松野一松 「мaтѕuno ιcнιмaтѕu」 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ichininyaanshi) wrote2017-08-04 12:21 am
ichininyaanshi) wrote2017-08-04 12:21 am
松 ic contact (lifeaftr) (old)
 blacklimes @ tumblr ic contact for ichimatsu @ ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small} lifeaftr. as there is no network at present, limited to interactions via notes or stones of farspeech only.!please put date in subject header! |
Backdated to October 24th
Heh. And who knew that work...could make you feel like such a prolific failure?
Karamatsu wakes on the beach, and all he really knows is- he didn’t do anything. Didn’t help anyone. The Storyteller did it all, in the end. The Storyteller saved everyone. The Storyteller sealed the caves. The Storyteller… removed everyone.
Everyone still alive.
He spends the next few hours looking for the people he knows. Tense and quiet, he doesn’t stop much. Some people are injured, but not as many as there could be. The glaring absence of others says much, much more.
That little kid- his little flower blossom. They’re not here.
Osomatsu isn’t either. Ichimatsu…
Eventually, he goes back to the cottage. Rushes, actually, with a burst of inspiration and a painfully fragile hope. Throwing the door open (a rickety thing, made of sticks and rope), it almost falls to pieces under the force, but- ah.
There’s one. Karamatsu’s relief is obvious, shoulders sagging as he takes in Ichimatsu, seated in the corner of the wide, dark space. Petunia snaps her jaws- he’d blow her a kiss, but something punctures that joy fairly quickly. Steals away that relief as he looks away from Ichimatsu, and takes in the rest of the wide, dark…. empty space.
Osomatsu.]
Ah...heh. First one back, huh? Sorry to keep you waiting. [He tries for confidence, voice too wobbly for it to sound even remotely sincere.] Here I am, in the flesh. Heh… what a busy day.
[Heh…]
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[So he runs.]
[It's so goddamn stupid. He realizes that, once he's walled himself into their cottage, shuffled as far back into a corner as he's physically capable of compacting his body, and buried his fingers up into his hair. He should have stuck around for at least a few minutes. Looked for people he knew... Ren, Tibia, Muffet, the water-lizard... his own fucking family. Ha, he only knows for sure that one person is dead, and he has no clue whether the rest are alive.]
[That uncertainty, as it turns out, is what glues him to his corner with paralyzing force. It's what makes the minutes into hours into years, light rattling through the dingy stick-door like a sundial, and if he could just... move, do something, if he...]
[If he wasn't alone...]
[Alone, like he left Drifter. Left them to die all by their damn self down in that shithole of a tunnel system. Haa, why did he make them that promise? What was the point? At this rate, it's fine if he just stays like this forever. If no one comes for him, they must have all died, right? So it's not like it'd matter either way.]
[The minutes tick on. He moves his hand down, nails clutching at his brow.]
[And then the door opens.]
[Ichimatsu's eyes snap to the form in the doorway, and shit, the relief that breaks apart inside him like a glacier is so numbing that he can barely think. His hand drops, and he blinks at the silhouette against the sunlight until it comes into focus. He can already tell it's his brother -- which one isn't obvious immediately, but he doesn't care. He feels lightheaded, nearly giddy.]
[Thank god.]
[Funny, then, how he can't seem to muster up a reaction. Even when his brother speaks -- it's Karamatsu, moving into the room quietly and subdued, so unlike his painful, pitiful, steadfast self -- Ichimatsu can't do more than peer at him over his knees, watching his every movement with predator-like exactness.]
.....
[He hears it. He hears the waver in his brother's voice, and he wants to pounce on it, rip it out of Karamatsu like a starving animal, because isn't that bullshit exactly what Ichimatsu's been trying to dig out of his brother all these years?]
[His alive brother.]
[God, he's alive.]
Karamatsu... just shut up.
... come here.
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Neither is Karamatsu. His smile falters all too easily, a soft sigh escaping him, as if getting permission was all he needed to let himself admit that right now, he's too tired to keep it up. To pretend there's nothing to see in the world; nothing worth hurting over.
Slowly, he shuffles over to Ichimatsu, back hitting the wall as he lets his knees give, and hits the ground with a thud.
