earnedmystripes: (pic#4825231)
鏑木・T・虎徹 ᴋᴏᴛᴇᴛsᴜ ᴛ. ᴋᴀʙᴜʀᴀɢɪ ([personal profile] earnedmystripes) wrote in [community profile] savetheearth2013-05-01 01:49 am

[ Closed ] Searching for answers

Who: Kotetsu and Banagher
What: Chance encounter!
Where: Library
When: Uh, sometime this week



[Kotetsu really had no idea what to make of his life anymore. In the course of a few hours, everything he thought he knew had been turned on its head, and nothing has been making any more sense these past two weeks.

The conspiracy alone would have been one thing. That was something concrete, something Kotetsu could understand, even if it was painful to accept. But the conspiracy is just one piece of a much bigger picture. The numbers, the network, the statues, the werewolves...

(Ugh, the werewolves. Don't think about the werewolves)

...The memories.

It's the memories that are the most troubling, to Kotetsu. And not because they're bad, either. Indeed, it was every child's dream at one point, wasn't it? To be a superhero. If he's guessed right, anyway.

In that initial period of denial, it was easy to convince himself that it was ridiculous, that if the vision had meant anything at all, maybe he was some sort of struggling actor or something (he sure feels like a puppet on a string, these days). But the more he started getting them, these...things that followed the heartbeat sound, the less likely that seems. That mysterious image. The mask he'd been certain at first sight was unequivocally his. The burn scar on his shoulder.

That term, Hero, plays in an endless loop in his head, and Kotetsu feels more and more as the days drag on that something out there is mocking him. Having a grand old time with his flaws and shortcomings and presenting them in a pretty package of impossibility. Heroism, him, what a joke. He was just an average guy who could never even figure out how to be there for his own family, all his life, whose only contributions to society revolved around working for the organization he now knew was corrupt.

He wasn't strong enough to be a hero, not in any sense of the term.

But for all he can try to fight it, can be frustrated at--the world, the universe, everything--trying to tell him he was something he felt so fundamentally he wasn't...at the same time, he's not content to sit back and pretend everything is okay. He might not be a Hero, but he's not a coward, either. As much as he resents it, feels bitter and resentful and in no small part frightened about the world that's opened up in the past couple weeks, he has to do his part. He has to try to make sure another Paul Ben never happens, that they're better prepared for the next thing like the werewolves.

Which is why he's here, today. That symbol has been bouncing around in his mind since he first saw the video of Paul's death, but he'd been too preoccupied with the enormity of...everything to properly look into it. But even now that he is, he's not really sure what he's doing. Aside from the few anatomy courses he took at a community college, he hasn't stepped foot in a library in twenty years. And back in those years? It's not as if he ever did anything productive inside them.

Still. He does manage to narrow his search for that symbol a bit. Non-fiction, he's sure. He starts in the history section, before moving onto linguistics, and finally, mythology. He's just gonna be carrying an armful of books over to that table there to look over them. Don't mind him if his field of view is a bit...restricted....]
argents: (those days are gone)

[personal profile] argents 2013-05-02 09:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ This is probably one of the few shreds of normalcy Banagher can still call his own. Despite best efforts, the proverbial cracks now feathering out underfoot were deepening, allowing the "everyday" he was used to seep out, and all the new feelings, memories, powers, and fears to seep in. All of the unfamiliar, and the unsettling. But this is what he has, and this is what he uses. The warm brown and ivory tiles, the sunlight slanting through old windows, book dust, the scent of it. Banagher's routine was something of a safety net, his silly little job setting up new user accounts, filing books, helping the patrons who kept places like these from succumbing to the search engine behemoths.

But it's with no small amount of attention paid to the events of the past week that have Banagher a little distracted on said job, thumbing through a small list of genre moves he had to complete before he left for the day.
]

All of this has to go up stairs, really? [ He's mumbling quietly to himself, backing up from one of the tables, one step, two, not really watching where he's going until he feels the tips of his shoulder blades smack right into something.

Smack right into something that gives.
]

Huh—?

[ Scratch that and make it someone that gives. ...Please have good balance. ]
argents: (and held it in your mouth)

[personal profile] argents 2013-05-23 07:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh no, he —

— definitely...

...has terrible

balance.
]

A-are you okay?!

[ Banagher is less concerned about wounded pride and more concerned about a potentially wounded skull. He's next to the poor stranger on the floor in less than a quarter of a second, brushing the now scattered pile of books off of him just to make sure he didn't take a shot to the ribs that would require an ER visit. Most of the offending stack was from reference, and those were heavy, with sharp, sharp corners. He'd almost killed someone else with one of them a month prior whoops.

Warm hazel eyes wide with concern peer down at him.
]

I'm really sorry!
argents: (you took my heart)

[personal profile] argents 2013-05-30 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
If you're sure... [ Who has two thumbs and doesn't look convinced? THIS KID. ]

Still, it's not like that could have felt very good. You don't feel dizzy, or anything? [ He'd taken a minor tumble off a step stool before, those tiles were no joke. Climbing up off the floor in suit, he shuffles the armful of books he'd plucked off the man into a more manageable pile to hand back to him. On approach, Banagher's expression furrows somewhat. When he offers the books up, the movement is almost distracted, as he's staring him down somewhat intently.

Familiar...
]
argents: don't you worry now. (don't you worry child)

[personal profile] argents 2013-06-11 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Realizing that he's probably being impossibly rude by staring, Banagher suddenly starts. ]

Oh, no, it's not that! I believe you... um, even if it was my fault. I just thought that you looked really familiar, for some reason.

[ He offers the books to him, gaze raking over the topmost one. Something old and purple and missing its dust cover, embossed with gold lettering. ]

Here you go. Did you find what you were looking for? There's a lot here.