Log date: 5/28/00
Log editor's note: OOC comments were kept in for flavor and tension
breaking, and because I thought that they were too damned funny to edit
out. n.n
Admin. Sanitation Hallway :: Tokyo Prep. Academy
Perpendicular to the main hallway, the sanitation hall runs
parallel to the main hall, along one of the outside walls, and is
therefor blessed with windows giving a nice view of the grounds
outside. The hall, colored all in blue and grey, runs straight to a
dead end, but two doors in the wall opposite the windows lead into
other rooms - one, to the supply room, and the other to the sanitation
office.
The sounds of someone moving down the staff hallway, nice, sticky,
squishy noises, sounding almost as though a certain somebody's shoes
were caked with wet mud and tracking it all over the place inside of
the Administration building. This particular individual, as the light
splashes across his face, showing off the dark strands of bluish black
hair and the vibrant sea green eyes which burn beneath each jaged
strand. The school that the love of his life attends, he's not even
supposed to be here, but he's such a nice guy, that he drops by daily
to pick up the miko's homework. Isn't he just the greatest seishi?
Perhaps, love sick is more like it. But the mud, that's something that
he'll have to explain once locating the janitor. Not sanitation
engineer. Janitor. "Oi! Anyone down here?" >.> <.< o O ( Reminds me
some sort of tomb, man. No color, just doors and hallways... ) It
doesn't stop him from snooping around, his footsteps becoming lighter
against the ground, but that doesn't stop the mud from leaving a
tell-tale trail where ever he may roam. "Heeeellloooooooo?"
As the delightfully sticky steps of one young man who's a few hairs out
of place tromp past, one of the doors slowly open, a pair of vibrant
golden eyes peeking out. They glance up one end of the hallway, then
the other -- and down to the floor, widening first before narrowing to
thin slits. There's ... mud. On his floor. Mud. And not just a little
bit of mud; there's a LOT. Footsteps full. Marching up and down the
hallway like a silent parade, all in the wake of a certain Canadian
whose figure is picked out an instant later, once Hao has managed to
stop seething long enough to look for the culprit. He steps out of the
room then, delicately avoiding the mud, almost primly, if a janitor can
be considered prim. Most aren't. His mop is cradled against his
shoulder, the thick greyish strands flopping back like a second head of
hair. The toe of his boot is used to nudge at a particularly solid
clump of dirt before a sigh is heard lowly. Grr. Grr, I say. GRR! The
golden eyes flick back up the hallway again, to the Canadian, and in a
stiffly neutral tone of voice, Hao calls, "Can I help you with
something?"
Jarren turns on his heel, nicely grounding some more of the mud into the
floor that was once considered clean, what's worse is that he has
absolutely no regrets for doing it as well. At least he's not
completely covered with it, it's just his shoes which possess that
disgusting brownish color with clumps for texture... Makes one wonder
where it all came from. "Yeah. I came here to ask if you could clean up
all this crap in the hallways. There's mud everywhere. I was helping a
secretary move a new desk into the office." Meaning that the culprit is
not only himself but the secretary as well. "You are the janitor,
right?" o O ( Man, is he some sort of hippy or something? ) The thought
makes a wide grin spread across his lips. He doesn't feel sorry for
what he's done to the poor hallway, the fact that he's left tracks all
over the place, no pity for the janitor either. You get paid to do this
sort of thing. "The carpet in the office is caked with mud too.." A
cocky bow. "I leave it in your hands, kind sir." He winks one of the
green eyes.
Suddenly, Hao boots Jarren in the face! >.< "Never lower your eyes to an
enemy!"
(OOC) Hao splutters. o.o
(OOC) Jarren couldn't resist. c.c
Yeah, he gets paid. But not enough, not for this kinda crap. Mumble. -.-
Approaching the mud-bearing snit with quick, quiet footsteps, flipping
his mop over once he's closed the distance, the wet end now to the
floor, braced in place, Hao leans against the mop as if he needed it to
support his weight, a forcedly casual pose. Slender hands fold over the
top, bearing the added pressure of his chin a moment later as he rests
it upon his knuckles, studying the green-eyed youth with no small
amount of annoyance. Only his expression remains mild. He could've been
an actor, this guy, for all his skill in controlling the persona he
presents; too bad he doesn't have the credentials to back up the skill.
Thus it's the janitor's life for him! And damn, isn't it a sucky life
too. "Last time I checked," he responds with a thin smile, confirming
for Jarren that yes, indeed, he is The Janitor<.tm>. "Mud, you say?"
