkably focused, honed in on the situation at hand, her gaze sharp as a new razor. She's waiting there, with her arms crossed tight, impatient looking - but she mercifully doesn't offer a took you long enough, or hurry up when she actually sees him. ]

There you are. [ She even takes a few steps to meet him half way, in a hurry already. ] I haven't been to this area a lot, so I need you to show me where you were talking about...

ii - In the Citadel Hallways

[lachtara]

[ It is time to take a break from reading. So Emet-Selch has taken a cup of tea and excused himself to the hallway just outside the library. There is fresh air and a view of the outside from this vantage point. A much-welcomed change of scenery after hours of intensive reading.

Though, it seems there is quite the different view striding down the hall in his direction. One of his "unintentional" students who looks as ramshackle as they come strides in his direction. Emet-Selch finishes the sip of tea and sets the cup on the saucer as Amos' passes. ]

Having a difficult morning, are we?

i

[hundredpower]

[For all that he carries himself like a high-class celebrity, and for all that he's avoided most of the seedier parts of the city so far since his arrival, Barnaby is more street-smart than he looks. He'd frittered away countless evenings when he was a teenager in the worst parts of Sternbild's Bronze Stage, armed with little more than a drawing and a name-- Ouroboros. He'd demand answers people didn't have or wouldn't share and get into bar fights. He'd return home empty-handed and angrier than ever.

Achamoth's entertainment district reminds him of those dark days, but it's at least an escape from the Citadel, if only to explore and acquaint himself with. With his shard concealed, too, it grants almost complete anonymity... or it would, but he spots a familiar figure unsteadily weaving his way down the street. Drunk, undoubtedly, and when he gets closer, the reek of alcohol is unmistakable.]

Amos. [He approaches, trying to get his attention, but it doesn't seem to work, so he raises his voice.] Amos!

i

[zauneyete]

[ Like Amos, Silco also finds comfort in the dingiest, worst bars in Achamoth. Unlike Amos, he isn't keen on the over-indulgence, but like Amos, seeking out the comfortable and familiar is what one does after... all of that.

The bar is slightly dim, the drinks cheap, and it isn't Silco's usual haunt, but he doesn't want to be found, so he slips in and out of the seedier establishments with ease, reaching out a finger to order a bar, when out of the corner of his eye -- the good one -- he caught sight of Amos. He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn it looked like he was trying to beg up a drink -- or maybe that was his imagination.

He hadn't paid attention much to the fact that he'd been gone -- beyond the fact that he hadn't arrived with the rest of them -- but he doubled his order, before he moved through the crowd like a comfortable, old snake, and shook the drink in front of Amos, in greeting. ]

You know... there are likely better ways to get a drink.

i / wildcard

[epiprocta]

[ ... this asshole.

Gen may or may not slam down his glass on the counter a little too hard, clicking his tongue loudly as he looks towards the entrance to the bar for the Nth time -- and sure enough, still no Amos walking in. Is he really going to make himself a pain in the ass and require a whole 'nother search session to hunt down? Ugh. ]

Gimme another one.

[ Ignoring the disapproving stare from the bartender no doubt unhappy about having his glassware mishandled, Gen slides over the money for a second beer. And though he looks up the moment he hears the door creak open, it's just some random stranger wandering in, earning another indignant huff. His barstool's juddering lightly from the way he jostles his leg, and Gen snatches up his beer the moment the bartender hands it over to take a long drink.

-- how badly did Amos get fucked up in Venera? Presumably he went through the same bullshit that most of them did, but ... Gen hadn't pinned him the type to react this badly to anything. What the hell did he have to deal with while under the influence of that shit?

The door creaks open once more, and though Gen snaps his gaze over to it in irate fashion, he sits up straighter the moment he realizes that, this time, it is who he was waiting for. ]

-- you're late.

[ Which means, of course, Amos walks through the door and is promptly greeted by that surly remark. Sorry bro. ]

iii.

[subsist]

[ kaeya is wandering down the halls of the citadel seemingly with no destination in mind. he's got a bottle of fine wine in one hand and two glasses stacked on top of each other in the other. while he wants to continue to avoid everyone, especially those he shares legacies with, he appears to have reached that limit tonight for reasons unknown.

he could have spent tonight drinking in his own room all by his lonesome, but there's a chance he won't finish the bottle on his own. there's no point letting a drink like this go to waste or so he says to himself, as if that's remotely convincing. the truth of the matter is that he'd rather not be alone tonight so he's heading towards the room of someone who wouldn't judge him too harshly. not that he can guarantee that, but it's just the general feeling he gets after the few interactions they've had so far.

he raps on amos' door quietly, not quite aware of how late it is. the worst thing that can happen is the guy refuses to be in each other's presence, which would be understandable, but at least he can give amos the wine so he isn't the one who would end up drinking the entire thing alone.

he's got a smile ready whenever the door opens, hands lifting up the spoils he's brought over tonight. ]

Are you busy?

i

[galdorleod]

[ Venera had been a complete shitshow. There's really no other way to look at it, not unless the Kenoma want to lie to themselves. They managed to find a solution to the infection, sure, but everything else about their week there — the investigation, their reunion with the Pleroma, the distribution of the cure, the Entity that capped it all — it was a complete shitshow, and Howl is in his own hurry to move on and forget about it.

