bulletrein

[bulletrein]

❝JUS' THAT. LET'S JUST SAY I raise my arm here, shoot ya down, you'll … wake up - days or hours later - in your bed.❞ he doesn't seek to insinuate a threat, merely acknowledging his gun-arm with a HALFHEARTED wave. ❝but it ain't without consequence, so … be careful.❞

the younger male may have been a bit of a brat, frosty in his shoulder, but he doesn't seem BAD, not giving him the same sort of vibes as folks like heidegger or rufus. protective of the hothead? perhaps just a LITTLE, he can tell that there's a storm brewing, a mess of thoughts pressed behind a furrowed brow.

it would be awfully rude of him to ask.

so he DOESN'T.

instead he's thankful about the change in conversation, more than overjoyed at something tangible to tackle. something in the present to work towards. the despair grasping at his chest is TANGIBLE, ever working at his insecurities like frozen air cutting exposed skin down into bone. it might as well be just as cold, just as scathing, his thoughts and feelings. perhaps even just as daring. but with solutions in mind, at least he could PRETEND there's a warm winter coat upon his shoulders. and hey, maybe there is hope after all. 

❝might just be the same ‘magic’,❞ cue air quotes from his one good hand. he doesn't know what it is, how to EXPLAIN it. doesn't think it is magic, but that word nevertheless feels more appropriate for unknown technology than any other he could think of. ❝- that brings us back when we die.❞ not a physical barrier at work, or a visible one at least. he's definitely PONDERING, trying to rack his brains for what he's remembered being told of in the past. ❝its this … heavy mist. like going out in a desert during a sandstorm and losing your sense of direction, except ya just get turned around back home. and fogged in the mind. 'course, that's just what i HEARD, but i doubt that so many would be lying.❞

bulletrein​:

OH, HE’S NOT KEEN ON THINKING about his captors kindly. if they didn’t grant him his abilities and equipment back in nice and pretty shape, he’d have much WORSE to say. but there’s a sense of leeway, that barret would take any opportunity he could get if given an inch. and they’ve given him not JUST an inch, but a good yard or so.

❝yeah, ain’t it a FUNNY thing to say?❞ he says, laughing at the suggestion. ❝having to pick the lesser of two evils and all that. from my understanding, they sought to get rid of us outright. none of this shit where ya come back if ya die. i’d say that’s worse … especially if ya still got HOPE.❞

hope that you escape or hope that the stars will let you go. there’s no chance in either thought kindling and blossoming if you’re DEAD. 

and it seems like this guy still has hope in spades. good. a half smile brushes against his lips. ❝the problem is, we can’t VENTURE too far from the city’s borders. if we were taken by conventional means, whatever ‘port’ they’d have is far off from here. we haven’t even seen the ENTIRE island.❞

and truth be told, he’s ITCHING to explore what they are open to. leaving is his top priority, but barret has always been bold of heart. from back when he was a child, digging around corel’s mines at far too young an age - how dyne and myrna put up with him is a miracle and a half - to his decision to face the corrupt shinra corp head on. there’s always a way, an opportunity for something beyond the SCOPE of human comfort, and for the most part, he was eager to take it head on. 

❝have ya explored BEYOND the main city? there’s a lot of … ❞ he trails off. almost calls the outer limits FUN, but the biggest part of his gut instinct suggests that it would take very few people to get this guy to have fun. he’s prickly, that’s for sure. ❝well, there’s interestin’ things out there. unusual sights. the mistwood oughta reminds me of my hometown, but every time i venture in, it feels so … WRONG.❞

This is the first time Anakin has heard that.

❝ What do you mean, you come back if you die? ❞ His eyes narrow to skeptical slits, openly dubious – but still sharp, interested. The very concept that this guy seems to be suggesting is enough to make him question whether or not he heard him right. It sounds almost like he’s implying that people… don’t truly die while imprisoned by the Stars? Anakin cannot even begin to grasp what that’s supposed to mean. Death is not simply a line drawn in the dirt that one can hop over, back and forth, on a whim.

Of course, people coming back after they supposedly die is not something unheard of; Darth Maul is a prime example. But Maul wasn’t actually dead – his death was simply assumed, which is a completely different story than what this man seems to be talking about.

In the back of his mind, a thought emerges, like an object bobbing to the surface of a lake – Ahsoka died. On Mortis, Ahsoka died. But no sooner has the thought entered his mind than he stubbornly brushes it aside. No. Ahsoka is fine. And on a place like Mortis… that was an entirely different set of circumstances.

Although Anakin is vaguely familiar with some of what lies beyond the main city, he hasn’t attempted to breach the borders. He hadn’t even known borders existed, actually, because wandering aimlessly into the wilderness beyond seemed rather counterintuitive; if a way off the planet did exist, it probably wouldn’t be in the middle of nowhere, and he’d seen no need to abandon civilization.

