[ being accosted by a patho-gen staff member is starting to feel pretty routine by now, though oushi isn't sure he likes how much he's more or less getting used to it.
(every now and then he feels like he should try a little harder to be — something. resistant? rebellious? there are enough people he's met who seem determined to make the best of things, yet more still who are barely suppressing their own rage and indignation, that oushi often finds himself caught in some vague in-between of nothing. apathy, he supposes. resignation. too often he finds himself thinking, well, what the hell can i do? and so he simply — doesn't.)
he doesn't put up much of a fight when someone drags him into a clinic by the side of the road. truthfully, he only really reacts (with a mild start) when his designated partner happens to be a familiar face. he thinks he ought to point that out, considering this is supposed to be randomized? maybe? but then they're being given a directive, and the very nature of it has him pausing long enough to actually consider his partner... and the unlikelihood of any of this being familiar to him. ]
...I'm guessing you never had a secret handshake as a kid.
[ let it be known: none of this was oushi's first choice. of course, if he had his way, he probably wouldn't have left the confines of his quaint quarters, but a sudden impulse to be outside and doing something had him venturing out further than he normally would have — which just so happened to coincide with one of patho-gen's scheduled forays into the woods. sure, he hadn't technically signed up for it (or any of this, if we want to be technical) but the more, the merrier, right?
of course, like everything else, they had to make sure he wouldn't be doing it alone. getting assigned with somebody he already knew was a stroke of luck he wouldn't have thought himself allowed considering all he's had to go through since waking here, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
that being said... they've been walking around for almost an hour now, with little else but sweaty backs to show for it. he had known, more or less, what to expect. even before stepping into the woods, he hadn't felt very good about it all, but the longer they're here, the deeper they get, oushi is having a hard time discerning where his own natural dread ended and where the katalyth's influence began.
then again, does it really matter?
and how is it, in a task that only requires its participants map an area out on foot, oushi still manages to be considerably more inadequate and underprepared than the guy who literally has one foot less than him?
they haven't technically found anything yet, but he stops dead in his tracks anyway. ]
This is far enough, [ he announces, perhaps not necessarily just for silver's sake. ] It should be enough.
[ he's not sure for how long he's been running. too long, it feels like, and yet his lungs aren't burning and his legs don't feel like they're at risk of falling off. running — running away — feels good, feels right. the further away from the woods he gets, the more he feels like the weight that'd been settling over his chest is lifting... and yet hanging over him is a cloud of doubt, knowing it wasn't just his worries and his fears he'd run away from.
...will silver be okay? how will he even face the man again, after this?
they were dreadful, but fleeting thoughts. the open air keeps replenishing his lungs, clearing his head. he feels like he could run for miles, for hours, and maybe he will—
he isn't paying attention enough. or rather, he notices in time, the sudden figure that steps out from the shadows and in his path, but his reflexes aren't quite up to par, and so instead he cannot stop himself in time before he runs right into that figure. but instead of a collision, it's more like he bounces off that solid body, forcing him back at least two feet and on the ground onto his back.
bewildered, he squints up at the figure, ready to be indignant, when recognition hits and he finds himself falling silent instead.
There's nothing to find, [ oushi insists, practically griping, but it is ultimately a rather impotent thing. arguing with choso doesn't contain much satisfaction, because even if the man were to disagree he does it in such a mild, almost nonchalant way that it very quickly douses whatever fire oushi might have been working to start up.
not that this is necessarily a bad thing. it's good, as a matter of fact, because oushi has a bad habit of working himself up for literally no reason, or reacting perhaps too strongly to things. in many ways, the mild way in which choso handles him reminds him... unnervingly a lot about a certain silver-haired man back home. but that's about right where oushi slams the metaphorical brakes in his brain, or draws that deep line in the sand. if he continues to compare choso to itsuomi, he thinks he might actually go mad.
all this to say — oushi's grumbling is the last few sputters of a dying engine that might have been his protest. the second choso begins to strip, the smaller of the two immediately turns on his heel, busying himself with his own clothes. the need for a distraction makes for swift work of his own disrobing. and in complete and unexpected contrast to choso's own body, oushi's is almost laughably scarless.
stepping into his own stall — calling it that, too, is laughable; both men are just tall enough that the partitions that separate them matter very little. if oushi wanted to, all he needed to do was glance on over and he'd be able to see everything — he fusses with the taps. the water is quick to confirm this shower will be a cold one, but that's fine. he's finding his body far more over-heated than he expected.
he tips forward, letting the water douse his head, create rivulets down the curve of his spine. he tries not to let his mind wander, which of course means that it does.
...all those scars... they make sense, obviously. choso might not have said much, but oushi figures the life of a curse (or? half-curse??) isn't a kind one, and choso had said he fought and killed. obviously, the people he fights would fight back. still, it's kind of alarming to see that kind of proof, even it had only just been a glance...
.............................
oh, hell.
rather abruptly, he picks his head up. he thinks, okay, if he makes this quick, then it will probably go unnoticed. so he tries to make it quick. just a glance over.
but something in his brain miscommunicates, and what was meant to be a swift glance winds up being more of a full-body twitch, and the thing about moving that jerkily while standing in a puddle of water is — it's not a good idea.
briefly, he gets the sudden sensation he's falling.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
choso.
