["♠️🔥"... Is that what his name means? So "Ace" is the spelling and "♠️🔥" is the meaning? She might not know what the first picture is, but. Fire! That's cool!]
[Konoha tries her best... but there isn't much in the message she can read. She knew the words for things that ended up on shop signs, like "tea" and "food" and "money"... things that she used on the lumber yard, like numbers... but not really verbs, adjectives, or pronouns.
[ no! she's absolutely right! ace comes strolling into the lobby around that same time, hands shoved deep in his pockets and Corruption lingering like uncanny cold around him ]
[Konoha could be quite an observant woman, when it came down to it... and one of the things she was always quick to notice was when those around her and those she cared for weren't feeling well. Normally, Ace might be greeted happily only to soon have her asking if he was eating properly, confirming she had definitely been right to try and text him about his health...
Except he says that, and her initial perking up at his arrival turns instead to a blip of confusion that soon becomes a bashful wave of her hands, a bit of a ruddy blush warming her honey brown cheeks.]
Wh- What are you talking about, Ace, no I'm not- !
[ Hands deep in the pockets of his slouchy, sagging coveralls - the emblem of the Steel Wing office on the left breast pocket. He looks plenty wan, clothes baggy around his chest and shoulders as though he's lost weight.
No matter the changes coming over Konoha, too, she's still way cuter than Ace's corruption process. He just looks like he's dying. :/ ]
What's new and interesting with you? Did you go stomping around in the Asphodel Fields last month? I was finding bog in my boots for weeks!
You're just being nice, I didn't gussy up today at all...
[Konoha certainly didn't think that she was unfortunate looking, but she felt like she had a very realistic handle on things! Men liked pretty, willowy girls, usually, right? And she wasn't a slim-legged field jinba, but a stockier mountain breed, plus she was so dark and skin in coat, not a pretty palomino or a dapple roan... sure, if she did her hair and clothing nice for a festival or something she felt very cute, thank you, and her parents always said she was, but that was her parents, it only half counted, and-
Hang-ups based on the human beauty standards of her world aside, Konoha can only fluster so long before she begins to notice something. Her own body seems to have hardly changed since they first met, but that's only because the feathers that had started growing in to her undercoat are shades of brown, and to cover them even more she has started wearing a blanket draped over her equine back. Nervermind the temperature outside.]
I did a little, my hooves were so hard to pick out after, aha...
[She already sounds distracted, though, and with her hooves shuffling she turns a bit more towards Ace, the blush fading in favor of furrow in her brow, her hands coming together to wring her fingers slightly.]
Have you been eating well... ? The food here is kind of strange, but it's not as bad as I was afraid of the first day...
What's that have to do with it? [ Gussying up. ] It's your smile that I always see first.
[ She's talking to a guy who lived as a child among two other stinky, feral children in the woods / a Literal Garbage Heap, there is absolutely NO bias he has regarding what makes someone cute. It's just about who they are, as a living person. As she draws closer, his eyes do wander down her body — in a very curious way, looking for signs of her own Corruption. And maybe, because her own changes are so subtle to look upon, the brief expression of anguish that flickers across his face is understandable. He knows how he looks.
Keeping his hands in his pockets because his fingertips have gone grey and keep getting darker, like black poison is spreading down into his veins from that origin. He looks sick, like he's being stretched thinner and thinner as the days pass, but his strength remains and his power hasn't really waned. A few strands of stark white flow throughout the curls and waves of his dark hair, easily hidden for now. And the worst of it ( the scar, on his torso and what's happening to it ), he keeps hidden. Definitely hidden. ]
I've been trying to, honest. I usually eat enough for four guys, but lately it's been a struggle getting a meal for two down. I can't tell if I'm getting full faster, or just not thrilled by what's on offer. What about you? You find anything that reminds you of home?
