april event, phase one: seeds of unrest 🌱

[beleos]

THE BEGINNING

Summertime in Springstar has been on its way out, heralding the arrival of fall; winter has likewise given way to spring in Highstorm - at least, according to the calendar. Yet there is an unseasonable bite on the breeze - one growing as frigid as the mood among Meris and Zenites in their cities. Between Alenroux’s occupation and talk of ‘the Blight,’ worries have been on the lips of the citizens with increasing frequency - and with good reason. The reports of plant life dying, of objects crumbling, of people whose bodies are deteriorating are dominating the rumor mills and local papers.

Everything comes to a head early in the second half of Pelu.

After an unusual pocket of commotion in the Seat of the Tribune and the courtyard of Yima’s manor, an urgent announcement is made on behalf of both cities: both Great Trees have been quarantined, and no one is permitted in either location without clearance. New rumors spread of an ‘incident’ that saw those in the immediate vicinity of the Trees rapidly demonstrating symptoms of an illness that was becoming all too easy to identify. It had stricken with frightening speed; not long afterward…

The unrest had spread into the streets, and it wasn’t just about the Blight anymore.

Cetina and Kathova wasted no time in reaching out to the Bearers via Communion to offer them guidance from their leaders and incite them to action.

SPRINGSTAR: THE ROOT OF THE ISSUE

Day by day, changes unfold that render the city increasingly dangerous...

ROOTS:

Vine-like roots have begun to thread the streets, creeping upon and over buildings, spreading outward from the Tree in Heliopolis. Over the next two weeks, they will continue to grow in size and become more troublesome, slowly blooming ice-like leaves that radiate a sickly glow.

• GROWTH: Contrary to the Blight’s normal behaviors, some people and things around clusters of vines or leaves can experience a burst of vitality, growth, and splendor as if transforming to beyond peak condition. In a normal citizen, this may result in an almost manic level of energy, reckless behaviors, and aggression. In objects, they become more durable and efficient, but dangerously so - for example, a stovetop cooks faster but burns uncontrollably hot. In plant life, this results in overgrowth that can overwhelm and choke nearby flora, objects, or even people. Then, they burn out an hour after exposure and immediately succumb to a dire state of Blighted.


• CHILL: The temperatures will continue to drop throughout the next two weeks. It will be coldest where vines have clustered and outright dangerously so near where flowers have budded or bloomed in great numbers. This will force some people from their homes.

TIME POCKETS:

In seemingly random parts of the city, areas referred to as ‘time pockets’ have populated. There is no way to identify a time pocket but to stumble into one.

• REGRESSION: NPC’s in these areas will appear to freeze in time once a Bearer has breached the pocket’s radius but appear normal from the outside. Time within has halted at the point the pocket manifested ( typically covering an area like a city street or inside a single large building that sees regular use ). Objects can be freely manipulated but will not fall if thrown, etc.
  • The pocket cannot be left until the Bearer has achieved their objective. Attempting to exit the way they entered, they’ll run into an unseen barrier that is painful to the touch, a sensation of frigidity that travels to their Shard.
  • Their goal will be to locate a past version of themselves hidden from immediate view. This past version of themselves can be from any point in their lives but must be from a moment when they felt extremely vulnerable, isolated, wounded, or fearful.
  • Once finding this past version, they will feel the compulsion to either find a way to reassure their past selves somehow or kill them. Whether it is the Bearer themselves who performs these acts or another Bearer in their company does it for them, as long as their past selves are pacified enough ( to player satisfaction ) or dead, they will gain immunity to the pocket and may leave. The immediate area will remain frozen, however, and the past version will be revealed to be made of roots that will shrivel and die.
  • Note: Bearers will be able to see other Bearer’s past selves, even after they have been freed. Whether the past reflections are capable of speech while functional is up to player discretion.

HIGHSTORM: THE ROOTS OF CHANGE

The snows continue to fall over the city, feeling brittle against your skin...

