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voidtreckerexpress2022-03-27 03:35 pm
smithandwesson) wrote in voidtreckerexpress2022-03-27 03:35 pm
Entry tags:
How Long Does It Take To Adjust
Who: Genjo Sanzo & You!
Where: Random Parts of the Train~ Will emphasize With Each Thread
When: Month: Quicksand, Day: 10 (Just After Mission End)
What: Genjo Sanzo is finally started to accommodate himself to living upon the Voidtrecker Express. But that doesn't ease the many conflicted things he's feeling throughout it all. The nicotine withdrawal probably isn't helping.
Warnings: Nothing just yet besides Sanzo cussing up a storm as only Sanzo do.
I. Addiction Is A Very Powerful Thing
[It had been almost two full weeks since Genjo Sanzo had arrived upon the Void Treckers express. He was starting to get used to it, bit by bit. At least, walking between carts had felt simple enough. He even felt bold enough to wander out the train during the very end of the mission to peak about some.
Of course, that didn't stop his introverted nature from taking its due course.
He had spent most of his days sticking to the Quiet Coachesby far a much better place to take his frequent naps than the training room keeping to himself to sort out how he felt about all that had been going on. But as time drew on and days turned into weeks, there was a wild side to him that couldn't keep quiet just by sitting still and keeping to himself.
He needed nicotine.
He was good at conserving himself when times were tough, but even a priest of the highest patience couldn't go a full thirteen days cold turkey.
He needed nicotine terribly.
Others had told him about how one can get needed accompaniments as they completed tasks and spent time upon the train. But, after much struggle figuring out the store system, he was pretty agitated to find out how much alcohol and basic cigarettes cost.
And he was dirt broke.
And so he endured. Begrudgingly he endured. He persisted, gritting his teeth, clenching his fists, and tapping his feet whenever he grew restless.
Of course, it could only last so long.
He had just been up and about, completing his designated tasks for the day to keep busy. Of course, that meant time in the kitchen. He wasn't a decent chef by any means. But he at least knew how to clean and prep food. And as much as he wished to use the kitchen knife he was handling to quiet those who cheerfully chatted around him, he mostly kept to himself through it all.
But then those running the kitchen told him to go offer food out to others who may want it. And to aid anyone else who needed help throughout the carts.
And so Genjo Sanzo did.
And he endured.
But he was nearing his limit. Quite obviously so. He found himself helping out; no matter how curt, polite, or otherwise, those around him may have behaved, But they would eventually be cut off rather abruptly. Getting a rather snippy, almost aggressive reaction in response.]
Shut up! We're almost done, okay? Just walk, idiot!!
[He needed nicotine. He just needed to work hard and do what was required, and he could get nicotine. Just a little longer...]
II. Booknerd Problems
[In the end, Genjo Sanzo was an academic. And being in a new place surrounded by many things had left him with many questions that he needed answered. He hated not learning something. He hated feeling like an inept dumbass. And he especially hated thinking he would be useless to any degree.
And so, upon his days exploring the carriages, it was to his subdued pleasure that he found the wonder of the Library.
Of course, his joy was a momentary one. He was just as quickly reminded of one thing that he had been struggling with ever since he first arrived upon the express.
He was missing his reading glasses.
That didn't stop his attempt for knowledge, of course. But no effort and sheer willpower could prevent the inevitable headache of squinting one's eyes and hunching so close to a book that your nose was practically touching it.
His grumbling became audible at a point. Sighing out rather heavily, he pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose between his eyes. The pile of nonfiction books that surrounded him was unable to hide the apparent struggle he had been experiencing.
Damnit.
[He finally spoke up. Not aware of anyone who may have been near him at the time. But he was at the point where he somehow needed to express his aggravation.]
... There is something I need to see for myself... So why does this place have to make it so fucking complicated?
[What was the point of starting everyone off with so little? How could anyone be of any help this way?]