But the other’s words raise an interesting question – how far can people go? The fact that there’s a restriction makes the place seem even more like a prison – a fenced off area specifically for the people the Stars have uprooted from their homes. ❝ You can’t venture too far? ❞ he echoes, frowning a little. ❝ What, like it’s ray shielded or something? ❞ It’d be a rather large area to encompass within a ray shield, but presumably there’s some sort of barrier.

#pashieon #* pashieon one. #ic #queue #( oh man that quote is just so GOOD and honestly .... anakin is just so valid #i may be enjoying my time in the group but i wouldn't actually wish it on a lot of muses - #ahhh! don't fret. i am very late myself. my brain has just been ... really uncooperative for like half a year i swear )

[bulletrein]

HE DELIBERATES HIS OWN RESPONSE, CHEWING on his noodles thoughtfully. the response is … more worrying than he liked, but the pit in his stomach doesn't grow near as much as he EXPECTED. perhaps it is the atmosphere, PLEASANT, it may be, the warmth that keeps him from losing his damn mind. or maybe eiden is just that perfectly, DELIGHTFULLY easygoing. 

❝well… that's good enough for me, i guess,❞ he says, somehow not really seeming fully convinced. oh, it would be nice if TRUE rebellion was attainable, but without the masses to spark the flame … he shakes his head. time to put those thoughts aside. ❝as long as there's no … crazy event where they decide to … turn 'em into zombies or whatever. don't think i have the HEART to treat 'em as less than human.❞

bulletrein​:

❝SO THAT’S YER SECRET, EH?❞ HE can’t help but wonder if anyone has said that about seventh heaven in particular; tifa’s and his business produced many a HAPPY customer in their time, but the need for a low profile kept the pair from sector-wide success. eyes glance out his own window as he settles in ; perhaps one day, when all this is over … his palm squeezes his leg.

there may NOT be a ‘when all this is over.’

gaze turns towards eiden, thankful for the VEIL of mystery - the shield of emotion - his sunglasses provide. ❝i admit i haven’t SPOKEN much to any of the locals. dunno if i can say that i’ve settled down yet.❞

“ Hehe. I’ve been volunteering around– there’s cool little places all over – I’m pretty good at adjusting really, so it’s probably just my personality… “

“ But hey! You’ve got a friend now! Even if I’m not really a local haha. “

#kleinstar #* kleinstar one. #ic #queue

[bulletrein]

❝AH, WELL, AIN'T THAT AN EXPLANATION for your hesitance.❞ lips tug in a sheepish expression. he was not an interrogator, but a part of him felt like such. a little too HARSH, perhaps. when so much of his life hinges upon his morals and his guilt, he can't help but feel self conscious once the DUST settles. 

despite deciding not to pry overmuch, the blonde continues to speak and further explain himself. barret is SILENT as he listens, a moral dilemma all but weighing heavier and heavier upon his shoulders with every word. the gunman can not simply speak of good or bad, not when the matters of the stranger receiving sustenance is concerned. it would be EASY to cause a scene, to point the finger of blame, but it isn't his nature to go after the little guy, not when there's bigger, TOOTHIER fish to fry.

❝mm, alrigh',❞ he finally says, perhaps not sounding as thrilled as he probably SHOULD sound. it still is somewhat of an uphill climb meeting strangers from worlds not his own, with thought after thought rushing in indiscriminately. a FIRM gaze into the blonde's eyes - he's been considered to be a DECENT judge of character, and he doesn't see any bad. barret exhales a sigh. ❝sorry, i just don't think i've ever met a vampire before.❞

he mulls over his words, deciding to toss aside any 'what-ifs' for now. ❝ya know, the big soup pot replenishes on its own to the point that i don't even THINK they care 'bout greedy bellies.❞ he still isn't certain whether the other COULD eat without sickness, but that doesn't actually matter to the point he wants to make. ❝what i mean is that i'm sure that someone here can help willingly.❞

perhaps he shouldn't speak of such assurances when he knows not if he can truly stand by them. is hope a TERRIBLE thing if you know not if you could hold true to it? his spoon idly stirs the soup round and round. in truth, he doesn't understand why the city wouldn't provide. after all, the citizens all live within a state of PURGATORY, day in and day out, forced to survive until the stars simply grow tired of them and spit them out. to force someone to starve under this rule seems to be an UNNECESSARY knife in the ribs, added for no good reason.