No, he said 'cupcakes.' -.- "I'm assuming," and this is said with an
oh-so elegant gesture made toward the youth's dirty shoes. "That you
would be the one that brought the mud inside my hall?"
Mud? Why Jarren never even happened to notice at all, and it's just
dawned on him. With a glance down towards the muddy shoes, his
shoulders hike up in an easy executed shrug. "Sure, that sounds just
about right. I was told to come and get you." They surely could have
used the phone, but maybe everyone in the whole damn school is against
Sir Janitor. Even Jarren seems to be that way, with a bit of hidden
mockery behind his wide grin. "Sorry about that." Apologizing politely,
but he sure doesn't sound like he's sorry. His hands slip into the
pockets of his black pants as he straightens to stand. So much for a
youth, he's a bit too old to possess that sort of title, on the verge
of turning twenty, to be exact. A bit too old to be hanging around
Tokyo Prep. Academy, too bad he's going to stick around though, he /is/
the Archery Club instructor after school, a club that used to mock him
for not joining when he attended the school. "The secretary would
really appreciate it if you clean up all this crap soon though, Sir
Janitor."
Of course they're all against him. They made him a janitor for crying
out loud. ;_; They could've made him a drama teacher or a secretary or
something, but NOOOO, he had to have FORMAL EDUCATION to work in a
school! Picky bastards. And anyway, you're still considered a youth
until you're officially twenty, so nyah. Deal with it. Youth. -.- The
age difference doesn't escape Hao, nor does the apology that isn't an
apology. It's the reason a bit of edge is added to Hao's faint smile,
the sort of edge that bares teeth and tightens jawlines. That offers
the briefest of nervous ticks to a certain janitor's left eyebrow. "I'm
afraid the secretary is going to have to wait then," he replies
smoothly, the thin smile suddenly developing into the brightest and
cheery of smiles. See? He loves his job. Really. It's ... fun. Ignore
the sound of grinding teeth, if you please. "Because before I can get
to her wonderfully ruined carpet, you and I are going to have to mop
this hallway first." 'You?' Yes, you. Guess what, boy. You've been
drafted. >.<
This isn't World War I. You can't issue conscriptions to help clean a
hallway. "Me?" First a hand appears from his pocket, then he points
towards his chest, to indicate himself, or perhaps the fact that he
happens to exist in this very space that he happens to take up at the
moment. He starts to laugh. Hard. Purposely grounding more of the mud
into the floor with his shoes in hopes to send the poor janitor into a
rage. C'mon, show him a chi flare and he can mock you even more, not
that he isn't already, laughing so hard that he ends up clutching his
stomach before he doubles over, dropping back against a wall to
maintain balance. "Get stuffed." A smirk turns up the corner of his
lips on the right side. His narrow eyes almost piercing, the pupils
near the same color as his kanji on the lower left portion of his back.
"/You/ get paid for doing this sort of thing, Sir Janitor. Unless you
want to give me half your paycheck, I ain't helping." n.n What an ass,
eh?
Hao can draft whoever the hell he wants. Why? Because he's a snot and
wants to. Sorry, he doesn't chi-flare so easily. Only a few people have
the talent of being able to piss him off that badly right off the bat,
and while Jarren may find himself quickly on the way to recieving that
honour, he's not there yet. He just earns an icy but tolerant smile in
return for his laughter. "Actually, no, I don't," he replies mildly
once the youth (YOUTH! YOUTH!) has stopped laughing, eyes half-lidded
and for all the world, bored. "I get paid for upholding the sanitary
needs of the education facility and all its corresponding parts,
buildings, and area. Nowhere in my contract does it say that I'm
required to pick up the messes of callous little boys who don't have
the brains to wipe their feet on the mat outside the door." Ouch. Wait
a minute, who said that janitors were allowed to have vocabularies
consisting of more than three-letter words? Leaning forward, hands
still on his mop, Hao smiles. "Now, you're either going to help me
clean up your mess, Sir Muddyfeet, or you're going to be reported for
willful damage dealt to public property."
Sea green eyes flash in a blink of surprise. Wow, someone actually
retaliated.... to him! Of all people! Too bad it's not enough to damage
Jarren's ego. He smiles pleasantly, despite his temper that begins to
build on the inside... then begins to laugh once again. "Little boy? I
sorta passed that stage a few years ago. I'm an instructor of this
academy, Sir Janitor." He's also madly in love with one of the students
here. *cough* But two years age difference doesn't make him a
pedophile. o.-; "Willful damage to public property." He repeats the
statement, though not exactly in the same way, his head shaking all the
while as he laughs. "You're telling this to someone that has a higher
authority position then you? It figures that the only type of janitor
they could get is some smart-ass hippie. You dare to try and get me to
help, then I'll report you for not doing your job, and if a janitor is
the best thing you can accomplish in life, probably because you never
received any real formal education, perhaps you should start looking
for another job, like McDonalds." Thank you, have a nice day. He's not
as much of an idiot as he was, he learned his lesson for being stupid a
long time ago... ;)
Tomo grrs. "Who filled this hole with water? Disgraceful!" He
begins mopping.
