violinist • insomniac • paper aeroplane • dandelion seed • feather • she sings • a stolen ring • fairytale gone wrong • cliche • ribbon • cadence • 3:28am • icarus • hallucination • letters to the moon • silhouette • breathless • start running • astronomer • comet in a bottle • reincarnation • mirage • filigree • everyone was dancing but me • nameless • exhale • fortuna major • vices and virtues • gunpowder and gunshots • china teacups • pinkie promises • chrysalis • piercing • north star • kerosene • dark horse • vanilla • the cat meowed • blink • text message • smirking • firefly • daisy chain • doe eyes • "where are you?" • typo • no shoes in the rain • heterochromia • swallowing silver spoons • a spoonful of sugar • mistaken identity • twisted ankle • touching the clouds • i told you so • lump in the throat • shoulders • sunburn • ambulance • talking nonsense • perfect • bare branches • pale • everyone found out • not enough • i owe you • she won't say it • russian roulette • dried flowers • actress • tattered notebook • smell the roses • justice • all that glitters • the cat and the king • grudge • apathy • all dolled up • decadence • blush • too easy • healing • then, i changed • write to me • caffeine • rumpled sheets • close your eyes • message in a bottle • morphine • fahrenheit • fighter • i lit a candle for you • after all this time • newspaper • pendulum • soundproof • skeletons in the closet • nightingale • arms crossed • prologue • epilogue • bully • i dare you • arms outstretched • woken up early • we're all made of stardust • dancers • hero • blurry • aftermath • even you • whatever you want to believe • a dance with the devil • roses are red violets are blue • lantern • they kept their promises • live fast and die young • interlaced fingers • i wish i tried harder • don't blink • envelope • congratulations • just look down • wayward • when you say nothing • as you wish • runs in the family • fight like a girl • the bright side • skyscraper • sunshine • bye, beautiful • don't mess with me • fire at will • fire and water • peek-a-boo • don't die before i do • wanderlust
pick a character + prompt (or tell me what you want &or bring your own) and get words.
( it was only his second night on earth when talk of going home disseminated through tekkadan —— a decision made without him, but regrettably understandable in its urgency. time with this beautiful place is limited, and so he tries to savor the cool air at night, with its dark air gleaming with the aftereffects of a faint shower, grass coated with what looked like crystals under the guiding hand of moonlight. earth's greens and blues are so vivid that it seems like a dream his eyes can't adjust to and his brain can't keep up with. its sky and seas make him feel small, in the same way that he felt under the gaze of tekkadan's most prized soldier. weapon. protector?
after all of this time he still isn't sure what to make of the guy in front of him, laid out in recovery and staring blankly (boredly?) at the ceiling when eugene first opens the door. he's had one visit the night before, giving orga a well-deserved break and spending most of the evening staring at mikazuki's resting form, trying to find some vulnerability for his own sake. tonight his visit is supposed to be the same; he's given a tray of food and told, very sternly, by an exhausted and worn orga: don't let him get up.
of course mikazuki will be restless as people struggle to make sense of what's happened to him. hell, eugene is when watching him. just how he's supposed to stop mikazuki from doing anything the guy wants to do is a mystery, but he takes the responsibility pretty seriously, and the fact that his comrade is awake this time around seems like it could be a blessing to fight off some boredom. or a special sort of hell. unlike the broken bones suffered by the others, mikazuki's damage seems to be more permanent and confounding, and eugene isn't quite sure why he feels so angry about it. maybe it's just worry. maybe it's because mikazuki is a lunatic. either way, he's the kind of guy that none of tekkadan could take their eyes off of.
the door smacks softly behind him as he shuts it with a kick, switching the trey over to one hand as his other belatedly knocks to announce his entrance, just in case mikazuki's too drugged to notice.
honestly orga, i can't handle this guy like you can, eugene frowns. of course, it means the world to him to be "entrusted" with mikazuki, but. it's mikazuki. )
Oy, Mikazuki. ( his hand drags off the door and lazily through the air, giving a slight wave in the process. ) Time for your dinner.
[ In life, there are worse things than being a lunatic. Like being inert. Mikazuki's blood has slowed to a crawl in his veins, clouding him up from the inside out. Being like this isn't the problem — a busted arm and a bad eye are inconveniences, but Mikazuki wears his endurance like a second skin, his resistance almost as honed as his strength. That's probably why he's been confined here, someone either sitting in with him or lingering by the door to listen for any signs of activity. It's definitely why he's been given medicine to dull the effects of his new condition. Even Orga opposed, at first. Then he'd discovered Mikazuki already halfway into Barbatos's cockpit after being told to take it easy, and changed his opinion.