ROOTS:

Vine-like roots have begun to thread the streets, creeping upon and over buildings, spreading outward from the Great Tree in Yima’s manor. Over the next two weeks, they will continue to grow in size and become more troublesome, slowly blooming ice-like leaves that radiate a sickly glow.

• SACRIFICIAL: [ CW: self-harm ] Where the roots snake and gather throughout the city, NPC’s in several locations are falling victim to the quiet, slow pulse of the flowers and their buds. They will sit and stare at the flowers for hours, unblinkingly, as their body begins to succumb to the Blight. If they are disturbed in any way - a loud noise, an attempt to move their person, etc - they will calmly look up from their worship and crack off a piece of their brittle body before returning to their reverie.
• In order to save them, a pair (or more) of Bearers must sneak up on the NPC - one using a pacifying spell given by one of the faction leaders while the other crushes the flower. If the NPC is not pacified before the flower is crushed, they will become hysterical and the Blight will rapidly consume them, causing them to perish. If they are pacified and the flower is not crushed, the spell will wear off within ten seconds with the same result.

• CHILL: The temperatures will continue to drop throughout the next two weeks. It will be coldest where vines have clustered and outright dangerously so near where flowers have budded or bloomed in great numbers. This will force some people from their homes.

TIME POCKETS:

In seemingly random parts of the city, areas referred to as ‘time pockets’ have populated. There is no way to identify a time pocket but to stumble into one.

• REFLECTIONS: NPC’s in these pockets are moving in surreal blurs, pieces of them moving forward as others move backward, some changing as if time were rapidly passing as others remain frozen still. The Bearers’ surroundings are distorted as if reflecting multiple realities simultaneously.
  • Their goal will be to locate a tall standing mirror situated alone in the center of the time pocket’s radius. The Bearer who first touches their reflection ( henceforth called “mirror-Bearer” ) will cause the world inside the pocket to suddenly stop, reflecting a comforting environment they have fond or pleasant associations with. The mirror will be gone.
• Something or someone the mirror-Bearer highly values, deeply misses, or sees as imperative to their character, goals, or desires will be present. If they make contact with this object or person, the Time Pocket loops and sends them back to searching for the mirror - but they will have no memory of this occurring. Their partner, however, will recall everything.
• Both Bearers will be released if five loops occur without the mirror-Bearer being stopped from causing the loop or if the mirror-Bearer is stopped from reaching their goal for five minutes ( willingly or otherwise ). The longer they refuse to make contact with this object or person, the more tempting and dire the need becomes inside of them.
• Once the Bearers are released, the Time Pocket disappears. If they manage to avoid contact with the temptation inside the Pocket, the roots and flowers in this area will be withered and dying, buying the NPC’s and buildings in this location some time. Otherwise, they will be thriving and dangerously blooming.
• Note: the mirror will not respond to the non-mirror-Bearer once it has been touched the first time.

ENTREE-TING HELP

The Tree of Life is in danger, and you know it. Both Yima and Cyrus have directed all Bearers who might listen to increase visitation to the Tree and monitor it for signs of the Blight - of its leaves changing color, of any frostbitten bark, of its roots withering.

And then, during a moment in which you find your mind at ease, at rest... you dream, even if dreaming is unnatural for you. You dream of yourself sitting beneath the massive bows of the Tree's breadth, at peace. The perpetual dawn's glow warms your skin in a way that seeps into your bones, leaving you certain you are safe from harm. The Tree reaches out, and though it cannot speak to you in words, you feel it is trying to convey a message: one of urgency. One of plea.

But you cannot understand...

Soon, the branches of the Tree are reaching out to others. You cannot see them, but you know they're there; a spiritual tether connects your Shards together, bringing you all into a place of wordless unity. And once your fellows have been summoned, you know what you are here for.

You feel it rather than see it: some meager, barely-there brush of something cold in the warmth of the island's comfort. The Tree is already infected, and the clock is running down for all of you.