III. Will Sell Soul For Cigs
[As with most of his time, despite how much of a loner he usually considered himself. Sanzo hated to think he was being useless in any way. And so he decided to utilize himself and possibly cease any of the aching boredom that came with simply skulking about the carriages.
It was a rudimentary attempt. But with Sanzo, it was all he had. He made a public journal post, available to anyone who happened to be looking. So now, all he had to do was wait for the tasks to come in.
Which was how he had found himself here now, a stringy young man formally bowed in front of a carriage door, head lowered as he introduced himself. Certainly, he took a far more polite tone than he had with anyone who had met him before this point.]
Genjo Sanzo, Envoy of the Heavenly Emporer of the North. You requested my services?
IV. A Quiet Moment Of Introspection
[It was late at night—when most would have found themselves tucked away into their sleeper carriages, whether willingly or otherwise. But Sanzo was awake. He was sitting at one of the booths within the standard coach, facing out towards the pure black nothingness that was the void during nighttime. Its sight formed a sense of dread that had been all too familiar to him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he sat there, dazed out on thoughts and memories he usually would have preferred to ignore.
He had stared into such darkness before.
It's horrifying.
But as time passed and a slight headache began to throb against his temples, he realized that he was not alone. Not turning to face the other figure sharing the cart but simply speaking out.]
... I'm aware that you're here. It's rude to stare, you know.
[It was his own Genjo Sanzo way of a greeting. Not scolding or admonishing the presence watching him, but simply acknowledging it.]
V. WILDCARD
((OOC: As always, feel free to drop a starter if you have something else in mind/ anything you wish to play out with the old grump monk here. If you want to plot something out, feel free to reach out and PM me or contact me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
chohakkaifan -or- discord ChoHakkaiFan#5971)
Where: Random Parts of the Train~ Will emphasize With Each Thread
When: Month: Quicksand, Day: 10 (Just After Mission End)
What: Genjo Sanzo is finally started to accommodate himself to living upon the Voidtrecker Express. But that doesn't ease the many conflicted things he's feeling throughout it all. The nicotine withdrawal probably isn't helping.
Warnings: Nothing just yet besides Sanzo cussing up a storm as only Sanzo do.
I. Addiction Is A Very Powerful Thing
[It had been almost two full weeks since Genjo Sanzo had arrived upon the Void Treckers express. He was starting to get used to it, bit by bit. At least, walking between carts had felt simple enough. He even felt bold enough to wander out the train during the very end of the mission to peak about some.
Of course, that didn't stop his introverted nature from taking its due course.
He had spent most of his days sticking to the Quiet Coaches
He needed nicotine.
He was good at conserving himself when times were tough, but even a priest of the highest patience couldn't go a full thirteen days cold turkey.
He needed nicotine terribly.
Others had told him about how one can get needed accompaniments as they completed tasks and spent time upon the train. But, after much struggle figuring out the store system, he was pretty agitated to find out how much alcohol and basic cigarettes cost.
And he was dirt broke.
And so he endured. Begrudgingly he endured. He persisted, gritting his teeth, clenching his fists, and tapping his feet whenever he grew restless.
Of course, it could only last so long.
He had just been up and about, completing his designated tasks for the day to keep busy. Of course, that meant time in the kitchen. He wasn't a decent chef by any means. But he at least knew how to clean and prep food. And as much as he wished to use the kitchen knife he was handling to quiet those who cheerfully chatted around him, he mostly kept to himself through it all.
But then those running the kitchen told him to go offer food out to others who may want it. And to aid anyone else who needed help throughout the carts.
And so Genjo Sanzo did.
And he endured.
But he was nearing his limit. Quite obviously so. He found himself helping out; no matter how curt, polite, or otherwise, those around him may have behaved, But they would eventually be cut off rather abruptly. Getting a rather snippy, almost aggressive reaction in response.]
Shut up! We're almost done, okay? Just walk, idiot!!
[He needed nicotine. He just needed to work hard and do what was required, and he could get nicotine. Just a little longer...]