And after his forced induction into the world of brothels by none other than Dionys, the most beautiful and desires woman in the city, his increasingly go-to method of forgetting himself is women. After his return to Achamoth, he spent only a few hours in his room before leaving again.

It's later that night, when Howl is lounging half-naked in a private room during a break, that one of the brothel's support staff peeks her head into the room and asks whether "the other Aion man, in the other room" is meant to be with Howl... and whether she ought to be putting everything on the same bill, because, (and with much denigrating and apologizing for having to bring this problem to him,) the other Aion does not seem to have any money on him at the moment.

This makes Howl blink. It's not so strange for another Aion to be here, it being one of the most highly regarded brothels in the city, but an Aion with no coin on hand...? If one pushed their weight around enough, flashed their Shard at enough managers, one could get whatever services one desired here for free... but Howl can't think of any Kenomas who would actually do that. Not when money is so easy for them to come by. One of the newer Aions he hasn't met yet, maybe...?

A few minutes later, there's a sharp and commanding rap at Amos' door. Having already confirmed with the staff member that the Aion within was not currently in the midst of services, he does not hesitate to simply open the door a few seconds after his knock, telling himself that he's given the man within sufficient time to pull a bedsheet over himself if he really needed to.

...

"Oh. Amos! Good evening!"

i.

[gravings]

[ Gray is maybe... a little lost.

Getting a taste of the freedom and (relative) anonymity of Venera has made her less than eager to return to the Citadel with its army of servants and watchful eyes. In greater Achamoth, she can at least attempt to conceal her Aion status. Cloaks and layered clothing are far from conspicuous to the gothic-flavored public, so she blends right in with the populace with her heavy hood and repressed aura. Wandering the streets and getting to know the city is a calming pastime, second only to shutting herself in with a good book.

But today she's probably wandered a little farther than she should have. She's spaced out so badly that she's ended up in a more... wordly part of the city.

This she realizes when a small flock of beautiful, enticingly dressed Achamites beckons for her to join them at the entrance of a plush-looking establishment. Gray stares for a long moment before realizing their likely profession, whereupon her face immediately bleeds into pink. She shakes her head apologetically at them and hastily backpedals for a retreat—

—only to suddenly stumble into someone behind her. ]

ii

[semicharmed]

[ The normal thing to do would be to check in.

At least, Matt thinks that'd been normal? Sending Amos a note or offering a small psychic nudge to the effect of hey, how are you doing now that that's all over would be the literal least Matt could do to make sure he's okay.

Except that every time he's about to do that, doubt starts to gnaw. Shame that he couldn't pull Amos out of the contagion's winged slurry. Shame that he used every dirty trick at his disposal, every scrap of information shared in confidence, and it still didn't work. Then he starts wondering of Amos even wants to hear from him right now. He said they were each other's "people," but that was before Matt threw the r-word in his face for no reason. In his experience, nothing is as conditional as family.

When Matt gets back from Venera, he throws himself into researching the other Legacies. That seems like something practical for a graduate student to do. At some point one late night, Matt's feet lead him not straight back to his own room, but on a meandering path that takes him down the hallway where Amos' room is.

When he spots Amos in the corridor, it can't really be called kismet. But Matt'll take it. Sometimes you gotta make your own serendipity. ]

Hey, um--

[ Matt means to say something brittle and cheery about fancy meeting you here. He can't manage it. All he can do is lift his hand in an awkward wave. ]

Hey.

ii+iii

[expiera]

[The Kenoma Aions came back without casualty or significant injury, and Xishen had informed them that the Regent was satisfied with the 'result of their work'. Difficult to take happiness or relief in the passing grade, however, when most of them had at least one if not several unpleasant altercations thanks to the Innocence's contagion. The Citadel may be big, Achamoth bigger, but as an afflicted ally that Ciel had run into before being forced to retreat out of helplessness, not seeing Amos around in person wasn't needed for her to attempt reaching out via communion.

The exchange didn't last long. While it was enough to confirm that he survived the ordeal, he... definitely didn't take what happened well. It was best to give him the time and space he needs, letting him know they'll all be there whenever he's ready to return was all she could do.

Is he still being led astray, by the time he finds himself ambling down a certain Citadel hallway? Whatever that's driving his steps, there's no denying that something smells good around here: sweet and wafting, he may recognize vanilla, butter, and dough. That he's close to the kitchen and pantry area would explain the source, there seems to be a couple of children waiting by the entrance too chatting by themselves.

Whether he decides to approach and investigate or turn around and go elsewhere, a young boy with black hair suddenly turns to look his way. He doesn't say anything, the other children don't appear to have noticed him or their friend acting strange. He's simply staring straight at Amos for the time being, looking strangely focused for some reason.

What will the mister do?]