voidtreckerexpress | Catchall log for mid-Merriment, OTA!

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Catchall log for mid-Merriment, OTA!

Who: Devero and YOU
Where: All over the train
When: Merriment 17 through 21
What: Devero potters around the train, catching up on things and pretending he's not still really, really worn out from the mission.
Warnings: Recreational drug use in the luggage car prompt.

In the days following the platform, Devero is relieved to find that he's recovered enough energy to be able to stay awake for most of a day, and even to concentrate on projects again! The lassitude is hanging on to him longer than most, so he's still not quite is robust self, but he's present and working again. Between Merriment 17 and 21, he can be encountered all over the train.

Where does your character find him?

In the lab car?
Wait, since when is Devero glowing purple and semi-transparent? Come into the lab car on the right day at the right time and you'll find this specter moving about. Perhaps he's fiddling with a door latch, or you find him in one of the labs, picking things up and putting them back down again. There is absolutely neutral, lifeless expression on his face if you happen to catch sight of it, and-- Wait, is that some kind of glowing core in the middle of the shape?

In the training car?
Devero knows how to shoot a gun. Really. He swears. But if you happen in on him practicing his marksmanship with a sleek, futuristic rifle in his hands, it sure doesn't seem like it. He's visibly frustrated as he misses another shot, dropping the gun down from his shoulder and turning his back on his target. (Claudette tilts her head and chirrups. Does this mean the game is over?)

"Rust and ruin," he swears, shoving his wrap-around tactical Interface up on his forehead. "I'm never going to get the hang of this thing. I'm sorry, Entrapta."

In the library car:
Several weeks ago, Devero had snatched down the slip of paper that he'd tacked up in the standard car, the one advertising lessons in GSL-- Global Sign Language. The day of the platform, he'd tacked it back up again. Find him at the advertised time in the library, staring into the screen of his usual Interface. While he waits to see if anyone's going to show up, he's talking to himself.

You know, with his hands. How else? This is meant to be a sign-language lesson, after all!

In the music car:
As crowded as the train's been getting, the second floor of the music carriage is still a good place to slip away to if you're looking for (relative) privacy. Today, however, Devero's beaten you to it. If you don't notice right away that he's in here, though, that's understandable-- there's no music, no sound save for the whisper of his feet on the stage, the rustle of his clothes, and the occasional audible breath.

Despite the apparent silence, Devero is dancing. He's practicing alone an energetic routine for two, but there's no mistaking the precision and grace in his movements as he performs them, even without the partner.

Do you stay and watch, or leave him to dance in solitude?

In the luggage car?
If you've been on the train for longer than a few weeks, you may already be acquainted with this particular odor: it's savory, herby, as if someone's over-toasted spices in a pan prior to cooking with them. Were it a strong odor, it'd probably be sour and unpleasant; as mild as it is, it's mostly unobjectionable.

The source of it can be easily traced to the obviously hand-rolled cigarette smoldering between Devero's lips. That's right, it's future-weed hours here in the luggage car, folks. And if you look at him twice, you'll find him holding his joint out in your direction. "Want a hit?" he asks amiably.

Somewhere else?
Devero can feasibly be found all over the train: prepping vegetables or washing dishes in the kitchen; soaking or doing yoga in the spa car; working out in either of the gyms; sleeping through a movie in the cinema; or even just traveling up and down the train. Yeah, they have transgates now, but walking (or hoverskating) the length of the train is an easy way to keep his condition up while he's still recovering from the last mission. He's not nearly as exhausted as he was before, which means it's working. Really. He swears! He didn't fall asleep here, he was just resting his eyes!

Feel free to find him wherever you want, if one of the prompts above doesn't tickle your fancy.

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Devero cradles those hands gently, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Koumyou's palms.

--Well, until the priest mentions those rumors. His hands tense a little until he manages a deep breath and forces them to relax. "People will believe what they're going to believe regardless," he says. "On your world, doubly-so, I'm sure.

"What I'm trying to say is--" He pauses for a moment, to articulate it. "Adoption wasn't a feasible option on your world, so of course you didn't pursue it." Yeah, he knows Koumyou well enough now to be able to guess at where his mind's going on that.

"But Koumyou, we're not on your world anymore." Now he squeezes those hands again. "If Kouryuu boarded the train at the next platform-- hell, if Genjo Sanzo boarded the train at the next platform-- would you adopt him now?"

"If he was okay with it, yes. Absolutely."

But Koumyou never assumes anyone is as attached to him as he is to them. Not even his own son, who he sang to as a baby to get him to sleep.

"Something tells me he would be," Devero says, but he's not going to belabor that point.

The point he is going to belabor is this: "Talk to Buttercup. Let her tell you how she actually feels, instead of just deciding for her and acting on that. Okay?"

Koumyou sighs, and leans wearily into Devero's side.

"I will."

See? He can listen to reason... once in a while.

"Thank you," Devero says, relieved and grateful. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to Koumyou's temple.

Koumyou's quiet for a moment, tired from his anxiety over... well, everything.

"...So what did you think of my Kouryuu?"

"Your Kouryuu's an asshole," Devero tells him with a wry twist to his lips. "--But I can't hold it against him, knowing what he's been through."

