come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( oh.

look, it would be absolutely stupid not to acknowledge the fact mizuki was different than most people she'd met. not on the basis of being a cannibalistic jellyfish (terrifying, not healthy, but still one of the less prevalent parts of his personality). but clarke had admittedly chalked a lot of that up to childhood trauma and becoming a weird hand puppet for the fabled doctor he'd talked about so much. she'd met people indoctrinated into a specific way of thinking, or set upon a specific path by someone else. ontari had murdered a room full of children and forcibly taken over a throne after the ice queen had been killed, at least mizuki wasn't on a baby killing rampage...

but there was still a disconnect between them. some things about one another they'd never completely agree upon. some moments where mizuki's antics have gotten so far under her skin that she's outright sent him away...

but not right? that doesn't sound incredibly accurate. )

...Are you sick?

[ He shakes his head. Realistically, it's not something he wants to talk about, like, at all. Mizuki has always thought himself to be a good person. Maybe a little misunderstood, and maybe a little immature, but a good person. Not a hero, because he'll never be able to make decisions like Clarke. But that's the thing, isn't it? That he can't make decisions. That being presented with things that need an observant, rational mind makes Mizuki just shut down. He has that urge to listen to the valiant and brave, and ignore whatever is rumbling around in his own head because none of it made any sense.

He inhales slowly through his nose, then out through his mouth. But now? He has to admit that he's not a good person. No, quite the opposite, he's in fact part of the very vile people he detests so much. Those monsters that deserve to be eaten and rid of from the world. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't hungry for it, even now. But he has people around to keep him from doing anything drastic. For now, anyway. ]

No. I'm just... [ … ] Can I tell you a little bit about my world, before I get into it?

( there really is quite the buildup to the entirety of this reveal, and clarke's absolutely looking at mizuki like he's about to fall over or vomit. concern etches her features, maybe a hint of alarm, but at least for now no horror or disgust. curiosity is there too, in the purse of her lips and the way she crowds forward like she means to put a hand on his arm and squeeze — before remembering that, yanno. she still felt like shit. )

Sure. Tell me anything, but — should we sit?

[ He goes to say he's okay, but vaguely stops himself to nod instead. Actually, it's better they do. Even if Clarke wants to leave afterwards and shove their relationship off a moving train after this, he'd… be devasted, sure, but it's understandable. It's not like something like this should be hidden from someone he cares so much about.

But he doesn't actually move all that far from where they currently are, just finding something to lean up against and sitting on the ground like an idiot and looking up at Clarke so she'll join him. ]

( faintly, she desires a table here. like when they'd sat near but diagonally separated from each other in the buffet, stuffing their faces with undercooked or excessively greasy meat and discussing the finer points of cannibalism, society, and god killing. but actively acknowledging she misses life on the ship feels like a primal sort of betrayal to her own standards, and thus clarke will make the best out of sitting on the ground.

mizuki chooses to slot his back against some sort of structure, let's say it's the outside of their cabin, and she considers leaning against the rough wood paneling beside him, but ultimately sits down on her knees directly in front of him. folds her hands in her bare lap, but ready to reach out to mizuki if the mood took a steep emotional dive off a cliff. )

[ Well, he's already been metaphorically tearing himself up about this for a while, so it's unlikely he'll spiral too much. Hopefully, anyway. Really, there's no telling, since Clarke is… well, she could say something that might change that. Or just leave. She could just leave. And while Mizuki knows that's a possibility, he isn't prepared for it in the slightest. Fortunately, he gets to start with the easy part. ]

I brought this up briefly, when we discussed gods, but... I'm gonna say it again, with a little more detail, if that's alright. My race — other Aegir, from both the country of Aegir and the country of Iberia, are at war with another race or… species of beings known as Seaborns, or "Sea Terrors". They are highly adaptable creatures, evolving rapidly into forms that best suit their environment. The ones closer to civilization can look like plants or birds or even humanoid. The ones deeper under Terra's oceans look much more… eldritch in nature.

