( open. )

[epiprocta]

WHO: Gen & OTA TO KENOMA.
WHAT: A Very Special Episode about how good and fun it is to stop smoking.
WHERE: Around the Citadel, Achamoth.
WHEN: Early-to-mid Visoseri, starting early during the Rise to the Challenge event.
WARNINGS: None at the moment!

i. training fields ( closed to LIEM )

[ It's not like he actually enjoys physical activity in any capacity, whether it be fighting or training or labor. The construction work he'd done back home and the training he does here are mostly the same to him -- just a job, a means to an end, and something "productive" he can do to vent his energy and keep himself occupied. Gen can't really imagine what kind of muscleheaded jock actually finds this shit fun or rewarding in its own right.

That said, the taste of a smoke right after a period of strenuous work almost makes it worth it.

Late in the afternoon, after one of the semi-regular group training sessions has wrapped up and the equipment's been mostly put away, with just a few stragglers still hanging behind to chit-chat and do final cool-downs. From where he's walking by, Liem might hear the sound of a soft click, a pause, then a deep sigh of contentment. Sensitive as he is to smells, it won't take him much effort to pinpoint the bitter tang of cigarette smoke; a plume of gray directs the eye to where Gen's leaning against one of the fences surrounding the training field, looking perfectly at home as he takes another deep drag.

And, feeling that glance directed his way, he looks over. Lucky for Liem, he's caught Gen before he could pocket his cigarettes once more, and since he's in a good mood he gives a cant of the head before holding out the pack in his direction. His words come slightly muffled around the cigarette in his mouth: ]

What, you want one?

ii. citadel grounds ( the sickly option )

[ It's a nice sunny afternoon, warm but not too warm, clear skies, etc. And anyone walking through the citadel grounds, might hear the sound of a low groan and a hoarse voice calling to them: ]

-- hey. [ It only takes a glance over to spot where Gen is slumped on a bench under the dappled shade of a tree, looking thoroughly pale and miserable and unwell. But more importantly, he gives a few shallow coughs before mumbling: ] Get this thing off me.

[ 'This thing' being a stray cat that's draped itself over his throat and chest, apparently having the best nap of its life, using him as a bed while it soaks up the sun. In typical cat fashion, of course it's made itself right at home on the place where it's least welcome at the moment. And while Gen really does look like he's having a rough time of it, and would appreciate being freed of that weight on his chest without having to unscrunch himself from the inglorious position he's huddled himself into ...

The cat looks really cute. And comfy. It's even purring a little! Maybe it'd be fine to just let it continue napping there. ]

iii. training fields ( the cranky option )

[ There's sounds of a commotion coming from the training field. Some sort of argument, it sounds like? And while the shouting and the snarling dies down by the time any concerned interlopers show up, one might spot the way several guards hurriedly exit the grounds, looking disgruntled and muttering something begrudging amongst themselves. One is nursing a bleeding nose leaving a trail of red spots on the ground.

And left on the otherwise-empty training circle is one (1) horrible teenager scuffing a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly roughed-up and irate. He's sporting a few scratches and a freshly-welling bruise on his cheek himself, but either hasn't noticed or doesn't care. Instead, the moment anyone even peeks into the training field, he's quick to turn on them with snarl. ]

-- the hell're you looking at.

iv. corridors ( the tired option )

[ Some stupid hour of the night finds the corridors of the Citadel largely quiet and empty. Almost peaceful. But well ... here he is, wide awake and dying for a smoke.

Anyone who glances down the corridor towards the balcony at its very end, illuminated by cold moonlight and framed by the swing of the door left open, might spot Gen where he's practically draped over the railing surrounding that little balcony, staring listlessly out at nothing.

