Tell The OC Below A Secret!

     Alcott exhaled slowly, seated a few feet away from Ren and his fingers laced over his stomach. His breath was shaky, angry. It wasn't the confession, not even the fact that he had just learned about someone's death, but Ren's reaction-- or lack thereof. That somber, if even, look, that pregnant pause. It was like he didn't even care, or didn't want to think about the gravity of it, just wanted a reaction.

     "What do you expect me to say about that?" the teacher finally said, crossing one leg over the other. "Am I supposed to yell at you? Applaud you? Feel sorry for you? Do you want me to talk about how pretty that hairpiece is, or call the police? What did you want the outcome to be when you started telling me all this?" Every part of his mind kept telling him to calm down and wait before he said something he'd regret, but he couldn't help it. "Should I think you're scary because you killed someone? Or should I be amazed? If I said anything would you even listen, or would you just shrug and pretend this never happened?" He shook his head and got up. "This isn't worth my time. You sound like a damn robot, so I bet this isn't the first time you've said all that. Or the last.

     "A secret, huh?" Alcott scratched his chin until his gaze grew distant. "I had a brother," he finally said. "Little brother. I did a lot for him when we were kids. Our parents weren't the best and we ended up living on the streets. Then, well... Found out my little bro had a plan." He grew quiet. "I had a brother. Not anymore." He didn't care whether the person he talked to considered his brother dead or not. He sure as hell did.

“Oh that’s quite cryptic the way you said that..” Kyou scratched his chin trying to make sense of the secret. “I’m going to guess you either disowned him or he’s dead.” He shrugged. “Cool secret I guess..”

——

  Kyou smiles and snickers to himself. “My buddy Kyle isn’t afraid of much since he’s undead. But He’s terrified of vultures. Images and even their cries put fear in his eyes. Of course he will never admit this fear to anyone. I just happen to know because of an incident heh.”

Noel had some questions. Firstly, what in the sweet fuck was an undead, and secondly, who thought it wise to share the phobias of their companion? For a moment, staring at Kyou, he wondered if this might have been revenge on the friend in question, spreading information for others to exploit as a prank. Then, he wondered whether or not Kyou was hiding something about himself. After all, what better way to divert attention than to push it all onto somebody else?

..Rambling aside, the older man didn't seem all that amused. In fact, he even raised an eyebrow at Kyou's snickering.

"Tell your friend that vultures are harmless." he drawled out, his arms crossed in a vaguely 'disappointed father' type of stance, "Unless he smells like maggoty meat, like he's been rotting in the sun all summer day and hasn't been moving around, they're generally not the kind to go after carcasses. The only ones he'd need to be wary of are black vultures. Those beat everything they see, not just things like him." Then, he looked Kyou in the eye. "As for you, you better start trying to cover up your own shit. I'll pry it out in turn."

"..It's not really a big deal." Noel spoke to the other person. Before him on the floor was a silver bowl filled with batter and strawberries, which he seemed to try to pay more attention to. "But sometimes, I just hate that my niece has gotten into those... insects."

"Not that it matters, like I said. Bringing home mantids and little beetles makes her happy, and since it does, I'm not about to bark at her for it. Not like she's bringing him a live bat, and I always make sure they're out of the cabin anyway. I'm not even scared of them! ..But, I just don't get the appeal as much as she does. She did show me how to feed a mantis once, though, and that was... more entertaining than I'd thought it'd be." He paused. "Just don't tell her that I hate the rest of the shit she brings home. I don't want her to be pissed."

"..Now. Give me a hand here, I can barely fold in these fucking berries."

Sunset hues harden.

There were many genres of people of whom Rane disliked in the world. The easiest to figure out was the archetype of villainous individuals, the kinds who couldn’t get their shit together and had some sort of gluttonous greed for an addicting vice in the world.  Then came the melodramatic individuals, the loud ones who ran out of their homes at the mere sight of a fallen branch along the road and fibbed about a gigantic car accident to the 911 operator on the line they’d frantically dialed. Last, but certainly not least- was the section of entitled cafe owners who were wasting his valuable, charitable time by whining about losing their ‘smarts’ whilst lacking self awareness to realize how ungrateful they were about what they did have.

Perhaps that was too specific, though Rane did truly dislike those who lacked a sufficient dosage of self awareness, and to him-- Haru didn't seem to have much. At least, not in the appropriate areas. 