When you wake to yourself, a feeling of dread not entirely your own will chase you, and you will find a single violet leaf in your hand.

MISC NOTES

• Bearers start with immunity to the Blight. They will not succumb to the effects of the Blight even if they handle the vines and flowers directly without precautions or care.
• The above effects will occur in small clusters and are not yet spread city-wide during phase one. The escalation of frequency characters will come across problematic clusters or Time Pockets will be slow building.
• For context, it takes about a month from infection to death or dissolution for the average person or object to succumb to the Blight. By the 21st, it will be three days to a week.
• Bearers will be directed by Cetina or Kathova to make efforts to protect the civilians and investigate the manifesting changes around both cities. Both factions are working on their own methods to attempt to counteract the Blight, but neither has produced a failsafe solution.
• The roots will remain mostly outdoors, for the most part, these first two weeks.
• Tensions will slowly ramp up in Alenroux, and there are checkpoints for any non-PC visitors to screen for signs of infection.
• Player characters who die inside the Time Pockets are dead and need their Shards brought to the Tree of Life for revival.
• HAVE FUN!! ♥

CODING

Comments

[epiprocta]

[ That insincere, wolfish grin he'd been wearing cools rapidly, and Gen's gaze turns cold as he simply stares down at Dokja for a moment. There's no inflection in his voice when he responds. ]

And what do you know about what I do and don't have to do?

[ What would Dokja know about the things he's had to do so far? What right does Dokja have to tell him about his duties and responsibilities? And even if Dokja might intend to speak more kindly to that child version of him -- that's worse, in a way. The thought makes something acrid churn in his guts. Anger, loathing, with a touch of envy, acrid enough that Dokja must be able to feel it.

(Why does that version of himself get an offer of kindness? -- he knows never deserved it, so neither does that child.)

That spike of hot emotion is the only warning Dokja will get before Gen simply switches his focus. Because he doesn't want Dokja talking to that child any more, but that doesn't mean he wants to talk to Dokja, either. So.

He abruptly yanks his hand from his pocket to swipe through the air, ripping up the ground beneath Dokja's feet, upending the bench behind him and spilling the child into the dirt. Gen doesn't particularly want to fight with Dokja, so he aims to sidestep around the man to get to his real goal -- the clearly shocked and rattled child version of him struggling to stand. ]

[salvageable]

[ This isn't exactly an unexpected outcome, and the cutting, bitter tang of emotions that slice through their connection is enough of a warning. It always seems to come down to violence with these two, and when Dokja feels the ground tear beneath his feet, it's all too familiar.

First of all, it's good to know that Gen has regained his abilities. He's back to being a danger, even if they share the same side, but Dokja isn't left with any time to process what that means for him. There's no time to look back and check on the child either, his heel digging into the broken dirt for stability before he launches himself at Gen's midsection when the boy moves to sidestep him. ]

—Don't!

[ Suddenly, Dokja's only priority is to protect the kid behind him. Funny how that works, when he'd been so eager to do the very opposite to the grown version of him, but things have changed. Dokja would like to think that he's changed, all the tears that he's shed, the hands that he's held, the begging voices asking him to please listen to them. It felt like it had taken an entire village to get him there, with so many places still left to go, but he's making the effort.

Too bad he's ruined things so spectacularly with Gen, guilt momentarily rising in his chest as he tackles the boy down, while he shouts out orders for the younger version. ]

Run! Get away from here!

[epiprocta]

[ At least something can be said for the younger Gen's willingness to cooperate, because the child wastes no time arguing or hesitating before scrambling to escape. Even before he's properly found his balance on his feet once more, he's dashing away at a panicked sprint, clearly frightened of whatever the hell is going on between these two adult strangers.

And while Gen would love nothing more than to aim another tear through the ground to trip up that easy target -- fortunately for Dokja, that sloppy tackle provides just enough of a distraction to disrupt his focus. ]

-- you little shit!