Soi asks, "Nakago-sama, why is Tomo trying to empty the pool with
a mop?"
(OOC) Hao snarks at the timing. -.-
(OOC) Jarren grins. n.n
"If you act like a child, then I'm inclined to treat you as one," says
Hao, not in the least bit threatened. If he gets fired... Oh, well,
gee, darn, he'll cry for weeks! Not. He already accomplished his
original purpose in getting this damnable job by finding the Miko-sama.
Now that she's found, he doesn't really have any other reason to cling
to the occupation -- except that he gets a free room out of it. c.c; So
if he loses his job, why then he can ... um ... shack up with
Miko-sama. YEAH! Slumber party at Yui-sama's house! Woohoo! Ahem. Come
on, get him fired. I dare you. His Shogun's the man in charge anyway. o.o
"If you're going to deliberately tromp mud all over the interior of
school grounds, then why yes! I'm going to tell it to whoever you are,
higher authority position or whatever." Straightening, he gives a
flippant wave of his hand. He only pauses briefly over the word
'hippie,' golden eyes giving an idle quizzical blink. Pardon him if his
vocabulary doesn't include that word. It wasn't included in the course
on Japanese that he took. But from the way it was said, he can assume
that it's of the not-so-nice variety, and finally his lips purse with
irritation. Not that it lasts long. A moment later, he's smiling
beautifically. "By all means, report me. I do so hope you enjoy telling
them how horrible I was at refusing to clean up your mess." Arrogant?
Yes. Nobody ever said janitors had to be shiny happy people. Hippie
indeed. o.o
Jarren hmphs, his frail frame could be compared to that of a porcelain
doll, it's a wonder that he hasn't snapped in two yet, being as thin as
he is. He looks horribly underfed as well, but that isn't true, he's
just rather picky, not about to taste-test everything that gets set
down on his plate. No hippie janitor talks back to him, on the other
hand, and anger makes his fists clench, not like he's going to hit the
other man, just that his temper is very easily set off.. Defiance, he
hates it. "Act like a child? I certainly don't remember throwing a
temper tantrum. You should do your job and I'll stick to mine, which
means... you mop, Sir Janitor, and I teach." He's not fond of being
talked back to, especially by a Seiryuu, not that he's taken a moment
to realize that yet.
Awwwhh, has Hao pushed one too many buttons? He's SO sorry. Really. You
believe him, don't you? /No/? Oh well. Didn't think so. Realizing that
he's finally getting on the other's nerves, the China-born custodian
allows himself the faintest of smirks, pale golden-brown eyes meeting
green with nothing less than impunity, a delicate eyebrow flickering
upward to vanish beneath his ragged line of grey-shot ebon bangs. "But
you're very close to throwing one, aren't you?" he muses with a smile.
Does he notice the clenched fist? Maybe. If he does, he shows no sign
of it; that's how dangerously arrogant this one is. If Jarren does end
up slugging him, he'll no doubt deserve it. "I take it your mother
never made you clean your room when you were little? Is that why being
told that you have to take responsibility for your own messes is such a
difficult experience for you?" There's a pause. *BAMF!* And suddenly,
Hao's SD, his eyes wide and limpid with realization, holding a finger
to his chin as the light of understanding glows like a beacon behind
him. "Sooooooooooou desu! That must be it! Your mother never ingrained
proper skills of responsibility into your head, did she? SOU!" With a
sudden blur of movement, the mop comes arching downward toward poor
Jarren's head. "It's time you learned some manners, young'n!" >.<
(SD Mode!) And the mop arches directly towards yon Jarren's head. And he
only gets a moment to realize that he's about to be club, so he tries
to step-side the attack, and only gets a mighty smite, knocking him
right off his feet and sending the poor archer crashing to the ground,
into the mud that he happened to track into the administration
building. You hit a Genbu on the head! Ha ha! That tactic never works,
but it suceeds in completely unleashing all the anger he happens to
possess. His temper isn't very pretty, his hands lifting to clap down
over where he was struck with the cleaning tool. o O ( Bastard! That
hurt! >o< ) Still SD, his nose wrinkles up due to the pain, but that
isn't going to stop his temper as one hand drops away, and the green
chi gives a dangerous flare, the symbol of 'Xu' lighting up on his
back, even visible through the white shirt, outlining him with the
color that claims him as one of Genbu's one. "Oooooh. You're gonna get
it now! >.<" He snarls from the ground, hand extending, green chi
building up around it, circling his fingers lovingly... "Here, get
married with this, you hippie!" And the chi ring fires from his
fingertips, too bad his aim is a bit off though... o.O;
And the Genbu came a'tumbling down! o/~ Whups. "Anoo..." Hao blinks
SDly, the image of innocence. "I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" Hao
would NEVER hurt ANYONE intentionally... Hippies are shiny happy
people, remember? Oh wait. He's not a hippie. He's a cranky janitor,
one whose taking far too much amusement in the fallen instructor's
plight, really. He beams, then quiets down, smug as can be, but not so
much as to appear oblivious. The flash of emerald light sort of wipes
the smirk from his lips anyway. Golden eyes widen -- with fear? Naw.
