Shū Tsukiyama (月山 習) | ɢᴏᴜʀᴍᴇᴛ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
preybeforemeals) wrote2014-12-09 10:23 am
preybeforemeals) wrote2014-12-09 10:23 am
Entry tags:
- !ic,
- *video,
- @carmen sandiego,
- @chihiro fujisaki,
- @frank archer,
- @kazuichi banjou,
- @labrys,
- @makoto naegi,
- @naki,
- all roads lead to hedonism,
- and so no one should criticize me,
- fourth wall was haaaaard,
- gentleman of wealth and taste,
- he left escapism hell for this,
- his europhilia is showing,
- his goddamn life right now,
- holy shit is that character development,
- ikea is swedish satan,
- no seriously fuck ikea,
- passion!!!,
- slightly less colorblind for now,
- so saith beethoven to my fucking soul,
- surely this bodes well,
- surprisingly well-adjusted today,
- this is gonna go immediately tits-up,
- today we are tranquil for once,
- tsukiyama no,
- vague questions are the best questions,
- wheeee
003. [Video]
[Well, good morning, Johto – it seems like someone is actually up fairly early for once.
The room he's in is a bit on the sparsely-furnished side, though it's large enough to warrant that so far, maybe; it looks like there may have been an attempt at a bookshelf somewhere back along the far wall, though it's a bit difficult to see – either it's being slowly done by the world's most inept carpenter or someone has given up on fighting whatever the Pokéworld equivalent of Ikea is for the time being, but either way, at the very least it's slightly out of focus and not...too distracting.
What is in focus would be the keys of a piano, the natural light from the windows across the room spilling in; the device is set up far enough away that someone can be seen sitting at said keys, his hands resting lightly on them. The usual bright colors in his wardrobe are at least a little toned-down today – he seems to be wearing his trainer class whatnot this morning – and when he moves the bench a bit closer, that's when his face can actually be seen in the shot.
He sets his hands down, repositioning them a few times as though working out what he wants to play for the time being; what he settles on is decidedly happier than what he usually chooses, but he's always been partial to Beethoven's work.
He doesn't smile when he plays, which is perhaps a bit odd given that he's almost always smiling; rather, he looks focused, in that sort of way that people do when they've practiced a piece to an extent where they can find their musically-based zone.
He speaks as he plays eventually, his hands running light over the keys and his volume raised a little so he can be heard.]
It's impressive how much change a year can bring about, isn't it?
[And he does smile a bit when he says it, though it's fleeting in favor of closed eyes and that strangely focused look again.]
I haven't been here nearly that long, and yet I'm finding that I'm in a different place than I was at this time last year, as far as "back home" is concerned. But that's only natural, isn't it – after all, if I'm going to continue to experience this dream from which I don't have much say in waking, I might as well make something of it.
It's time I returned to doing what I've done in the past, I think. Finding my own happiness a piacere, instead of waiting for this place to hand it to me, instead of relying on others to provide...and most importantly, finding something that speaks to me here, something that can ignite my passion just as much as that which I had back there...
[He shakes his head a bit.]
I don't know if such a thing even exists in this world. But in that case, I suppose the...challenge, the driving force, would be seeking it out in the first place, n'est-ce pas?
[His words find a pause then, though his hands do not.]
I wonder where next year will find me...ideally speaking, amore, where do you think it would find you?
The room he's in is a bit on the sparsely-furnished side, though it's large enough to warrant that so far, maybe; it looks like there may have been an attempt at a bookshelf somewhere back along the far wall, though it's a bit difficult to see – either it's being slowly done by the world's most inept carpenter or someone has given up on fighting whatever the Pokéworld equivalent of Ikea is for the time being, but either way, at the very least it's slightly out of focus and not...too distracting.
What is in focus would be the keys of a piano, the natural light from the windows across the room spilling in; the device is set up far enough away that someone can be seen sitting at said keys, his hands resting lightly on them. The usual bright colors in his wardrobe are at least a little toned-down today – he seems to be wearing his trainer class whatnot this morning – and when he moves the bench a bit closer, that's when his face can actually be seen in the shot.
He sets his hands down, repositioning them a few times as though working out what he wants to play for the time being; what he settles on is decidedly happier than what he usually chooses, but he's always been partial to Beethoven's work.
He doesn't smile when he plays, which is perhaps a bit odd given that he's almost always smiling; rather, he looks focused, in that sort of way that people do when they've practiced a piece to an extent where they can find their musically-based zone.
He speaks as he plays eventually, his hands running light over the keys and his volume raised a little so he can be heard.]
It's impressive how much change a year can bring about, isn't it?
[And he does smile a bit when he says it, though it's fleeting in favor of closed eyes and that strangely focused look again.]
I haven't been here nearly that long, and yet I'm finding that I'm in a different place than I was at this time last year, as far as "back home" is concerned. But that's only natural, isn't it – after all, if I'm going to continue to experience this dream from which I don't have much say in waking, I might as well make something of it.
It's time I returned to doing what I've done in the past, I think. Finding my own happiness a piacere, instead of waiting for this place to hand it to me, instead of relying on others to provide...and most importantly, finding something that speaks to me here, something that can ignite my passion just as much as that which I had back there...
[He shakes his head a bit.]
I don't know if such a thing even exists in this world. But in that case, I suppose the...challenge, the driving force, would be seeking it out in the first place, n'est-ce pas?
[His words find a pause then, though his hands do not.]
I wonder where next year will find me...ideally speaking, amore, where do you think it would find you?
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[And that...is actually rather strange to consider, isn't it...]
The attack against Cochlea happened around this time last year, you know. The night of the nineteeth of December, into the early morning of the twentieth. That's when we attacked your organization as well, and there were some...other things that happened to me before that.
It's an interesting time of year for me, that's all.
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[It's neither a yes nor a no, but it's what you're getting for now.]
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[...]
--I mean, I wasn't really worried or anything!
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[...]
Did you see anyone, during that weekend when I told you that you might?
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[Clearly that's something to be proud of!!]
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[...]
You are not a subtle man.
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Good point.
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No one in particular.
[god he is such a shitshow at coming up with quick lies]
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[Come on, Tsukiyama, even he can see through that.]
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Nnngh.]
No one that concerns you, then.
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[You're no fun.]
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What does it matter to you, monsieur, whether I do or I don't? I'm not obligated to reward you.
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[He's not going to fight with you on this for something that's probably not going to be a very entertaining answer.]
I just wanted to make sure you weren't... y'know.
[He waves a hand about as if this gesture is supposed to mean something.]
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[...No, really, he wasn't...exactly expecting that.]
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[He throws his hands in the air at that. This empathy shit's just too hard.]
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[He returns his focus again to what his hands are doing; it takes him a moment to respond properly. It would be much easier to not say anything at all, but - ]
...Perhaps a little. But it'll be fine.
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...Are you gonna be okay?
[It's a genuine question, but Naki doesn't look worried. He doesn't really look confused either, and this might be the one time in the history of ever that Naki actually looks neutral as opposed to... some other over-the-top emotion.]
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His words are calm when he replies, though. Even, if a bit less light than they usually are.]
I'll be all right, monsieur.
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[...]
So uh... is there...?
[Is there anything he can do? That sounds weird though so Naki just sort of flails for a moment before he comes up with something less dumb to ask.]
Do you wanna go out or something? We can get cake!
[...THAT'S NOT ANY LESS DUMB, NAKI]
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Never change, Naki, I won't know what to do with you otherwise.
But fine - let's get cake.
[...by which he means you can get cake and he'll refuse to touch it, but...same difference, really.]