oᥒᥴᥱ ι ᥕᥲs sᥱvᥱᥒ ყᥱᥲrs oᥣd (𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃)

[blackfire]

CHARACTERS: Itachi and various.
LOCATION: Mostly his room but elsewhere in the station as well!
DATE: post-mission and onward.
CONTENT: local asshole causes problems on purpose, confused when they don't bite him on the ass.
WARNINGS: PTSD, guilt, possibly suicidal ideation, mention of an infected wound being gross and illness-related weight loss. More melodramatic theatrics than you can shake a stick at. Hit me up @ PM if you'd like a custom starter, or feel free to wildcard with discussion.

CLARA (station return +2)

（ this is sent grudgingly at about 1600 hrs — «Clara, I require your assistance in dressing and bandaging an injury. If you are available, please come to my quarters.»

he would do it himself if it were not such an awkward angle. his chakra is too worn down to summon a clone — and even if he did, it would bear the same injuries as he does, making it all but useless at the task at hand.

when she arrives, she will find him sitting on the floor. old bandages have been stripped off and deposited in a trash can, and the smell of infection is clearly in the air, driven home by his — frankly, horrifying — looking wounds. clawmarks that dig in near his collarbone and carry on across his shoulder and down his scapula of his right side, overlaid with the wet, sticky mess of second and third degree burns. at the time, cauterization had been the only thing that kept him from bleeding out, but he is paying the price for it now. ）

My apologies — bandaging it proved too difficult on my own.

（ which he clearly doesn't enjoy admitting, but nevertheless. ）

WEI WUXIAN (station return + 4)

（ he leaves his room on two occasions — once, to go to the infirmary and take a selection of antibiotics, bandages and dressings — and twice, to restock the nonperishable food that he keeps in his room, running low in light of his poor physical state. it is the second of these trips that he finds himself returning to wei wuxian outside his door.

he says nothing for a long moment. what feels the heart, in that imperceptible rent in time is meaningless. nothing cuts quite so deeply as betrayal, and he has not acted to lessen its impact.

he considers simply turning and walking in the opposite direction — more exhaustion than cowardice, but ultimately he steps up to the door, inclines his head faintly, and says, ）

Excuse me.

MARTA (station return + 6)

（ he has occupied himself with scrolling back through the network, reading some of the digitized books in the earpiece's library, and idly working on the preliminary design for a jikukan jutsu — somewhat in the vein of hiraishin. he has always been curious if the yondaime hokage's signature move could be done with fire seals instead of lightning, and he has the time to puzzle out the academics of it all.

he is seated at his desk when the knock comes, and he goes briefly still. then he rises, and comes to the door. his usual assortment of security measures are disabled, and he opens it to — marta, who is holding some sort of dish between her hands.

they have not had much time to speak since they were in scorpion's bend, and he had been so cruel, so this is entirely unexpected. he raises a brow, and steps back to offer her admittance to the room — said room is immaculately tidy, but there's a lingering smell of illness in it that's unmistakable, his fever only having just broken the previous night. he looks wan, in addition to the fact his right arm is bound up in a sling, and has lost weight he didn't have to lose in the first place, throwing his cheekbones and the wings of his collarbone into sharp relief. his eyes are dark, rather than the vivid red of the sharingan. ）

Ah... Marta-san?

YELENA (station return +9)

（ he is holding the book loosely in one hand, jaw ticked faintly off to one side. the title is in what he has come to know as cyrillic, записки из мёртвого дома, which his earpiece tells him translates loosely to notes of a dead house. it had been in a bag hung outside his door, with a few handfuls of russian candy — making it clear who the items were from, at least. «Yelena-san. What is the occasion?» ）

YENNEFER (station return +11)

（ it is the first time he has been out of his room since his fever broke, and yennefer had asked him to the sunlight room. his attendance there is grudging — more because of the place than the company — but he is present, dressed in his customary all-black, this time as a robe not entirely culturally unlike a kimono. it's belted at the waist, and his right arm is cradled in the bunched fabric just north of the belt — enabling him to have it stabilized in a sling without seeming to, as many would have seen him similarly positioned in taeum, including yennefer herself. he moves without the suggestion of pain, but there are dark bruises beneath his eyes that speak to sleepless nights, and his usual grace is... studied rather than seamless.

yet, it does feel good to be out of his room. stretching his legs for the first time since giva. ）

So. What did you think of your first mission?