 ❝the star trail has a variety of foods, and i hear there's some UNUSUAL offerings, and cotes is full of non human critters, mayhaps even an undead or two. … so uh, don't sweat it. we're all STUCK in this shit hole together, yeah?❞

SUSPICIOUS, THE STRANGER IS, BUT NOT necessarily in a way that suggests insidious intent. barret mentally backpedals before he jumps to conclusions - some people just DIDN’T like soup. no big deal. spirale lacks the cutthroat edge that midgar held, even on the best of days. barret smiles a slight thing, grip on the canister closer to his own chest. ❝well … suit yourself. ya know where to go if ya CHANGE your mind.❞ a quirk of the head back towards the gathering crowd in the area. a mild suspicion or no, he wasn’t going to drag the blonde around — he already stands out PLENTY as it is.

satisfied with the answer, he’s on the CUSP of leaving. that little inkling of suspicion gives way to curiosity. but barret pauses on the turn of a heel, head tilting at a slight angle. ❝y'don’t eat, huh?❞ this could be a dangerous train of thought he’s going down - curiosity ending the life of a cat - but he pushes through. nothing ventured, nothing gained. ❝well … what is it that ya need? does the city PROVIDE it for ya? seems a bit insensitive to put up these big soup kitchens an’ not offer anything for ya.❞

carefully cupping his bowl, barret almost feels guilty about taking a drink in this moment. maybe i should just go … but there’s one thing he wants to make clear. this guy, even if he isn’t hungry, looks worse for wear, and it wouldn’t be right for barret to go on and act like there’s nothing wrong at all. he shakes his head. ❝ya do look a bit down. i’ll be sitting NEARBY if ya need to talk.❞ 

it is as much of an INVITATION as he’s willing to offer, determined not to push his luck too much. he sits down, choosing a nearby bench to rest. the holidays, aren’t they supposed to be about good cheer? 

#feistyvampire #* feistyvampire one. #ic #queue #( im worried of it being a problem on my end somehow???? tumblr is such a BAD - #also i can't trim properly 😬😬😬😬 i am the cringest person here - #edgar is a darling proud of him being open #not sure whether this tag would be aprops but just in case ... ) #meal skipping cw

[bulletrein]

YOU'VE GOT A FRIEND NOW! HE says, as if barret didn't almost break his bones. and to that, the older man is certainly THANKFUL. it wouldn't be smart to make enemies in a strange island full of grave dangers and vile acts. the generosity, coupled with the taste of the soup really warm his HEART.

❝truth be told - i'm a bit worried 'bout the locals. a lotta times, they don't even feel REAL. ya spend more time 'round them, whaddya think?❞ try as he might to simply relax, old habits and an inquisitive nature still REIGN over his head.

bulletrein​:

❝SO THAT’S YER SECRET, EH?❞ HE can’t help but wonder if anyone has said that about seventh heaven in particular; tifa’s and his business produced many a HAPPY customer in their time, but the need for a low profile kept the pair from sector-wide success. eyes glance out his own window as he settles in ; perhaps one day, when all this is over … his palm squeezes his leg.

there may NOT be a ‘when all this is over.’

gaze turns towards eiden, thankful for the VEIL of mystery - the shield of emotion - his sunglasses provide. ❝i admit i haven’t SPOKEN much to any of the locals. dunno if i can say that i’ve settled down yet.❞

“ Hehe. I’ve been volunteering around– there’s cool little places all over – I’m pretty good at adjusting really, so it’s probably just my personality… “

“ But hey! You’ve got a friend now! Even if I’m not really a local haha. “

#kleinstar #* kleinstar one. #ic #queue

[bulletrein]

BARRET WAITS WITH BATED BREATH FOR a response, only feeling the tension uncoiling from his spine and belly upon hearing one. stuck is manageable. stuck could be worked around and APPEALED to. at the very least, the city would send nabor back to his own bed at the worst possible outcome. for all his credit, barret still responds as if his companion's life is PRECIOUS. 

❝ya hurt at all? i can EASE the pain.❞ he speak calmly, keeping hands to himself. a RASH decision would not be the end of nabor if he could at all help it. ❝i ain't seeing any sign of a potential COLLAPSE from my end, so that's good at least.❞ patrolling feet as he mulls over his thoughts. ❝we're gonna get ya out. just keep bein' PATIENT.❞

bulletrein​:

INSTINCT BEGS HIM TO CHECK ON his companion, but he holds his ground. in the heat of battle, he becomes more of a LIABILITY if he simply watches and observes or focuses on a healing hand when all his strengths lie in the offensive. it is only when he’s addressed DIRECTLY that his head snaps up, gun-arm gripped tightly. 