"I don't know if he could take the weight of a sutra that young and not be an asshole," Koumyou notes dryly, "let alone two. But apparently the Seiten was taken when I was killed."

So he hasn't had to have two of them... yet.

"I can't imagine what Ukoku is planning to do with it. Nothing good, one assumes."

"Exactly," Devero agrees, just as dry.

He frowns then, though. "You think Ukoku has it?" he asks, but then immediately answers himself: "Of course he does. Second best thing if he couldn't have you, right?"

"Well, he might have my corpse, too."

What a fantastic world Koumyou comes from, where one has to wonder what one's horrifyingly obsessed stalker might be doing with your dead body. You know, the one who got a doctorate in bio-engineering at seventeen, and now has possession of the sutra of creation.

"...Either he has it, or it burned up with Kinzan temple when the youkai he sent attacked it. I wouldn't have been disposed of quite that fast."

Devero Does Not Like This. His face drains of color, and then his expression hardens with disgust. "Then I hope it burned," he spits.

How well he's learning the horrors of Koumyou's world, where that's the favorable outcome.

"I suppose that is the nicer option," Koumyou agrees, "it's also nicer than what some more pious monks would want to do with it, if I hadn't died so far away from their reach. Mummify it and keep it as a relic, or split it up to keep at different temples..."

Koumyou is, after all, extremely holy.

"Or, if the youkai took it on their own, they probably ate it. There's a myth that eating a Sanzo grants immortality, isn't that silly?"

"Rust and ruin!" Devero blurts, "what is wrong with people on your world?!" Mummifying a dead man's body to be a relic? Eating it?!

The question is a rhetorical one, though. "Don't answer that," he adds a second later, scrubbing one hand over his face. He squeezes Koumyou against his side. "At least you're here," he says. "At least in one incidence of your reality, there's no body for anyone to do anything horrible with."

"...I'm extremely holy, Devero," Koumyou answers anyway, "Extremely. Even more than other Sanzos. Even my dead body would be a potent symbol for people."

It's kind of something you learn to accept, at some point. Which is why he doesn't sound particularly bothered by it, even though dying at Kinzan where the head monk would actually take care of disposing of his body had been the ideal scenario.

...Minus any potential thievery of it, anyway.

Devero loosens his grip and exhales, looking away from Koumyou. "Guess I... still don't really know what that means," he admits. "Not really. Not in terms of-- things like that."

Devero's told him before that people keep their religious stuff quiet where he's from, so Koumyou's not sure how to explain it.

"It's like... um."

Fuck.

"Okay, so let's pretend the show Neohumans is a religion. Watching it and liking it is a religious thing, and it's important to most people. The studio is the central church, and the people who work for it are a big deal. The writers are completely mysterious and inaccessible, and I would be... I guess the lead actor?"

Koumyou huffs a sigh, then, "This is really not a good comparison either. An actor could be fired or leave, but I'm... intrinsically holy. If I cut off my arm, it would still be holy... both as a property, and because lots of people decided it is."

Edited 2021-08-22 15:33 (UTC)

It's... not really a great comparison. Devero follows it easily enough, but Koumyou's right: the metaphor falls apart because an actor is just an actor. It's Koumyou's intrinsic holiness that Devero has so much trouble understanding.

But he's trying. "Because... you were chosen by the gods? And those gods are important to all the people who worship them?"

"Approved by the Gods," Koumyou corrects quietly, "the choosing was those years at Taisouji."

A process of elimination as much as anything, in the most literal sense.

"But... yeah, that's sort of why people would decide it's so holy. My arm, or my corpse. They would want to be around it, like the approval of the Gods might rub off onto them.

"But it's complicated because intrinsically... it's like..."

Let's see if he can find a better comparison, this time.

"Radiation. Like every cell in my body gives off radiation, but it's... holy. Once the chakra appeared on my forehead, I became like... a reactor, for holy energy."

Edited 2021-08-22 15:57 (UTC)

Now this is a metaphor Devero understands, his whole expression brightening with comprehension. "No wonder people would want your body, then, even if you're gone," he says thoughtfully. "They're hoping to get holy radiation poisoning."

"And the aforementioned approval rub-off."

Which sounds disgusting but he says it that way anyway because it amuses him.

"People don't have direct access to the Gods. A Sanzo is the closest they can get, and I'm like... a double Sanzo. So. Bonus?"

"You're extra radioactive. Should I be wearing a hazmat suit around you?"

Koumyou laughs at that, and lifts his head to give Devero's cheek a little smooch. "Thankfully it doesn't entirely work like that. Or demons could never be around a Sanzo, let alone become one."

His teasing smile softens at the kiss. "Just for the record, if the only way I could be around you was wearing a hazmat suit, I would. Without hesitation.

"Glad I don't have to, though. And I-- think I understand it better now. Thank you."

"That's so weirdly romantic," Koumyou tells him with another bright laugh, "my hazmat man!"

When he laughs like that, it's infectious. Devero laughs along with him, before leaning down for a kiss. "My holy isotope," he murmurs with a grin as he does.

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its_dad_sanzo - 2021-08-22 16:42 (UTC) - Expand

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