FINN (station return +12)

（ it doesn't matter who reached out to whom, ultimately. what matters is that they are sitting side by each on his bed, backs to the wall, and there is an old projector on the floor displaying a movie on the far side of the room, bisected by the slight divot in the wall that hides his closet.

yelena informed and in many ways shaped his first introduction to movies, and so what he has on hand is largely due to her influence — popcorn, and a variety of snacks and drinks on a tray between them on the bed.

they are watching a movie about a talking dog named bolt. a movie about dogs wouldn't have been his first choice, but it has not been a considerable hardship thus far.

itachi is dressed in sleeping clothes, a sweatshirt that is notably too large for him, stamped with a logo says enjoy the ride that keeps slipping down off his left shoulder, and threadbare flannel pants that are rolled up at the ankles. he is still injured — though the infection has broken, and now he is simply sore and healing. he's wearing the sling under the sweatshirt, which means the right arm of it is curiously empty — but he hasn't mentioned it, nor does it seem to have impeded his functionality at all.

at some point, he holds out a stick of dango for finn to take. ）

Are there no instances of animals on Earth that can be understood by humans?

（ look, there are literal dog and cat ninja clans in his world, this is not a weird question. ）

SHANG-CHI (STATION RETURN + 13)

（ he is in the process of doing laundry — which, for him means that his room has been strung with wire overlaid with towels, and is as such an immaculately cluttered maze of sheets, duvet covers and blankets. he has left it too long, with his injuries, and his natural tendency towards cleanliness was starting to eat at him.

the knock on his door... does not exactly alarm him. there has been a steady trickle of individuals coming to see him or otherwise making themselves known which is more alarming than it is gratifying, but after a moment of hesitation he does go to open the door. it's always an affair with him, the removal of tripwires and sealing tags.

shang-chi is standing outside, arms wrapped around a rolled-up futon mattress, and itachi just blinks at him. ）

Do you need somewhere to sleep...?

Comments

Audio; un: belova

[laviny]

[Yelena is in the kitchen getting food when she gets Itachi’s message.]

Well, I felt a little bad about asking you to sit through SpongeBob when it was really not your vibe. I wanted to offer you something you might enjoy, especially after this last mission seemed to stress you out.

Dostoyevsky is a famous Russian writer. Very famous. His books are known for being philosophical and psychological. Things like that. I thought it seemed more your speed.

[blackfire]

（ stubbornly sticking to text, ayyyy. ）

I was not stressed.

（ just to get that out of the way. the mild inconvenience of their last mission was hardly that. ）

You do not need to feel badly for asking me. If I had wished to leave, I would have.

[laviny]

[She's not going to argue about his feelings. She felt like he was worried about Angrial, at least. But it's not that important. All missions are stressful to some extent.

But she does have something to say about the rest of it.]

You don't need to tell me what I need to feel, either. I will feel what I want to feel, okay? Thank you very much.

You can think of it as gratitude if you want... but I think you don't like that, either, actually. So, whatever. I wanted to do something nice, so I did it.

[#friendship. She's good at this.]

[naloxone]

[ after badrock, after his letter, she had convinced herself that distance and time were in order. marta herself hadn't been as harmed as itachi's subsequent guilt might have led him to believe, but it had never really been about her in the first place. that much she understood from the clinical precision his words meant to stab her with, to push her away — whatever it was she'd done or said, it had crossed a line. one itachi probably hadn't even meant for her to see.

and then giva happened. taeum, sedorum, that whole mess that felt longer than the two months it seemed to occupy. they'd seen a heaven, a hell, a god who wasn't really one but thought himself to be one anyway, and isn't that more dangerous in the end? things happened. worse could have happened still. time and distance are good and all, but you know what's better? a good, home-cooked meal.

she holds the plate out in front of her, more a gesture than an actual offering. (she'd taken note of his arm, after all.) ]

Carne con papas. Meat and potatoes, [ she explains, though it looks spooned over a fluffy bed of rice as well. the smell wafting from the simmering plate is one of richness and spice. she doesn't step into his space, at least not yet. ]

My grandmother's recipe. Would you like some?