❝i -— right! right! let’s GO!❞ he sputters, not trying to find an argument in the middle of this. 

there’s too much stress, too much EDGE clinging to the grit of his teeth. boots scatter plaster and rubble with a resounding crunch. he can see just enough at his forefront, arm outstretched just enough to feel the hem of nabor’s robes fluttering against his fingertips. so close … so CLOSE … 

barret isn’t too much of a fool to not know what nabor is doing. not only that, he’s FAMILIAR with the methodology too. collapse tunnels, pave the way forward. but this isn’t the mines of his hometown, but a beautifully crafted house of the arts. 

he’d find it funny if he wasn’t too SCARED to just barely hold on by the skin of his teeth. 

behind him, his world rumbles. clouds of dust and debris rise around his form, cloaking and covering him with the results of their labor. he coughs, gazing through the HAZE for any signs of life …

❝hey big guy, ya made it SAFELY?❞

▄▀  — He’s awake, and whether that is a blessing or a curse, Nabor couldn’t tell. Dust of his spell merge so intimately with crushed rock, anima hanging in the air like a choking cloud. It’s dark, it’s trapped, it’s a memory of demons haunting blood-ridden halls. Nabor takes a breath, relieved to hear the muffled sound of his companion over layers of concrete. Even better, he hears nothing else except settling rock and rubble, the statues destroyed so thoroughly they ought to be at peace, for a time.

“I’m alright,” he calls out, tugging his arm out from under a broken support beam. A few pushes at the rocks over him, and he begins to mull over the next few steps. There was, now, no rush at all. “Stuck. More fell than… expected.”

#psychiatriae #* psychiatriae two. #event: canvas #canvas: part two #ic #queue

[bulletrein]

WHEN BEING TOLD TO NOT DO something, FIRST instinct is to do it, but even louder. a rebellious sort through and through, one would easily point to barret as a TROUBLEMAKER in a crowded room, not that his stature and firearm - two permanent fixtures - helps any. but he's still got SENSE and self control. it may not be all too much, but he's still holding on.

barret is still PROTECTIVE when he huddles over gaster --- like the shield that he is. the world may rattle and shake like a petulant toddler gripping tight of the rattle with a pudgy hand, but he would not grant the spirit the SATISFACTION of budging. climbing the ladder was a far more horrific thing to suffer. 

deep breaths. deep breaths. their surroundings may SHUDDER and splutter with fantastic petulance, but he grits his teeth, snatching the bag of salt with HARDLY a grunt in irritation. hooking the bag to a fixture upon his gun-arm, he's all too aware of just how little time they actually HAVE. intuition is a pure driving force behind his actions as he tosses, salt flying upon the heavier of the objects in the room. a television would hit HARDER than a sad little rubbish bin or a discarded cardboard box, after all.

bulletrein​:

❝DON’T MAKE ME TOSS YA…❞ HE murmurs through clenched teeth. while gaster still has yet to PROVOKE the same reactions that cloud did upon their first meeting, barret can’t say he likes being ORDERED around. up rickety ladders or over mildewy floors, this isn’t like him at all. this REALLY isn’t like him at all.

he’s sulking, but he listens. eyes WANDER over their surroundings and for a moment, he can bask in the still SILENCE. perhaps this is just an elaborate prank or a false alarm, and he can return downstairs without a moment’s notice.

until gaster starts rummaging through his bag. ❝what the -? what’s goin’ on?❞ he whispers, following the trail of LIGHT with his eyes. the boxes in the corner wobble the moment he lays eyes on them. barret turns, scowling at the monster. ❝safer my ass - that shit’s shaking more than a DERAILED train.❞

why me??? he thinks, but wisely holds back his grousing and swears. gaster would likely just tell him to hurry up again if he DID speak up. angry spirit or no, he chooses to hold a defensible position. hand grips the barrel of his gun, but he doesn’t raise it. he holds his position - TAUT as a bowstring.

∃【☝✌💧❄☜☼】 ─  “Do not make such a racket, you will make it even angrier.” A wave of his hand, and Gaster gestures his companion to stay close as he lays down a strange little contraption, set between them amongst a bed of salt. Silently, he raises some fingers, counting down, 3, 2, 1… He presses a button, it whirs to life- CRASH.

A box flies overhead, splintering against the wall over their shoulders. Gaster clutches tight against his chest, instinct overriding as he huddles closer to the little machine, shards of wood tapping against the floor in a rhythm that fell discordant against the other rattling boxes.

“Ah- I did not expect a poltergeist!” Enthusiasm had leached itself from his voice, replaced by genuine terror as he scrambled for his bag, searching for anything to calm the hectic situation. The ghost couldn’t get to them now, but objects could. “Here-” He hands off a bag of salt, not even looking up once to see if his companion was in any position to catch it. “Help me scatter it around, but try to stay close to this…” A tap upon the strange box. “It cannot get you when we are near here, but it will use anything that is not salted!”

#scirephysica #* scirephysica two. #event: maskerade festival #ic #queue

[bulletrein]

THIS CONVERSATION ISN'T PARTICULARLY ONE HE expected or intended to have, but at the risk of thinking DRAMATICALLY, he's been through much worse. barret is confident that it all will smooth over and his tongue won't feel so thick in his mouth. instead, his thoughts hang HEAVIER than the thick snowfall blanketing the city. there's no room for apologies and fumbling.