[ That irate snarl emerges sharp and guttural between huffing breaths, and Gen stumbles back two, three steps; the only reason he isn't taken down completely is because his bulk is a bit too much for someone of Dokja's stature to easily topple. Gen instead ends up landing on his ass with a muffled grunt, and he doesn't even bother trying to stand back up before simply lashing out at the closer target, Dokja.

His fingers tangle into Dokja's hair before ruthlessly yanking upward, and his other hand -- his other hand, Dokja might notice, clad in a leather glove and gleaming metal at the wrist -- shoots forward to latch around Dokja's throat. His grip isn't strong enough to choke Dokja out completely, but it sure is enough to be painful, especially with the way his other hand continues to wrench at Dokja's scalp. ]

The hell're you even trying to do, huh? [ Gen holds Dokja like that as he breathes derisive words, teeth bared and eyes flashing bright with anger. ] You know we gotta deal with those things to get outta here, don't you? Or, what -- you wanna stay stuck here forever, pretending to be too good of a person to do what you need to do? Is that it?

[salvageable]

[ The sound of small footsteps fading at least brings some sense of relief to Dokja, though that doesn't last for very long before fingers tangle in his hair and yank up. His expression twists in pain, eyes jerking closed for a moment as a sharp hiss escapes him, but that's ultimately cut short when another hand wraps around his throat.

Wait a minute. Another hand?

He only has a second to think about it, his own hands letting go of Gen's torso to grab at the hand on his neck. His fingers curl in, nails hoping to dig into flesh, but it's the feeling of metal that meets him from underneath that glove, and doesn't that just get Dokja to still in shock. His eyes fly open, gaze darting down to the flash of metal where skin should be. The fight in him instantly dies, and he barely catches the words Gen snaps at him, doesn't even look at the boy with his sharp eyes or his snarl. Dokja's attention is entirely caught by this new development.

A result of what he'd done, the reminder always prominent when he'd catch sight of Gen with his one loose sleeve around Springstar. But this? How? When? The questions are endless and he finds he can't voice any of them, mouth gone dry. He thinks of the boy who had run off to safety, his red rimmed eyes and attempts to act like everything was fine, and just who exactly was Dokja trying to comfort when he'd done... this.

He winces at the grip on his throat as he tries to wedge his fingers into a gap, any gap at all, but beyond that comes the crashing wave of guilt, of regret, as it slams into their Aspect connection. ]

No, that's not... [ He stops to drag in a ragged breath, eyes shaking as he finally pulls them away from the gleam of metal to meet Gen's gaze. ] ―I'm sorry.

[epiprocta]

[ He's not really used to people apologizing to him -- not like this. Insincere ones, sure; he's heard plenty of mealy mouthed, simpering apologies bullied and beaten out of people who didn't mean them at all, said by people with resentment clear in their eyes and hands clenched to fists where they'd thought it'd go unseen. To him, apologies are mostly ritualistic, just things that he can browbeat out of people to maintain control and hierarchy. Nothing actually meaningful.

Nothing like this.

That wave of guilt and regret hit him like a hammerblow to the chest, and Gen physically recoils for a moment; it's purely incidental that his grip squeezes brutally tight at Dokja's throat for a moment before loosening as Gen tries to shake off that unwanted spike of emotions.

And while he hates many things about this -- not knowing exactly what's earned the sudden apology, the way Dokja is actually meeting his gaze, the fact that he knows those emotions are definitely genuine -- he most hates that it works. It's just a little harder to maintain his same level of vitriolic rage in the face of that apology. ]

-- shut up. [ Gen abruptly lets go of Dokja's hair. Though there's probably little relief to be found in it when it's only so he can punch Dokja in the face, his knuckles colliding square with the bridge of Dokja's nose hard enough to snap his head back. ] Who asked you for an apology?

[ But it's obvious that the apology has had some effect, because Gen simply shoves Dokja away the next moment instead of striking him again. The apology's left a bad aftertaste, and in this moment, his desire to simply leave this whole situation behind him far outweighs his visceral hatred for Dokja.