Surprise, yes, but Hao still has this arrogance thing going; he's not
afraid of anyone unless they give him reason to be. Just as quickly,
his eyes narrow again to fiery slits; he takes a step back, and,
briefly -- chi? Brilliantly blue, the colour of a summer sky, it
emanates from the janitor like a backlight, outlining his figure
briefly in cerulean -- and then it's gone. Just like that. Snap.
Whether or not Jarren's aim was off, it meets its target, ensnaring the
janitor with a flash of energy. "SHIT!" emits a moment later, loud
confirmation of the fact that, yep, you got him. Ain't you special.
Jarren hmphs. Of course he's special, and he knows it... Well, at least
he seems to think that he's rather special, his hands bracing against
the ground, more precisely, in the mud, allowing himself some sort of
balance to rise from the floor. Wait, he's not supposed to kill people,
this isn't Hokkan and he isn't guarding the shinzaho anymore... o.o;
Killing someone with the chi ring might actually get him in deep
crap... c.c; Too bad that has no influence over this seishi at the
moment, lost in his temper. "I'll teach you a damn lesson, make sure
you never talk back to someone with more authority. That ring will
continue to get smaller until it slices you in half." Unless he shows
some compassion, the victim is strong enough to destroy it, or he
looses all concentration on keeping the ring of green chi together,
should one look closely, it resembles something more like a hundred
snowflakes spinning around, easily broken with a punch, should one
possess enough strength. "People like you piss me off." o.-; In fact,
all hippies piss him off. Goddamn those tree-huggers. They should be
all standing in a line.... on a firing range. "I'm gonna enjoy this."
-.-
Poor Hao. Firmly trapped, it seems. The mop clatters to the floor,
forgotten as it slips from the janitor's suddenly prone fingers,
landing on the ground and rolling out of reach, useless. Not that it
would have been of much use had he kept hold of it anyway. With his
arms pinned to his side, it seems that there's not much Hao can do but
struggle and spit out low obscenties, dark hair fallen over his eyes to
give him a wild appearance. Shoulders hunch, his head ducking slightly
between them as he struggles-- oh, sure, it may seem fairly easy to
escape such a bind, but apparently the custodian doesn't seem aware of
as much. Helpless in the enraged Genbu Shichiseishi's grasp. Isn't it
spiffy? Not to mention conveniant. Long fingers curling into fists, Hao
strains against the binding rings of emerald, lines of stress beginning
to show on his face. But then, remarkably enough...
He laughs. And gods, but what a laugh it is. Take a voice and
strip it of its strength, its beauty, its dignity, and you are left
with the sound that this man makes. It's a laugh, but can it even be
called that? A cackle, perhaps, is far more appropriate. The sort of
cackle that sends chills down your spine, an icecube down your shirt, a
wintry breeze against the back of your neck. "Sou desu ka?" is then
said when the wretched sound is ceased; the man's lips move, forming
the words, but he doesn't seem to be the one saying them. "I do so hope
you enjoy yourself. I know I will." And then -- he winks! Not a playful
wink, but a lecherous one, that matches his slightly effeminate nature
and tone, that makes most people wrinkle their nose in disgust. Wasn't
he struggling against his binds a moment ago, unable to escape? That's
funny-- suddenly he's gone.