“Wow. You just completely took a shit on like thirty percent of the population.” He starts, folding his arms against his chest. It’s apparent that he’s not going to be the soothing, more careful type about the secret that Haru handed him. There was a reason why Gwen was the widely preferred one between them. “Which, since you’re not ‘smart’, let me explain that statement to you. There’s millions of people in America alone who can’t afford higher education, and what you’re saying is they’re stupid because they’re not pursuing it? What’s stupid here is the blatant fact that you’re labeling academic smarts as the only thing that qualifies someone as smart.” He pauses to blow a tuft of fallen hair from his face. “Academic smarts are about as worthy as a bag of dog shit in this world. Everyone makes you think they’re worth something, but they’re not. You can be great at math and still suck at the job you have. You can solve an algebraic problem in less than a minute, but that isn’t helping you fix your car’s engine. You can even know the entire periodic table by heart, but that doesn’t help you stop bleeding from a stab wound. Seriously. Putting yourself and everyone else who doesn’t go to a university or college into that small of a box is just pathetic. No wonder you can't think anymore. You're stuck in a fucking box.”

Getting up, he begins to leave Haru behind at the table without so much as a second look. His eyes are directed elsewhere, on the crowds of people surrounding them and going on about their daily lives.

“Just study or something. Everything just takes practice, anyway.” 

He sighs and pushes a foot into the ground, thus swinging himself backwards on the swing. Telling secrets weren't really his thing, but.. perhaps opening up to someone wouldn't be that bad. Whether stranger or friend, he could gain something from it, couldn't he?

"I dropped out of the art program I'm in because the teacher said I wasn't good at it." Which was true. He wasn't good at it at all. Art was his passion and yet, he couldn't draw very well or do as beautiful things as everyone else. "I don't know what to tell my parents or Gwen since they've been supporting me the whole time."

Rev tossed the stub of his cigarette onto the ground, kicking mulch over it.

"I get that," he replied plainly. "I dropped out of a college for the arts too."

The swing set creaked as the stranger rocked back and forth. He acknowledged Rev's words, but refrained from speaking. Perhaps he was looking for advice?

"I'm really not one for advice. You'd have better luck with the next stranger that passes by." Rev had completely ruined his life by the age of twenty-five. He wasn't going to tell this guy what to do. "But, I guess.. always keep your head cool, know that your people will always support you, and stay optimistic about your future."

The stranger shook his head with a melancholic smile. "Well that's easier said than done."

"Trust me, I'd know." The stranger almost reminded Rev of his younger self, and he felt a pang of empathy.

Rev left the playground, feeling like he'd disappointed the stranger. He had probably expected a cathartic conversation, but Rev had never particularly been the best with words. He looked back at the man, still swinging and creating divots in the ground with his feet. He only hoped that whatever the stranger ended up doing, he'd keep the people close to him.

NP:

Revenant sniffled, his head pressed flat on the bar counter, toying with an empty shot glass.

"What's wrong?" he said, repeating what the stranger had asked him. "I'm a bad person. I'm horrible. I pretend I'm doing all this killing for the right reason, but killing is killing. I'm a bad person," he explained, without context.

"You're right."

Degare's tone was flat, more so than what was typical of him. He wasn't going to baby Revenant. He wasn't going to comfort him. It's what the man himself said -- killing was killing. Degare had no personal interest in it, all for simple reasons. When he thought back, when he remembered how things used to be, the blood in her hair, the open gashes where she sawed into the throats of defeated men, crimson flowing over her battered hands with each twitch of the cut.

-- Degare himself, he remained stone-faced. He did not lean away from Revenant, rather staying still on the bar stool, holding a bottle of beer by its neck.

"Maybe you are a bad person. Maybe you aren't." he continued slowly, "From what you've implied, however, I can only assume that you got yourself into this mess. Everyone knows that killing is bad, that's a thrill for some people -- and then you have the militaristic and wannabe-hitmen types who think they're doing it for the good. They don't think about the impact it has on their psyche." He then pointed a finger at Revenant. "Case in point."

"..But if you want honest advice: stop." Degare concluded, "Stop, because you've already caused enough damage -- if not to other people, then to yourself. Surely you're selfish enough to consider that... And if you cry about it?" He scoffed. "Then why were you crying in the first place?"

cw for alcoholism ?

