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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
Koumyou sets his bowl down to reach into his sleeve for... cups, and another full, warm teapot. That ARMs band is insane, honestly.
He pours them both cups, and nudges one at Genjo.
"Of course, I've never seen the Kouten, but we were taught about them all at Taisouji. Possibly more than most classes, even, since there were three sutras in need of heirs at that time. Jikaku wasn't letting over half of the sutras switch hands at one time without making sure we had at least the basic run-down on them."
And he hadn't even slept through those classes!
"The least dangerous interaction is between the Seiten and Muten. Found that out recently when I killed Ukoku. It was weird and awful, but it didn't make the fabric of reality itself sizzle. It seemed much more local of an effect. I managed to keep Seiten in balance with Muten during the fight.
"The most dangerous interaction would be the Maten and Uten. Just... shoving everything away, light and dark, existence and non-existence... what would even be left? I can't even imagine."
no subject
Ever since that encounter he had questioned the true power of his own. That if Ukokus was not in essence the most horrifying scripture of them all.
"A combination where two sutras cancel anything out in it's entirety. Wouldn't that in itself create 'nothingness'? Essentially what would make up the Muten?"
Maten + Uten = Muten.
... He hates how that phonetically works.
no subject
The older Sanzo sips his tea, then sets it down for more ice cream.
"By comparison, Seiten and Maten are a lot less dangerous together. Still not something one should trigger, but it could always be worse with these things. Goudai, Tenkai, and I discussed this a lot, since we had our three sutras in such close proximity to one another."
no subject
Genjo always knew that the scriptures were a force never to be used recklessly. Hell, the power of his own alone was enough to purify the spirit of anything it targeted out of the mortal plane. Absolute purification. He was canceling out all darkness. Perhaps the closest thing one could consider is an outright one-way ticket to complete nirvana. So the fact that his scripture, which never felt anything as horrifying as some of the others he had seen while they took effect, could create something even worse-
"They wished to combine all of them, the youkai who had organized in the west. They think that upon combining all five scriptures, one could even revive life from death. But with what we're considering, would they even need all five for that?"
Suddenly Genjo Sanzo was made aware of how dangerous the end goal was. There could have been much more to it than just 'Reviving the Demon King Gyu-Maoh.'
For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to continue eating his ice cream.
no subject
Yes, that was probably mentioned by the other Genjo when his mission from the Gods, and minus wave, had been brought up. That doesn't mean Koumyou had paid much attention to that detail. He'd heard 'Gods' and 'order' and had probably just blanked out for a second by reflex.
no subject
Although an ancient tale, it was a fairly well renowned one. The story of a ferocious youkai king far two the west who regularly dined upon humans like cattle.
no subject
"It... seems odd to assemble all of the sutras for one old, dead tyrant that Heaven put down once and presumably could again, though. That kind of power could reshape the universe in the blink of an eye, in theory."
In theory, because, "We seem to be the limiters for the sutras we control, though... so I guess maybe that's the best they think they can do?"
no subject
With that, he hesitated, wondering how he should bring this up.
"Ukoku Sanzo would not be taking direct part in the revitalization experiments if that was all it was," That was a fact he most certainly knew, at least. That, for some reason, Ukoku was helping them. And knowing Ukoku as they had, it had meant that there most certainly was nothing good that could come of it.
"Of course, I have suspicions, but the proof is inconclusive."
After all, it veered away from his main focus for taking part in this mission. Getting more involved than needed could only compromise his own end goal.
no subject
"When I fought him recently, he mentioned having my corpse."
So, there's that... delightful point of interest, too.
"And I can't see him giving a single shit about reviving a random youkai, no matter how storied. The Ox King would bore him within the week."
The object of his obsession, though?
no subject
Still, despite his teasing nature, the idea had concerned Genjo. Could it have been that Ukoku was willing to go so far as to put the world out of balance and gain the power of the great Siddhartha Gautama himself, only to bring someone back from the dead?
How did that make him any different from those he was trying to control and manipulate?
Truthfully, Ukoku felt insane and unpredictable enough.
Perhaps.