[blackfire]

（ the smell of food at once entices and revulses him, stomach twisting in hunger and interest at the promised flavor profile and the feeling of nausea of one only recently come from a broken fever. the food he has eaten has been mostly bland, easy to digest, and almost flavorless. what she's holding is... certainly not that.

he blinks at her, and then steps back away from the door, giving her space to enter the room if she chooses. ）

I am willing to try it. It may be too rich for me at the moment.

（ his tone carries a note of faint apology. ）

Would you like tea?

[naloxone]

[ he makes even more room for her, and still she lingers by the doorway. she's gotten about as much permission from him as she's likely to get (he's certainly more the "action speaks louder than words" type) but it's not him that has her hesitating. ]

I'll have if you don't need to make it. As for the meal, if it's too much, I can put it away for you. It will keep for a few days.

[ she glances past him and finally she steps in, taking stock of the room. of what it tells her. when she looks back to meet his eyes, the concern is obvious. ]

Your condition? Or something separate?

[hatejakku]

[ Finn hasn't really been... talkative since they all returned. In fact, he's been rather numb, which is probably why he's not all that surprised about this current situation. Though, perhaps he shouldn't be, anyway, since they both went through a lot on the last mission.

Not that they've spoken of it. Instead, Finn's decided to focus on now. It's easier that way.

He's been staring at this film with the most confused expression since it came on, trying to understand how this art style works, not to mention the story and the dog. But when he's offered some dango, his attention is taken away and-... Oh. So this is who made that gift for Newton. ]

Thanks.

[ He takes it with a small smile, biting into one and thinking. ]

I don't know about Earth, never been, but I suppose there are in the places I've visited. The animals use different ways to communicate, though. Movement or sounds. They don't talk. If a being talks, then I would consider them more of a person than an animal.

[ Which is how he's taking this movie, which makes the story all the weirder. ]

[blackfire]

And if movement or sound are how they 'talk'?

（ that's asked wryly. the line between animals and humans is paper-thin in his world. creatures like toads and snakes and slugs, his own crow summons, hawks or even the aburame insects, they all communicate in their own ways. ）

Perhaps it's simply that you don't understand them.

（ that's teasing, and not meant seriously. it's even said with a faint upturn at one corner of his mouth. ）

[hatejakku]

[ Good point. And it makes Finn smile, too. ]

If you make me think about it any more than this, I'm going to have to go vegan.

[ And he'd rather not... Actually, it doesn't sound so bad, at the moment. ]

I've heard of some things like that happening before, though. Sentient crystals, that sort of thing. Everything can speak somehow, if you get down to it.

[singlelogbridge]

[There is a grunting sound from inside the door, a thump that sounds like something heavy being thrown into a wall, the sounds of muffled cursing, and then the door is swinging open. Wei Wuxian is...disheveled, perhaps is the best word for it. His hair is loose and hanging over one shoulder, clearly finger combed but still getting everywhere, and his complexion has seen better days. He's pale and drawn, though his eyes are still bright and alert, the worst of the concussion having worn off by now.

Upon seeing who's at the door, those bright eyes grow very wide and he glances around—checking for Gwen and Spiders' presence in the vicinity should he need to drag Itachi inside and hide him. Probably he wouldn't have to anyway, Gwen is doing much better now, but it's still good to see that she's not around right now.]

Ah. [Well. This is awkward. Gone is the bitterness of the call he'd made to Itachi in the aftermath of their imprisonment, but there's a wariness in his gaze. Still, he steps back and swings the door open wider. If Itachi hadn't come to him, he'd have sought him out eventually to talk, and it's much better they be able to speak in private.

Glancing behind him, he winces at the state of the room and hastily scrambles over to stuff some clothes and extra blankets under the bed with one arm. The desk is a lost cause, long lost to the weight of a hundred scribbled talisman ideas.]