This really would be a nice place to smoke and relax. But instead, here he is with his nerves rubbed raw by withdrawal, practically shivering from the way he can't quite calm down. Even the slightest noise coming from the corridor has him jerking around to glance over like a spooked dog ready to attack. Sorry not sorry if you were just trying to get to your room and instead find yourself being stared down by this incredibly tired but frazzled-looking youth. ]

v. wildcard

[ I'm open to just about anything! Please feel free to hit me with whatever, but otherwise I'm around at databomb, inktrashing#5307 on Discord, or right here on the event plotting post if you'd like to plot things first or want me to shotgun some ideas at you to see if anything piques your fancy! ]

Comments

[epiprocta]

[ He considers Gray's question a stupid one, and expresses as much by shooting her an exasperated look. But at the same time, he's too tired to be too combative. (Incredible that this shittiness he's directing Gray's way is what he'd consider a 'mild' level of bad attitude.) Gen suppresses a dry cough before answering. ]

Better for who.

[ Another short coughing fit before he continues wearily. ]

If you mean being a 'better person,' then no. But if you mean making your own life easier -- then probably, yeah. Better for you, I guess.

[gravings]

[ She weathers his bite once again, quickly learning that it's best to just let him get his frustrations out of his system. She's thought many times that she isn't smart enough to decipher other people, but it goes doubly for Gen. It crosses her mind that he might not understand himself why he's so angry all the time, so what hope does she have of trying to understand him from the outside? ]

... I don't think I'm quick enough to try to be dishonest. I have a hard enough time trying to keep the facts straight without adding complications to them.

[ No one's tried to claim that she's intelligent yet, and good thing, or else she'd have to throw out the rest of their remarks out with the bathwater. ]

[epiprocta]

And who said you gotta be smart to be dishonest? I mean saying shit like that -- about how you're 'not quick enough.'

[ It's not that Gen particularly agrees or disagrees with Gray's assessment of her own intelligence; he wouldn't claim to be a genius himself, and it's not like he think he could make an accurate reading of how smart she is. What does annoy him is the fact that she'd voluntarily deride herself like that. Gen's brow furrows as he goes on: ]

I didn't ask if you're stupid. Even if I did, you didn't need to say it, you could've said nothing. Why would you just give other people a reason to look down on you? Let other people think you're weak, and they'll just use that as an excuse to bully you more. Grow a backbone already.

[ The exhaustion has definitely loosened his tongue more than usual. But also, giving this lecture(?) also feels familiar in a not-entirely-awful way. The words certainly come easy. ]

[gravings]

[ His words are blunt like a hammer, but they do contain some logic. She's relied on the good graces of other people for much of her life, including now. It's rare that people do try to bully or intimidate her, but when they do, she understands why she makes an enticing target; she's self-aware in that way at least, knowing that it's a consequence of her lacking a backbone, as Gen puts it.

The difference between him and her is that Gen would never stand for being pushed around, while Gray doesn't mind it terribly. It isn't exactly pleasant, of course, but she lacks an ego to be bruised. It's far from a virtue, and there's no doubt in her mind that Gen would be disgusted if she said she didn't care about being bullied. It feels like nothing she could ever say would please him... though in a way, that's liberating. ]

How should I do that?

[ Grow a backbone, that is. It seems to her that his version of backbone is the simple act of lashing out whenever possible, but maybe he has a more nuanced take... ]

[epiprocta]

[ Brow furrowed and lips pressed together thinly, Gen takes a moment to formulate an answer to that question. In part because he can't tell if she's being deliberately obtuse, in part because his head still hurts, and in part because this is kind of a pain in the ass to explain. But right now, he just wants something to distract him from the gnawing desire for a smoke, so -- he decides to indulge her a little longer. It's only after he takes a long sip at his mug that he finds the right words. ]

... be proud of yourself.

[ It's the most succinct summary of what he'd wanted to tell Chako so many years back, he supposes. Gen's frown deepens as he looks aside, giving the matter what must be a slightly surprising amount of thought. ]

There'll always be people who try to give you shit, anyway. So don't make it easier for them. Know what you are, and remember what there is to be proud of. Even if there's only a little.

[ There. If it's put that simply, even Gray should be able to understand it, right? Just like Chako eventually had, in the end. At least to some degree. ]

[gravings]

[ It seems she really has been conditioned to expect the worst from him, because she's too surprised to respond for a good few seconds. The cat is already slapping at the notebook she's absently lowered onto her lap in the meantime, but she pays it no mind. ]

That's actually good advice...

