Tsuzuki Asato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sweetdeath) wrote2009-04-27 07:19 pm
sweetdeath) wrote2009-04-27 07:19 pm
Entry tags:
[010 | voice, Japanese]
[the sound of footsteps can be heard under Tsuzuki's voice, and the occasional soft ghostly whisper]
Does anybody know where Hisoka went? He still hasn't come back, and it's dark out there now.... I must have lost track of time up on the roof. Man, it's dark in here. The lights aren't working, are they? Anybody know why not?
Come to think of it... has anyone seen Watari since day before yesterday?
[a click, and a few snapping noises]
Oh, come on.
[Snap.]
That's better! At least I can see... a--
[A nearly deafening clatter as the communicator hits the floor, somehow managing not to turn itself off in the fall. The voice is farther away now, spiraling up into hysteria.]
No. No. You're wrong. You don't know me. Who are you? Who are--
[thudding and scraping.]
No! Go away! I am-
[A hoarse sob, and the communicator cuts off abruptly.]
[[ooc: comment logs only; Tsuzuki found his room covered with "You will never be human" and the word never repeated across all of the walls. He's tried to scrape some of them away, but the words are re-written over the smears. Tsuzuki himself is huddled in a ball against the smeared wall.]]
Does anybody know where Hisoka went? He still hasn't come back, and it's dark out there now.... I must have lost track of time up on the roof. Man, it's dark in here. The lights aren't working, are they? Anybody know why not?
Come to think of it... has anyone seen Watari since day before yesterday?
[a click, and a few snapping noises]
Oh, come on.
[Snap.]
That's better! At least I can see... a--
[A nearly deafening clatter as the communicator hits the floor, somehow managing not to turn itself off in the fall. The voice is farther away now, spiraling up into hysteria.]
No. No. You're wrong. You don't know me. Who are you? Who are--
[thudding and scraping.]
No! Go away! I am-
[A hoarse sob, and the communicator cuts off abruptly.]
[[ooc: comment logs only; Tsuzuki found his room covered with "You will never be human" and the word never repeated across all of the walls. He's tried to scrape some of them away, but the words are re-written over the smears. Tsuzuki himself is huddled in a ball against the smeared wall.]]
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[Spurned by the sounds of utter discord and anarchy, the voice of a specter brushes the weeping man's ears.]
Can you even say the word?
[The velvet utterance though cruel in it's context, sought only to draw anything out of him that was not the sound of a lost child. Solidified, statuesque, Alucard stood before the tucked mass of shuddering clothes hiding the body of a creature that could not name himself.]
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[His eyes, inhuman purple, were open but fixed on some point far on the other side of the wall.]
[...Alucard was there, he registered. He wondered what the vampire was going to do.]
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Never.. Never, never, never..
[He repeated the words that scrawled on the walls, dragging his gloved nails across them, watching them flake away and rewrite themselves. He too seemed to leer at them in scrutiny. The words of mindless ghosts would not pierce through this creature, no, he would not have such a thing.]
Do you believe them? Is this truth not enough for you? Even the dead think they know what you are.
[He tore Tsuzuki's transparent gaze from the walls, fierce ember-flecked eyes boring down into those inhuman irises that reflected his own.]
Yet their words are meaningless, hallow!
[Vice grip upon his shoulders he forced him to look at nothing but himself. The glower of a beast. A true monster and fiend.]
They cannot tell you what is and what is not human. They lived as them once. One does not know true humanity till they have watched them from the outside.
They cannot even grasp what they are!
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How did they know?
[Alucard had tasted it in his blood, but the ghosts... he heard the echo of their taunting voices. And so: he was rejected even by his fellow dead. Never never never - He should be used to it. Hadn't it been that way for a long time?]
[His gaze slipped away from Alucard's, growing unfocused again, and his head fell forward.]
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[Sad, disgusting, lonely, lost things. They could barely grasp unto death, the place that which they were lead to go yet foolishly ran astray. And for what? To beguile and torment the living? Out of hate? Out of bitterness? Out of jealousy? Alucard held no sympathy for these things. Accepting their death would have brought peace upon their souls here and there and within themselves.]
They only feed from your own conviction.
Do not turn away!
[Silken gloved hands fanned out, long fingertips tracing his cheeks, and upon grasping Tsuzuki's cheeks, the occult sigils written on them seemed to pulse like a deep flame at the brush of his flesh. He cupped his face almost gingerly, cold clothed palms against skin that was far too warm for what he was. And with that an unseen force brushed the crumpled youth's back, pushing him forward as those hands drew up him to his feet till he was near dangling in his grasp like a marionette.]
They know nothing.
They are nothing.
[He refused it, balked it at it. He would not drop down to this creature's level, curled on the floor like a wounded hound. He would have him stand. As weak and broken as he was, he would force him to stand and face him, not like a man, yet certainly nothing like a dog. Such a position would not suit him in his eyes.]
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[Hadn't Alucard named Tsuzuki in the same words the last time they met? Not human. Not meant to be.]
[You will never be human, and where was Hisoka, what had they done with him-- Tsuzuki's hands flew up to close over the vampire's cool wrists, pressing hard enough that he would have felt the pulse if it were there to feel. They were both dead. Like the ghosts of Discedo. What right did either of them have to speak?]
They're dead. How are they any different from us?
[His hands tightened, helping his weak knees support his weight, occupying fingers that twitched with the temptation to turn in against his face, to claw out his eyes, let his blood flow. To escape the never that pounded in his head from every wall. He didn't let go.]
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They are figments of what once was.
Phantoms of a wretched past they helplessly grasp unto.
