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Post by England on Sept 12, 2010 13:24:47 GMT -5
Trapped in his broken memories, Cái heard footsteps coming closer - footsteps that belonged to the man who would do this to him. That night, where he watched his parents die - and even if they weren't Macau's parents, he felt for them as they'd cared for him and loved him like no other human. Only Portugal had shown him love like that - and attacked the shooter, stealing his own gun and killing the man with it, there had been footsteps.
That man was coming to get him.
"No! Você não vai me pegar de novo tão facilmente!" he screamed, pushing Yong Soo away from him and scrabbling for one of his fallen knives. There was a body on the floor beside it, but it couldn't belong to the man of his nightmares as that man was walking to him and he would not be hurt by him again.
The people around the corner didn't stand a chance - the first one didn't even get a chance to scream as his knife plunged through his throat and out the back. Ripping it from the gurgling corpse, he whipped around, arterial spray peppering his back. The second person's scream intensified as the knife dug into his gut and sliced up, all the way up to his throat before he fell over dead. The last man standing attempted to run - he made it no more than three steps before Cái leapt upon his back, taking him down and stabbing him over and over so he'd never be able to hurt him again
(You won't catch me again so easily!(
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Post by Wonsanji on Sept 15, 2010 21:48:32 GMT -5
The door crashed open down the hall, and Yong Soo flinched, turning to draw his pistol and aim. Cái pushed him away suddenly, causing the Korean to fall against the wall and drop the gun. Thankfully, it didn’t fire. Yong Soo raised his head in time to catch Cái dashing out the door, screaming something in a foreign language. Blood spattered the walls, the wobbling head of a man’s corpse falling into view, and for a stunned moment, the Korean merely stared, disbelieving. Then he registered the death scream.
“Ileon sesang-e,” he swore quietly, unaware of it. He shook his head, and scooped up the gun again, stashing it in his sash. He leant forward to grab the Macanese boy’s other knife as well, pausing only to do a very basic search of Bey’s unconscious body. He pocketed whatever came loose without really looking at it, sure he would have a chance later, before standing up and unfolding his fans, following after Cái and hoping the boy was still physically alright.
The scene Yong Soo walked in on stopped him dead in his tracks. Three still-warm bodies littered the floor, steadily leaking blood from grisly wounds. One man’s neck was sliced clean through, and the Korean had to restrain the impulse to cradle his own, and ensure it was still intact. The navy-clad Asian swallowed instead, his throat drying up at the smell and sight of the carnage. He banished the instinctive memories of fire and pain, and turned his gaze up.
There was Cái, straddling the back of a dead man, his own body turned away from the Captain. His breathing was audible, raspy and greedy for air, high-pitched even now with the reedy tones of youth. He held the knife low at his side, bony knuckles gripped tight, pale as ivory beneath the crimson spray.
Even in his numb horror, Yong Soo couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with uncommon pity for the boy; it struck him suddenly how small Cái really was, how narrow his trembling shoulders, the fragile look of the bones in his lithe limbs. For that moment, the Korean nothing more than to make the other’s pain stop.
Yong Soo tucked his chin, swallowing quietly to steady his voice, “Cái,” he called, bracing himself for a potentially violent reaction, holding his fan loose and low in his sleeves, “It’s time to go home, da ze.”
Ileon sesang-e = the Korean equivalent to ‘Holy s***’
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Post by England on Sept 21, 2010 23:12:28 GMT -5
He snapped back to himself the moment he heard the Korean speak. Looking around in confusion and coming to the sudden conclusion that he was on top of a man he had clearly killed, knife still in hand and dripping blood, he froze for a long, agonizing moment. Then, the knife clattered to the ground as he practically threw it away.
In mere moments, he was away - still covered in blood. And not his blood but other people's - and retching doubled-over. His eyes stung with tears and the stink of acid and blood that engulfed him. What... what was wrong with him? Why had he killed those people? They weren't Him, they didn't deserve to die -except they were here, they had to have something to do with Him, a voice whispered in his mind, kill them all to make sure they wouldn't help Him again - and... and there was so much blood, just like before.
When finally he stopped heaving nothing onto the floor, he stared a long moment at his blood caked hands. They'd left perfect imprints on the ground, he could nearly see the grooves on his fingers... "Yong Soo...." he croaked, slowly looking up even if he couldn't see the other man's face through the tears pouring down his cheeks. "... I don't feel well." was all he could manage.
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Post by Wonsanji on Sept 28, 2010 19:15:12 GMT -5
Yong Soo winced as the other threw his knife aside, fingers gripping tighter on his fans as he watched the young Asian retch to the side of the mutilated body. He took a shaky inhale, body tense, and it wasn’t until he saw the other’s face turn to his, young and vulnerable and so lost that he felt something give. Still cautious, he began walking towards Cái, keeping his arms low and his face neutral as he carefully stepped around the fresh corpses.
