savetheearth | 002 ♦ Action

Entry tags:

002 ♦ Action

who: Winter and OPEN
what: Almost dying is a real drag, so Winter's in the library trying to take her mind off it. Hilarity (and possibly other things) ensues.
where: The biggest library she can get into; ergo, the big public library.
when: June 18th

It's been a few days since the adventure in the mine. While she wasn't too badly hurt physically - most of her cuts have been reduced to fading scars, and her only bruises are covered by the simple powder blue sundress she's wearing - the emotional scars are still fairly raw. Privately, she'll admit she was scared out of her mind back there, and she spent the last day or two locked up at home. Her mother had tended to the worst of her injuries when she got home, thankfully accepting the excuse of tripping on rocks when she was reading in the park.

But now that she doesn't look like a walking disaster (as far as she's concerned), Winter's gone to one of her favorite places in town: the library. After some time to grab a few books she hadn't read before, she started toward an open armchair to curl up in... and something caught her attention. A book: the Hyakunin Isshu, handily translated on the spine as the Hundred Poems, and on inspection apparently written in both Japanese and English. She didn't know why, but she liked poems, so she picked it up and added it to her stack, heading to sit down.

Over the course of the next several hours, Winter can be found sitting pretty much in the same place, alternating between novels, nonfiction, and that book of poems. Sitting next to her on the arm of the chair is that plushie from the mine. That book of poems, by the way, is possibly the most interesting: if you're relatively close by, you can hear her reciting from the it softly, and at some point you may hear her breath hitch, as she seems to space out and be somewhere far away for a long moment.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trying to explain things to Granny had been . . . interesting. She'd been out when he'd first gotten home that night, so Toushirou had at least been able to stash the white coat before she could see it. But the injury to his arm, and the explanation of where he'd been all day? Those had been tougher.

Honestly, he's still not sure she really believes the excuse he'd made up. In the end, he'd wound up grounded for the past two days. Which had been fine by him because like hell he'd felt like leaving the house anyway.

But now that he's allowed out, the library seems like a peaceful enough place. Some part of him is torn between heading to the fiction section to try and distract himself or looking up Japanese language and culture, since that seems to be significant to the pulses he's been getting.

He vaguely recognizes the girl at one of the tables. She'd shown up at the club, right? She looks pretty engrossed in that book, even reciting the words as she reads them. Ordinarily, something like that would annoy him -- do people really need to do that? -- but the way she suddenly spaces out stops that feeling.

He knows what that look means.

Tucking his books under one arm, he goes over to the table and sits himself in a chair across from her. "Something wrong?"

It's a moment before Winter comes back to herself, and she notices the boy that wasn't around before. She'd seen this blond-haired kid once, but she didn't know him, so...

"W-well... not really? I just f-felt my heart race for a moment. I'm... okay."

She spends a long moment looking at her book in an effort to not look at Toushiro.

Edited (HAHA I can read I swear) 2013-06-22 01:43 (UTC)

Wow, timid. He's even being nice here; hell knows he could be a lot more blunt about things. That's his default setting, so to speak.

He wonders if he should just leave her alone, but that was definitely a Pulse she'd just gone through. It's important to understand those. He gentles his tone a bit; an involuntary reaction he has when speaking to timid girls. "... Did something in the book make you suddenly remember anything?"

"N-not that I know of... The l-last time, I was in the cave, and I got Raquel... Nothing feels different now, though."

As she mentions Raquel, she glances aside at the blue stuffed animal she'd brought along. But for the moment, she mostly looks confused.

"D-does that feeling... mean something?"

Blink, blink. Raquel? Oh. That silly stuffed toy. She'd gotten that from a Pulse? He supposes that he can understand her keeping it around, then. Otherwise, he'd have to wonder why anyone in their late teens would carry a plushie around. Especially one so ridiculous-looking.

"It usually means something's changed. We remember something, get something . . . or are able to do things we couldn't before. Are you sure nothing's different?"

So far, his Pulses have been heavy on skills and powers. He's only physically gotten the white coat at the mine, and he's not sure what to think about the couple of memories he's gotten. Moreso the last one than the first.

"I d-don't think so... except for maybe wanting to keep reading this book of poems. I've got... a feeling," she admits. It's hard to put it into words, but...

"I haven't g-gotten too many of them, though... s-so I'm still trying to recognize the feeling."

"You sort of get used to the feeling after a while."

After experiencing it nearly ten times, he's learned to recognize the signs. Wanting to read a book of poems seems like a really inane thing to have been Pulsed, but then, he'd wound up with those so-called 'City Rules' a few weeks ago and those are beyond useless.

And the book had triggered it for her in the first place, right?

"... Maybe I should let you get back to it."

"Mm... I w-wouldn't mind the company, but if you would rather..."