[ being accosted by a patho-gen staff member is starting to feel pretty routine by now, though oushi isn't sure he likes how much he's more or less getting used to it.
(every now and then he feels like he should try a little harder to be — something. resistant? rebellious? there are enough people he's met who seem determined to make the best of things, yet more still who are barely suppressing their own rage and indignation, that oushi often finds himself caught in some vague in-between of nothing. apathy, he supposes. resignation. too often he finds himself thinking, well, what the hell can i do? and so he simply — doesn't.)
he doesn't put up much of a fight when someone drags him into a clinic by the side of the road. truthfully, he only really reacts (with a mild start) when his designated partner happens to be a familiar face. he thinks he ought to point that out, considering this is supposed to be randomized? maybe? but then they're being given a directive, and the very nature of it has him pausing long enough to actually consider his partner... and the unlikelihood of any of this being familiar to him. ]
...I'm guessing you never had a secret handshake as a kid.
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1/2
2/2
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silver.
[ let it be known: none of this was oushi's first choice. of course, if he had his way, he probably wouldn't have left the confines of his quaint quarters, but a sudden impulse to be outside and doing something had him venturing out further than he normally would have — which just so happened to coincide with one of patho-gen's scheduled forays into the woods. sure, he hadn't technically signed up for it (or any of this, if we want to be technical) but the more, the merrier, right?
of course, like everything else, they had to make sure he wouldn't be doing it alone. getting assigned with somebody he already knew was a stroke of luck he wouldn't have thought himself allowed considering all he's had to go through since waking here, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
that being said... they've been walking around for almost an hour now, with little else but sweaty backs to show for it. he had known, more or less, what to expect. even before stepping into the woods, he hadn't felt very good about it all, but the longer they're here, the deeper they get, oushi is having a hard time discerning where his own natural dread ended and where the katalyth's influence began.
then again, does it really matter?
and how is it, in a task that only requires its participants map an area out on foot, oushi still manages to be considerably more inadequate and underprepared than the guy who literally has one foot less than him?
they haven't technically found anything yet, but he stops dead in his tracks anyway. ]
This is far enough, [ he announces, perhaps not necessarily just for silver's sake. ] It should be enough.
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sylus.
[ he's not sure for how long he's been running. too long, it feels like, and yet his lungs aren't burning and his legs don't feel like they're at risk of falling off. running — running away — feels good, feels right. the further away from the woods he gets, the more he feels like the weight that'd been settling over his chest is lifting... and yet hanging over him is a cloud of doubt, knowing it wasn't just his worries and his fears he'd run away from.
...will silver be okay? how will he even face the man again, after this?
they were dreadful, but fleeting thoughts. the open air keeps replenishing his lungs, clearing his head. he feels like he could run for miles, for hours, and maybe he will—
he isn't paying attention enough. or rather, he notices in time, the sudden figure that steps out from the shadows and in his path, but his reflexes aren't quite up to par, and so instead he cannot stop himself in time before he runs right into that figure. but instead of a collision, it's more like he bounces off that solid body, forcing him back at least two feet and on the ground onto his back.
bewildered, he squints up at the figure, ready to be indignant, when recognition hits and he finds himself falling silent instead.
what the hell. why'd it have to be this guy? ]
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choso.
There's nothing to find, [ oushi insists, practically griping, but it is ultimately a rather impotent thing. arguing with choso doesn't contain much satisfaction, because even if the man were to disagree he does it in such a mild, almost nonchalant way that it very quickly douses whatever fire oushi might have been working to start up.
not that this is necessarily a bad thing. it's good, as a matter of fact, because oushi has a bad habit of working himself up for literally no reason, or reacting perhaps too strongly to things. in many ways, the mild way in which choso handles him reminds him... unnervingly a lot about a certain silver-haired man back home. but that's about right where oushi slams the metaphorical brakes in his brain, or draws that deep line in the sand. if he continues to compare choso to itsuomi, he thinks he might actually go mad.
all this to say — oushi's grumbling is the last few sputters of a dying engine that might have been his protest. the second choso begins to strip, the smaller of the two immediately turns on his heel, busying himself with his own clothes. the need for a distraction makes for swift work of his own disrobing. and in complete and unexpected contrast to choso's own body, oushi's is almost laughably scarless.
stepping into his own stall — calling it that, too, is laughable; both men are just tall enough that the partitions that separate them matter very little. if oushi wanted to, all he needed to do was glance on over and he'd be able to see everything — he fusses with the taps. the water is quick to confirm this shower will be a cold one, but that's fine. he's finding his body far more over-heated than he expected.
he tips forward, letting the water douse his head, create rivulets down the curve of his spine. he tries not to let his mind wander, which of course means that it does.
...all those scars... they make sense, obviously. choso might not have said much, but oushi figures the life of a curse (or? half-curse??) isn't a kind one, and choso had said he fought and killed. obviously, the people he fights would fight back. still, it's kind of alarming to see that kind of proof, even it had only just been a glance...
.............................
oh, hell.
rather abruptly, he picks his head up. he thinks, okay, if he makes this quick, then it will probably go unnoticed. so he tries to make it quick. just a glance over.
but something in his brain miscommunicates, and what was meant to be a swift glance winds up being more of a full-body twitch, and the thing about moving that jerkily while standing in a puddle of water is — it's not a good idea.
briefly, he gets the sudden sensation he's falling.
and then suddenly he's not. ]
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