Just like that, the hallway is suddenly empty except for Jarren,
the mud, and the chi ring, whatever may happen to it now that it seems
to be noticeably devoid of any sort of content or victim. Where did
that hippie bastard go anyway? Or maybe... just maybe... he wasn't
there to begin with. Ghosts? You wish. Just when Jarren may start to
wonder, there's suddenly movement again -- not from the side, not from
above, but from below. The tiled floor cracks, splintering apart, and
with a sudden explosion of otherworldly energy, the only warning that
the Genbu Shichiseishi will get, vines scream out from underfoot,
seeking to grab and ensnare, to pierce with the barbs lining their
green snakelike bodies. And that voice, ever so softly: "Boo."
And just when he had a moment to gloat, it doesn't seem like that will
be lasting much longer, illusion or not, Jarren believes, and the chi
ring disappears like it never had a victim trapped in its deadly grip
at all, little flashes of green showing how it happened to shatter,
before they too, join the air, vanishing into it. His head turns, chi
sense, as undeveloped as it happens to be, reaching out across the room
with its icy fingers, his abilities still limited, due to the fact that
he doesn't happen to possess all of his memories as of yet. A huff of
displeasure passes over his lips... This is where being rash gets you,
but he can't change who he happens to be, or the actions that he takes,
not always in desperation. "This is what I get for under estimating
another sei, they escape..." His voice low, each word spoken only to
himself and loud enough for those who perhaps appear right in his face
to hear. o O ( Where the hell did he go...? ) His head turns, as well
as the rest of himself, to find the escaped janitor. If he had the bow,
that would make things all the more simple, but sadly, it's what he
happens to lack, and what a pain that happens to be. His hand starts to
glow once again, the hallway's temprature dropping, degree by degree,
painfully slow, but as fast as he can make it... bits of frost framing
around the doorways, the mud on the ground freezing solid, and he is
strangely unaffected in the midst of it. Standing perfectly still,
until his concentration is broken by the voice, and he spins to face
the direction it comes from. The frost and ice, still continues to
exist, all over the hall, displaying it's tones as it reflects the dull
colors that Jarren happens to be dressed in. Genbu Seishi are immune to
fear. Really...
Shock is a completely different story, on the other hand, his green eyes
widening, looking dowards in surprise as the ground begins to break
away to reveal the vines, meaning that there is only one oppertunity to
escape; to jump. Which he tries, a moment too late, legs bending to
leap away from the vinces which dare to trap him, but right before he
departs from the ground, as he straightens, the vines catch him,
wrapping their barbs around him, piercing into his skin, whether bared
or not... and wrecking his shirt. Damn you. You'll pay for that one.
His nose wrinkles, not in distaste this time, but due to the stinging
pain as he is... trapped. Then, that finally clicks in to him...
trapped, like an animal in a cage, causing his fear to kick start;
claustrophobia. He can't move, is confined, and it's enough to make his
head spin, completely frightened, yet it dares not to show in his eyes.
Being weak is a bad thing, especially when you have to live up to a
certain turle-snake god's expectations. It's not fun fighting another
seishi who has a war-based deity. Damn you again. His eyes, now
instead, still wide from the shock of his capture, begin to scan the
hallway, to find the holder of that voice, perhaps to spit at him, or
on the floor, hopefully, the cold of the room just may lure him out
from hiding.. "Coward... Why don't you show yourself, you freaky little
shit?!"
(OOC) Jarren fixes all his typos. c.c
(OOC) Jarren says, "dowards = towards. vinces = vines"
(OOC) Hao attacks you with his vinces! o.o
(OOC) Jarren whaps. Shut up. ;)
(OOC) Hao giggles.
(OOC) Jarren takes a picture. Oooh. Tomo giggling. That's a keeper. ;P
(OOC) Hao bites. >.<
(OOC) Jarren cries. ;.;
(OOC) Hao o.o;
(OOC) Hao says, "Awh, take it like a man, you ninny. o.o"
(OOC) Jarren sniffles. But... it hurt! ;o;
(OOC) Hao says, "Gut it out! o.o"
(OOC) Jarren says, "Gut? O.o;"
(OOC) Hao c.c "Yes."