Now his head pounds. He's not in any pain, but there is noise slowly circulating within him. Probably his own pulse, though it also sounds like Barbatos, at times. At his bedside, there is a small radio on the table. For days now, it's been playing Kudelia's speech as news. Mikazuki doesn't really understand much of it, just that he likes listening to her. As he stares at the unbroken ceiling, he vaguely tries to sharpen his sense of depth, to test the limits of how he now sees. He's mostly unsuccessful, and his good fingers flex instinctively across his middle. ]
Still no good, huh... [ Mikazuki breathes in, tasting the impression of rain on the air. That's how he is when the door opens and closes, his visitor apparently only thinking to knock after the fact. Then, the greeting — Eugene. Now it makes sense. ] It's already that late?
[ His question is genuine, and not a complaint. How long had it been since he'd laid down? He didn't think he'd lost that much time to parsing what his body now feels like with half of it lost, and the other half drugged. With his left arm, he pushes up into a seat, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Miss Merribit and Takaki had brought him a sling for his other arm sometime earlier in the day, but Mikazuki left it crumpled on the bedside table alongside the radio.
His gaze cuts aside to the tray of food, and he nods to Eugene. ]
( there is a casual way that mikazuki goes about everything that leaves eugene utterly mystified — as if he's always guided no matter what, compass never ossified, conflict absent. he knows better, but knowing doesn't always stop that visceral conviction known as awe.
the stool cuts sharply across the hard floor as he drags it, scraping and creaking loudly until it's positioned right at mikazuki's bedside. eugene settles on it with a frown, rearranging a couple of items on the table to make room for the tray, finding the noise of it all against the silence of the room to be almost embarrassing. in an almost immediate bid for distraction, eugene decides that he'd like to hear himself talk over the sound of the crinkling of the straw wrapper or the soft clanking of the silverware. honestly, he's never had to care for someone in this way, and the task shouldn't be so daunting. but it's mikazuki. )
You're probably really bored, huh? ( sticking the straw in the cup now, ) But, you know, you're getting a lot of attention from us all. ( — and just how does he go about this? eugene grasps the cup and shifts in his seat, staring at the juice uncertainly and wondering if oranges taste different on earth. )
So you can't really complain, because everyone really needs you ... ( he trails off for a pause, feeling a heat hit his ears as he thrusts the cup forward at mikazuki's chin, ) — to be better. ( was it ok to hold the drink for him while he drinks? though mikazuki has an arm that works perfectly fine, eugene adjusts the straw anyway. ) Um, here. ( he can justify this to himself with concern of mikazuki's morphine-addled coordination, which is less lame than admitting he's simply copying what he's seen merribit do for tekkadan's youngest members. all of whom totally milk the attention of course. )
[ For someone who's having to adjust the way he looks at things, Mikazuki's gaze steadies on him, even if half of its intelligent light has seemingly gone out. Mikazuki either doesn't realize, or, more likely, isn't immediately bothered by it. Consequences follow a line without many leaps or deviations for him. If he does something, something else will happen. It's not often that he goes in blind, but it was take the instinctive risk or lose. Losing meant losing everything, and there's a reason Mikazuki balances well against Orga in a game of chance. Leveling it on Eugene is meant as a measure of comfort, an unspoken It's fine. It's strange for him to be looked after and not upon, strange to be placed in a spot that's different from how he's supposed to be.
More than the physicality of his fight, Mikazuki faces off with the bone-deep rattle of where it's put him. Not behind, and not forward. Just different. He doesn't crane back at the intrusion of the juice box in disagreement, doesn't nod in agreement either. There's just the stillness of thought that settles opposite of Eugene on the spectrum.
Is he frustrated? ]
Mm. I'm bored.
[ That's something he can say, not so much an admission as a vital truth. A fact for a fact. He leans forward to touch his lips to the straw, taking a sip of the juice. It's a pop of sweetness that has him making a quick face, though the expression there isn't readable. ]
Until we're ready to go back to Mars, what I can do is...
[ Looking for the words, he comes up with an implied not enough. Normally, this would be a conversation for Orga. But Orga isn't as good at keeping him settled, at not igniting him in some manner. Be better. He can, and they both know it.