And then it's quiet.
Ichimatsu's usually good for that. When the two of them are stuck in the same room together (a rarity, considering how much his mere presence seems to repel his younger sibling), they usually managed to maintain a comfortable enough silence, falling into whatever hobbies or wasteful activities they were want to do. A fragile balance between co-existence and real abhorrence; moments that give him hope that maybe, their relationship as brothers- not sextuplets, but brothers- wasn't completely beyond repair.
I can't find Osomatsu.
I knew a kid who died.
When those are the only things he has to say... well, he can take good advice, from time to time.
Karamatsu shuts up, head dropping back against the wood as he stares listlessly at the ceiling. He wonders if Ichimatsu has had the chance to make friends, in this place.
He wonders how many of them are now gone, too.]
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[By the time he opens his eyes, the giddy feeling is gone; so is the disdain for his twin. Now it's just the two of them, pressed this close together in an empty room that's still never felt so giant. Better than it had a few minutes ago, at least.]
[He doesn't need to ask. How quickly Karamatsu folded beneath his weak command said it all. His brother's lost someone, too, and thinking about that etches a leery smile across his face, hidden behind his folded arms. Has Karamatsu... actually been making friends? He's found someone crazy enough to stand his painfulness? Haha, and now they're dead, right? Ichimatsu can't think of anything else that would so utterly blast through every layer of his glittery armor. What a joke.]
[Ichimatsu stares at the door, as if waiting for Osomatsu to have been right behind the second eldest, loudly complaining, immediately throwing himself on the floor and rolling around in a fit. Of course, it won't happen. He'd already have found a way to cheer up Karamatsu on the way here, in a way Ichimatsu could never dream of.]
[He presses a palm into his eye. All he sees is blue. Blue skin, pale and frosted by crystals. His blue brother, painful, in pain, not even trying to hide it.]
H-heh... heh heh.
Look at that, Niisan. We're unburnable after all.
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[Echoed flatly- he's right though, isn't he? Good people died, these past few days- good, useful people. People with true ambitions, who did their best to help out where they could. Little kids who never even had the chance to start realizing their dreams.
Osomatsu.
But here the two of them are anyway. Dragged out of harm's way by the proverbial scruff of the neck, even though they were completely useless. Not that he hadn't tried to be otherwise. A little girl cleared more in an hour than he had in five.
But he doesn't say that. Doesn't breathe a word of it. Slowly, he shifts over, so their shoulders press together. He doesn't know if Ichimatsu will allow much more than that...but he would.
Karamatsu knows better than to ask if he needs it.]
Makes you wonder, right? Why us.
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1/2
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early February, sometime after the end of the Dark Week
[You didn't think she'd forgotten, did you?]
3/30 irock nighty night time
[Look she can call him all the time thanks to this magic treasure!]
Can you see pretty stars? There's a cat up there-I can see it.
[Using her I M A G I N A T I O N all stars look like catstellations now.]
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Ah, Ren-chan... you can, huh? [He stifles a yawn, grabs the stone, and picks himself up, pushing aside the blanket draped over the entrance of his nest so he can step outside himself. He knows there's no chance of spotting the same cluster of stars as she's looking at, but what's the harm in playing along?] I don't see it. What kind of cat is it?
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It's one that looks like Pachinko.
[Tiny, cute and good.]
It's by the one that looks like a cloud.
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[He nods emphatically, even knowing she can't see it. And, of course, that he wouldn't be able to see the distinctive patterns of a calico in a scatter of stars, but it doesn't stop him from dropping down on his stick-and-mud veranda, resting the back of his head against the wall to stare upwards.]
[A night sky reminds him of another time. Staring up at a different one, a sky choked in thick city lights, and wondering if his brothers were seeing the same few stars. A pang of sudden loneliness twists in his chest, knowing without a doubt this time that they aren't -- but it isn't as strong as it could be. How could it, when he has company?]
Aa, I see it now. Have you named it yet?
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You can name this one. I'm sure it would be very happy if Murasaki-chan did that.
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birthday ayyyy
Or in this case, the little load of presents she's got in her hands, with esp kitty clinging to her shoulder like the good!!! boy!! he is.
