concasse: (worried↠ wtf that's dumb ur dumb)
Sanji "flaming bullshit" Vinsmoke ([personal profile] concasse) wrote2018-07-11 05:38 pm
Entry tags:

Week 5 | Wednesday

[There is a pink, floral shirt just hanging from one of the top bookshelves in the library.

Just.

Hanging out like the world's most disappointing flag.

Sanji hasn't even bothered to reach for it yet, instead standing there with his arms folded in quiet judgment]


... I didn't like that shirt that much.

[Ugh. Fine. He's reaching for it!]
fragileprophet: (15)

[personal profile] fragileprophet 2018-07-11 10:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's? A really cute shirt, honestly? Smiling and thinking, boy, no way this can go wrong in any way, Ion comes closer. He's...way too short to try and help reach it himself, so he's just gonna observe.]

Oh, is that yours?
fragileprophet: (24)

[personal profile] fragileprophet 2018-07-11 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[He laughs.]

I think you were going to, but we got distracted by...

[Being encased in a giant...bubble? Ion cuts himself off as he startles. He cautiously reaches out and taps on the inside of it, but it doesn't budge. Whatever it is is completely solid.]

Oh, dear.
fragileprophet: (But that's...!)

[personal profile] fragileprophet 2018-07-16 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[Ion freezes, startling.]

What?

[Shot in the head? The scene is already changing, warping, but Ion doesn't pay attention to it, looking at Sanji in horrified confusion.]

Who was that? And does--does she really--
fragileprophet: (How could you say that?)

[personal profile] fragileprophet 2018-07-17 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
[Ion is a simple soul who cannot stand to see his friends in any variation of pain. He hangs his head, putting his hands to his heart.]

A political marriage?
fragileprophet: (Default)

[personal profile] fragileprophet 2018-07-17 03:58 am (UTC)(link)
But why?

[It's not that he's not used to such things. He's heard of all sorts of political dramas, scandals, horrors all throughout history. But it hurts...when people have such a capacity for goodness and choose instead to succumb to greed and violence.]

It's just awful.
fragileprophet: (I'm not crying...)

[personal profile] fragileprophet 2018-07-17 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
No...that's what it means to have a family, doesn't it? Even if you don't know them, even if they've hurt or wronged you, there's still a desire to help them when they're suffering.

[But Ion doesn't know how that feels, because he doesn't have a family.

The memory shifts, as if acting on instincts to Ion's feelings, until they're standing before a ledge. All around you is a void. In front of you, a boy is crouching, injured, shielding his face because his mask has fallen in the scuffle.

But it's too late, everyone has seen him, and now you know what you've suspected: you aren't the only one. The boy looks up, his expression jarring in its blatant hatred, but there's no mistaking that face. Your face.

Behind you, everyone gasps, so you take a deep breath. It's time for the truth. You step forward.

Just as I thought...you are also a replica of the Fon Master.

The others stare at you, faces torn in shock, so you persist. Your words feel like stones as they echo back in your ears.

I'm Fon Master Ion's seventh replica: the final one. You glance guiltily over your shoulder. I'm sorry. It's only been about two years since I was born.

The replica on the ground speaks then, scoffing bitterly. You had the closest abilities to the original unlike us trash.

Your stomach churns in violent discomfort.

Don't call yourself that.

He doesn't even meet your eyes, his teeth gritted in pain.

That's what I am. My powers were so weak I was cast alive into the mouth of the Mt. Zaleho volcano. A replica that can't serve as a replacement is nothing more than garbage.

You try again. Desperation claws away at your ribcage.

Don't talk like that. You can come with us--you and I are the same!

You step toward him as he staggers back to his feet and extend him a hand. You hope...you hope...

And he slaps your hand away, angry, hateful. You're used to the hatred of the Grand Maestro, but this is something different. This is an intimate, deep-seeded resentment that is much more personal than a man hating you for what you are. This is someone hating you for everything that you took away from them. Everything you never wanted, and that you can't give back. The sting in your hand travels all the way up your arm.

No, we're not. I'm only alive to be used. Only the useful ones are ever kept alive...out of pity.

You don't know what to say, but you don't have time to react as, without a word, he steps backward, off the edge of the landing you stand on, into a chasm of certain death.

Gone.]