❝shit. ya got me there. guess that's the PRICE to pay …❞ for having all these thoughts and feelings wriggling about. almost INEVITABLE. those words are strangely comforting. i am not alone, he thinks. he may not know where THIS one stands, but he's not alone. ❝if this is a simulation though, gotta say, it's a damn GOOD one. real good.❞ a stray snowflake falls, melting into his palm. ❝we may think too much - but i ain't gonna DWELL on that possibility. it hurts being away from friends, but it is better to think that i actually HAVE them.❞

being alone … may as well be WORTH it. 

bulletrein​:

PERHAPS HE SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED A genuine response to his quiet outburst. after all, he didn’t even THINK to keep his mouth shut. a puff of air exhales from his lips in a cloud when he sighs. ❝NEVER been a pro at keepin’ my mouth shut,❞ he responds, in lieu of an apology, as though his sadness has somehow RUINED the sanctity of the holiday.

but he doesn’t hide the SHEEPISH smile that touches his lips. it is what it is. 

❝oh yeah? so where ya come from, its this festive … we didn’ have a christmas.❞ and yet, he’s caught the buzz, like an infection. the world isn’t just big, it is MASSIVE, far larger than any world he could have IMAGINED. and yet … ❝yeah, ya ain’t wrong … these holidays ain’t gonna walk ‘way from us. but sometimes i think - am i SELFISH for wantin’ company? is it bad to hope? we humans … think too much.❞

‘Genuine’ was perhaps only half-correct, but neither of them should or could remark upon that unspoken sentiment at this point. No apologies needed, either, for the man in the neon green glasses clearly didn’t need nor expect one.

Nor would he give one for butting into the other man’s business.

“I wasn’t really one for holidays for a long time. Any of them - and there are many.” That had changed, and then changed again.

“Humans do think too much, but it’s not just humans. Anything with the capability to think at all thinks too much. It’s almost inevitable. Consider, here, and now. We could simply be programs uploaded into a simulation, and yet here we are - having conversations about how humans are naturally dispositioned toward wanting company during times of year that we invented.”

#pyuupyuu #* pyuupyuu one. #ic #queue #( as someone who can also talk too much ... i support barret. )

[bulletrein]

INSTINCT BEGS HIM TO CHECK ON his companion, but he holds his ground. in the heat of battle, he becomes more of a LIABILITY if he simply watches and observes or focuses on a healing hand when all his strengths lie in the offensive. it is only when he's addressed DIRECTLY that his head snaps up, gun-arm gripped tightly. 

❝i -— right! right! let's GO!❞ he sputters, not trying to find an argument in the middle of this. 

there's too much stress, too much EDGE clinging to the grit of his teeth. boots scatter plaster and rubble with a resounding crunch. he can see just enough at his forefront, arm outstretched just enough to feel the hem of nabor's robes fluttering against his fingertips. so close … so CLOSE … 

barret isn't too much of a fool to not know what nabor is doing. not only that, he's FAMILIAR with the methodology too. collapse tunnels, pave the way forward. but this isn't the mines of his hometown, but a beautifully crafted house of the arts. 

he'd find it funny if he wasn't too SCARED to just barely hold on by the skin of his teeth. 

behind him, his world rumbles. clouds of dust and debris rise around his form, cloaking and covering him with the results of their labor. he coughs, gazing through the HAZE for any signs of life …

❝hey big guy, ya made it SAFELY?❞

bulletrein​:

INTERESTING, HUH? NOW WHAT IN THE hell is so interesting about THAT? the gunman feels words dance upon the tip of his tongue, but wisely enough chooses to hold them at bay. for as much as he wants to inquire and share, there’s PRESSING matters at hand that demand their current attention. the stranger has enough cunning and skill to match the best of them — and really, isn’t that ALL that matters in the heat of battle?

the smokescreen is nothing new, a moment passing where his nose pulls inwards. features choose to feast eyes upon DELICATE infrastructure. he’d be a fool not to notice the care put into this building; for as much bluster the stars put in their own superiority, one could still be BEHOLDEN to pride. the toe of his boot brushes against the foundations of one of the pillars; to most pairs of eyes, there likely wouldn’t be much to see, but he could tell - the museum wasn’t built for WAR.

the heft of his weapon is tested with a heavy palm as his surroundings melt away. it isn’t about nabor, isn’t about wizardry. as the DISORIENTED lumbering of the statues trawl towards his target, barret narrows his eyes and fires —- ❝damn, well ain’t they a bit too CLOSE to comfort,❞ he all but swears up and down. rubble creaks and shudders under the weight of his blasts, hoping that would be ENOUGH for now.