Anyway, she does start yelling up at the home, when she's settled at the bottom of his treehouse, with a loud-]
I found you! You have to come out!
[She can't climb up there with this stuff!!]
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[Ichimatsu puts all of his heart and soul into sounding surprised, neither of which are things he actually really has, so his normally flat voice just floats down from his nest at a slightly higher volume than usual. Seconds later, Ichimatsu pops his head out of the entrance, his own kitten snoozing contentedly away in his hoodie pouch.]
[The stuff in her hands, in fact, does genuinely surprise him. Ichimatsu blinks down in mild confusion.]
Eh? What's all that?
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[She calls up with enough exuberance to spare for a small army. How could she not be beaming with pride?? The fact his kitty brothers aren't with him is a source of distress for her, since it must be lonely to spend a day alone when you're supposed to share it with your sibling. That's how it seems to be, in any case. So she is gonna make sure he's not alone today. Which is more of a curse than a birthday blessing, but whatever.
ESP seems to have the same idea-he holds a paw up from his perch on her shoulder, offering a weird cat greeting, before he gets jostled into clawing back into her clothes, because she's decided she has to show Murasaki-chan part of his gift right now immediately.
Here, good boy. Here's 1/3 of his presents-a beautiful shirt, held up as high as she can so he can get just the best view of whatever the heck is printed on it.]
It's not a pretty dress, but it's a shirt with your family on it! It looks like you.
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[-- he 'got older'? Oh crap, what day is it? There's no way it's May 24th already. He hasn't even been keeping track of this shit, but... it's been a couple weeks since Ren's birthday, he guesses. He can't really deny that it's probably about that time by now.]
[He also... really... likes that shirt...]
[No!! Not the point! Ichimatsu quickly shimmies down his ladder and comes to a stop in front of Ren, which awakens Pachinko with a grumpy little mew.]
Don't tell me... you came all the way out here for my birthday, Ren-chan?
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This thing too. You can sleep on it when the sun's out or when the moon's out and it'll give you good dreams.
[She's so freaking excited. It's not like he was around the camp when she realized his day was coming up. He couldn't see the antsy way she paced back and forth or how she would shut her eyes for an hour to try remembering every item her cats have ever played with. It boiled down, mostly, to the fact she got a shiny dress for her birthday, so he should get nice clothes too. And what cat doesn't like a comfy place to lay on? ESP sure does. He calls dibs on various blanket piles every night and she doesn't have the heart to pull them away.]
Happy birthday, Murasaki-chan.
aug 17; emeto, trichto, body horror, death
[That was a long time ago. Almost two years, maybe. Trash that had no business sitting in an office like that, looking at someone whose job it was to help him, telling him that he was beyond help. Because he never wanted it. What was the point? He and his brothers would never find the courage to leave their comfortable lives and face the world. That was two years ago, and as it turns out, a lot of things actually can change in two years. Especially if you end up wanting to be anyone, anything else than who you are.]
[No preference.]
[One year ago, one of his brothers did escape. Became reliable. Honest. Independent. Split the family into six glass shards as he tore himself out of their mirror. He left each one of them unrecognizable to each other, those stupid, identical sextuplets, the morons who continued to leave their home one by one, and Ichimatsu didn't blame him one bit for it. Didn't resent Choromatsu for one moment; not the moment Todomatsu left, or Karamatsu, or Jyushimatsu, or the moment he set a pastry down on a table and spoke to the reflectionless wall that was left of Osomatsu. Not the moment he turned around and left, either.]
[I just followed everyone else.]
[He'd fed the stray cats with every yen he had left. And then he'd wandered: in the streets, in the park, in the city, feeling his bones push out a little more with every passing day. Back then, he guesses he wasn't trying to die, but he wasn't doing a whole lot to stop it, either. This is how it should be. It's what he'd said to Osomatsu the day he left, and whatever happened afterward was just a part of that. This is how it should be... I think.]
[Hey, did you just think I was trash?]
[This is how it should be. A year later, two years, and even after everyone he met, even after getting one more chance with two of his brothers -- he didn't change enough for things not to end up like this anyway.]