Bootsoles scuff against the pavement as he moves to rise to his feet. ]

If you're so sorry, then stay out of my fucking way.

[salvageable]

[ This went about the way he'd expected, and Dokja's left with barely any time to process it before the consequences of his actions jerk his head back with that blow. He's left dazed for a few seconds after, something wet seeping down his lips that's sure to be blood. Heck, when was the last time he'd had a nosebleed?

And while it's not like he'd thought that apology would have helped either him or Gen, the hollow feeling in his chest feels wider than before. All he'd taken was a small step in a directionless maze, and he's not certain what the next steps are. For now, almost unthinkingly, Dokja reaches out to grab at any part of Gen that he can before the boy can fully stand back up.

This is what he can do right now. ]

I won't.

[ His fingers curl into a grip so tight that his knuckles go white, while his other hand wipes at the blood on his face, smearing it even further. Dokja doesn't seem to care or mind, gaze unyielding as it remains fixed on Gen. ]

There are other ways to help him. I know how. I've done it before, so let me do it again.

[ Ever seen a man so stubborn that it makes him stupid? Witness it now. ]

[epiprocta]

[ He's halfway up on his feet when he feels fingers snag against the hem of his jacket, and Gen doesn't even think before lashing out. Dirt grits underfoot from how swiftly he turns to backhand Dokja across the head; his knuckles crack against the other's temple hard enough to make his vision spin for a moment. It's followed by the hard impact of his bootsole shoving into Dokja's sternum to kick him flat onto his back.

It's some small concession that he doesn't follow that up with further violence, however, instead only standing straight to loom directly over Dokja. ]

Yeah? And why would you bother, when it's a fucking waste of time?

[ When there are other quick, more effective, and more correct solutions. ]

Why do you even fucking care? Just 'cause that thing looks like a kid?

[ -- still. Even as his voice grates harsh with genuine anger, there's an equally heavy exhaustion weighing on the slope of his shoulders. A muddled cocktail of emotions crackles through their connection – disgust, self-loathing, jealousy and confusion -- as Gen looks off in the direction his smaller doppelganger had run off. And his next words are muttered low, said almost more to himself than to Dokja. ]

... like you know anything about him.

[salvageable]

[ Really, he should know better than now, but with all the blows to the head that he's taken in his lifetime, can he be blamed for his serious lack of judgement? The knuckles against the side of his head send stars bursting into his vision, and it's so painful that he hardly registers the kick that knocks him back down. But even that isn't enough to keep him there, and after a moment of blinking clarity into his eyes, he shifts one arm to prop himself up with a groan.

It's so easy to dislike this guy, he thinks to himself as his other hand grabs at his throbbing head.

Too bad none of this deters him as thinks back to red-rimmed eyes and sullen questions about the city. ]

I was getting to know him.

[ Before someone had so rudely interrupted. Still, he can't get forget that this Gen and that Gen are the same, and while Dokja's only ever gotten glimpses and small peeks, he's starting to form an image of the boy. After all this time, after all the desperate attempts to get him to see, Dokja's made up his mind. Hesitation prickles at their connection, like he's not sure if he can say what he wants to say next, but he charges ahead with it despite the feeling. ]

... I'd like... to get to know him.

[epiprocta]

[ They're not, though. They're not the same. Even setting aside the fact that these doppelgangers are just this place's idea of a sick joke, superimposing old memories onto some animated husk -- Gen doesn't consider that young version of himself the same as him, as he is now. Especially f his guess about that version of him being from before things happened is correct.

His gaze lingers on the frozen cityscape around them for a moment longer before sliding back down to Dokja. And while the look he fixes on Dokja is cold with disdain, there's also something deeply bitter and melancholy prickling through their connection when he gives a humorless smirk. ]

That one is still worth treating like a normal person, isn't it.

