except instead of being brought to tears, instead of breaking down, he's - breaking things. throwing a tantrum, almost. because it's futile anger, with nowhere he can channel it, because... manwol was either killed because someone was compelled to do it, or sakyou was, and the other was killed to "save them." save them from fucking what? what's the point?
his knuckles are already a little busted up. there's broken - pottery? dishware? glassware from the STEM lab? fragile things, hard to say exactly where he stole them from. but he's at least had the sense to throw them somewhere that he won't hit someone by mistake, and they can be cleaned up when he's exhausted himself. crash! ]
she can't say she didn't do the same thing. she was destructive too, and now she's making the rounds. she's on her way to winter from the woods when she sees kon. she doesn't try to stop him, though, or really say anything, she's just quiet and off to the side, arms folded across her chest.
she will let him wear himself out. and all the while, she's keeping an eye out for ichiro, wherever he might be.]
[ well. he's just kind of - gone, for a while, actually. while kon's being destructive, and it takes ichiro a while to return back to the dorm. when he hears loud noise, though, he stops from where he was going to just duck inside and makes his way around to the back.
watching kon just makes empathy boil up in his heart - the hurt returns again, the anger twisted up with it. manwol and sakyou both were important to him, and he stands a little distance away for a moment, clenching, unclenching his fists.
his thoughts come through before he does. the quiet, faraway repeated mantra - i'm strong. i'm strong. i'm strong. that carries on until he makes it to where beau is standing, and watches kon for a moment, too. ]
Fuck this. [ he says, quiet, nearly vibrating in place, but holding still, barely flinching as something glass kon throws hits a tree. fuck this. ]
[ ichiro's thoughts are what alert him that someone is there, but kon doesn't stop right away. just throws a few more glasses, a vase he's sure that iris won't blame him for later when she's out of viola, like the shattering will satisfy something in him.
(there's some off and on thoughts of sakyou's quiet but present fury, the gentle hand, the mild exhaustion with all of their shenanigans; manwol's mischievous smile, the coolness of her arms around him, the vulnerability she shared the last time that he saw her, just yesterday.)
it doesn't. it's obvious this has left him dissatisfied, breathing a little raggedly against a crushing weight bearing down on him. that, more than anything else, causes him to sink, then drop right on his ass, bringing both hands up to dig the heels of his palms against his eyes before he scrubs his fingers into his hair. ]
[Last thing I really did to him was screw with him.
she thinks, a little distant. but then it's nothing - it's just instructions. breathe in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out.
when kon drops to the ground, beau reaches and takes ichiro's hand, and leads him over to sit down right in the dirt. they're both much bigger than her, but she doesn't really care. she just reaches and pulls them both in.]
[ ichiro - laughs, a little. it's sort of humorless, surprised out of him, but he lets this happen, just dropping down and letting beau pull him in, good arm moving to hook around her. ] Sorry. [ quietly. ] Habit.
... the last time I saw Manwol-san, I thought she was part of Chuuoku. [ a flash of static memory, there - the women who run the party of words, the dictatorship that runs his home. ichiro's brow furrows, angrier, angrier, and he shakes his head. ] ...least I can remember them both, now.
[ ichiro only has the one hand, at the moment, so he just kind of leans in to kon to complete this sad depressed angry circle - as he tries to follow the trail of beau's thoughts. breathe in, breathe out. ]
[ no resistance comes, when beau brings ichiro over to join him, and he instead just leans into them with a miserable noise in his throat. his eyes are wet, but it's obviously just as much frustration as it is grief. he's so angry, his temper grinding gears together in his head so that there's just a stream of squiggles and scribbles and grating thoughts for a moment.
but though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light, squeezes its way out, kon's voice more thoughtful and reflective. an older memory of this place. it feels like forever ago. ]
She'll make you pay her back for it. [ breathe in, breathe out, he echoes in actions more than thought. it still shudders and hisses a little through his teeth, but steadies, slowly, surely. ] And Sakyou won't let any of us live it down if we don't figure things out.