You know, [he starts amiably despite the awkward tension in the air,] I swore I was going to punch you when we got back, but my arm is broken and it would definitely hurt me more than you. Which frankly, is extremely unfair. I could use my other arm, but it's not the same, you know? Anyway, come in, come in. You can use the desk chair, I'm pretty sure none of the ink stains are wet.

[They're totally wet, he hopes Itachi gets an inky butt. He deserves it.]

[blackfire]

（ he does come in, but does not sit. standing is winding him unnecessarily, the toll of injury and exhaustion taken on his body with the brutal efficacy of infection, but he is long-practiced at hiding such symptoms.

he simply inclines his head and... promptly ignores everything wei wuxian had said. ）

I spoke with Gwen-san yesterday.

[singlelogbridge]

[He gives Itachi a once over.]

Glad they didn't eat you. [It's a joke, not because he's not glad, but because Gwen would actually never. (Well okay, she might if she was feeling the way she was in Taeum but she's been recovering and the probability seems low now.)]

What did you say to her? [For the first time since he started speaking to Itachi, there's an edge to his voice.]

hell yeah.

[karaoqi]

Uh. Happy birthday, man. [ His mouth twitches at his own joke. He's funny, okay, deal with it. ] No, I'm kidding. But this is for you.

[ There's a light gesture with the dip of his chin to the maze of loose blankets and sheets, and nothing else but that. Like damn, bro, you live like this? That was never a bed. And the Ximilia-provided mattress remains unused, stripped of its own bedding.

The futon, rolled up in that pile of delivered items seemed right, so Shang-chi put a claim on it. And now he's here. ]

Saw it in the latest drop-off.

itachi, internally, 'what the fuck, what the fuuuuck'

[blackfire]

（ itachi looks down at the futon cradled in his arms, and then... back up at shang-chi. and then down. his expression has not gained so much as a flicker of anything that could be reasonably deemed emotion, but after a long, long moment he steps back from the door to permit entry, ducking automatically beneath the fold of a strung-up sheet without needing to look.

he does not quite know what to do with ... presents, niceties done just because, so this entire encounter has already thrown him off. ）

I see.

（ it's not quite a 'thank-you', because he's not quite sure what he's experiencing is gratitude over exasperation, but. it's acknowledgement, at least. at least he's not asking why? most likely because he suspects that would result in a dissertation on shang-chi's motivations that may or may not include some sort of positive emotion about his existence he's not terribly equipped to face at the moment. ）

It will see adequate use.

（ this is clearly the most awkward thing that's ever happened to him in the history of anything. send help. in lieu of anything more constructive, he begins taking down the damp sheets and disassembling his impromptu laundry lines, as it's quite rude to bring someone into your dwelling when it looks the state his does. ）

don't fight it bud, just embrace it

[karaoqi]

[ It's fine.

The reaction kind of checks, honestly, and Shang-chi hadn't been expecting more than what Itachi's offering him now. It'd be weird if he started spewing platitudes anyway; he might have to wonder if he'd been taken over by something back in Taeum. (But yeah ... if prompted, he might be motivated to explain why he's bringing this here, why he felt the need to snag the futon in the first place, and maybe (awkwardly) bring up that night in Taeum.

He won't soon forget what happened for all the discomfort and awkwardness that it gives him.) ]

Good. That's kinda the point of the thing.

[ And taking his cue, Shang-chi (rolled up futon and all) steps past the threshold and into Itachi's room, ducking lines of hanging laundry to find a place to settle the new bed. ]

You doing okay? Since — you know.

[bossily]

[The second she gets the message, she's grateful she's studying first aid in the infirmary. She grabs one of the first aid kits Leonard put together and hurries her way on over to his room. She had seen him shortly after arriving back on the station, embracing him in a hug that he hadn't been fully prepared for due to his injury. She's mindful of that now as she makes her way into his space, the smell of infection instantly noticeable to her.

Her nose wrinkles up as she tries to ignore it in favor of getting right to work. But as she approaches where he's sitting and actually gets a good look at his injury, she's left wide eyed and speechless for a moment.]