[ It's not like he disagrees. Back then, back before everything happened, he'd still had some redeeming features, even if he'd been made wrong from the outset.

Some of that aggression that had been crackling in the air around them subsides, though it's not because he trusts Dokja any more than before. It's simply that this subject is exhausting in every way, and ... a look at Dokja's eyes is more than enough to tell him that Dokja isn't going to make this easy. Stupid fuck. ]

... ten minutes. [ He doesn't back off at all, simply speaking at a chilly deadpan where he stands right above Dokja. ] Ten minutes. Do what you want, and I won't interfere. But if this isn't solved by then, you stay out of my way.

[ This seems the quicker solution. In ten minutes, he'll kill it. Then it'll be over. ]

[salvageable]

[ It's hard to miss the bitterness that creeps against their connection, much like how Dokja can't seem to shake the heavy, uncomfortable weight sitting atop his chest the longer this goes on. He's really... done a number on Gen, hasn't he.

And the feelings are simply present to remind him of that. How annoying.

There's a part of him that wants to argue for more time, the side of him that's grown accustomed to butting heads with the boy, but the more rational part hushes out that voice. Whatever seconds or minutes he uses here are only going to get docked from the ten minutes he's been allotted, and with his experience in scenarios, every single moment counts.

So he wipes as much of the blood off of his face as he can while he stumbles back up on his feet. There's no way any part of him looks presentable after the thorough bashing he's received from Gen, but hopefully that won't scare the kid too much as he stiffly makes his way over with the occasional grimace. Now where had that child run off to...? ]

Kid? [ he calls out, gaze scanning the area for any signs of movement. ] You're okay. We talked things out.

[ "Talked" things out... Anyone would be spooked after an encounter like that. ]

[epiprocta]

[ At least Dokja doesn't have to search long for his target.

He only needs to take a few steps into a nearby alleyway and call out before there's the sound of scuffling movements, and that younger version of Gen peeks out from a little nook off to the side; he'd evidently been crouched down behind a stack of crates, just out of sight but close enough to spring into action if necessary. And as soon as he realizes that it's just Dokja alone, without that other stranger present, he's quick to get to his feet and patter over to Dokja with wary look on his face. ]

That guy isn't here ... ? [ His gaze is fixed on Dokja's face even as he says that, taking in the lingering streaks of blood on across his cheek and the clear redness his temple. Gen looks tense but unsurprised; he'd gotten into a lot of fights even at that age, after all, and he knows what it looks like when someone's gotten punched. ] You guys fought, didn't you.

[ So no, he totally doesn't buy Dokja's claim that they 'talked things out. And while he does look worried, he doesn't bother waste his breath on any questions like 'what happened?' or 'are you okay?' He'd always been a bit too sharp-eyed and wary for things like that, and instead, Gen studies Dokja for a moment before asking quietly, ]

... who are you? What d'you want me to do?

[salvageable]

[ The relief he feels is instantaneous when the boy steps out into view, and Dokja hurries over, all the while mindful of the time he has left. He's less mindful of how he currently looks, though he doesn't miss the way the younger Gen eyes what's obviously blood on his face, and the very beginnings of a bruise. Dokja tries for an easy smile to brush aside what had transpired just before this. Sometimes two guys just have to duke it out, or in this case, one guys gets whaled on by the other. ]

Aren't you too clever?

[ He says with a smile as he crouches down so that they can be eye to eye. It should surprise him more than it does to hear the kid get straight to the point, but in this instance, Dokja can't help but appreciate small Gen's ability to catch on to their situation with what little time they have to pull this off. ]

I just want to understand what brought you here. [ The smile on his face falters, then drops. In place of it grows genuine concern. ] What happened before this?

[ What caused those red-rimmed eyes? The declaration that he didn't need friends? Something had clearly brought this boy here. ]

[epiprocta]

Huh?