▄▀  — It isn’t enough. Nabor quickly realises this as a hand lashes through the smoke, rocks snatching at the hem of his robes far too close for comfort. A fumble, a fall, and he rolls behind the damaged pillars, entities still sharp on his tail. Not enough, perhaps, but as claws graze the crumbling plaster, a plan B came swiftly to mind.

“Get out of this wing, now!” He calls through the blinding fog. Hand raises, and the air churns like a storm, smoke parting a route for his companion to follow his direction. Another swiping hand, he ducks under the statues and rounds them deeper in the smoke. Still, their stomps rattle the ceiling, dust and chips clattering behind his every step. It was now or never, and if Barrett wasn’t out by now, well-

Nabor returns to the broken pillars, eyeing the statues that rumble towards him. Claws flash amidst the dissipating smoke, and he swipes poor construction with precision. Up, across, and one more- Patterns devised from years underground, the pillars are left unstable and, with one decisive dive, he leaves the statues to slam into their inevitable demise. And yet, as he glances back to the wing’s entrance, he has only a breath before-

CRASH.

#psychiatriae #* psychiatriae two. #event: canvas #canvas: part two #ic #queue

[bulletrein]

❝SO THAT'S YER SECRET, EH?❞ HE can't help but wonder if anyone has said that about seventh heaven in particular; tifa's and his business produced many a HAPPY customer in their time, but the need for a low profile kept the pair from sector-wide success. eyes glance out his own window as he settles in ; perhaps one day, when all this is over … his palm squeezes his leg.

there may NOT be a ‘when all this is over.’

gaze turns towards eiden, thankful for the VEIL of mystery - the shield of emotion - his sunglasses provide. ❝i admit i haven't SPOKEN much to any of the locals. dunno if i can say that i've settled down yet.❞

bulletrein​:

❝YEAH, YA COULD SAY THAT - WHERE i came from, it seems like ya can’t stop movin’-❞ like a train ride that simply WOULDN’T stop. there’s more — of course there’s more — but he’s too candid to speak of his emotions FREELY.

THANKFUL for the alcohol, he nods. ❝that sounds good.❞ sitting in the corner, it gives him a VANTAGE point, makes him less noticeable. and gives him a chance to watch for danger.

he gulps, already swallowing a bit of his drink. gods, i need to relax.

❝it really does smell FANTASTIC,❞ he admits. even in his high strung, vigilant way, he can enjoy some comforts. a grin moseys upon his lips. ❝ya got a nose for GOOD food, yeah?❞

Eiden slips into his seat, settling all comfortable on the sofa seat, glancing out of the window as he does. It’s fun to look on people passing by, Eiden’s always liked people watching (spotting hot guy’s definitely a bonus too). 

“ Mm? “

“ Oh you need to listen to locals with this kind of stuff! They know good places that might not be on the internet and all… Well… This one is but yeah. “

#kleinstar #* kleinstar one. #ic #queue

[bulletrein]

SUSPICIOUS, THE STRANGER IS, BUT NOT necessarily in a way that suggests insidious intent. barret mentally backpedals before he jumps to conclusions - some people just DIDN'T like soup. no big deal. spirale lacks the cutthroat edge that midgar held, even on the best of days. barret smiles a slight thing, grip on the canister closer to his own chest. ❝well … suit yourself. ya know where to go if ya CHANGE your mind.❞ a quirk of the head back towards the gathering crowd in the area. a mild suspicion or no, he wasn't going to drag the blonde around — he already stands out PLENTY as it is.

satisfied with the answer, he's on the CUSP of leaving. that little inkling of suspicion gives way to curiosity. but barret pauses on the turn of a heel, head tilting at a slight angle. ❝y'don't eat, huh?❞ this could be a dangerous train of thought he's going down - curiosity ending the life of a cat - but he pushes through. nothing ventured, nothing gained. ❝well … what is it that ya need? does the city PROVIDE it for ya? seems a bit insensitive to put up these big soup kitchens an' not offer anything for ya.❞

carefully cupping his bowl, barret almost feels guilty about taking a drink in this moment. maybe i should just go … but there's one thing he wants to make clear. this guy, even if he isn't hungry, looks worse for wear, and it wouldn't be right for barret to go on and act like there's nothing wrong at all. he shakes his head. ❝ya do look a bit down. i'll be sitting NEARBY if ya need to talk.❞ 

it is as much of an INVITATION as he's willing to offer, determined not to push his luck too much. he sits down, choosing a nearby bench to rest. the holidays, aren't they supposed to be about good cheer? 

