[backdated log] in which plans are hatched. OR SOMETHING. idek.
Who: Dokuro Chrome fakeorgans and Yamamoto Takeshi rainandsushi. To be gradually joined by others (Gokudera, Allen, perhaps Rin -- we'll be poking you if you discussed wanting in on this plot, to verify who's coming, but this is a tentative list!)
Status: Technically . . . closed, I think.
Style: Action, Present.
Where: Yomisato
When: Week 8, Day 4 (backdated)
Rating: [PG-13] Can't see why it'd need to go much higher, at least for the planning log.
Warnings: Derp? References to violence. Adult subject matter.
Notes: The way I am doing this log, to try to make things a little less convoluted (now here's hoping it doesn't backfire) -- we're beginning with Yamamoto and Chrome. ONLY they are here until such time as we say otherwise. Once Yams/Chrome get their bearings/the details straight, Chrome will tag Allen/Gokudera/other network people with the info, and we can gradually work them into the log. This is to preserve chronology (since the network tags I've not replied to yet are mostly other characters asking for details... and Yamamoto/Chrome, as the people who originally dreamed this up... must create those details). :) This will be log one of two, and is backdated, but the second log won't be, so even if you didn't participate in the original planning of this plot and still want in on the second part, no worries, for I am sure something can be worked out! /ends teal deer
[ Through the past ten years, there were days when life felt like a slip-slide from one battle to the next.
Occasionally, during holidays and weekends and moments when some other famiglia wasn't planning a hostile takeover of everything you consider valuable, you might have time off. Maybe even enough to take a breath. Replenish the air in your lungs. (Those of hers, at least, are real, and intact since birth.)
European drug cartel, stolen box weapons, a warehouse in Okinawa loaded with enough explosives to give Gokudera chagrin (not that Chrome had had a moment's oxygen to consult him at that time -- no, not when they were all scrambling forward, with assailants appearing from the woodworks).
The movements became easier with time. Trident point through an eye, a socket, the firmness of cranium and softness of brain.
With sufficient years, her hands no longer shook.
Progress. Or something like it.
Nowadays.
Nowadays, when she is forced to go to another battle -- another mission, another unfortunate act of violence -- there sometimes arises a dissonance. A distance. A dispassionate contemplation of her own rupture. Do unto others as has been done unto you.
( But no, let's not kid ourselves. She knows she doesn't believe this. Not for an instant. It's only another saying. Another flimsy justification. And this thing -- well, she knows deep down, none of them have walked away with unsullied hands. So this thing? Can't be justified. But she puts the effort there sometimes, regardless. Futile. Oh, but she tries. )
Sometimes this is where her thoughts will turn. After the mist has fogged her mind. After the drinks, the drugs prescriptions, the dinners, the sex, the beautiful blue oceans she looks down at from her window seat on the plane. The appreciative, coaxing murmur in her ear which makes the shivers pool at the base of her spine.
So here it is.
Another world.
Another fight.
( And let us hope that we are not forgetting how to do anything besides? )
When she approaches Yamamoto, the trident is visible now: in her hand and by her side. ]
Status: Technically . . . closed, I think.
Style: Action, Present.
Where: Yomisato
When: Week 8, Day 4 (backdated)
Rating: [PG-13] Can't see why it'd need to go much higher, at least for the planning log.
Warnings: Derp? References to violence. Adult subject matter.
Notes: The way I am doing this log, to try to make things a little less convoluted (now here's hoping it doesn't backfire) -- we're beginning with Yamamoto and Chrome. ONLY they are here until such time as we say otherwise. Once Yams/Chrome get their bearings/the details straight, Chrome will tag Allen/Gokudera/other network people with the info, and we can gradually work them into the log. This is to preserve chronology (since the network tags I've not replied to yet are mostly other characters asking for details... and Yamamoto/Chrome, as the people who originally dreamed this up... must create those details). :) This will be log one of two, and is backdated, but the second log won't be, so even if you didn't participate in the original planning of this plot and still want in on the second part, no worries, for I am sure something can be worked out! /ends teal deer
[ Through the past ten years, there were days when life felt like a slip-slide from one battle to the next.
Occasionally, during holidays and weekends and moments when some other famiglia wasn't planning a hostile takeover of everything you consider valuable, you might have time off. Maybe even enough to take a breath. Replenish the air in your lungs. (Those of hers, at least, are real, and intact since birth.)
European drug cartel, stolen box weapons, a warehouse in Okinawa loaded with enough explosives to give Gokudera chagrin (not that Chrome had had a moment's oxygen to consult him at that time -- no, not when they were all scrambling forward, with assailants appearing from the woodworks).
The movements became easier with time. Trident point through an eye, a socket, the firmness of cranium and softness of brain.
With sufficient years, her hands no longer shook.
Progress. Or something like it.
Nowadays.
Nowadays, when she is forced to go to another battle -- another mission, another unfortunate act of violence -- there sometimes arises a dissonance. A distance. A dispassionate contemplation of her own rupture. Do unto others as has been done unto you.
( But no, let's not kid ourselves. She knows she doesn't believe this. Not for an instant. It's only another saying. Another flimsy justification. And this thing -- well, she knows deep down, none of them have walked away with unsullied hands. So this thing? Can't be justified. But she puts the effort there sometimes, regardless. Futile. Oh, but she tries. )
Sometimes this is where her thoughts will turn. After the mist has fogged her mind. After the drinks, the drugs prescriptions, the dinners, the sex, the beautiful blue oceans she looks down at from her window seat on the plane. The appreciative, coaxing murmur in her ear which makes the shivers pool at the base of her spine.
So here it is.
Another world.
Another fight.
( And let us hope that we are not forgetting how to do anything besides? )
When she approaches Yamamoto, the trident is visible now: in her hand and by her side. ]