Gara liked secrets. It was his trade. He knew plenty of people and plenty of things that shouldn't have been shown the light of day. To him, Degare was just another one of them: another sorry sap that was below him, telling him things he should not know out of misplaced kindness. Yet, he found that he respected Degare for his career in astronomy alone; the two had some commonality in that. It kept him from sneering as Degare spoke. While he never liked playing socialite, it was easy to listen to the professor as he spoke.

"I respect your tenacity, Doctor Moriceau," he said simply. "It takes a lot of willpower to come back from something like that." 

He did not look to Degare as he spoke, but instead studied the horizon outside and thought quietly to himself. It couldn't be certain whether it was boredom or thoughtful regard lurking in his dark eyes. Either way, he turned back to the doctor when he pointed out his glasses. How interesting. It told a lot about Degare; much about how he was trying to convey himself. It made Gara smile. 

"A misconception. Right."

As for Gara...

He mulled over a few thoughts as he tried to muster up some old secret of his. He had many of them, far too many, and they were all so damning. Gara knew this well, of course, and he knew that such things should always remain unsaid. But the person asking this of him looked to him expectantly for an answer, and he would not leave them without one. So, he dredged up some silly old secret that could make for a worthwhile answer.

"You know," he thinks aloud. "I tell everyone that my observatory is far away from the city to prevent light pollution. That much is true, of course, but... really, I requested it to be far away to keep people from bothering me. I like my peace and quiet. It can be so frustrating to be distracted from your work, hm?" 

Andren wasn't one to care for secrets; he had seen many of the secrets held by the universe and lost interest in trivial secrets that most people tend to have. But something make him curious about the strange man stood in front of him. 

"Huh. Seems like a valid reason. People suck, who wouldn't want to get away from them? I try to distance myself from others. They're nothing but a hinderance for my research. The last thing I want to hear about is others' objections to what I'm doing. It's like listening to the humming of flies amplified by a speaker; just irritating."

Andren had the urge to pry deeper into what the strange man had said but ultimately decided it probably wasn't the best idea. Instead he looked closely at the man's body language, as if he attempting to read it like a book.

"Well if that's it, I'll be going. I don't have time to discuss this further."

And with that, Andren walked away.

Andren had a lot of secrets. Secrets that he would likely be assassinated for if he dared utter them. Andren really didn't seem to care though; instead of coming up with some bullshit lie of a secret he was curious about how this person's reaction would look like. What their morals were like.

"Here's an interesting secret. I've experimented on people. And not just other people; I've done my own research using my own body. Altering it in a way I can no longer be considered fully human. Obviously, I dothe more.. damaging research to others. How would I record the results if I experimented on myself and died?" 

Andren looked curiously at the individual, wondering how they would respond.

(OOC: Please ping me in your response if possible!)

( Limeless ! forgot the @ when i put down the claim and i have no idea if toyhouse still pings you when its edited in. apologies if not )

"Huh!"

It was the casual way he said it, really. Like the two scientists were discussing the weather. There was a lot about Andren that xe couldn't help but admire- a presence that strikes fear in the heart of gods, a certain carelessness in following rules, a gleamingly dry cleaned labcoat... The list could go on. His collection of bones was of particular interest to xer. Xe dreamed of having an anatomy lab that was so extensive. Shelves of fibulas and phalanges danced in xer eyes like sugar plum fairies. Perhaps this, and other similarities, is why Andren offered this information so freely. Xe nods, keeping the same beat of humor that has followed xer throughout the whole encounter.

"That's real neato, bud. I think I aught to kill you now?" Xeno's tone matches his. Discussing the weather. Xe even fits in a casual swig of whatever liquid is in xer flask, as if this is a lunch break between to lab-coated colleagues. "Yeah, no, gosh. I should definitely be melting the bones out from inside you. I'm not sure I can let us leave this conversation anymore? Inflict whatever horrors onto your own body- that's fine, that's basic autonomy. Give yourself dragon wings, for all I care. One does not need to be human to be a person, etcetera. But, you clearly know the value of sentient life enough to preserve yours, and that's kinda the whole problem, ain't it?"

The flask finds it's way back into xer toolbelt. While xe's at it, xe begins rifling through pockets, not being subtle about locating a weapon. "Anyway, this has been great, but you're actually an idiot. You're a bad scientist. You're bad at science. Science without compassion is useless and brutish. Science is collaborative at it's core, sillybilly. I mean, saving the more damaging experiments on prisoners- Was there really no one else on the planet to continue your research if you died? Eh, let's find out!"