HE ISN’T ONE TO FRET OUTWARDLY and overmuch in regards to the wellness of strangers, but he’s not callous enough to ignore their plights either. that’s what made avalanche so DIFFICULT at times, that even with his strong belief, he wondered just how far he’d push himself. now though, he could afford more than a modicum of kindness, now, there’s NOTHING to hide. peering over the rim of heavy sunglasses, hard perceptive gaze watches fellow citizens about their day. … only to FALTER at the sight of a seemingly exhausted individual.

eyes lower back to the soup he’s pouring - he wouldn’t say no to FREE soup at the hands of their captors with their seemingly unlimited resources - before smiling. a slight little thing. ❝hey, ya hungry? they got free meals for us - SHOCKER. i know.❞

@feistyvampire liked for a starter.

#feistyvampire #* feistyvampire one. #ic #queue #( ayyy that's alright. I know the holidays are busy for all of us #hopefully youre having fun at least ^^ )

[bulletrein]

❝WHY - OF COURSE IT'D MATTER. FLOWERS ain't never growing in this ward - ❞

yet pleas fall on deaf ears, or PERHAPS they come too late in the face of the rather hasty teenager. hand retreats, fingers curling inwards, as pollen scatters in the air. to the robotic being, it was a mere DECORATION, but to barret, it almost feels like a defense mechanism. his hand covers his nose and mouth as he GLARES. 

❝do ya normally run into situations with NO BRAIN between ya skull and ya finger on the trigger? damn, what the HELL would ya have done if it actually ATTACKED back?❞ is it his imagination, or is his tongue looser than usual?

bulletrein​:

FLOWERS IN FIBONACCI, WHAT A REMARKABLE rare sight. eyes flutter, gaze practically SEARCHING and sweeping over what he thought was just barren concrete and loose gravel the night before. but instead of mankind’s wicked grasp, nature has grown —- a promise or a THREAT? flowers may be more of aerith’s thing, but hasn’t this been what he’s fought for back in midgar? so why is he so NERVOUS? he crouches down - gently before one particularly large flower.

❝h-hey … maybe we SHOULDN’T be stepping all over these lil’ guys.❞

“Why does it matter?” 

A loud metal clang of Bass’ boot should have made it a pressed flower in an instant–yet when he lifts it away, it stands perfectly fine. 

“See? It’s fine. They’re probably just some dumb decoration the stars put everywhere. Unless you think they’re attached to something…in that case…” 

BLAM!

A blaster shot razes a basketball-sized burn into the concrete…and every flower in it’s way is untouched. Bass lowers his cannon and scans around. 

Nothing happens. Just the kicking up of pollen to the air. 

“Lame.” 

#notyourforte #* notyourforte one. #event: a crocus among us #ic #queue #( i did not realise how much i needed a barret to interact w/ a mega man character until now - #bass honey you scrunkly lad .. what have you dONE )

[bulletrein]

❝OH, TRUST ME, I'M AWARE OF that by now,❞ he responds flatly.

he prods badou inwards with a single, GENTLE nudge. perhaps eager to place this whole ordeal behind them once and FOR ALL.

❝go on, pick a seat - anything to keep your complaints at a minimum. lord knows ya ain't FOND of my jokes.❞

bulletrein​:

HE JUST HATES THE CONFUSION, THE feeling of the world he knows changing before his eyes. it is one thing for there to be a barret from another world, something else ENTIRELY for him to be labeled as a possible fake. and the other him lives a far more fantastic life than he could EVER dream up.

and he CAN’T even be mad at badou over it all.

❝yeah, actually. so p'haps it may not be in your BEST interest t’ come here often,❞ he jests, holding open the door. ❝least i got an IDEA of the best things t’ have.❞

Badou rolls his eye, and ducks through the door.

“You couldn’t pay me to come over here more than just to make sure nothing weird’s going on.”

At least it smells amazing in here. Bustling dishes and servers, happy faces.

#baddestdangerboy #* baddestdangerboy four. #event: subsistence #ic #queue

[bulletrein]

❝YEAH, YA COULD SAY THAT - WHERE i came from, it seems like ya can't stop movin'-❞ like a train ride that simply WOULDN'T stop. there's more — of course there's more — but he's too candid to speak of his emotions FREELY.

THANKFUL for the alcohol, he nods. ❝that sounds good.❞ sitting in the corner, it gives him a VANTAGE point, makes him less noticeable. and gives him a chance to watch for danger.

he gulps, already swallowing a bit of his drink. gods, i need to relax.

❝it really does smell FANTASTIC,❞ he admits. even in his high strung, vigilant way, he can enjoy some comforts. a grin moseys upon his lips. ❝ya got a nose for GOOD food, yeah?❞

bulletrein​:

❝YEAH, UH, SORRY. HABIT,❞ HE SAYS with a scratch to the back of his skull. barret has always focused on moving fast —- in the last few years at a FRIGHTENING pace. there’s no time to breathe when your entire life could be on the line.

and, well, he’s certainly THANKFUL for his speed in this case! despite the cashier’s patience, he focuses on the menu. INTENT on taking as little time as possible. 