[ She admits, clearly having expected otherwise. Of course, actually being proud of herself is easier said than done, but if he's saying that clinging to just a tiny bit of pride might suffice, no matter how granular it is, then maybe that's a starting point she can work with. ]

What are you proud of yourself about, Minegishi?

[epiprocta]

[ Even if he might have had the energy to be annoyed that Gray wasn't expecting good advice from him, he doesn't even get the chance for any irritation before Gray turns that question back on him. Which he honestly wasn't anticipating.

It's Gen's turn to be surprised for a few moments. A much longer span of time than Gray might have expected, actually, given Gen had been the one to give that advice in the first place. A prolonged silence where Gen stares into his mug, watching his breathes send faint ripples over the liquid surface. His surprise is both at the gall Gray had to ask him that, and because it's ... shockingly difficult to answer, now that he's forced to consider it. After far too long a pause, he does finally mutter, ]

... if there's something that needs to be done, I can do it. No matter what it is.

[ Funny, how it feels like that question would have been so much easier to answer in the past. Funny, how even the answer he does give doesn't feel right any more.

With that answer forced out, Gen sighs. ]

-- and it's your homework assignment, not mine. Why're you asking about me.

[gravings]

... I thought it might be fun to be able to cheat off someone else's homework.

[ She lets that sit for a second as she thinks about his response. He can do what needs to be done? In other words, he isn't afraid to do the dirty work? That's the impression she gets, with how brusque he usually is. She could see him as a soldier or part of some task force, intense and driven.

Anyway. She continues with the same mild expression. ]

I'm sorry. That was a joke. I was just curious to know more about you.

[ She glances at him sideways around the corner of her hood. ]

Is it that strange? There aren't very Aions our age.

[ In the Kenoma Zone, they might even be the closest, as far as she can tell. ]

[epiprocta]

[ So she has a sense of humor, huh. Gen huffs a ragged exhale, not quite a sardonic laugh. ]

Yeah, 'cause I'm the type who'd have the right answers for shit like this.

[ He wonders if maybe Gray had expected him to say something else. That he's strong, or that he knows what he's doing, or that he's proud of everything about himself, something along those lines. Maybe he could have given one of those answers a half-year ago, but now he can't even jokingly claim to be proud of such things.

Gen makes no attempt to be polite as he takes an obnoxious, slurping sip of his tea, then lets his gaze slide over to fix on Gray once more. While it's probably true that he's probably the one closest in age to her -- ]

Age isn't that important. Most people wouldn't wanna get to know more about someone who almost made'em cry. [ It's not like he's forgotten how cowed Gray had looked back during that party when he'd yanked her hood off. Even if he still thinks that was an overreaction, the fact remains that she'd clearly been upset. He gives a half-hearted shrug before looking back into his mug. ] Your choice, though.

[gravings]

[ Gray by no means considers herself a highfalutin Brit, but she glances over at him again for that obnoxious slurp. It may be that she's just grown too used to eating with people mindful of their stations, but she can't help feeling just a tiny bit scandalized. But she powers on through. ]

Age doesn't mean everything... but I don't think it means nothing, either. I only recently had the chance to meet a lot of people my age, and it was a nice feeling.

[ Even though magi must be, on average, worse than the rest of humanity. Maybe it was a training period for dealing with Gen. As for his comment on almost making her cry... a lot of people have done that, so she can't be too upset about it. But even she won't admit that out loud. ]

As long as you leave my hood alone from now on, it's alright.

[ Which is absolutely not an invitation for him to start messing with her hood, and with her free hand she automatically pinches her hood lower on her head. ]

[epiprocta]

[ His horrible, delinquent, take-no-shit attitude demands that he respond with "who asked you to tell me what's 'alright?'" Instead, exhaustion dictates that Gen only answer with a listless grunt, not wanting to waste needless energy. Especially since it's not like there's any real sense of fun or accomplishment in berating someone as meek and unresistant as Gray. 'A nice feeling,' she says to him, and he's tempted to ask what the hell her damage is.

Instead, Gen takes another sip of tea, clears his throat, then asks, ]

What's your deal with that hood, anyway.