Xeno is slouched over xer workbench, eyelids threatening to close. Xer words are stumbling, unsteady things.

"...Hhhnrrmr, sleeping is bad." Xe mumbles- more into the counter than the open air, xer breath fogging the surface. "It's all late now, and I can feel my bones getting tired, which means sleep is probably sneak up and get me, whether I'd like it or not. Why have we, as a species, accepted sleep? It's so dumb. You even gotta do it every night? Who the hell designed this?"

A frustrated sigh escapes xer. "It's not even just the, like- the whole 'lying prone for 6 hours' thing. Which is still unimaginably awful! ....Is it 6 hours? Eh, that sounds right. It's the whole- ugh, don't tell anyone this, but it's what my dumb brain does while I'm asleep. I keep going through these... viscerally intense dream scenarios of people I care about doing- doing things that.... I know damn well they would never do to me? At least, I know that when I'm awake. And I can't- these dreams are vivid enough that it sometimes impacts how I interact with them when I'm awake, like it's a memory or something? Like my body is recalling an actual thing that happened."

Arms reach out and scatter clattering bits and bob off xer workbench, leaving enough room to fully press xer forehead down into the table. A crumpled up blueprint is working as xer pillow, "I flinch, and I avoid them, and... I don't really want to talk about it with these people, because what the hell kind of problem is this? It's not like anyone did anything wrong. It's just my brain. It's just me. I wish this wasn't happening."

Onsaemiro's words were direct enough to catch Garu off guard, and a slight grin crossed his snake-like features. "Hah, therapy. I don't think either of us would last a session, so yeah, let's make this whatever it will be. If it's any trouble, I did only ask what was on your mind, but... I guess it's the same thing, isn't it?" He took a swig from his own drink, a flask he smuggled into the shop so he could reserve their table before the long line became a longer wait for seating. "Line wasn't long for this, by the way. You should try it sometime, it's not as bad as it looks." He tilted the flask towards Onsaemiro, but at the latter's loud consumption of his own beverage, Garu lowered it again.

But even when giving much of his attention to nursing his cheap sparkling wine, Garu had a way of sensing the moment someone became solemn, and so he screwed the metal cap back onto his flask and tossed it under the table onto his lap. The alcohol would have helped for sure of the troublesome image before him, seeing the previously exuberant monk suddenly burdened with the result of the subject at hand. There was something fitting about the lovely man in his robes holding guilt, but because it was so fitting it was entirely wrong. Maybe monks were supposed to be somber, but Onsaemiro? What could darken his internal light so suddenly, if even as slightly as a subtle turn of a dimmer switch?

Ah, but such is life, thought Garu. I don't suppose anyone like that stays so bright for long. 

But when the answer was such that it was, Garu couldn't help but to take shock to the idea. "He made a mistake at work? Even if it was fatal, that's no reason to mess with him. Everyone makes mistakes at work. Everyone dies -- er, everyone should die someday -- so what kinda punishment would weigh on you this much?"

At Onsaemiro's answer, Garu found his breath hitch, startled. The closeness between two friends, broken by demanded betrayal... he broke into a cold sweat and stared down at the table. It was truly the ultimate tragedy. And at that, this friend was never quite the same? How did Onsaemiro carry the knowledge that he broke someone to some degree, and how did he carry it every single day?

What does it take for someone to never be the same in his eyes? That's some scary shit right there. 

And what kind of repercussions were worth avoiding to do that to someone? No, Garu shook his head, he couldn't think that way. Living with that guilt had to be punishment enough, so it was no good exchanging it for another. Everyone had moments where they had no choice to do what they did, and it would be unfair for Garu to decide that Onsaemiro's reasoning was somehow not good enough to qualify. But for this friend to never be the same...

Shit, shit, fuck off. It's not my place to be horrified on either of their behalf. 

As Onsaemiro finished, Garu cleared his throat and wiped his brow, his eyes still fixed on the table. "Well, that certainly is a difficult situation," he said, unable to hide the apprehension in his voice. "A-are you sure you don't want some of my wine? It might take the edge off, huh?"

Garu sat across from you, dropping his lab coat on the seat and loosening his work tie. Both carried raindrops beaded on the fabric from the downpour outside, and even his shirt pocket was so thoroughly drenched that he ruined his pack of cigarettes for the next few days. He had nothing to ease his nerves from the day, besides maybe his venom, but it would be irresponsible to send his body into spasms in public, and seated across from a stranger on the public transit nonetheless.