"How did you pick up such a crazy psycho stalker?"
did I edit just to change my icon? why yes, yes I did
How did he pick up such a crazy psycho stalker? It's a good question. Koumyou thinks about it for a long, quiet moment, sipping at his tea. Kouryuu no doubt remembers how he goes silent sometimes at moments like these, but only to contemplate his answer.
Eventually, "I simply wasn't boring enough."
And there it is. Someone more powerful than Ukoku, someone who told him no, when the young brat had never failed anything in his life. Someone who didn't much care what he thought of him, but not because they were too dumb to know the stakes were high. Someone who saw through his shit.
Goudai might have easily stood in Koumyou's place, had Ken'yuu been born a few decades earlier. He'd seen right through him, but he hadn't been more powerful than him. Not in his final state.
"I'm honestly not that special, though."
no subject
Slowly lifting his head, he opened his eyes only to glance at the man opposite him casually. "Maybe someone who hasn't grown up with you would accept that. But we both know you're far more interesting of a person than that."
A beat.
"Or most certainly a far more weird person, at least."
no subject
"I'll accept weird! Do you really want to know what I think it was, Kouryuu? Anyone else from our class could have done it instead, had they been alive. Goudai could have easily been in my place, had he not been sick and dying. We both saw through bitter young Ken'yuu, but only I had the power to back it up when I told him 'no'."
Ukoku Sanzo is, at the end of the day, the most petulant of spoiled brats. He always has been.
"He got his PHD at seventeen, you know, in some other land. Made sure we all knew about it, of course. He came to Shangri-La to get the Sanzo title because he'd heard it was hard. No one had ever told him 'no' before, not really. Not and made it stick. Life was too easy for him until he found someone he couldn't simply manipulate or overpower and take what he wanted from."
In his prime, Goudai would have been the unmovable object to Ukoku's unstoppable force, but that hadn't happened. His body had crumbled from within, and Koumyou had been there standing in his place. The last of the Taisouji Sanzos, the last standing of the final First Squad.
"If I'd known what I know now, I would have given him what he wanted all those years ago and killed him back then. Goudai wouldn't have made it much longer to feel betrayed over it. I would have taken the Muten to Jikaku, probably. With Ken'yuu out of the picture... none of Goudai's other pupils could have protected it for more than five minutes, and I certainly couldn't have adopted a third sutra. The old man would have had to do his old job and find it a keeper, or end up with a chakra himself."
Poor Jikaku. What would the ladies at the local drinking hole have thought of that?
Koumyou gazes off into the middle distance over his tea for a moment, lost in thought.
"I can say... for all the many faults of Taisouji temple, someone like Ukoku would have never ended up with a sutra. His lack of a true heart would have shown itself and gotten him killed, probably just a few tests in. If he'd lived, he'd have just ended up another Zouryuu, pissed-off on the sidelines."
no subject
If anything, Koumyous's unsure response made the answer all the more evident to Genjo.
"You were the one thing greater than him. It seems obvious that he would wish to surpass that. Considering he had never been told no, according to you," He knew someone much like that himself. He was another bookish type with an awful personality that exceeded far too quickly at everything he did. Perhaps Genjo was lucky to gain his appreciation rather than his adoration. "You underestimate yourself far too much, master. And I still can't fully understand why that is so."
A compliment? From Genjo Sanzo? Only when it's offered in the most passive-aggressive way imaginable.
no subject
"Just because you always thought I was some special, mystical force, doesn't make it so, Kouryuu-chan," the older priest adds fondly, and reaches over to attempt to ruffle his grumpy son's hair. "Honestly, I must be an incredible disappointment to get to know as an adult, hm? There's no way I could ever live up to the image you had of me."
He's much, much less perfect than even the 'shitty old man' Kouryuu had so idolized. He hadn't loved his son any less, though. And he still doesn't.
no subject
Letting out a small 'humph' in response, it was only after a few seconds that Genjo lightly batted the hand away, returning his gaze to his master as he softened his voice to the conversation. "Far from, if anything, I may be your biggest critic."
After all, he has a lot to judge you for.
"I am simply saying it is no easy feat to carry the position and power you have, master. By the standards of most, to be a Sanzo, nonetheless, a Sanzo who can stand up to people who think they're able to defeat anything, in and of itself, is something to be admired. Besides--" He shrugged his shoulders passively. "We both know that in terms of the standards for the position, you far surpass even me in capability."
no subject
As for all the talk of Sanzo abilities, Koumyou mirrors his son's shrug.