[ It's a strange question he's being asked, under even stranger circumstances. And his first reflex is to lie, deflect, or deny. Of course it is. He knows it's not proper for a boy to be whiny about things, or to say too much, and he's not supposed to talk to strangers. Gen balks visibly, falling back a half-step as he looks from Dokja's gaze, to the traces of blood smeared on his cheek, and back.

But in the end, he ducks his gaze as he mumbles, ]

Nothing ... happened. [ His answer comes halting and uneasy, but he does answer. Because Dokja is an adult, and he knows that he's just a child; whatever is going on for the adults to be fighting over is probably important enough that he should listen. ] I was just talking to my friend. My best friend. He said he ... [ 'Nothing happened,' he'd said. But he can't hide the way his breath catches in his throat for a moment before he can continue. ] ... he's going to be leaving our hometown and moving to Tokyo with his brother. Because he can be happier there. ... that's all.

[ A pause. His voice is softer when he adds, ] ... I'll be okay. I want him to be happy.

[salvageable]

[ It feels like such a simple, normal concern to have. Dokja never had friends as a child, but he imagines if he had, it would have been quite a devastating blow to learn that they were planning to move away. So he tries to understand, to sympathize, the tips of his fingers twitching as he keeps himself from reaching out despite wanting to offer some sort of comfort.

Maybe it's because he knows the adult version of this child that he keeps his hands to himself. ]

Of course you do, [ he says with a gentle smile. It's here that he remembers the boy's declaration of not needing friends, and Dokja starts putting two and two together. ] But you know, just because your best friend is moving doesn't mean you can't still be friends.

[ Funny. Was Gen always capable of having this big of a heart? Worrying about his friend, wishing for their happiness, even going so far as to reassure a stranger that he'd be okay. A lot's changed over the years, huh... Suddenly, Dokja isn't thinking about what time he has left, but about genuine ways to help this boy as he starts rattling off ideas on how they can keep in contact. ]

You guys can write each other letters and talk on the phone. Online chatrooms are popular, too. Oh, and if he's moving to Tokyo, then you have to visit, don't you think so? And by then, he'll know all the best places to take you.

[epiprocta]

[ He listens quietly enough, and Gen's next breath does come a little easier. But still -- even as he considers what Dokja tells him, thinks about letters and phonecalls and maybe even the far-off, abstract dream of ever getting to leave his hometown even temporarily, it doesn't quite ease his simmering anxiety.

Hands clenched to nervous fists at his side, he's quiet for a long moment before finally forcing himself to speak. ]

It's just. Reiji's the only one -- ... It's not the same with anyone else. He's ... the only one that matters. The only one I feel okay around. And he can't stay in our hometown, he needs to leave, but ...

[ He's not making much sense, jumbled thoughts filtered through the limited eloquence of a child. But it's a little easier to understand, when he takes a deep, jagged breath, then looks back up to Dokja. ]

... that other guy. He said something about me being 'unlovable.'

[ Because surely, Dokja, who's speaking to him so kindly, can't have been the originator of those words. Right? ]

You really don't think he'll just forget me?

[salvageable]

[ Ah, that name again. Reiji. He'd had his guess, and so there's no surprise reflected in his gaze when it's proven correct. That same, deep-rooted loyalty that he'd caught a glimpse of at the masquerade is on display in front of him once more, but this time, in an honest form.

He's not left with much time to ponder on it, though. Dokja's smile slips off his face when he hears the very word that he'd used against Gen all those months ago come back to haunt him now. The guilt returns to him, heavier than ever, every part of him filled with regret for uttering that word. It feels especially damning hearing it from such a young boy, whose only concerns go to his best friend, and Dokja hastily cuts in. ]

You're not unlovable. Don't listen to him. Don't listen... to anyone who tells you that.

[ Past, present, and future. This time, Dokja does slowly reach out to gently place a hand against Gen's arm. ]

Reiji won't forget you. How could he? [ His voice grows quieter, and there's something deeply personal about what he says next. ] You don't forget the people who are good to you.

[ They leave a mark. They always do. ]