How did it get like this?

[She doesn't bother telling him not to apologize. He will regardless of what she says. But that's not really her focus right now. She's very concerned about the state of his injury, and settles in close behind him so she can start to get to work. Her kit is opened, and she takes to trying to figure out how to best disinfect and treat the area.]

[blackfire]

（ he wants to tell her that it doesn't matter, it isn't important. sharp, impatient replies.

instead, he closes his eyes briefly. ）

I was careless.

（ it's as much answer as it is evasion, but at the very least it's not untrue. ）

The antibiotics should clear it up in a few days. I am in no danger.

[choicely]

[ The sunlight room has been a refuge of sorts for Yennefer since nearly the moment she first woke up on the station, the closest resemblance to any real sphere (including her own) that makes Ximilia feel less austere, less mechanical. Even if the technology that creates this space is on par with the strongest of illusion magics, she is willing to momentarily suspend her natural disbelief in pursuit of experiencing what feels like warm sun against her face, or the occasional cooler breeze that travels through the space.

She's dressed like him, in dark colors, the hem of her long gown swirling around her ankles as they walk on pace with one another — she already has the intent to be idle in her movements, but thinks of it even more once she spots the manner in which he's gingerly holding his arm. ]

Something tells me that war is not always the outcome. [ The signs of exhaustion may not be as evident in her features, no dark circles to be discovered as she glances at him, but it's there in a slightly paler complexion, a softer voice that possesses a touch of rasp when she rarely aims for louder. She'd wielded a significant amount of chaos at the finale of it all, and while she can tell she's less capable of doing the same here on the station, back to treading sluggishly underwater rather than walking freely, she needs the time away from it solely for restorative purposes. ]

[blackfire]

No. But this was a more favorable conclusion than our last mission. The orb chose to make its wielder immortal, and we essentially marooned him on a planet entirely devoid of life for all eternity.

（ it was cruel, and served no purpose save that. he is still angry about it, evident perhaps in the faint clench of his jaw. scorpion's bend was a difficult mission in more ways than one, and it left its mark. ）

gently wildcards for the kitchen

[petsthedog]

[In the aftermath of the mission, Shinjiro is unsettled. Not so much by the outcome -- things had turned out better than they could have, maybe better than they have in most of the other missions to date -- but his own choices in the thick of things. It is only the second time he has called upon Castor during a mission, and the first he did not see it as a last resort in an otherwise losing battle.

You have to start somewhere, Erik had said. If you never start, then it won't simply be not enough. It'll just be nothing. When he'd first come to this crew, he thought he was okay with that. He has never been anyone meant for significance, after all, just some trash orphan the orbs dragged out of the gutter to give another chance to undo his mistakes. As the missions have gone on, he's grown less and less comfortable with averting his eyes from others' suffering while retrieving the orbs, until he couldn't any longer.

He was able to use Castor to help, this time. But Shinjiro knows as well as anyone how quickly those good intentions can sour, and there's a part of him that's afraid of history repeating. What if he loses control again, and Andy isn't around to stop him? Is he even doing the right thing, taking that risk?

Sleep is typically an ephemeral thing for Shinjiro, often slipping through his fingers like so much water when he tries to hold onto it. Sometimes he avoids it purely to avoid the inevitable assault of nightmares, to avoid waking up panicked and distraught. Now that he spends his nights in close quarters, he does not wish to disturb anybody in nearby rooms, either. Often he catches sleep at weird times, when most others would be awake.

Tonight, though...tonight Shinjiro is awake simply because he couldn't get to sleep, mind swarming with doubts and insecurities he never thought he would return to, having written off his power as not worth the risk years ago. Weeks into their downtime with the clock ticking down to the next mission, he's forced to confront what he wants to do with himself next time, and it's overwhelming. And so, way in the early hours of what would be morning if there were daylight in space, he finds himself in the one place on the ship he actually feels a modicum of peace -- the kitchen. Shinjiro's not really in the frame of mind to cook, but he does set a pot of water to boil and sits down at a nearby table while he waits. The false silver pistol that serves as the conduit to summon Castor lays on the table, Shinjiro idly running a thumb over the S.E.E.S. lettering on its barrel when someone coming in catches at his peripheral vision and he looks up.]

