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Entry tags:
one; audio
Hello Cave-dwellers.
[Hadrielians? Hadrielites? Eh.]
I'm going to assume, since we have nothing better to do, that you've been paying attention to the wave of people offering up other people's junk. Praise be to our all knowing gods, airing everyone's dirty laundry all over the place or whatever.
[he pauses, quiet as he checks out the thing he's found.]
So this either belonged to a cop or someone with some really freaky tastes, but it appears to be a picture of an old dead guy hacked into pieces?
[this is fine this is absolutely FINE and not triggering in any way whatsoever to connor.]
In the interest of not traumatizing anyone, I'm not going to go flashing it all over the network but if you have reason to believe you're the lucky owner of some dead guy's photo, let me know.
Also - if this is some weird necrophilia kink, please, please keep that to yourself. I'm not usually here for kinkshaming, but that's pretty much where I draw the line.
[Hadrielians? Hadrielites? Eh.]
I'm going to assume, since we have nothing better to do, that you've been paying attention to the wave of people offering up other people's junk. Praise be to our all knowing gods, airing everyone's dirty laundry all over the place or whatever.
[he pauses, quiet as he checks out the thing he's found.]
So this either belonged to a cop or someone with some really freaky tastes, but it appears to be a picture of an old dead guy hacked into pieces?
[this is fine this is absolutely FINE and not triggering in any way whatsoever to connor.]
In the interest of not traumatizing anyone, I'm not going to go flashing it all over the network but if you have reason to believe you're the lucky owner of some dead guy's photo, let me know.
Also - if this is some weird necrophilia kink, please, please keep that to yourself. I'm not usually here for kinkshaming, but that's pretty much where I draw the line.
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and while normally he'd just cajole him further, uryuu did do him a solid by saving his life the other day. so when he replies to him his words are harsh but his tone is less biting than it would be.]
The fact you're even considering that it could be yours is kind of telling. [beat] What's the deal?
1/2
I'm not considering that. I'm just trying to help.
private; text;
[ Why text?
If it's that photo, he's afraid of what his face will do. ]
private; text;
still waiting on an explanation
private; text; 1/??? prob not that much
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no subject
private; text; 4/4
It isn't mine, but it's meant for me.
private; text;
private; text;
[ Will he try to explain as little as possible to get it? Obviously. ]
private; text;
did you kill this guy
or is he just someone you know
private; text;
He did, he did, he wasn't strong enough--]He was my grandfather and my teacher.
No, I didn't kill him.
private; text;
You sure you want it?
private; text; 1/2
[ Honestly. ]
But I'll take it.
private; text;
private; text;
where should i bring it to
private; text;
[ It's not just that he's disinclined to give out his apartment number -- he's also on the eighth floor. He's not going to ask him to climb eight flights. ]
private; text;
private; text --> action
[ It doesn't take long. Hard to keep track of the time or how quickly he moves. He's in his apartment, he blinks, and he's standing on the outskirts, staring at a tree. It has to be alien, but for all his esoteric information, it's not like Uryuu knew every tree on Earth. As far as he knows, it could be any tree. Yeah, trees are what he's thinking about. ]
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but he makes it to the park without and fail and finds uryuu pretty easily. he's more of a mess than he made it seem on the network. audio had let him pretend like he'd gotten his shit together but the reality was less. the photograph was freaking him out. it seems too horribly fitting that he'd be the one to find this.
connor doesn't want to show that, he really doesn't. he knows this is about uryuu and about his family and he'd already been shitty enough to him with the way he'd been talking. so he's trying hard to stay calm. maybe this'll be quick and painless and they can both go on their separate ways to freak out separately. it didn't have to be a joint exercise.]
Hey.
[#nailedit]
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Trees can only get him so far. Eventually, Walsh-san will arrive, and eventually, he does. Uryuu should have spent the walk down, the walk over, fortifying himself. He'd lost the time and now he's empty-handed, empty-headed. Only, he's fine, isn't he? He'd seen it before and in a worse situation. Just because he had not thought of it again, had not let himself, (had not needed to not let himself because why would he, it was done, gone, he had almost killed the one responsible, or spared him, or missed, just missed), and that's healthy. It is healthy, because he doesn't need to cope with anything, he never has, he's fine.
The worst of it is that someone else found it, but there's not much collateral damage. Only Walsh-san, and lucky for him, Uryuu's too focused on micromanaging himself, on the arrow point precision of his thoughts, to notice anything amiss in a guy he'd met on the brink of a panic attack, anyway.
They're both calm, professional. Just a simple exchange. ]
Hello.
[ ...