[Turning his own grasp, he laced and fixed his fingertips with Tsuzuki's, drawing his grip from a dead pulse, from a dead heart, yet not as far gone as those things. Those pitiful spirits who clung to a world they no longer belonged to. The back of the youth's palm would find itself flattened against the wall behind him, smearing the bloodied words as the vampire loomed over him to take up the entire frame of his visage.
Look here, I am the only message you need.]
Unlike them, you are not bound by the rules they subjected themselves to.
We...
Dead... yet not dead.
Who chose the night, born in the night, walk forward in the night.
Whilst they, aimless, pitiful, confused, wander circles, searching forever for a life that has already left them.
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[He didn't want to be a doll in hands as bloodstained as his own.]
[And yet... as the red eyes fixed him in place as securely as a pin in a half-chloroformed butterfly, his struggle ebbed. He listened, confusion growing. That, then, was what Alucard's kind of vampire was? Self-chosen, not called from the grave like poor Maria. It was some other kind of bond, then, that he shared with the master he'd spoken of.]
[Hesitant, after Alucard's last words had fallen into the silence, he spoke.]
...I'm a Shinigami. Not a vampire.
[It was true, though, that he had chosen. He chose again every time he killed rather than dying, every time he collected a soul. Not cutting his scarred wrist open again, here, where it wouldn't heal... that, too, was choosing the night.]
[Suddenly, the irony choked him, and he made a sound. Laugh, sob; even he wasn't sure which.]
I should be collecting them.
[No wonder they hated him.]
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God of death.
[He knew one once back in his own world. But that one had still been human, one he felt had made himself worthy to walk the night with him. And Tsuzuki too, through all his pangs and plethora of regrets, who fought them till he was on the edge and shattering, he felt him worthy of it as well. And now even more-so as those flames erupted in his struggle against the iron force that was the vampire. And while he did not smile, his eyes held a strange kind of warmth that pulsed approval.]
Unlife.
No Life.
A No Life King.
[His grip curled and fisted with Tsuzuki's scratching away the words behind them. Words that should hold no more meaning here. True they were not of the same species of undead, yet their equal lack of life... He paused to trace the digits of his other hand from the crook of the Shinigamu's neck to the underside of his jawline, feeling a pulse, a feign, a mockery of life. Such things his own body could often pretend to be.
Softened to a haunting croon, his utterance continued.]
Collecting souls so that you might walk onward more and more.
For I, blood is the coin of the soul.
[Feeling the hitch in his throat from that pitiful sound, he cupped his neck, stroking a thumb over his jugular to ease away that urge to convulse. To cry. To weep.
No more, you are beyond this.]
Equally we collect our coins and redeem them for another night that we might walk.
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Tsuzuki--!
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...Are you a ghost?
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No... it's... i-it's Namine.
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[He laughed, without much amusement, and considered getting up. Maybe in a few minutes, when he felt less shaky; maybe when his legs felt like moving. Absently, he toyed with the cuff of his shirt. There was a little paint on it from the ghosts' can; it probably never would come out.]
...Sorry to bother you, Namine.
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Oh god, Tsuzuki... the ghosts, they...
Tsuzuki, they're wrong... they're wrong, Tsuzuki, please listen...
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[And she shouldn't have to deal with this. With him. He tried to smile, a false flicker for a moment before it died.]
No... don't worry.
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I... of course I'm going to worry. You're distressed, and... oh Tsuzuki, please don't listen to them, please, they're wrong, you're not a monster...
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Thank you.
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bawww, this is too adorable in a sad sort of way ;;
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if I'm annoying, just tell me to go diaf or something
Standing by the door, Tomoo observed the room for a few moments, as if debating whether he should speak or not.)
Perhaps it would be better to wait elsewhere.
haha, not at all~ set this after Namine and Alucard, then?
[Why was he still here? There had been a reason, he thought. After a moment, it came to him.]
...Hisoka might come back here.
t-that's a relief, and sure :)
He stepped carefully inside the room, his expression devoid of much emotion. It was easier when it was nothing to do with him.)
They're doing it deliberately. It probably brings them some degree of satisfaction.
(He paused, glancing back up at the walls.)
Or they hope it will. Whether it's the truth or not is ignored as long as it solicits a response.
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Why...? What are they thinking?
[His hands shook despite the desperate strength of his grip. He'd offered them help, and they'd laughed, taunting him, angry. They couldn't envy him - not a Shinigami; they were dead.]
[Knowing how pathetic it sounded, he spoke once more, voice drained of feeling.]
Do they just want us all dead?
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(He paused for a moment; all he could offer was his own thoughts which, in the end, he imagined to be less than comforting.)
And then we were brought here and the scientists have made a point of it that death means nothing for those brought here.
I doubt whether they appreciate our presence. We've lived here without any regard, after all.
As for death-
(He glanced at the writing for a moment, his thoughts not at all on Tsuzuki.)
That's not the worst fate that can befall someone.
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[He laughed, a thin thread of sound. There were worse things than death; but being dead, and a ghost in the shattered ruins of your home, was one of those things. He had never gone back to the place where he was born, afterwards. He hadn't wanted to see what it was now. And it would have been worse if it were the same.]
But how do they know?
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(The answer was simple, but there wasn't really another way to view it.)
Perhaps the same way the scientists do.
More than that, I have no idea.
(Although in his mind, it seemed somewhat more permissable that the dead were aware of such facts.)
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[He shuddered at the thought, but it was just reflex. It didn't make any sense - was there some ghost around here with Hisoka's gifts? - but nothing here did.]
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