"You seem to have done just fine, you know, especially without having even been trained. I had an extreme advantage there, is all."
no subject
His eyes narrowed as he looked directly toward his master, challenging him silently.
"You don't know much of the detail of my adventures, but even with my meager capabilities and lack of advantage, I was able to take on far more than just a few thieves with swords and a shitty raven who thought he could control everything."
no subject
He folds his arms, and not into his sleeves like normal.
"And that was before I spent a year training him. Before he fully bonded with the Muten, and could use it to bolster that attack, a shockwave of nothingness as thin as blades.
"I knew the strength of it, before all of that. I knew how it had grown. I knew I couldn't put up a barrier strong enough fast enough, and we couldn't have outran it even if we'd started before he arrived. So, I used the only barrier left to me."
He finally looks at Genjo again, eyes hard in a way his son has never seen them. Koumyou Sanzo, the warrior.
"If I had gone on the offensive in that split second I did the math in, you would have died. Until I felt that spell, I had planned to counter-attack. The spell changed everything. Even the Seiten wouldn't have stopped it, it's not the barrier sutra. Not now that he'd learned to fuel it with the Muten. The Maten, perhaps, but I was never as fast with it, it would have been too late."
no subject
"I shot him in the face, and he ran away like a bitch."
He says with the straightest expression imaginable.
Just... Going to casually omit how he almost shat himself in fear before that.
no subject
"Had I been as cold and aloof and broken as he... and I, both thought I was," Koumyou says, looking away again, "his youkai thugs would have served as, hm, I believe the term is 'plausible deniability'."
His son really doesn't know who he'd been. Who he still is, to a degree.
"He surely knew I'd know who it was, that I'd know that spell. I certainly knew he'd know I knew. But it would have been one of those things that we just didn't talk about enough to punch through the paper-thin lie we were both telling. Him to me, and me to myself.
"Were it to have gone by what I expect was the script, I would have slaughtered the youkai bandits only to turn around and find you sliced to pieces. They all had swords for a reason. I could tell myself some must have gotten past me. Mourn for a little while. Then go back to traveling with Ukoku, of course, because what else would I do?
"The best part is, if I'd been asked if it would work? Up until the moment of truth, I'd have probably said yes. I was very good at lying to myself. Muichi motsu was all about that for me. Otherwise, what kind of psychopath watches their friends die? Just stands there, every time? And that final time, congratulates the killer? Names him? Travels with him for a year, training him to be an even better killer?
"Clearly, it was all non-attachment. It definitely wasn't me just sucking into myself like a black hole for all those years... until it came down to your life."
And then... well.
"And then I couldn't do it anymore. Maybe my reaction wasn't perfect, I don't know. But it's the only play I had, so I played it. I broke the pattern of my entire life, and I chose you. I've apologized for what that choice did to you, and for failing you, but I won't apologize for not watching you die. I'm done watching that happen to people I care about, or pretending I don't care about them like that's going to protect them from anything. It doesn't. Never just full-out calling you my son didn't protect you one bit, did it?"
no subject
And so Gonjo stared on as Koumyou spoke. He gave him the time he needed to articulate his thought process. It almost sounded like there was no other option in a way. But Genjo was able to piece out one slight flaw with that logic.
"So. Now that everything has passed and you have died, and Ukoku lives on to continue having his fun, thinking the world is a toy to break, do you think you succeeded?" His eyes narrowed upon Ukoku, expression unchanging. "Do you believe yourself when you say you've broken the cycle by dying?"
no subject
He hadn't stood by and watched, this time.
"As for Ukoku having his fun and thinking the world is a toy to break, I suppose you'll just have to aim better the next time you shoot him in the face."
He'd left the rest to you, Genjo Sanzo.
no subject
"Tch'," And so he scowled and huffed out. He lowered his head briefly before slowly pushing himself to a stand. He disagreed with Koumyou, but in the end, the past was the past, and Koumyou decided and settled with it. Genjo Sanzo could do nothing more about that now than bow his head respectfully with what he felt was the end of their conversation. "Well then, I appreciate the insight. At least after all these years, I finally have answers."
Disillusionment was a bitch.