Right, he should step forward, hold out his hand. Easy. If he doesn't think about how tight his jaw is, it won't actually feel like prying the words out. ]
Thanks.
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[he takes the photo out of a pocket, still in the same condition he found it in and hands it over, with the back up so neither of them have to look at it.
yup totally fine]
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[ It's reflexive, those kinds of statements. Just about trademark at this point. No need to thank me, I don't need to answer that, No need -- something cool and dismissive -- but it catches in his throat.
At about the time his fingers brush, then close on the photograph.
He shouldn't look at it. There had been the photo via text to confirm it. He doesn't want to look at it with Walsh-san right there. He doesn't want to look at it ever again.
Only, as he's reaching to slip it into his satchel, in a notebook, there's enough of an angle, enough for periphery, enough for red, red, red. Then he can't look away, though it's just a corner, just a glimpse. He swallows, remembers himself, but his voice is thick, strained. ]
--need. It was a long time ago.
no subject
Connor takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Uryuu's voice, strained and tense cuts through the haze of the smell of fire and burning bodies, the haze of smoke and shovels heavy in hands, the haze of garbage bags filled with dirt and body parts and moving one foot in front of the other and michaela's pained sobs.
He wonders if Michaela is alright. It's the first selfless thing he's thought since he's gotten here. Michaela. She'd begged him not to go to Stanford. She told him she'd never be alright alone and now he'd left her alone with the others, alone with Annalise who was just going to keep fucking them up more and more. And if it weren't for Michaela --
Connor swallows thickly. Uryuu has said something. He tries to focus on the present, on Uryuu's words. It was a long time ago, but both of their wounds are fresh and the stilted way he speaks is like looking into a mirror.
He reaches over and puts his hand on Uryuu's arm. He'd always thought of himself as a cool, aloof person. Detached, emotionally, from others. But he'd found (and was maybe only sort of introspective enough to realize) that taking care of other people in times of crisis had helped him a little bit. Being there for Michaela, even if it didn't always come out the right way, had kept the panic from boiling out on more than one occasion.]
Hey, you don't have to look at it. [his words are almost forced. they're slow, steady. he's Trying here, shoving back all of his emotional baggage and focusing in on uryuu.] You can hide it away somewhere where it can't hurt you.
no subject
He wouldn't study it. He's fine -- then Connor Walsh touches his arm.
Connor Walsh, some just about stranger with nice clothes and a smart mouth, found his picture, handed it over, and now, is offering comfort. Where it can't hurt you, as if he can be hurt, as if he's hurt, and he can't be, he's fine.
When was the last time anyone had done this? -- Sensei, of course, his grandfather, of course, because Ishida Uryuu doesn't need it, everyone knows, he's cold, he's unaffected, not even Inoue-san would and Kurosaki would sooner kick him. Sensei's hands had seemed so big, back then, just one covering his head. So big, so capable, until the Hollows snapped his bones, gnawed him down, and that, that wasn't the end of it, thanks to Kurotsuchi Mayuri.
The touch throws him. It knocks him off-kilter. Uryuu stares at Walsh-san's hand, frozen, tangling. He feels young again, lost and seeking, and when was the last time he'd felt young? When his mother died and he found his father cutting her up (it was a dissection, he knows, not like that, but...)? No, again, always sensei, and he'd watched him fall, his fingernails breaking in the bark of the tree behind which he stood. The sixty minutes after he died, before the Shinigami came, the longest in his life.
Longer still, until his father collected him, handled his own father's corpse, that old man, and Ryuuken hadn't even looked at him, so furious he'd been there--everything in Uryuu had been screaming, had been breaking, had been shutting down, ossifying, sharpening, and his father hadn't even looked at him, little wonder he couldn't get out of that house fast enough, had to wait five years --
and he hadn't even killed the man that did this. Hadn't killed, had spared, had missed. In the end, he'd been there in Hueco Mundo, made it possible for Uryuu to go on, to help Kurosaki and Inoue-san, and he wouldn't exchange that for anything, but right now, with the damn photograph back, with the memory of learning that sensei had shouted his name while that man cut him apart, he can't help but remember what he asked that man's abused daughter -- she'd been glad, but --
Uryuu would wrench his arm away, would snap that he isn't hurt, would, he doesn't know, he can't handle this, but he has to, he's fine, he's been fine for nine years, for seven years, for two years, but he doesn't know what to do with a gentle hand, with comfort.
Finally, he looks at Walsh-san's face, and maybe for once, he actually sounds seventeen. ]
No, I can't. I couldn't kill the one who did this. I was right -- Do you -- don't you think it's better someone who would do that doesn't exist?
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