Chikai Kuji (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
measuringdistance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2020-06-03 11:17 am
measuringdistance) wrote in revivalproject2020-06-03 11:17 am
The cost of sentimentality
WHO: Chikai Kuji & Open
WHERE: Chikai's calibration room
WHAT: Who doesn't love strangers snooping around in your head?
WHEN: During the Calibration Event
WARNINGS: Potential depictions of violence, murder, torture, and mentions of suicide.
Those who wind up this small Japanese bedroom, the first thing they're likely to notice is the temperature. It's cold - not quite enough to make someone's breath fog, but more than enough to be uncomfortable. The longer you stand around, the more it seems to seep in, regardless of what anyone's wearing. The second thing is the smell. Those who have had soba before will recognize it, but even those who haven't may still find it comforting, in the way home-cooked food tends to be.
Yet that only puts it more at odds with the otherwise barren room. The walls have bits of green and yellow paper stuck to them, the remains of posters that have long been torn off. There's no other decorations, only a closet that will open if you give it a good tug. Inside is a purple jacket emblazoned with a seagull on the back, a metal ruler with a bandaged handle leaning against one of the inner walls, and a large duffel bag that's packed to the brim. Open it up, and you'll find a mess of money and clothes all stuffed inside haphazardly. The clothes themselves seem to be for a child, and the ones that stand out most are a soccer uniform and a heavy winter coat with a faux-fur lined hood. Dig deep enough, you'll also find a flute and soccer ball buried there under the paper and fabric.
The one piece of furniture is a low desk, which Chikai himself is sitting on top of. He's wearing sunglasses that make it hard to read his expression, though he seems to be looking out the nearby window. Not that there's much to look at; it's night out there, and the only thing in sight is a dark and empty alley. The desk has drawers, but you'll have to get him to move if you want to open any of them. Sitting beside him is a glass full of lollipops, all different flavors. There's enough in there they nearly look like a bouquet, and are easily the most colorful thing in the room. On the floor by his feet, there's a framed picture, though it's impossible to say of what. The glass itself is completely covered with what looks like black ink or paint. He seems to have no interest in picking it up.
WHERE: Chikai's calibration room
WHAT: Who doesn't love strangers snooping around in your head?
WHEN: During the Calibration Event
WARNINGS: Potential depictions of violence, murder, torture, and mentions of suicide.
Those who wind up this small Japanese bedroom, the first thing they're likely to notice is the temperature. It's cold - not quite enough to make someone's breath fog, but more than enough to be uncomfortable. The longer you stand around, the more it seems to seep in, regardless of what anyone's wearing. The second thing is the smell. Those who have had soba before will recognize it, but even those who haven't may still find it comforting, in the way home-cooked food tends to be.
Yet that only puts it more at odds with the otherwise barren room. The walls have bits of green and yellow paper stuck to them, the remains of posters that have long been torn off. There's no other decorations, only a closet that will open if you give it a good tug. Inside is a purple jacket emblazoned with a seagull on the back, a metal ruler with a bandaged handle leaning against one of the inner walls, and a large duffel bag that's packed to the brim. Open it up, and you'll find a mess of money and clothes all stuffed inside haphazardly. The clothes themselves seem to be for a child, and the ones that stand out most are a soccer uniform and a heavy winter coat with a faux-fur lined hood. Dig deep enough, you'll also find a flute and soccer ball buried there under the paper and fabric.
The one piece of furniture is a low desk, which Chikai himself is sitting on top of. He's wearing sunglasses that make it hard to read his expression, though he seems to be looking out the nearby window. Not that there's much to look at; it's night out there, and the only thing in sight is a dark and empty alley. The desk has drawers, but you'll have to get him to move if you want to open any of them. Sitting beside him is a glass full of lollipops, all different flavors. There's enough in there they nearly look like a bouquet, and are easily the most colorful thing in the room. On the floor by his feet, there's a framed picture, though it's impossible to say of what. The glass itself is completely covered with what looks like black ink or paint. He seems to have no interest in picking it up.
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It's intense, an old-fashioned beat-down. A gang? Even pre-Golden Age, people still had the need to belong. Or maybe it's the other way around. Not just for belonging. For survival.
When it's over, Cayde remains kneeling by the closet, turning the ruler over in hands. It's not much of a weapon, but get desperate enough and anything is. His eyes flick up towards the jacket hanging there, recalling it from the flash of a memory as he sets the ruler back in its place.
He can hear it in Chikai's laugh, and when he stands and glances back he sees it, the unease. This isn't right. Well okay, it probably wasn't right to begin with, but since when has Cayde minded his own business? He holds his gloved hands up in a visible show that, okay, maybe he should stop touching All the Things.
"Some sorta big shot?" The gang leader, maybe? "Seems like those types are all about entrances."
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Kamome had seem impossibly strong to him when he was younger, but while certainly dangerous, it was easier to see the guy in a larger context four years after the fact. Just another upstart, when you came down to it. He might've been able to break out into the big leagues eventually, but life had other plans. Chikai snorts a bit, remembering a related encounter from just before he arrived on this planet, and adds, "You should've seen this one guy. He was always following Kamome around, making seagull noises and shit. Guess it was supposed to be intimidating."
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He grins, then steps over towards Chikai and his desk. "So, this is all super weird and maybe kind of late but better that than never. Anyhow, who knows what all we'll remember when we wake up." He thrusts out a hand. "Name's Cayde. Sorry for poking around but I kinda can't help myself sometimes."
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When Cayde approaches him, Chikai hesitates for just a brief second before taking the hand and grinning back. "Chikai Kuji. And hey, tell ya what - you share some deets about yourself, and we'll call it even."
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He feels it's important to add that bit of detail on, to forestall any panic. Never know who's from Earth around here, although given what he's seen, he'd say it'd be a fair bet that Chikai was.
Unsure of what else to dish, he gives the man an open-palmed shrug, an invitation for maybe a question or two.
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"...oh yeah, that's a good point." Cayde's not so sure how this all works, but it's easier going with it. "And hopefully it sticks with both of us, otherwise it'd just be kind of awkward," he laughs.