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!

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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?

[ Get absolutely obliterated, nerd —

Mizuki, admittedly, doesn't expect Clarke to hear a song and go "Shit, all 18 years of my life are dropped just like that and I can right this moment turn a new leaf and maybe be self-preserving!" Especially not when he's had this conversation with her before and it had ended rather miserably. She had agreed back then to do so on Mizuki's request, but… well, it's a little hard to believe Clarke now, isn't it? Not when her actions thus far have proved to be all less than preservation-worthy. Mizuki refuses to give up on it all the same. After all, he does truly love ~~his commander~~ this idiot teenager. ]

Ehe… thank you. [ So he's been told. He doesn't understand it, honestly, but he does like Venti's voice, so…? Maybe he's just not hearing what they are. ] I will, I just… [ He squeezes her hand. ] Thought it might be something you'd want to hear from me.

( his sentiment is received. heard loud and clear, perhaps even understood. and in return to that squeeze of the hand, clarke tightens her fingers around his tightly. )

I appreciate it.

( but, ultimately, it means little. a lot, emotionally. absolutely nothing in regards to course correcting her somewhat self destructive streak and aching desire to keep pushing on until she burns out complete, or dies permanently. she'd had her brief glimmer of childhood wonder at the world around her — had felt the sun on her face for the first time, had wind whip through her hair, seen a bird and a two headed deer, waded into water, and rejoiced at life. but that little girl died when a spear had rocketed out of the tree line and struck jasper jordan in the chest. then the childish ghost had been stamped out as she'd watched the woman she loved bleed out over a spread of white furs, and witnessed the end of the world.

there's little to marvel at here, anyway. the root system of the plants is all wonky and the mushrooms don't look right. there's not a single animal around, the stars aren't familiar. no charming intrigue, just mysteries to be parsed out. because the one thing clarke seems to have managed to stop and do against her better intention is collect a scant few friends, and this time saving them consists of beating the captain off his proverbial throne and putting a rope around his neck. and to even attempt that, she couldn't stop working towards the goal.

she disentangles their hands here, but again catches the brush of that friendship bracelet against her pulse line. it makes reaching for a new conversational tangent easy. )

What else have you been up to here? Did you make one of those colorful shirts yet?

[ Maybe someday, he might get through to Clarke. And Venti. And all his self-sacrificial friends who he just wants to thrive and be happy. He knows it's a lot harder while they're here, but— ]

Naps! [ Mizuki takes this new topic to talk about things. He can be a good distraction when it's needed, too. So, you know, maybe Clarke can forget that he's literally confided in her that he's got Elder God Brain. ] Mostly naps in the lake. It's pretty hot here, and we Aegir are much more suited for cooler weather or beaches. But I've been doing a lot of swimming, too! Oh, and I went to check out those rope courses, but I'm not entirely sure how they'd work? They looked fun, though, so I played around on them for a little while. Spent a lot of time in the kitchen, too, but there's not really any food to cook, so I got all sad about that. I played with the knives and pans, but it's not really the same as cooking… No tye-dye, though! Since I've been spending most of my time in the water, I thought it counterproductive.

Oh! I did teach Ebalon to make S'mores. Apparently there's a bunch of people here that haven't made any before?! Can you believe that?? That is, like, the sandwich of sweet foods!

( ...she's not going to say it.

it's fine, she doesn't have to know. curiosity doesn't need to be sated.

she can bite her tongue and fight against the furrow of confusion at the idea of a sweet sandwich, and he never needs to know that for all the campfires she's built, camping delicacies didn't enter the picture.

it's fine, this is fine, mizuki's obviously been having a pretty okay time at camp while she's been digging up the garbled root systems of every weed she can find and painstakingly refusing to have any hint of fun, this is —

...no, okay, she kinda wants to know. )

I've never heard of a s'more. What goes in it that makes it so sweet?

What!!!!! [ Okay, he really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but like also…!!!! ] Oh, okay, no, come here. We're going to the mess hall or whatever they call it at camp right now! You are going to have s'mores, and you're going to understand why they're a camp staple!!

[ She doesn't get a choice in the matter, actually! Mizuki is already drag her along since they're still holding hands, and heading to the cafeteria so they can grab the marshmallows and the other essentials. ]

You toast a marshmallow by the fire and when you put it on the chocolate, it makes it all soft and gooey, too, and then they're both smacked in between some graham crackers! It's really good!!

( one second they're seated, the next their up and moving and — oh, okay, looks like this is happening right now. not exactly what clarke had hoped to spend the next hour or so doing, she'd been intent on getting water samples from the lake to take back to the ship for study, but she also doesn't waste energy trying to dissuade mizuki. he can be a force of nature from time to time and, even she has to admit, they've more down time here than she knows what to do with.

an occasional, small break to expand her world view and earthly understanding isn't horribly slacking, is it?

she's also never had a marshmallow just like, in general, but doesn't tell him that as they plod along towards the mess hall. that initial what!!! of shock had been loud, still rings in her ears a little. )

Oh, I like chocolate. ( she hoards candy bars from the stores actually, but her stash is secret. ) Pretty sure if chocolate's involved in anything, it's going to be good.

It's very good. I mean, not to hype it up too much or anything, of course. It is usually reserved for camp snacks, after all, so it's not like it's a gourmet cake or something like that. It's… really not "cooking," either, buuuut it's still fun!

[ All the while Mizuki talks, he brings Clarke to the mess hall, where he gathers up the things they need before leading her back to the fire pit. ]

The trick is to not get too worried if the marshmallow looks a little burnt. Did you know that sweets with high sugar content burn easier? It's why when you make things like pancakes, if it's not something you're used to making, instead of putting chocolate chips or candied things in it, you should put things like berries or fruits. [ Insert cooking show music here. ] But, you have me here, so I can let you know if the marshmallow's bad or not!

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JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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