That's probably why this is so charged, fundamentally skewed. ]
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morphine, i told you so, epilogue.
no subject
after all of this time he still isn't sure what to make of the guy in front of him, laid out in recovery and staring blankly (boredly?) at the ceiling when eugene first opens the door. he's had one visit the night before, giving orga a well-deserved break and spending most of the evening staring at mikazuki's resting form, trying to find some vulnerability for his own sake. tonight his visit is supposed to be the same; he's given a tray of food and told, very sternly, by an exhausted and worn orga: don't let him get up.
of course mikazuki will be restless as people struggle to make sense of what's happened to him. hell, eugene is when watching him. just how he's supposed to stop mikazuki from doing anything the guy wants to do is a mystery, but he takes the responsibility pretty seriously, and the fact that his comrade is awake this time around seems like it could be a blessing to fight off some boredom. or a special sort of hell. unlike the broken bones suffered by the others, mikazuki's damage seems to be more permanent and confounding, and eugene isn't quite sure why he feels so angry about it. maybe it's just worry. maybe it's because mikazuki is a lunatic. either way, he's the kind of guy that none of tekkadan could take their eyes off of.
the door smacks softly behind him as he shuts it with a kick, switching the trey over to one hand as his other belatedly knocks to announce his entrance, just in case mikazuki's too drugged to notice.
honestly orga, i can't handle this guy like you can, eugene frowns. of course, it means the world to him to be "entrusted" with mikazuki, but. it's mikazuki. )
Oy, Mikazuki. ( his hand drags off the door and lazily through the air, giving a slight wave in the process. ) Time for your dinner.
no subject
Now his head pounds. He's not in any pain, but there is noise slowly circulating within him. Probably his own pulse, though it also sounds like Barbatos, at times. At his bedside, there is a small radio on the table. For days now, it's been playing Kudelia's speech as news. Mikazuki doesn't really understand much of it, just that he likes listening to her. As he stares at the unbroken ceiling, he vaguely tries to sharpen his sense of depth, to test the limits of how he now sees. He's mostly unsuccessful, and his good fingers flex instinctively across his middle. ]
Still no good, huh... [ Mikazuki breathes in, tasting the impression of rain on the air. That's how he is when the door opens and closes, his visitor apparently only thinking to knock after the fact. Then, the greeting — Eugene. Now it makes sense. ] It's already that late?
[ His question is genuine, and not a complaint. How long had it been since he'd laid down? He didn't think he'd lost that much time to parsing what his body now feels like with half of it lost, and the other half drugged. With his left arm, he pushes up into a seat, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Miss Merribit and Takaki had brought him a sling for his other arm sometime earlier in the day, but Mikazuki left it crumpled on the bedside table alongside the radio.
His gaze cuts aside to the tray of food, and he nods to Eugene. ]
...thanks.
no subject
the stool cuts sharply across the hard floor as he drags it, scraping and creaking loudly until it's positioned right at mikazuki's bedside. eugene settles on it with a frown, rearranging a couple of items on the table to make room for the tray, finding the noise of it all against the silence of the room to be almost embarrassing. in an almost immediate bid for distraction, eugene decides that he'd like to hear himself talk over the sound of the crinkling of the straw wrapper or the soft clanking of the silverware. honestly, he's never had to care for someone in this way, and the task shouldn't be so daunting. but it's mikazuki. )
You're probably really bored, huh? ( sticking the straw in the cup now, ) But, you know, you're getting a lot of attention from us all. ( — and just how does he go about this? eugene grasps the cup and shifts in his seat, staring at the juice uncertainly and wondering if oranges taste different on earth. )
So you can't really complain, because everyone really needs you ... ( he trails off for a pause, feeling a heat hit his ears as he thrusts the cup forward at mikazuki's chin, ) — to be better. ( was it ok to hold the drink for him while he drinks? though mikazuki has an arm that works perfectly fine, eugene adjusts the straw anyway. ) Um, here. ( he can justify this to himself with concern of mikazuki's morphine-addled coordination, which is less lame than admitting he's simply copying what he's seen merribit do for tekkadan's youngest members. all of whom totally milk the attention of course. )
no subject
More than the physicality of his fight, Mikazuki faces off with the bone-deep rattle of where it's put him. Not behind, and not forward. Just different. He doesn't crane back at the intrusion of the juice box in disagreement, doesn't nod in agreement either. There's just the stillness of thought that settles opposite of Eugene on the spectrum.
Is he frustrated? ]
Mm. I'm bored.
[ That's something he can say, not so much an admission as a vital truth. A fact for a fact. He leans forward to touch his lips to the straw, taking a sip of the juice. It's a pop of sweetness that has him making a quick face, though the expression there isn't readable. ]
Until we're ready to go back to Mars, what I can do is...
[ Looking for the words, he comes up with an implied not enough. Normally, this would be a conversation for Orga. But Orga isn't as good at keeping him settled, at not igniting him in some manner. Be better. He can, and they both know it.
That's probably why this is so charged, fundamentally skewed. ]
It's strange.