(OOC) Jarren guts? >P
(OOC) Hao bleeds. x.x
(OOC) Jarren *_*
(OOC) Jarren says, "VIOLENCE! *_*"
(OOC) Hao ....all over your shoes. o.o
(OOC) Jarren hurts you. o.o
(OOC) Hao is already gutted. Ha-ha! o.o
(OOC) Jarren hurts you more then. c.c
(OOC) Hao ;_;
(OOC) Jarren says, "Awh, take it like a man, you ninny. :P"
(OOC) Hao whaps. x.x
(OOC) Jarren hee hees and ows. #.n
The soft sound again, the laugh that isn't a laugh, fingernails against
a chalkboard, except it doesn't leave your ears bleeding. It just makes
people want to cover them, the kind of sound that people just find
disturbing rather than painful, tickling goosebumps against their skin,
wondering what the hell sort of creature could make such a noise
without coughing up a lung. This time it seems to come from all around,
and maybe it does, for all that you know where-ever the freak has
gotten to. Yes, yes, a war-based deity -- and war can be such a nasty
thing, can't it? Never mind the shoot outs, the prisoners of war, the
blood and guts and glorious gore. Just think how the worst in people is
brought out by war. Men and women will do scary things in the face of
such gratuitous bloodshed. Shopkeepers wield guns, businessmen drop
bombs, sons are sent off to die on some unknown godforsaken land for a
cause they may not even believe inn -- and there's a God for this?
Worse, there's people that worship a God like this? That serve a God
like this?
Yes. Yes, there are. And Hao is one of them. He's been as much since he
was nineteen, since he first opened that book of magic, opened that
door that sent him on the road to hell, or at least something vaguely
close to it. Since the memories of Seiryuu no Shichiseishi Tomo were
first rammed into his skull with the delicacy of a jackhammer. Since he
first laughed that horrible, horrible laugh, the same laugh he lets
loose now, his figure sketching slowly back into view -- behind Jarren.
And the question remains: was he ever there to begin with? Hao's not
telling; he'll just have to figure it out on his own.
"Coward?" comes the oh-so pleasant inquiry, as the illusionist
approaches from behind, absently straightening the collar to his
grey-blue jumpsuit, a smirk smug enough to put Nakago to shame written
across his finely-sculpted features. "Can you think of anything... oh,
more original to say?" That's probably treading dangerous waters,
asking that, but hey, it's already been covered that Hao's an arrogant
prick. The smell of Seiryuu chi is rank in the air to those can sense
it. If there was any doubt to what sort of opponent Jarren faced, it
should be gone by now. The dark-haired man's footsteps bring him closer
to the Genbu sei, moving carefully on the icy floor; he leans forward,
granting that Jarren doesn't do anything to keep him from doing so, to
murmur in his ear. Freaky little shit? You'd better believe it.
"Daijyoubu? It's not too tight of a fit... is it?"
At first, there is absolutely nothing, nothing that he may desire to
stay, so he remains silent, almost as though it were some sort of oath,
to keep him from speaking, speaking his mind, or anything else,
feelings... and such. His fear, on the other hand, takes another step.
Lines of tension, as his teeth clench together in his mouth, begin to
show up along his jaw. He's not just claustrophobic of being confined
or in small rooms, but it also applies to having people too close to
him... which is where he gives up. His head drops a little, to look
towards the floor, and glare with the sea green eyes at the vines that
hold him in place, preventing him from making any real movements to
struggle out of the hold, and not only that, but he's also not strong
enough to break their binds. It's a rather bad thing when another
happens to get to close to him, without him allowing it, that he just
completely gives up. Images flash past his downcast eyes, his father
shrieking at him for doing something wrong, even if it was something
little, like popping his bubblegum too loudly. His father would grab
his arm, yank him away from the room, from the windows where one could
look in on the dysfunctional family and discover all the secrets that
they all promised to keep hidden, the secrets that he ran away from and
still continues to keep. After pulled away, his father would proudly
brandish whatever he could get a hold of... a knife, a table leg, a
chair, belt, breadbox... anything that could cause a significant amount
of pain, then proceed to beat his child with it. Once upon a time,
Jarren's mother tried to interfer, but she ended up in the hospital for
daring to defy her husband. Injuries, scars, hospital bills, all went
up... for Jarren's broken nose, the slashes all across his back, and
numerous others for his brothers and sister.
These are the images that pass through his mind, showing him the horror
once again with his eyes, the sea green unwanting to look, but remain
staring downwards in undisguised horror... But that's also not what he
sees, he sees the vines as well, and the floor that was broken up to
hold him in place. He's not dillusional, not thinking up strange things
and imagining them as real, he can certainly tell the difference
between the two, not that it's ultimately that hard to distinguish one
from the other. His lips purse together, still silent, having not said
a word yet, and for however minutes have passed, it is uncertain that
he may speak again for a bit. He was a child of a family that fell
apart, and when he won the archery tournament that had earned fame and
recognition, he was nearly forced into it, again and again, beaten
until he couldn't walk the next day. A wheelchair was certainly not an
unfamiliar object to him, it's not like he didn't have to use it on
numerous occasions. This is where life gets you, sometimes, so he ran
away when he was eighteen, leaving everything behind and changing his
name to wipe away any chances to locate him, settling in a country
where it's not likely that people would happen to look for him there.