Once he was close enough the Korean stopped, looking down with a pensive expression, before replacing his fans in his sash and crouching down, wrapping his sleeves around the blood-spattered shoulders and pulling him close, willing himself to ignore the iron stink and the sticky wet warmth bleeding through the cloth.
“It’s going to be alright, da ze,” he murmurs, willing it to be true. “I’m carrying you home.” He loosely squeezed the Macanese boy’s narrow shoulders, sending a meager message of comfort, before leaning back and easing one arm beneath the other’s legs, lifting him up in a gentle cradle. He brushed one sleeve over the other’s head, wishing he could just wipe away the carnage in his eyes.
He looks down both ends of the hall, jaw firming as he kept his gaze above the level of the floor. After a moment of indecision, the Korean Captain hastily moved down the unexplored part of the hall, pausing only to grab Cái’s knife and slip it in his sash, determined to find a way out.
((Can we get a dice roll, maestro~? |D))
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Post by England on Sept 29, 2010 9:42:51 GMT -5
Cai was all too ready to accept the offered comfort - he needed that someone stable, something to keep him grounded in the present instead of those god-awful memories of three lives all mashed into one. Not fighting as he was lifted into strong arms, he just closed his eyes, held onto the front of Yong Soo's vest and wished for it all to end. He didn't want this - these odd memories of being something more than just another messed up human.
One of his old wishes he'd had since he'd woken up with no memories was to be normal. Apparently, he'd never been such a thing, in this life or the last from what he could make out of those sharp and entirely too painful memories. He did know that the quiet darkness before one life and the next was... unpainful. Reopening his eyes, he stared blankly at his hands, which were leaving more of those dark smears on the blue of the fabric. One thing started to seperate itself from both the far-distant memories and the relatively new ones. A face - dark-skinned and smiling. Reminding him of the ocean and sweets. One that he'd met in this life and the last...
"Yong Soo..." he started quietly, his wish to end things struggling against his desperate need to see Portugal. The whole reason he'd ended it before and come back. "... can... can I ask a favor?"
Yong Soo stalked down the hall with purpose, his eyes darting everywhere for any sign of escape. So far, no go--all he saw was rooms and rooms and more rooms. Thankfully, none were occupied, but the Korean couldn't count on that being a certainty for very much longer.
He shifted Cai lightly in his arms, biting the inside of his cheek. It was a tactical disadvantage, he knew, but the Korean simply could not abide the idea of forcing the other to walk just yet. Not when he remembered how traumatic it was for him when he was that age, lost in a battleground. Even if he wasn't the cause like Cai was, Yong Soo hardly felt it made a difference--a bloody body was a bloody body, and having it on your hands could only make things worse.
Hopefully, he'd be able to find some way of letting him down gently if they ran across someone.
Yong Soo paused at a corner, peering carefully to make sure the coast was clear, before turning down it, scoffing. Why the hell did Westerners make their houses so damn big! The fact that he was going deeper into the mountain did nothing to calm his nerves.
The other's voice breaks him from his musing, and he glances down with a curious gaze. However, knowing he can't afford to stop moving, he looks back up again, hoisting the other up with a grim smile. "Other than "get us the hell out of here," da ze?" he quipped on instinct, before biting his cheek and correcting himself.
"I'm listening."
Sucking in a careful breath, trying to not think too hard because thinking hurt, Cai turned bleak eyes to his captains face. "I... I want to see Afonso when we get out of here." His mamãe had always been able to make him feel better, both in the last life and in the brief time he'd stayed with him in this one. It was almost funny... it was like he was supposed to find the man and stay by his side.
His frail control over himself broke again - as he blinked, he could feel the first few hot tears streak down his chin. Ducking his head once more and choking on a sob, he wondered if even Portugal would be able to fix him after this. Unless the man already knew about being a nation - which could have happened, right? Afonso wouldn't just pick a random sad kid up off the street and invite him to stay with him if he didn't know who he was, right? - how would Cai explain the strange memories? Would Afonso tell him to leave - to lock him away in some nut house, rather than deal with him?
...if Portugal couldn't help him... he might as well not exist.
The Korean holds Cai closer, making meaningless soothing noises and petting the other's head. Yong Soo blinks, wondering for a moment who Afonso was. Someone his other half knew? He'd have to look later, when he got back to the ship.
Oh, right. First, that would involve getting back to the ship.
Yong Soo looks around, biting his lip, and his eyes catch on a hidden door in the rock. He tilts his head, bemused, but, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, moves forward, opening it quietly and slipping inside, closing it behind him.
He sets against the door, listening carefully, and as he waits the walls begin to take on a faint phosphorescent glow. Hm. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about finding a light.
The Korean looks back down at Cai, brown eyes catching the muted light. "...this Afonso person is important to you, da ze?"