[He recognizes this area. One of the first places he "explored" when he first arrived to this island; the black hole. The Storyteller's temple like a hazy giant in the distance. The dead silence, where nothing alive dares to tread, because that black hole will pull them in. What a stupid place. At a time like this, when his time has come way too many years late, why would his instincts take him back to this spot?]
[Yeah, I'm trash.]
[... well. It's as good a place as any.]
[Ichimatsu's knees hit the ground with a quiet thud, and he slumps soundlessly, bonelessly onto his side. Violet-colored blood sloshes from his nose, and he turns his head up from the dirt to retch a pulpy sludge of vomit and orchids. It slinks across the grass, and then keeps going, and keeps going, towards that bulb of darkness shimmering in the distance like a blacklight. He watches through swollen eyes, confused, until he sees the spiderweb-creep of the liquid stop. No; it's not the liquid. It's the flowers. Drawn in by the black hole, until the last bit of life left them.]
[Oh. That's why. It's that easy. Ichimatsu laughs, and it rattles the ugly purple buds in his gums where several of his teeth used to be. Rolling onto his stomach, he wipes at his bloodied, sweaty forehead. Then his fingers catch on the green petals criss-crossed over his eyebrows, filling them in, and he digs his nubby nails into them and tears with a growling surge of hatred. Screw it. If he's renewing all of his bad habits for this, he may as well go all out. He can't have petals falling into his eyes for this anyway.]
[He's just stubborn enough to do this much, at least.]
[Mounting all of the strength he has in his body, Ichimatsu flicks bloody bits of petals off his fingers, and starts to drag himself forward. The roots tangling outward from his hands snare on the grass, and his entire lower half feels like deadweight. His voice strangles out of his throat in sounds he's never heard before. That's all right. He's going to do something about it, this time. Instead of last time, back home, wandering off alone and waiting to die helplessly, waiting for some kind of person to stop him, this time, he can at least pitch in. His mind flashes to a binder, tangled in a bed of flowers. Like hell that's all he wants there to be left of him. Even if it's out here, where no one ever goes... he doesn't want anyone to find him like this.]
[Osomatsu. Karamatsu. Choromatsu. Jyushimatsu. Todomatsu.]
[Ren. Drifter. Lup. Muffet. Even his asshole neighbor.]
[No one is ever going to find a bunch of ugly flowers and think, Even when it came to dying, Ichimatsu was completely helpless. He didn't even try to change anything.]
[Unburnable trash with no will to live.]
[But he's stubborn, too. A stubborn, pride-filled jerk, and he hasn't changed enough to change his fate, but it's still something. Baby steps, right? Gritting his teeth, Ichimatsu lifts his head towards the blurring hole overhead, feeling the telltale tug at his skin, his bones. Still alive. As long as he gets close enough, no one will ever find him and say he didn't try.]
[The black hole slides out of surface, but he keeps dragging. Different things begin to slot behind his eyes instead. Osomatsu, cheering him on as he lights a bunch of centipuppies on fire. Karamatsu, his eyes -- not glittering, not that fake glamour, but glowing as he shoves kittens into Ichimatsu's arms. Muffet, leaving jugs of pear cider for him, all because of a dream they once both had together before they even properly met. His neighbor, who's a complete dick but seems mostly like a bullied kid that turned angry, and who's Ichimatsu to judge someone like that? The gorgeous elf who put him out when he set himself on fire, reached out to one brother when the only brother she had was no better off. Drifter, and how they died alone, and how they wouldn't let him die alone; the curve of their hand as they refused to let their hardship take away their smile. Ren, and how good she is, the amount of kindness in her heart that no number of the trinkets or clothing she loves so much could ever match; the loneliness that follows it, but he knows it's okay, because she kept her heart soft and so she'll always, always be surrounded by people who will be her wall. He thinks about them all, and how much he --]
[Ichimatsu gives a soft, shuddering exhale, grass tearing between his knuckles. No. Can't. He... not this time.]
[He hasn't changed that much yet. And, because he's a lucky bastard who gets way too many chances, he knows how this ends: he'll have more shots yet.]