[ Inky, black, horrifying. You know. The works. He doesn't bring this up yet, though. ]

They lack individuality because they share a hivemind with Genesezoic, or the Seaborn God. It's at the bottom of the ocean, in the deepest reaches of Terra's waters. [ … ] It's asleep now. As I said before, a team of Aegir-Seaborn hybrids were dispatched to "kill" it, but gods in my world cannot be killed as far as we're aware. So it is just asleep for now.

… Those hunters, the Aegir-Seaborn hybrids, were genetically modified. The amount of Seaborn blood they have in them is just enough for them to pinpoint other Seaborns. Just enough to give them Seaborn strength and senses and adaptability. They're heroes and… don't have to worry about Genesezoic's influence because they were heavily monitored and such after being modified. [ … ] For a while, I was told I wasn't allowed to meet them, despite my excitement to. I didn't try to, even if they were heroes. But I think I know why I wasn't able to.

[ He pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them. ]

But, like I said, hybrids like that can sense other Seaborns, so… of course I wasn't allowed near them. It's because my doctors knew that I was also a hybrid…

[ … ]

Clarke, I'm a monster.

( honestly, what is it with all of her friends insisting they were monsters?

like they're some foreign species, and inherently filthy just for the lives the live, the manifestation of what they are, or the things they've had to do. bellamy's considered himself on since before he ever properly killed a man, natsuno wears the title like a shroud to obscure all the good parts of his soul just because he was a vampire, and then there's mizuki...

clarke listens intently to every word that falls from his lips, and tries her hardest to understand. not just comprehend, but understand. he's deserving of that much, even if the finer points of his world and circumstances are still beyond the scope of her mind. a hivemind isn't a new concept for her, when a.l.i.e. had sought to bring souls to the city of light by forcing them to ingest microchips, every participant had shared the same consciousness — raven reyes had looked her in the face and thrown weaknesses only her mother knew in her face. genetic modification, like what becca franco had implemented to allow humanity to survive above ground after the first deathwave. like what clarke had done to herself in an attempt to survive the second.

hybrids.

monsters.

terrifying things in theory. but he curls into himself so tightly and really just looks like a child in this moment. )

...hey.

( one word, a soft summoning meant to drag mizuki from his self deprecating reverie and demand he look at her. then she's reaching out one hand, palm up and suspended halfway between the two of them. a litany of absolution rests on her tongue, but she's not saying another word until he takes her hand and lets her squeeze his fingers. )

[ Sounds like maybe Clarke just needs to stop surrounding herself with monsters.

Really, it's on Mizuki for, you know, outright saying it like that. It's not entirely fair. He's not a complete monster. Just some gross amalgamation of one. He's not sure how much. He wasn't made this way in a lab. He's not sure what caused it, really, but it certainly wasn't a natural way. Thus, it's safe to assume that he's got quite a lot of it inside of him. Especially if the other hybrids aren't anything like him, and could instantly ping him as a "full" Seaborn just from being in the same room as them.

…

He picks his head up a little, but stays huddled. He doesn't take her hand, but does vaguely reach one of his own out. All the same, he keeps smiling. ]

I'm alright. I'm just letting you know, y'know? I think it's kind of something important to make those important to me aware of, ehe. [ Everyone had taken it very well so far. Venti was the one who helped him figure it out. And Ebalon… lives in a world where stuff like this is commonplace. (Plus, he's a demon himself? So…) But Clarke's human. Her world sucks, and it presumably doesn't even have things like Mizuki there. So the fact that something like him is something she has to deal with now… ]

( the fact that something like him is something she has to deal with now... is really actually quite par for the course. a little over a year ago, clarke griffin would have very confidently regurgitated ancient facts about earth like she knew what she was talking about, but the second the 100 had touched down nothing had been like they'd expected. other survivors of the apocalypse, two headed horses and two faced deer; river monsters and murderous artificial intelligences; death waves and acid rain, augmented blood, cults and microchips containing the consciousness of generations of rulers before their time...