[ He's admittedly been curious for a while. Gray's a strange specimen -- one he's like 80% sure comes from some sort of weirdo commune, by this point -- but her specific fears of being unhooded are ones that he can't get a read on. ]

You're cute in a normal way. [ 'Cute' is a word that probably sounds awfully foreign coming from his mouth, probably, but Gen bulldozes on without pause. ] What, you get harassed because of it before or something?

[gravings]

[ It is indeed surprising to hear that the word "cute" is in his vocabulary, but rather than embarrassment or pleasure, she only feels a sense of sinking, like hands dragging her down by her ankles. She pinches her hood even lower, until her face is obscured to all but the most dogged. ]

I'd rather no one look at my face.

[ She says, a little obliquely. But she senses that he probably wants more of an answer than that, so with some difficulty, she drags out a whisper. ]

... It isn't actually mine.

[epiprocta]

[ An awkward silence hangs in the air for a long moment after Gray's soft words. Then, brusque as ever, Gen deadpans, ]

The hell does that even mean.

[ What, she just has someone else's face? Surgically? With magic? And to what end? -- his head hurts too bad to deal with this, actually. So even as he rolls his eyes at what a stupid turn this conversation seems to have taken, he forges on without waiting for a proper answer. ]

... wouldn't a mask be more comfortable. Or just change your face. Makeup, or a scar or something. You look stuffy wearing that thing all the time.

[gravings]

[ She isn't sure how to feel about having the reason for all of her life's woes so thoroughly dismissed. She manages not to sigh as she glances back over at him. ]

I think it would only make other people uncomfortable if I wore a mask. Usually you only see them on people robbing banks... and serial killers.

[ It's a funny suggestion to begin with. If she walked around London with a mask, she'd probably get arrested. As for makeup, she has a reason why she doesn't want to do it, but he probably wouldn't consider it a very good one. ]

Um, I'm not sure what you mean by a scar, though?

[ Is there anything less cool than a self-inflicted scar... ]

[epiprocta]

[ Is he not making 100% sense? Probably. It can partially be blamed on the brainfog as a result of his nicotine withdrawal, probably. But only partially. He does have a point to make, obtuse as it might be, and he mutters it sullenly into his mug. ]

If your face isn't 'yours,' whatever the hell that means -- [ sorry not sorry Gray, he's accompanying that bit with a small roll of the eyes ] -- then you just have you make it yours, yeah? Whether it's with a scar, or make-up, or ... whatever.

[ Another sip at his mug before he shoots Gray another sideways glance. ]

Dunno what it is you're hung up on when it comes to your face, but -- you're stuck with it, aren't you? You really wanna spend the rest of your life hiding like that? [ He refrains from saying as much, but his tone of voice implies that's pathetic. Cowering for her whole life out of consideration for others. ] Who cares what other people think. You said you wanna be more selfish. At least make yourself more comfortable with your own face.

[gravings]

[ She plays with that idea in her mind, which would never have been admissable when she was in her home village where the visage of King Arthur was considered holy, a culmination of over a thousand years' work and devotion. As much grief as it's caused her, she's never dared to think of marring it purely for the sake of vandalism or ownership. Altering her current face won't bring back the one she was born with; the girl that existed up to the transformation of her face is effectively dead.

But there is some appeal, maybe even a lot of appeal, to his suggestion, and she stares out thoughtfully as she considers the logistics of how she might go permanently altering her face. ]

I'll think about it.

[ She doesn't mean it as some vague platitude. She'll really plans to think about it. He does have a point that she would be better off trying to remedy the situation sooner rather than later. She has a mind to thank him for reminding her to be more selfish, but she thinks he might not like it if she did.

... Though that's just more reason to thank him, isn't it? The name of the game is to do what she feels like doing. ]

Thank you. Maybe you don't want to hear me say that, but that's how I feel.

[ Before he can try to tell her off for being weird or something, she continues on. ]

When I was little, my face changed overnight. It's kind of a long story, but... in short, this is the face of a great hero from a long time ago.

[ She leaves out the name of said hero. It beggars belief, frankly, but she imagines there's no place that would know better than her zealous little village. ]