[But, safely behind the barrier of fog and darkness in his head, he thinks of them. He thinks of them, and he doesn't notice when his hand falls short, thudding into the grass; when all of the tension in his atrophied muscles goes slack, and he slumps sideways, his head rolling down towards the dirt. Ichimatsu blinks, slowly, wondering why it's so damn quiet this morning and where all of his brothers went, and which cat is lying over him, digging their claws painfully into every inch of his skin.]
[... oh well. He can always figure it out later. Or not. No preference.]
[He neither feels nor registers a row of purple fly orchids blooming across his eyes. When the flowers multiply, and blossom, and slowly, clumsily begin tumbling in a mass towards the shimmering black hole in the sky, Ichimatsu doesn't appreciate that, either.]
[No preference. I just followed everyone else.]
aug 13, pretend i posted this before your thing
Until you're sick and aching and you realize somewhere in your past a witch must've cursed you to care about a bunch of stubborn jackasses who refuse to talk about their goddamn feelings ever. And those jackasses won't come down from their stupid loser nests so you gotta deal with their dumb deathtraps and fucking ladders to check on them. Where's that darn elevator when you need it?
Lup's visit is announced by a knapsack getting chucked up into Ichi's house, various bottles and containers clattering inside. If he checks his door, he'll find Lup about halfway up the ladder, fingers hooked clumsily over the rungs as she pulls herself up, muttering curses under her breath. Her hands are free of flowers for the moment, freshly burned off, though they're covered in open sores weeping clear fluid. There's no point in bandaging them when new buds are just gonna start pushing out again soon. A single orange flower sticks out from the strap of her top on her shoulder, looking more like a paradise beach accessory than anything.
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It's only the knapsack dropping onto his porch with a clatter of glass that stops him from rocketing into the most pathetic cleaning frenzy known to NEET. Instead, he sits up slowly, squinting with blurred eyes as someone else he knows crawls up the ladder and into his home.
Ichimatsu is surprised. Really surprised. But somehow all his swollen brain can focus on is that blossom on her shoulder, orange and bright and beautiful, and he thinks -- it makes sense that even her flower is gorgeous and vibrant, while his is ugly as sin. Not that it makes a difference. It's killing them both in the end.
Ichimatsu, obviously, hasn't been making nearly as much of an effort to prune himself: purple flowers bristle at his temples, draping down one side of his face, and a trail of dried blood drips from the corner of his mouth down to his jawbone. His hoodie is discarded to the side, leaving him in his sweats and a gray undershirt. Slowly, he lifts an eyebrow as she hauls herself over the side.
"Sorry," he croaks out; a fresh line of blood drips down his chin, and he lifts a finger tangled with thin vines to point at her sack. "But I don't really like alcohol."
APRIL EVENT
He's still her favorite cat, afterall. Though over the years she's started to realize the human parts of him are more prominent, that he might not be the feline she always knew him to be, but-
It's never changed how she treats him and it's never changed her perception-to her, he's always been a protector, a safety net-that's how cats are. That's how he is. Whenever she sees him, it gives her a sense of peace that's easier to hold onto after all these years.
So for him, she puts in an extra treat. A leftover cookie from the tray she had made for the kids the last night. They're bite sized and not the best, but it's a sugary snack they liked, so he might enjoy it too.
The two cats are hot on her tail until they get to the garden and the rustling in the grass is more enticing than the back of Ren's legs. She's not worried about it though. They'll catch something and come back home, just like they always do. Until then-]
Murasaki-chan! I brought you something-are you there?
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[That is to say: he's cottoned on to what's been going on this month, and as per usual, he wants as little to do with it as possible. For Ichimatsu, that means very little leaving his tree nest, other than to tend the garden or take Yachin out for a walk around the courtyard, make sure they're still getting enough sun. And his mask absolutely has not come off in days.]
[If anyone can get him outside, though, it's Ren. Ren - he pauses. Is that her? He doesn't get a lot of visitors, and it certainly does sound like her voice, but... it's different, somehow.]