Oh, hey. Couldn't sleep either?

[He has only spoken to this man a couple of times. The both of them are the sort to keep to themselves, after all, and they haven't ended up crossing paths much during the missions. But they have now, and he'll be here a while longer anyway. So he takes another step out of his comfort zone for the sake of having something to occupy himself with other than his own thoughts, and gestures to the teapot:]

I'm makin' some tea, if you want any.

[blackfire]

No — this is the customary time I am awake.

（ he sleeps very little, and rises early. it is a holding pattern, and injury has not altered it overmuch. but the question implies that is shinji's reason for being here. he had just come down to make okayu and return to his quarters, but between the query and the now-familiar gun, he takes up residence on the other side of the counter, and sits. ）

I will take tea, however.

wildcard snacks and chats

[oiorpata]

[ it is... midnight? she thinks it's midnight, or maybe it's very early in the morning? she woke up hungry and didn't really check the exact time - it's nighttime either way and andy is in the kitchen for a snack, and by snack she is making a full on sandwich. it appears normal on the upfront at first - she is slathering the bread with peanut butter, but on the countertop beside her is a bag of chips and a jar of pickles. could just be a side snack. but it is not. ]

[ she peers over when she hears someone else walking in, just as she is spreading out some of the chips into the peanut butter. she'd been planning to reach out to itachi post mission, but she likes to wait a little bit before pestering people. the problem is she often loses track of how long it is before she does the aforementioned reaching out. ]

[ andy is very bad at time. ]

Good... morning. [ the pause is because she still isn't sure what time it is. ] You want a pickle?

[blackfire]

Good morning, Andy-san.

（ it is in fact such a time, albeit the very small hours of. if he is at all troubled by the odd assortment of dishes spread out before her, he wisely does not say as much. instead, he steps past her with a small earthenware pot and sets about making okayu. he is still being careful with his food intake, stomach soured by nearly a fortnight's use of antibiotics and subsequent recovery from both fever and injury.

the offer of a pickle causes him to raise an eyebrow, but ultimately — ）

No, thank-you. I was planning on having umeboshi with my breakfast.

Action; before leaving for Vrefesea

[singlelogbridge]

[They're in the training room in the early morning hours the same as they'd occasionally trained together before Giva. The difference now is that Wei Wuxian hasn't been cleared for any kind of strenuous activity, and Itachi's shoulder hasn't fully healed yet either, so Itachi is doing something akin to meditating while Wei Wuxian lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. They don't meet every morning and in fact Wei Wuxian knows that more often these days, Itachi meets with Gwen, but on this particular morning, nightmares had kept him from sleep so he'd come to the training room to find out if Itachi happened to be here.

Upon sighting him, Wei Wuxian had exhaled with relief and plopped himself on the ground. He didn't initiate conversation for once, opting instead to enjoy the companionable silence and allow Itachi to meditate in peace.

That's how they'd remained, each silent and doing their own thing for the better part of an hour and a half. It's not until then that Wei Wuxian frowns as the conversations of those beginning to wake drifts across the network through his earpiece. He's tempted to take it out, but that would defeat the purpose of finally pushing himself to sit up and finally speak.]

Hey, let me ask you something. What's with the whole...[He waves dismissively in the direction of his earpiece.] The earpiece. The way people talk.

We don't have anything like it where I'm from, but even if we did, people wouldn't talk the way they do here. Everyone shares so much that would be better left private.

[blackfire]

（ he has been sitting in quiet focus for the duration of wei wuxian's presence, not bothering to speak or offer him greeting. the question draws his attention, a curious blink of wine-dark eyes, and then a shrug of his good shoulder. ）

It is a matter of cultural variance. Most others here seem to be from a place where such things are culturally accepted or encouraged.

（ which, if nothing else, makes it easy to glean information from them. he knows more about their lives and feelings than he cares to, honestly. ）