would it have really shocked her to learn of something like mizuki in her world? he looks human enough that he could just be another grounder, mutated to be seafaring but — there's no gods in her world so far as she's aware. nothing sleeping at the bottom of the ocean, no one trying to kill it, no one unbreakably bound to it...

if mizuki won't cross the boundary of physical contact here, clarke will. curls her fingers around his and drags his hand back to rest on her knee with a gentle, encouraging squeeze. )

I appreciate you telling me. And even if I don't necessarily understand the weight what you're telling me would have in your homeworld, I understand what monsters are. You're not one, Mizuki, so please don't talk about yourself as if you were.

[ Well, "the weight" of it isn't even something Mizuki knows. Besides having Genesezoic's influence making his thoughts all weird, he doesn't actually know much about it. Besides, you know, the hivemind, and the Seaborns. But, still, it's enough to warrant worry from Mizuki because, well, his thoughts ARE weird. He's never been able to be… understood by others. He's never been able to understand others himself. He doesn't know if that's all to blame on his Seaborn side or it just exemplified something that already existed inside of him. He likes to have something to blame. Something to say "It's not my fault." But, even then, at the end of the day, isn't it? Isn't it his fault when he choses to listen to his thoughts? Even if he can't discern the ones that come from the ancient blood's influence, does that really matter if he acts on these things?

He doesn't know. He's such a special case of psychology, and he doesn't know how to ask the questions that rise from such a thing. Who would he ask? Who understands him? … Maybe Ebalon? ]

Oh, you misunderstand, Clarke. I am not expecting you to try to tell me I'm not something I am. That was just to summarize, in case I couldn't properly convey what I was trying to tell you.

[ The smile only comes because he's recited these lines before. "It's okay," he repeats in his head over and over.

He is shaking. ]

( they're obviously working from very different definitions of what makes a monster then, and that shouldn't be surprising. there's always seemed to be a disconnect in the way the two of them viewed the world — she'd choked over an effort to impress upon him how blood-soaked her hands were, and mizuki'd offered her a lacking sort of absolution without even knowing how deep the trench graves ran. and now he's sitting in front of her shaking, and the only immediate comfort she has is the sweep of her thumb across the backs of his knuckles. )

Okay, then can I try again?

( a rephrase, a different approach. the stroke of her thumb across his skin slows and then ceases like a failing heartbeat, replaced by a slight squeeze of his fingers. )

You're not a monster to me. If you absolutely have to, call yourself whatever you need to in order to make it make sense. But know that's not what I see when I look at you.

Edited 2022-06-23 06:13 (UTC)

Ah… Thank you. I do appreciate it. [ Even if she is wrong.

This sucks. He feels like he wasn't able to truly convey what this means to her. But there's no kind way to say "hey, I have an ancient, horrible deity in my head" without pushing people away. And he doesn't want to do that. He wants Clarke to stay, evident by the way he desperately returned her squeezes. ]

Sorry, I didn't mean to bring the mood down or anything! I just feel bad keeping things about me to myself.

( he'd done a decent job explaining himself, that's not where the disconnect stems from here. clarke's metric for monstrosities is just entirely hinged on how much of a threat they pose to her specifically — that'd been the first thing she'd asked natsuno when he revealed he was a vampire, after all: are you going to hurt me? — and despite the massive slight and continual emotional fallout after venti... mizuki wouldn't hurt her.

...right?

sitting here, holding hands, with a sloppy but sentimental friendship bracelet secured around her wrist, clarke doesn't think he would. real monsters don't organize picnics. )

What mood? ( this scoffing sort of acknowledgement of the camp around them is about as close to humor as clarke gets, but she's trying. ) I don't know about you, but I keep waiting for some sort of noxious gas to roll out from the treeline and kill us all. I don't get the point of this really just being a camping trip.