❝oh, ahh- i’m barret,❞ he responds with MILD embarrassment, hastily turning his eyes from the displays. ❝i’d like one of the spicy beef ones - beer too.❞

this isn’t how he would have LIKED introductions to go and perhaps he’d choose a different meal under different circumstances, but well, he also didn’t expect the thief to get away from his GRASP, either.

“ Hehe. Always in rush eh? On feet and thought both “, Eiden laughs, “ it’s all good though. “

“ I’m Eiden! “

He shoots one more disarmingly bright smile to cashier’s direction grabbing the soon handed beers and the table number cards. Quick glance at the tables Eiden makes a swift decision.

“  How about that one on the corner over there? By the window. They say the pay’s done after eating.“

#kleinstar #* kleinstar one. #ic #queue #( tyty you're too kind )

[bulletrein]

FLOWERS IN FIBONACCI, WHAT A REMARKABLE rare sight. eyes flutter, gaze practically SEARCHING and sweeping over what he thought was just barren concrete and loose gravel the night before. but instead of mankind's wicked grasp, nature has grown —- a promise or a THREAT? flowers may be more of aerith's thing, but hasn't this been what he's fought for back in midgar? so why is he so NERVOUS? he crouches down - gently before one particularly large flower.

❝h-hey … maybe we SHOULDN'T be stepping all over these lil' guys.❞

#isola mini #event: a crocus among us #( way to make him feel conflicted .... #didnt feel like making an ad since i just made one )

[bulletrein]

PERHAPS HE SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED A genuine response to his quiet outburst. after all, he didn't even THINK to keep his mouth shut. a puff of air exhales from his lips in a cloud when he sighs. ❝NEVER been a pro at keepin' my mouth shut,❞ he responds, in lieu of an apology, as though his sadness has somehow RUINED the sanctity of the holiday.

but he doesn't hide the SHEEPISH smile that touches his lips. it is what it is. 

❝oh yeah? so where ya come from, its this festive ... we didn' have a christmas.❞ and yet, he's caught the buzz, like an infection. the world isn't just big, it is MASSIVE, far larger than any world he could have IMAGINED. and yet … ❝yeah, ya ain't wrong … these holidays ain't gonna walk 'way from us. but sometimes i think - am i SELFISH for wantin' company? is it bad to hope? we humans … think too much.❞

IT REALLY ISN'T SOMETHING HE'S GROWN used to. any of it. the cold, long nights and constant snowfall is one thing, the overwhelming loneliness is ANOTHER. no matter how long time has passed, it doesn't get any EASIER. 

eyes watch a STRANGER, busy hanging up their fairy lights and decorations. a frozen chill strikes him, digging claws deep into the muscles of his shoulders and VICIOUSLY tugging. it isn't even near as cold as it will get by the end of december. -- and isn't even near as festive. but just one sign of the holiday season can leave him REELING. a punch to the gut.

he sighs. ❝she woulda LOVED this.❞

#pyuupyuu #* pyuupyuu one. #ic #queue #( that is extremely fair. i too would come running to barret's side ... #let us ignore that it is technically my fault that he needs comforting 🤭 )

[bulletrein]

HE ISN'T ONE TO FRET OUTWARDLY and overmuch in regards to the wellness of strangers, but he's not callous enough to ignore their plights either. that's what made avalanche so DIFFICULT at times, that even with his strong belief, he wondered just how far he'd push himself. now though, he could afford more than a modicum of kindness, now, there's NOTHING to hide. peering over the rim of heavy sunglasses, hard perceptive gaze watches fellow citizens about their day. … only to FALTER at the sight of a seemingly exhausted individual.

eyes lower back to the soup he's pouring - he wouldn't say no to FREE soup at the hands of their captors with their seemingly unlimited resources - before smiling. a slight little thing. ❝hey, ya hungry? they got free meals for us - SHOCKER. i know.❞

@feistyvampire liked for a starter.

#feistyvampire #* feistyvampire one. #ic #queue #( i hope this works for you!! )

[bulletrein]

BARRET COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT INCONVENIENCING their captors, not one bit, but he isn't here by himself. he's STUCK here with hundreds of other poor saps. he's patient, but patience doesn't last FOREVER. 

metal baubles CLINK as he puts down the box he's carefully cradled all this time.

❝hey now - are ya tryin' t' CLIMB all o' that?❞ he sighs. she looks familiar, but not enough for him to shirk suspicion ENTIRELY. ❝if ya goin' to decorate, ya don't need t' go make a SCENE.❞

@anarchyengaiged liked for a starter.

#anarchyengaiged #* anarchyengaiged two. #ic #queue #( hope this works fine for you o/ )