"Shit day at work," he said, skipping over a greeting or pleasantries. "Wanna know something? A bit of a trade secret, I suppose. You can cure a phobia if the patient can't feel fear."

What a way to make a first impression. Still, Garu continued. 

"As long as you have the right meds for it, of course. You don't want to use a sedative if it's gonna be a regular occurrence, yeah? No point in it. But I've managed to create a drug for my boss that helps with his phobia, all without the stress of exposure therapy. See, he's usually rather composed, but he has a phobia of water, and he's a fucking mess when he's near it. Crying and begging from just a bit of rain like this, and don't get me started on anything more. So, I might as well fix it, right?"

He glanced up, his tired eyes almost looking past you into nothing. 

"Wanna know something else? I gave him that phobia. He almost drowned, I fucked up, I ruined his goddamn life over it."

He finally locked eyes with you, searching for something. He didn't care. He wanted to be punished, or pitied, or something. He didn't know.

"I fuckin' hate myself for it. That's a trade secret, too."

_{vv followup! i love this and villains are so cool, thank you so so much for letting Meloria be mean to Garu!!}

Shit, she was right. 

The word coddled struck Garu like a stinging knife, challenging the last grasp of hope he clung to for Soru's sake. But it wasn't for Soru's sake, was it? It was for his own peace of mind, and his own plea to be absolved of Soru's permanent pain. 

And what responsibility did he have to his boss, whose life he altered forever? When he thought about it, besides his own affections for the man, his only sense of duty was caused by his complete lack of choice. He was an experiment for the company, with a compulsion to do whatever he must to keep it secure, and maybe medicating his boss to the point of a certain blankness was keeping him in a horrible way to live. He wanted to fix Soru, yes, but would he have done the same drastic measures if Soru had been a friend rather than a boss?

No, he would never have ruined that man. 

Garu was aware of Meloria's condescension, but he knew he deserved it. She was telling the truth. Maybe not the only truth, he wished, but a certain definite truth that he had to hear eventually.

And it was the truth. All of it. He couldn't even deny her view of death, as he himself was a necromancer, and he had seen the lengths people would go to both to die and to undie. Would he cause the same in Soru, and someday find the man had thrown his life away for the fear or the drugs that took that fear away? He hated that he knew the answer. He hated that Meloria knew the answer.

And there was no comfort to be found in that answer, but that was okay. Garu Orochi did not deserve the comfort he stripped from others forever.

Hoshi eyed the figure infront of her, the one who held Hoshi captive. Though Meloria didnt act like a typical kidnapper, she was oddly calm for one. Hoshi sighed, muttering to herself, she was convinced here was where she would die. to the hands of her kidnapper.

Hoshi attempted to quietly mutter a greeting of sorts, feeling rather awkward in the situation. Hoshi was cut off by Meloria, talking about whatever ‘her kind’ meant. “completely.. unable?” She muttered, that seemed horrid, yet Meloria seemed to talk about it as if it was a sort of fun story. “Thats horrible.. Im sorry?” Hoshi had a slightly confused yet apologetic tone. Then Meloria continued speaking, talking about how her kind used to live. Hoshi was stunned, ‘filthy animals’?

Hoshi listened as Meloria talked about her sisters. Slowly nodding, she felt a little bit of sorrow for her captor, but she quickly shook thpse thoughts away. she’s my captor Hoshi thought, i shouldnt feel remorse for her.

Hoshis remorse quickly got ripped away entirely, as Meloria spoke about her way of dealing with it.

All hoshi could muster was a simple nod, followed with a “Im sorry.”

-

Hoshi sat in a field decorated with purple flowers, her arms wrapped around her legs, the moon just rose into the starry sky. Hoshi staring blankly into it. “I..” she gulped, “I hurt.. someone,” she didnt look towards the person listening, “a dear friend of mine, aswell.” She stopped speaking for awhile, uncomfortably shifting in place.

”How do you.. cope with that? My friend wasn’t in her right mind but it still hurts.“ She looked down, her finger tapping her leg. “I just.. i cant even look at her properly.“ She took in a deep breath. “My friend doesnt even remember it, so im the only one burdened with it. Which would be considered.. good, i guess, but she wont ever understand why I don’t see her the same way.”

She stood, rubbing tears away from her face. “How do you.. deal, with commiting horrid violence.”