[she's quiet, in the way she gets when she's concentrating. breathe in, breathe out.
there's anger in her, but she can't let it out, right now. she won't. instead, she rolls her shoulders a little, and redirects. she tucks them both close, and exhales slow.]
I'll do whatever I can to help figure it out. [...] Glasses didn't work last night. So I don't have that. But I have my ki.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
w6 friday
except instead of being brought to tears, instead of breaking down, he's - breaking things. throwing a tantrum, almost. because it's futile anger, with nowhere he can channel it, because... manwol was either killed because someone was compelled to do it, or sakyou was, and the other was killed to "save them." save them from fucking what? what's the point?
his knuckles are already a little busted up. there's broken - pottery? dishware? glassware from the STEM lab? fragile things, hard to say exactly where he stole them from. but he's at least had the sense to throw them somewhere that he won't hit someone by mistake, and they can be cleaned up when he's exhausted himself. crash! ]
no subject
she can't say she didn't do the same thing. she was destructive too, and now she's making the rounds. she's on her way to winter from the woods when she sees kon. she doesn't try to stop him, though, or really say anything, she's just quiet and off to the side, arms folded across her chest.
she will let him wear himself out. and all the while, she's keeping an eye out for ichiro, wherever he might be.]
no subject
watching kon just makes empathy boil up in his heart - the hurt returns again, the anger twisted up with it. manwol and sakyou both were important to him, and he stands a little distance away for a moment, clenching, unclenching his fists.
his thoughts come through before he does. the quiet, faraway repeated mantra - i'm strong. i'm strong. i'm strong. that carries on until he makes it to where beau is standing, and watches kon for a moment, too. ]
Fuck this. [ he says, quiet, nearly vibrating in place, but holding still, barely flinching as something glass kon throws hits a tree. fuck this. ]
no subject
(there's some off and on thoughts of sakyou's quiet but present fury, the gentle hand, the mild exhaustion with all of their shenanigans; manwol's mischievous smile, the coolness of her arms around him, the vulnerability she shared the last time that he saw her, just yesterday.)
it doesn't. it's obvious this has left him dissatisfied, breathing a little raggedly against a crushing weight bearing down on him. that, more than anything else, causes him to sink, then drop right on his ass, bringing both hands up to dig the heels of his palms against his eyes before he scrubs his fingers into his hair. ]
no subject
she thinks, a little distant. but then it's nothing - it's just instructions. breathe in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out.
when kon drops to the ground, beau reaches and takes ichiro's hand, and leads him over to sit down right in the dirt. they're both much bigger than her, but she doesn't really care. she just reaches and pulls them both in.]
None of that strong shit. [she says, firmly.]
no subject
... the last time I saw Manwol-san, I thought she was part of Chuuoku. [ a flash of static memory, there - the women who run the party of words, the dictatorship that runs his home. ichiro's brow furrows, angrier, angrier, and he shakes his head. ] ...least I can remember them both, now.
[ ichiro only has the one hand, at the moment, so he just kind of leans in to kon to complete this sad depressed angry circle - as he tries to follow the trail of beau's thoughts. breathe in, breathe out. ]
no subject
but though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light, squeezes its way out, kon's voice more thoughtful and reflective. an older memory of this place. it feels like forever ago. ]
She'll make you pay her back for it. [ breathe in, breathe out, he echoes in actions more than thought. it still shudders and hisses a little through his teeth, but steadies, slowly, surely. ] And Sakyou won't let any of us live it down if we don't figure things out.
no subject
there's anger in her, but she can't let it out, right now. she won't. instead, she rolls her shoulders a little, and redirects. she tucks them both close, and exhales slow.]
I'll do whatever I can to help figure it out. [...] Glasses didn't work last night. So I don't have that. But I have my ki.