Nodding faintly, Cai closed his eyes entirely rather nervous in the dark. It reminded him of something he wanted to forget... "Y-yeah... Afonso's the... the navigator for this sky ship called 'La Madre Maria'. A while ago I went and stayed with him for a bit..." but he'd come back out of guilt, he thought to himself. Now he knew why - Yao, his rather estranged older brother figure. He couldn't just walk out on him. Not after he'd taken him back into his house - ship. Cai reminded himself. Took him onto a ship and then traveling together until they met Yong Soo.
"He... he told me if I ever needed someone to talk to.... or just someone to be around because I'm... not feeling well-" and this was the overstatement of that particular promise. He felt awful. "-that I should go stay with him..."
Expression still neutral, Yong Soo's eyes remained steady on the other, deep in thought and weighing the options. After a moment, he holds the other close again, petting his head. "We'll get out of here, first, da ze. Then, I'll see what I can do." Not pausing in his soothing motions, the Korean looks down the tunnel, frowning lightly.
It seemed to stretch on deeper into the darkness, steadily declining into the mountain, but there was a faint breeze, and that gave the Korean hope. He began walking down, keeping his eyes and ears open. Yong Soo glances at Cai again, and then looks back up, clearing his throat. "Until then, you're free to talk to me, da ze. You don't have to, but you can."
It was highly tempting to just vent all the odd feelings and memories to Yong Soo - to Korea, of all nations! Cai even found his mouth opening of it's own accord. But... "I..." he didn't know how to go about even beginning to talk about past lives or anything... "I don't want -" he choked. "I want to... I really do... but I don't want you to..." to hate me for being crazy - he thought to himself.
In the one moment he'd opened his eyes, trying to get Yong Soo to understand with a look what he couldn't say... he froze. It was here... the dark, dank hall. Shuddering, he slammed his eyes back shut and clung all the more tightly to North's vest. Oh god... after all those months, wishing to remember.... he wished now to just forget everything.
Yong Soo didn't press, stroking the other's shoulders as the words struggled. "You have your reasons, da ze. I can respect that." He kept a close look at his footing, making sure not to shift on stray pebbles, and continued falling the faint wind.
Then the other was suddenly clinging to him, whimpering slightly and murmuring in that other language again. Yong Soo looked down, bemused, and stopped, leaning against a wall to hold the other. "What is it, da ze?" he asks in an undertone, soft and solid. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you, Cai. Talk to me."
With a faint keen, Cai buried his face in Yong Soo's shoulder. "We're here..." he mumbled under his breath. "I don't want to be here..." he whimpered. "S'dark and it's cold and they won't let me out..." and he got lost in the passages and he was so hungry and alone and cold and sick... Unknowingly, he started to panic - each shuddering breath coming faster than the last. He was going to be trapped in here and even if he wasn't alone he didn't want to be trapped!
Yong Soo's eyes widen as the other begins to hyperventilate, and he shakes his head, shushing quickly and rubbing his back. When that doesn't work, the Korean crouches down, setting the other's feet down and holding him close, looking into his panicked eyes.
"Cai, listen to me," he commands gently, eyes firm. "You need to breathe with me, da ze." He takes a slightly exageratted deep breath, holding, and letting it go. He does this repeatedly, making sure it's louder than the other's breaths, and strokes his shoulders.
"We're getting out of here. They're never going to have you again, da ze. Not while I'm here." He frowns, and sets the other down, stripping off his outer jacket and tucking it around the other, wrapping it close about him and hugging. As he does, something rustles out of his sash--a scroll of paper. Yong Soo blinks, tilting his head, and picks it up curiously.
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Post by England on Oct 4, 2010 22:22:08 GMT -5
Taking slow, shuddering breaths Cái imitated the Korean's every intake and out take. He wasn't shaking with the cold anymore - Yong Soo's jacket was incredibly warm, like the other man was a veritable furnace and he felt better as the residual heat seeped into his frame. "You... you mean that?" he mumbled, staying as close as he could to the other - resting his aching head on the taller mans shoulder. "I - I don't have to go back?" Don't have to go back to the man who kidnapped him and killed his parents? Didn't have to go back to being a Nation? Didn't have to go back to being alone - being abandoned?
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Post by Wonsanji on Oct 5, 2010 19:12:54 GMT -5
Temporarily shifting his focus from the mysterious scroll, Yong Soo turned his head against the others, rubbing the boy’s back through his jacket and shaking his head, not knowing entirely the promise he was making. “Aniyo, da ze,” he murmured softly, squeezing the narrow shoulders. “You never have to go back there. Not while I’m breathing.”
He remained there for a while, just letting the other boy calm down a bit, occasionally brushing his back in firm strokes. Then, when he thought Cái could handle it, he slowly took his arm away, keeping close and letting the Macanese boy huddle into his jacket. He took out the scroll in his hands, carefully untying the ribbon that held it shut and rolling it open.
It took him a while in the dim lighting to figure out what the parchment was, but once he did, the Korean couldn’t help the vicious grin on his face. “Da ze! I think this is a map of the tunnels!” He peered close, trying to make out the words, and snarled. “Geseki. It’s written in a Western language—I can’t make it out…”
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