[ Well, Mizuki thought he couldn't ever hurt Venti, either, and yet had very strong thoughts to choke the idiot all the same, so it's really no telling anymore who he'll hurt. He wants to believe he won't hurt Clarke. However, wanting something and following through with it is apparently something both the Amuyu boys are terrible at. ]

To throw us off, maybe. Have us tense all camping trip and on edge, only to end up back on the ship safe and sound. That sounds like a punchline, doesn't it? [ … ] Or, you know, maybe the bus shows up and Friday's not on it and we have to figure out how to drive it through the barrier, only to crash instead, bringing the trip to a terribly anti-climatic ending. Ehe…

( for a second, she looks at mizuki like he's just grown three additional heads. and then the shock turns to alarm because, yanno what, that's a horrendous ending she hadn't even begun to consider the likes of. for one who's barely even played an arcade game, clarke apparently subscribes to the thought of save points, where the big bad can't touch them, and figures if they survived camp the bus back would basically be considered reaching a safe zone.

but now.

but now...! )

I — she wouldn't, right? Not without the Captain's orders, and then — he wouldn't do that, that's not... his style.

( unless it were funny??? congrats mizuki, ya threw a wrench into her logical approach and now the gears are turning so aggressively they're smoking. )

Well, of course she wouldn't. But the Fridays that come with us on these excursions aren't our Friday, right? Because, she… can't leave the ship, or something?

[ At least, that's what Mizuki's picked up from the little Information Sharing party Lumine had set up. He didn't contribute to it, of course, he simply just sat in the room camouflaged the whole time and gathered what info he could… ]

Is it not? I wouldn't know, I don't exactly know how the Captain functions. I… try not to talk to him. Just being in the same room as him makes me…

…

Hungry.

( ah, right. hungry.

how has it come to pass that cannibalizing evil became acceptable in her book? clarke has kept no accurate metric on how she's changed since waking up on the serena eterna; there'd been no one from her home world to (judge) keep her in check, and an absolute feral survivalist nature had set in. her mind had expanded, everything had suddenly seemed possible. and yet she'd sat floundering, still painfully human and inept in the shadows of eldritch beings, immortals, gods, sorcerers, and the like. for which she'd somehow come to compensate with — )

...he makes me violent.

( which is to say, she gets it. at least the instinctual drive to destroy something in front of her, even if clarke would inevitably leave the body unmaimed. )

Talking to him feels like talking in circles, I never walk away feeling like I've gotten anything useful. And it's ( killing her. slowly. a personal anguish he probably thrives off of. ) really frustrating. You've probably got the right idea, avoiding him. I swear, I've never felt so useless in my life...

Ehehe, I've noticed. [ He doesn't blame her, of course. ] But you should really be careful about doing that, there's no telling if things will go as painlessly for you in the future. Besides, that's what people like me are for! Feel free to let me take your anger out for you next time, okay?

[ Mizuki is only avoiding him because he hasn't been given orders, to be quite honest. He doesn't want to talk to him because he knows he's the enemy. But he doesn't know what he's supposed to do without direction? It's honestly how his whole existence goes, really. He's surprised that Clarke hasn't picked up as much by now… ]

( clarke may not understand a lot of things about mizuki. she may staunchly fight against his self damning definition of a monster, regardless of what's mingled with his soul and bound him to an elder god. she may take his forgiveness at face value and consider the venti debacle put to bed, especially in the face of new crisises perpetually looming around the corner. she may see the cracks in his facade that ooze problematic possessiveness and just equate it to care, like any normal friend would.

but she does look at him and think solider more often than not. they'd met over hypotheticals, but in truth that first bonding moment had happened over plates of meat and talk of god killing. the moment mizuki had offered to eat bad guys for her, something in clarke's chest had been set alight, a low and guttering flame that sparked into a full blown blaze at the potential behind that offer.

it's just... somewhere along the way, mizuki had become more than just a weapon in her back pocket for the inevitable showdown with their captain. she's only given natsuno the full rundown of what she's done to protect the people she cared about, how many had been slaughtered at the whim of wanheda, but. the rest of them would inevitably find out. what it means to be considered clarke griffin's people. )

I wasn't thinking about pain, honestly. Or any sort of potential repercussion until after I hit him. But even if I had, that was uncharted waters. I don't want you to get hurt just because I can't control my temper.