[By the time he steps out onto the porch, squinting slightly through the haze, he's pretty sure he's already got it figured out. Which is why he doesn't react too much to her appearance - or at least he tries not to. His eyebrows still shoot up, eyes going slightly round, and he turns his face away for just a moment.]
[... she's... all grown.]
[Ichimatsu doesn't let it get the best of him for more than a second. He shakes it off, and shoves his hands into his pockets, calling down with his usual monotone.]
Aa, I'm here. So are Chi and Yachin.
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If Ren were trying out for the lion king remake, she would likely earn Rafiki's role instantly by the way she holds up the packaged up food towards the tiny kitty family. This has got to entice him a bit and she taps her foot against the ground to get her own hooligan cats' attention. Not that it makes a difference-there's something in the grass and only their ears turn back her way.
Oh well. Keep playing-that's fine!! ESP already had some food anyway.]
I made you something. It's very good-I tried different spices this time.
[With some nice, bland fish chunks for lil Pachinko on the side.]
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[She could make MUD CAKES and he would EAT it and it would be DELICIOUS. But he does appreciate the effort. Something in the way she phrases it - 'this time' - starts picking at him right away, but Ichimatsu doesn't start pulling apart the specifics yet; instead, he climbs down the ropy vines of his tree, perhaps a bit more effortlessly than his older self would have. Yachin, basking with their petals open behind the tree, looks up curiously.]
[Up close... Ichimatsu tries not to stare. It's hard not to react, and his eyes skate away within a few seconds; he scratches his jawline, feeling flustered. She's so grown up... and pretty, damn it. That's annoying. Is this some kind of kid-sister crisis he's having right now?]
Ren-chan made it, so it's gonna be good anyway.
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I wanted to make you onigiri, but I couldn't find the rice. I think I used it as a pillow.
[Probably. She can't remember. Waking up today was kind of weird too and she didn't even bother looking for it. The cats were meowing and she had to go, go, go.]
I'll look for it tonight and make you some. Do you want cats and stars?
[Because she's gonna mold the heck out of it. He thought this was good??? Wait until the onigiri. Which, speaking of food-
She passes the little cat lunchbox towards him, waiting to see if he likes all the little goodies she's prepared.]
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u know when this is
Patiently sits in the corner of a room that still has warmth, whether it's from the sun or the wandering cats that have yet to come home. She waits because that's what she does, poking and prodding at the few weird treasures her cat's brought home, hiding the few she thinks are too valuable to leave out.
The second time she enters, she waits.
Sits in the corner of the room, tapping her feet together because time is weird. She hasn't seen him wandering the island as a child, no matter how many times she scans the shoreline for multiple sets of pawprints. The room hasn't been touched and-
The third time she enters, she paces.
Unintentionally moving moving moving like the worst neighbor imaginable, bringing small containers of leftovers and open tins of cat food to entice him back out. It's been too many days, it's been so many days and-
The fourth time she-
Waits waits waits waits waits clutching the rock in her hand, clutching something in her hand because grass whistling outside his home didn't work and she's so scared that-
The fifth time she doesn't go into the house. She doesn't go anywhere near it. She travels to shores with tall grasses, to places that look like they might have rice, to dark corners and sections of the temple where he might be scared and eating sugar again and-
Looks for the perked up ears in the woods, a puffy tail because he's been scared and alone, scavenging the area where they found Pachinko together when it was dark really dark and she was scared-very scared and-
She strums the guitar in his abandoned room, unable to replicate the song he played that night. Unable to even make a basic melody because she hadn't been paying enough attention, too enamored by the party and the feeling of being together and safe and-
All she can do is strum, strum, strum as ESP rubs against her toes and side and-
That strum, strum, strum helps a little bit, when something in her chest tightens and it gets hard to say good boy, good boy without choking on her words and-
All she can do is run her fingers over those sharp lines, like the sound will call him back, like it'll bring him back, like the things she's doing will make him reappear before her eyes because he's like that-he's safe. When she's scared and sad, he appears. He holds her hand in a vice when flowers are poking out of their arms and neck and legs because he's safe-it doesn't hurt when he's there. Nothing hurts while he's there, but-
He's not here and it suddenly feels hot behind her eyes and she wants to reach for him, but-
It won't change anything at all.]