Finally, his lips part dryly from one another, and he breathes, sucking
in a deep breath as though he never happened to take one before, or as
if he had just exhaled a breath that he was keeping in forever... or
what feels like forever.
His arms move against the vines, further driving the barbs into his
arms, silently praying that they don't happen to tighten anymore then
they already are. He's afraid, but it still doesn't manage to show,
even with the tight lines down his face, showing the stress from
clenching his teeth together. His own god happens to have some sort of
balance, strangely, between war and peace, more along the lines of
planning carefully, but that doesn't mean that Genbu is without his
share of violence as well, making his seishi strong not only strong as
a group, but individually as well, some just have preferences in
regards to fighting. Jarren is one of these people, close combat is not
his style, and he's confined, so it's not likely that he could do
anything, on the other hand. Nobody said that the Genbu didn't lack
unity, unlike the Seiryuu, who each move to their own agenda.
Meaning... the other Genbu just may come looking. Just maybe, but it's
not likely, since they don't seem to remember anything as of yet,
except that they all seem familiar to one another. "Hmph. Coward seems
to suit you the best." He muses softly, there's no need to be loud and
shouting when it's not really required, and since the other man happens
to be so close... his words, as laced with vemon as they are, have the
same effect with the low tones he uses as they would should he have
screamed them instead. "Tight fit." He snorts softly, but keeps his
head down, staring towards the vines still, perhaps he should start
thinking of a way to escape, but he's not strong enough physically to
break the vines, but perhaps, since his slender figure, he may be able
to wriggle out of the hold, but it can wait for a few minutes, his
height may also prove to be a problem. "If you wanna know so bad, why
don't you try it for yourself?"
The effect of his invasion of the other's personal space is not the
desired one. Jarren is not the only one of the two that likens unwanted
close contact with pain; the Seiryuu Shichiseishi has his own memories
of pain and anguish, though his aren't stemmed from any sort of
dysfunctional family episodes. He never had any family to speak of,
dysfunctional or otherwise. His father, the bastard, got himself run
over by a bus months before he was due, leaving his mother to birth him
all on her own -- and die of complications. That's what the doctors
called them anyway. "Complications." The story of Hao's life:
complications.
While Jarren has coped with the stress in a way detrimental to the
situation, the same cannot be said for Hao. He learned that the only
way to keep people from hurting you is to hurt them first, and
somewhere along the lines, he learned to enjoy it as well. He's not
sure WHEN that particular development happened, but nor does he care;
one day the pretty-faced China boy started to laugh when he heard
others scream out in pain, and it all went downhill from there. It's a
disease that only gets worse, eating at a person's soul until nothing's
left but a chewed up and blackened husk. If anyone can find any
goodness out of it, they're a far better person than most. It's
certainly one hell of a task set out before them.
So when the Genbu Shichiseishi refrains from showing any sign of the
fear that he no doubt must be hearing, the effect is more irritating to
Hao than any words that he says. It's no fun if they don't make any
noise; if they don't cry out or scream, what's the point? He can call
him a coward, taunt him, insult him all he likes -- but the thing that
bites Hao the hardest is the utter lack of response that his efforts
are garnering. This IS the way it's supposed to go, isn't it? Golden
eyes narrow as they recall a scene not unlike this one, a young man
bound in vines-- Suzaku? Or was it Seiryuu? Both? Hao hisses softly
between his teeth, taking a step back from the Canadian, frustrated.
"Oh, that's very funny," he remarks snidely, circling back around so
that now he's in front of the archer instead of behind. But he smirks,
though it's humourless. "I think you look far better trussed up like
that than I would. Don't you agree? Mmm." Men shouldn't wear smiles
like that. It's just not right.
Illusionary vines don't give much in the way of slack. While they don't
tighten any against the young man's struggles, they don't give away
either. They simply adjust as they need to, as if they were living and
sentient, able to adapt at a moment's notice to how their captor is
positioned. They aren't strong so much as they are entangling; unless
he can rip them loose physically, they're going to stay. Horrid
situation, that. But it'll only last as long as Tomo's concentration;
if he gets sidetracked, they'll go, and admittedly, they're already on
the looser side, though not by much; someone's just a little frustrated
that he's not being able to get off on someone else's predicament. "So
which one would you be?" intrudes the illusionist's voice again, this
time devoid of the smug overconfidence of a few moments before. "I'm
assuming you're Shichiseishi. Do you usually lob attacks at faculty who
happen to irritate you?"