Hey, I may not look it, but I'm real tough. It takes a lot to put me down~.

[ Though, admittedly, there's not often Mizuki is in a place to take fire. The worst he's ever gotten was that little incident when he was 7, but otherwise, the world's been pretty easygoing with Mizuki. Even when he's on the battlefield, it's mostly his job to fill the role of an assassin, so... maybe trying to act like a tank is unideal.

But he does mean it. He can take quite a bit before he's out. It's probably got something to do with that elder blood in him. ]

Besides, I told you that you need to start looking out a little for yourself, right? I mean it. I don't want something bad happening to you again. You're important to me, Clarke.

( her jaw goes rigid and her teeth grind at the sentiment. not because it's unwelcome but because... why? has she not already made it painfully obvious that she's the opposite of the heroic good guy that mizuki wants to believe in? is it not apparent how awful of a friend she is? how lacking a leader, how incapable a commander, and just all around lacking as a human being she's become? what else would it take to rattle the pedestal mizuki's placed her upon; how long until he looks at her and sees just a boring, violently conditioned human not worth regarding with any sort of importance...

but, an afterthought — does it matter?

what's her goal here? to kill the captain, to end this hellscape, at the expense of the lives of everyone on board if she must. but there are certain people clarke feels more mournful about potentially consigning to oblivion if this pocket world were to collapse. just a few, who she hopes they somehow manage to get back home before the worst comes to pass. )

...you're important to me too, Mizuki.

( are they still holding hands? if so, she'll squeeze his fingers in an attempt to drive that point home. if they aren't, she's reaching out to take his hand again and lather rinse repeat the same borderline bone crushing grip. confirmation though heady, heavy, needy physical contact. another litany of apologies swarm across her tongue, it never feels like she'll be able to say i'm sorry enough times to have it actually mean anything. but thank god they're not in the truth event currently, and clarke can still choke down the uninvited sentiment. )

So much so that I'm not willing to risk you getting hurt until I know it's worth it.

[ Mizuki looks down to their hands. He would be one hell of a liar if he said that he felt entirely comforted by the touch. Which is such a weird thing, when touch is so important to him. When touch is more than just a love language, but rather, a language in general. Something that he uses to communicate more thoroughly with others, something that he can use to connect with people… and he's not consciously upset with Clarke. He's not consciously ever going to be mad at her, because she didn't know. But, maybe, just maybe, subconsciously he is. Subconsciously, maybe there's something that tells him that How could she not know? and that She didn't even try to talk to you, either. But… after a moment, he reaches his other hand to sandwich hers between his.

Am I important? ]

Clarke. [ Beat. ] I… I don't sing too terribly often. It's something I'm terribly nervous about, but… if you don't mind, could I sing a song for you?

( he doesn't ever have to forgive her completely, consciously or unconsciously. it's come up several times over, tragically including in the middle of fooling around with one of mizuki's boyfriends when venti offered her absolution and she cried — but clarke doesn't want forgiveness. or at least can't accept it. would rather wear the weight of every transgression around her neck until it slowly strangles her, i bear it so they don't have to equally translating into i'll hate myself enough for everyone involved.

but on a warring tangent (practicality constantly outshining sentiment), it's a feat, but a worthy one — to successfully separate oneself from emotion in the name of duty. mizuki says he forgives her, and it's a blessing that stray twitches of fingers against her own don't give away how surface level that absolution really is. for now at least, clarke can just believe him. they're fine, right? and if not, they will be. right?