II. Booknerd Problems
[In the end, Genjo Sanzo was an academic. And being in a new place surrounded by many things had left him with many questions that he needed answered. He hated not learning something. He hated feeling like an inept dumbass. And he especially hated thinking he would be useless to any degree.
And so, upon his days exploring the carriages, it was to his subdued pleasure that he found the wonder of the Library.
Of course, his joy was a momentary one. He was just as quickly reminded of one thing that he had been struggling with ever since he first arrived upon the express.
He was missing his reading glasses.
That didn't stop his attempt for knowledge, of course. But no effort and sheer willpower could prevent the inevitable headache of squinting one's eyes and hunching so close to a book that your nose was practically touching it.
His grumbling became audible at a point. Sighing out rather heavily, he pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose between his eyes. The pile of nonfiction books that surrounded him was unable to hide the apparent struggle he had been experiencing.
Damnit.
[He finally spoke up. Not aware of anyone who may have been near him at the time. But he was at the point where he somehow needed to express his aggravation.]
... There is something I need to see for myself... So why does this place have to make it so fucking complicated?
[What was the point of starting everyone off with so little? How could anyone be of any help this way?]
III. Will Sell Soul For Cigs
[As with most of his time, despite how much of a loner he usually considered himself. Sanzo hated to think he was being useless in any way. And so he decided to utilize himself and possibly cease any of the aching boredom that came with simply skulking about the carriages.
It was a rudimentary attempt. But with Sanzo, it was all he had. He made a public journal post, available to anyone who happened to be looking. So now, all he had to do was wait for the tasks to come in.
Which was how he had found himself here now, a stringy young man formally bowed in front of a carriage door, head lowered as he introduced himself. Certainly, he took a far more polite tone than he had with anyone who had met him before this point.]
Genjo Sanzo, Envoy of the Heavenly Emporer of the North. You requested my services?
IV. A Quiet Moment Of Introspection
[It was late at night—when most would have found themselves tucked away into their sleeper carriages, whether willingly or otherwise. But Sanzo was awake. He was sitting at one of the booths within the standard coach, facing out towards the pure black nothingness that was the void during nighttime. Its sight formed a sense of dread that had been all too familiar to him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he sat there, dazed out on thoughts and memories he usually would have preferred to ignore.
He had stared into such darkness before.
It's horrifying.
But as time passed and a slight headache began to throb against his temples, he realized that he was not alone. Not turning to face the other figure sharing the cart but simply speaking out.]
... I'm aware that you're here. It's rude to stare, you know.
[It was his own Genjo Sanzo way of a greeting. Not scolding or admonishing the presence watching him, but simply acknowledging it.]
V. WILDCARD
((OOC: As always, feel free to drop a starter if you have something else in mind/ anything you wish to play out with the old grump monk here. If you want to plot something out, feel free to reach out and PM me or contact me at
no subject
A little smile curls his lips, unbidden; he just can't help getting soft, thinking about sitting shoulder to shoulder with Koumyou, heads leaned in, smoke and breath mingling as they share a smoke or a light or just a quiet, private moment. Sorry, Sanzo, he is disgustingly in love with your master.
no subject
Stop being gross.
Of course Genjo does his best to remain as expressionlessly neutral on the situation as he can. Instead offering a resigned sigh as he thought it over.
This was not the first time he had been peer-pressured by some strange old man that he recently met into smoking things that he should not be partaking in. And Koumyou did tell Genjo that he was just going to have to get used to Devero's presence, whether he liked it or not.
What a pain in the ass.
He let out a resigned sign with that, offering out his hand to Devero.
"Fine. Hand it over."
no subject
"Did you want anything else from the shop?"
no subject
"... You said you were going to buy drinks, didn't you?"
He would milk you out of every vice Devero was willing to offer.
no subject
no subject
If you're trying to buy you're way into his goodwill Devero-- It's working.
no subject
no subject
You know what? Fuck it. He'll take the recommendation.
He selects purple.
"... I hope this goes with vodka."
no subject