That's probably the strangest thing that he's ever heard, but he's also
horribly rash, acting without a single thought, till later... much like
how Suboshi is, but worse. He is by far, the most rash of the Genbu,
and probably out of all the Shichiseishi as well. Jarren smirks, the
corner of his lip turning up slightly in faint amusement, but when he
happens to give up, it's not like he'll show any signs of fear, no, he
accepts it, and that's a horrible trait of his that's been around for
years, thanks to none other then his own father, who remains back in
Canada, at home in the Yukon... Yet notice how he avoids the first
question... "Shichiseishi... yeah. Genbu no Shichiseishi, Tomite. And
you deserved it for smacking me upside the head with that goddamn mop."
A mop which is nicely frozen to the floor at this point in time and is
not longer availible for use right now.
Hao is a little past beating people with mops now. Why beat with mops
when you can entangle with illusionary vines and disappear from thin
air, and fun stuff like that? Or manipulate room temperature, as it
were. "Genbu Shichiseishi Tomite," the illusionist repeats approvingly,
tasting the name and memorizing it, attaching it to the face, filed
away for future reference, should he ever need to recall it again.
"Saa... Well if you had just agreed to clean up the mess like I told
you to," he says with a wrinkle of his nose. He's not pouting, is he?
Of course not. Seiryuu Shichiseishi don't pout! ... But damn, he's
getting dangerously close to it?
Only then does Hao seem to realize that his breath is misting in the
air, a half-erased chalk sketch that fades after a moment or two. That
the ground is iced over, his mop frozen in place. "Is it you that's
doing this?" He pauses, then waves a hand dismissively. "Never mind,
the answer's obvious enough anyway." Another pause. "Now, Tomite-kun,
you're not going to throw anymore nasty rings like that at me if I
release you again, are you?" It's no fun if they don't scream. Might as
well let him go. He risks people walking in on this hellish scene
otherwise, and that would just be bad.
Jarren begins to frown. Tomite... KUN? People will actually dare to call
him something like that? Ooh. That just makes his blood boil. But the
room sure is cold, but strangely, his own breath doesn't seem to show
any traces of existance, except for a light puff once and a while in
the air, maybe because the power doesn't seem to have any effect on
himself, or at least, not very much influence over him. He quirks an
eyebrow up into the dark bangs which hang in jagged strips over his
face, before smiling in a secretive way to himself.. "I'm not giving
you any yes or no answers. Your absence," From the blue chi that he
happens to detect, the same that surrounded a certain Seiryuu Sei back
in Hokkan all those years ago, "Seiryuu Shichiseishi... will certainly
not be missed by me."
A delicate eyebrow arches, then Hao sighs, though he smiles when he does
so. "Ah well. I suppose I'll just have to trust you, hm?" Yeah right.
It's plain by his tone that he doesn't trust the Genbu Shichiseishi --
would you? -- any farther than he can throw him; the sarcasm is rich
and dirty in his tone. And yes, Tomite-KUN. Even if it's not going as
smoothly as he would have liked, the freakish bastard can't help
rubbing it in just a little bit more who's in control here. That's just
the way he is. Not that it's any sort of excuse though. "Just remember
what happened last time, mm?"
It should come with a snap of his fingers, or something equally
dramatic, showy. Like the end to a magic show. But in fact, nothing
heralds the end of the illusion; it simply vanishes, and Hao with it.
Coward? Well, yes. Yes, he is. Not only does he disappear, so does all
the damage he dealt, the vines and the breakage to the floor. All
that's left is Jarren, the ice, and the mud... Oh, and that mop, still
frozen in place.
A breath exhaled, perhaps relief, but it passes his lips as quickly as
he can force it out, glad to be out of the rather frightening
situation, instead of remaining trapped within it for a little longer.
Sea green eyes flash down to look at the floor, then back around the
empty hallway.. "Whatever he did..." The kanji on his back winking out
as though it were some sort of light. "All the damage is gone now..."
Meaning, it's going to be a bitch to clean up all that ice and mud...
Not that Jarren really cares, as he takes another look around, confused
for a few moments, not yet having the thought settle into his head that
it might be perhaps an illusion. "Goddamn hippie." A hand covers his
cheek and rubs against it softly. He'll wonder if the damage from the
barbs was actually real, later...
(OOC) Hao snarks. Hippie.
(OOC) Jarren grins! ;)
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