...right?

i don't want to hurt you until it's worth it should have raised a lot — a lot — of red flags, but instead mizuki pulls the rug out beneath her with a sudden and unexpected offer of. singing? for her? for a few moments clarke blinks in abject confusion, where has this come from? along with friendship bracelets had he learned a campfire tune? )

I... sure. I like songs.

( doesn't know many, but is coming around to them in general. likes them, leans heavily on the single oldtime american folksong she knows. )

[ He may not have to, but he certainly wants to. No matter how the deep rooted jealousy is that sits in his brain, or the longing for orders and obsession with rooting out the evil of the world, at Mizuki's core, he is truly a kind and forgiving soul. It's likely that it gets overshadowed by his eldritch nature sometimes, but right now, with Clarke's hands in his, that isn't present. Right now, all he wants is for her to not have to have these worries. To not have to do things alone, as Mizuki has told her so many times before. He understands why she hasn't committed to this, despite her own vague agreement to such, of course. It's hard to change one's mental to such things after being… well, alone for so long, right?

But he really doesn't want anything to happen to her. He doesn't want her to get herself killed or do something reckless that could hurt her, when she's so important, when she's got him here, when she's…

…

Mizuki closes his eyes, and when he begins to sing, his voice echoes with some new, melodic tone that's just as charming as it is haunting. Meant to ease those who hear it into a sense of security, while also giving them a sense of some sort of alertness if they're too careful. Yet, it's Mizuki, so maybe it's not all that surprising. His song, at least, is… calming. Soft. Sung with all the affection he can muster. ]

You taught me the courage of stars before you left,
How light carries on endlessly, even after death,
With shortness of breath, you explain the infinite,
And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

I couldn't help but ask for you to say it all again,
I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen,
I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time,
That the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes.

With shortness of breath,
I'll explain the infinite,
And how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.

Edited 2022-07-04 23:21 (UTC)

( SATURN??? FUCKING, SATURN RUBIE? HOW ABSOLUTELY DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME, I AM WRECKED. ANYWAYS, THOUGH MY TEARS I WRITE YOU —

it will take a lot, a lot of work to reign in the self sacrificial tendencies of someone who's found a comfortable grave in the shape of i bear it so they don't have to and chosen to slowly, methodically bury herself alive. clarke has come to dread the weight of responsibility she shovels on top of her own chest as much as she needs it. her mind still perpetually swims like she's looking at their troubles laid out on a chessboard, plotting which pawns are expendable in order to protect the king, but she's not so ruthless as to commit to any of these moves until certain they'd yield a win. would honestly rather sweep the whole board off the table. but keeps playing.

all that to say, sorry mizuki, the status quo isn't going to change just because you tell her to use you. clarke griffin takes and takes and takes, just not direction.

and in rare moments, she pauses to take in. whatever paranoid urge has had her regularly sweeping the treeline for a threat is dampened, like a flame guttering out in pooled hot wax. just for a moment, fleetingly, but in the moment entirely keyed in on mizuki and listens intently to every lyric dripping over his lips. the tune is unfamiliar, like many. and the affection in his tone is suffocating, but the words themselves...

how is one supposed to interpret deeper meaning behind what someone choses to sing to them? is there some underlying reverence, the implication she'd taught him anything so grand as the infinite nature of the universe? or was it the other way around — is mizuki the teacher here, trying to get her to take note and peel away defensive strategies of self preservation in an attempt to appreciate life here? as if it were somehow sacred, not just a fleeting inconvenience rife with pain? with shortness of breath, and oh does her breath catch.

but also what if it's neither and just his favorite song. clarke doesn't know what to ask here, how to seek clarification for those budding nervous thoughts in the back of her mind and thus just. listens. and when he finishes that last melodic note, she tilts her head. smiles, small but open. sincere, bordering on intimate. and the only sentiment she can return pales in comparison to song, but it's the only she can think to offer. )

You have a really nice voice, Mizuki. Sing more often, okay?

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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