She returns to her book of poems for a moment, starting to read - and gets no more than a few words in before she claps her hand over her mouth audibly. Whatever she was speaking in, it wasn't English. After a few seconds, she tries again, and she gets halfway into the poem in perfect Japanese before she stops, looking down at the page, confused.

This isn't the first time Banagher has seen her. In more ways than he apparently knew. The public library was a big place, old and well-loved but maintained nicely, spanning over a good chunk of block and standing at three floors. Windows crowning the topmost level allowed natural sunlight to flood the reading areas on particularly bright afternoons, making it popular for those who just wanted a little peace and quiet. But he's seen her here and there despite its sprawling layout, never in the same armchair, or at the same genre section, never with the same books. That was the sort of person who really loved them, wasn't it?

Today it's no different, even when he's busied himself with all the extra tasks he could take. After missing one day of school and one of work thanks to the fallout from the mines — bruises, scrapes, aching muscles, a handsome scratch from cheek to ear on the left side of his face — he's feeling pretty behind.

A pride that was just as sore as his limbs not withstanding.

She must have understood that too, which brings him no real comfort. All he'd had was her voice from the network to go by, but even that was unmistakable within the confines of the mines where he'd found her as a result of something more than just an accident. It was getting stronger everyday, that ability to sense things, and people. Though he'd suffered the frustration of not having anything to fight with, at least he was able to find the safe way out, and that was all that had mattered.

An hour or two passes until he's finished up his work enough to take a break, and he finds himself wandering back to the reading room Winter had taken up residence in, two cans of lemon tea from the vending machine in hand.

The circular layout of the chairs makes him have to approach from behind, but he throws out a mild, "Hey." by way of greeting so it's not as much of a surprise when he offers her one of the teas from over the back of the chair. "Here you go."

"B-Banagher..." She hadn't expected to see him today, but she didn't mind. Someone to talk to - someone that actually understood everything that'd happened - was a valuable commodity, and she put her book down to accept the tea he'd offered. "Thank you."

A long silence; Winter looks anywhere but at Banagher, clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm... trying not to think about the other day."

"Yeah, I know," he says softly. It's about as much affirmation he can give at the moment, making his way around the circle of armchairs. Deftly he grabs a small table and pulls it up, followed by a chair of his own. "I've been the same way for the last couple of days."

Banagher minds the stacks of books already laid out across the table when he sets his tea down, dropping into a seat across from her.

"It was hard enough just trying to explain these away," he continues, thumbing through his bangs to indicate the scratch on his cheek, now healing up and dulling away. "I hope yours haven't given you too much trouble."

Winter spends a long moment looking at the scar, a little depressed. "I'm sorry. You're hurt because... I wasn't strong enough..." She sighs. "I'm c-clumsy, so I explained it away like that, but..."

Banagher casts a curious glance at her, not having expected an apology.

"Oh, no. It's fine, really!" he smiles, as a reassurance. "I was actually just happy that everyone could make it out. I think... there are ways to be strong without having to know how to fight, besides."

Granted, he can't exactly ignore that it would have been beneficial in that situation, but he and weapons still don't sit quite right.

"If you're sure... A-and I agree. Being able to fight i-isn't everything. But... in a place like that, it certainly helps."

She sighs, turning back to her book for a moment and sipping at the tea he'd brought. "I t-think I've had enough adventure for a while, though."

"You don't have to worry," Banagher says, a touch more serious. "Strength comes in a lot of different forms. Considering all of us... I'm sure that's true. Besides, you're sitting here talking to me, aren't you? That's enough."

If anything, it proved to him that his seemingly totally useless skill wasn't so passive, after all. Even if he's still having a hard time getting a good grasp on it.

"Is this the first time you've gone out since everything?"

"S-still... I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me. So I want to be able to do something. N-no matter how small," she insisted, a small fire burning in her eyes. "Y-you... understand, right?"

Surely, of any of them, he did. She had to believe that. Nobody else would understand this feeling. Certainly not her parents, who she couldn't even tell about any of this.

"I haven't... really wanted to go out before now. But if I t-tried to stay inside any longer... I'd go crazy."

He could argue all day that it was worth a few bumps and scratches if she and others got out safely, when those in his memories hadn't, but in some way it heartens him to see the same determination burning away quietly there. It prompts him to respond in kind — quickly, and stubbornly.

"I do!" Pausing, he levels his voice again. "Of course I do. I get it. How helpless you feel when you don't know what you're even capable of."

When you don't know what you are. And what good it was if it couldn't protect those closest to him.

"I know you'll find it. That kind of strength." When his smile persists, it's a touch knowing. "You didn't let everything that happened stop you from visiting, after all."

Cabin fever really was the worst.

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You saw nothing.

Certainly. I didn't see anything.

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