[... Oh. Konoha feels an embarrassed, somewhat self-conscious but flattered smile instinctively begin to blossom back on her expression for such a direct, sweet (to her) comment. Just as immediately, she moves to cover it, because now wasn't the right time to smile, look at the state of him... but- but if he liked her smile, maybe she shouldn't? Her hand moves up and down a bit helplessly as she stands torn over whether to let it show or not, but finally, for just a brief moment before the concern overtakes her again...
She smiles gratefully.
The closer she shuffles, the more a keen observer would be able to pick up the changes that have started to come over her body... but they would have to be looking, because like Ace (though perhaps for a different reason than Ace) she has put a great deal of thought and care into hiding them. The downy brown feathers in her undercoat become more clear; curiously, they seem most numerous on her back legs. Because she can't reach her back legs well, and she's been plucking the feathers out every night no matter how painful it is to do that. The horse blanket she has thrown over her withers hides that her withers have grown sharp with some weight loss, unable to eat enough in the current shortage to feed both the natural needs of a half ton body and a greedy extra soul she never asked for. Her eyes, which had been a brownish amber when they first met, are tinged with a subtle hint of gold that hadn't been there before.
And those eyes look over him for signs of sickness, but... she can't tell. What might be sick and what might be what the people here called "corruption".]
I usually eat enough for five, but... the servings are getting kind of smaller these days... and I don't want to take more than everyone else gets...
[Her own (adopted) parents had sacrificed for her sake when food had been in short supply, knowing she required more... and she had swallowed her protests because they had been family, and she accepted their willing choice. She couldn't ask strangers in the Augmented, families, children, to watch her receiving more than them. But her hunger response was fine, the taste wasn't bad... so his problem-]
The food here's nothing like my home's, though. And people stab everything on their plate...
[... with forks. What the heck kind of a word was "fork", anyway?]
Do you think maybe your appetite would be better if the food was like you're used to? If you describe it... maybe I could try making it for you? I'm pretty good at cooking...
[And she'd much rather be doing that than... searching the dangerous wilds for killing stones.]
You shouldn't be eating anything less than what you need, though.
[ It's not about being greedy, when it comes to a girl like Konoha. She's made bigger than other people, and if she doesn't eat what's proper for her body, it'll start breaking down. While he wouldn't think of her as a burden, per se, he doesn't want to give Karterians any reason to take a look at her ( or any of them ) and see them as one. He runs a hand through his dark curls, jaw shifting to the side as he thinks; pensive, and wondering.]
— I could get you more, if you want. I used to hunt and gather as a kid — a bear might be enough to feed you for a while.
[ Hilariously, he makes the same offer she does, at the same time. Their cross-communication overlaps one another briefly: I can make you something homey, bursting through in rich sentiment. Ace can't help but color briefly, turning red around his own freckled cheeks at the idea that Konoha would look out for him like that. After all, he's been the big brother to his sibling(s) for longer than he's allowed anyone to care for him, in turn. Marco, maybe. But Marco wasn't to be resisted, only endured. ]
I'm not partial to anything, promise. My crew and I sailed to thousands of islands with thousands of different food styles — our cook, rest his soul, was great at making anything out of anything. It's more that... it doesn't taste like food anymore to me.
[She loved bear, the few times she'd had the opportunity to have it. Dark and rich, and especially tasty in the autumn... even when it was an unhealthy animal, like the holeless males that became aggressive enough for expert hunters to be called from another village, the greasiness could be cooked out well enough in a stew and...
Wait, no, that wasn't the point of all this, even though the idea of that sort of meal did make her want to salivate. They all but talk over each other in the rush to offer the other something, no, no, not me, what about you?, and then they're both blushing, cheeks warm, though only her fingers are wringing. He insists that it isn't an issue of partiality, that it won't make a difference if it's her food or someone else's, but...]
- What does it taste like?
[She just asks. The worst most people would do is just refuse to answer.]
Easily! I've been doing it since I was like, six? I was a mountain kid!
[ Six? Give or take. Definitely when he was at least ten, running around the hostile mountains and the hostile garbage slums of Grey Terminal being a hostile little brat with teeth and a steel pipe and a whole lot of hate in his heart. He's long, long since mellowed — clearly. To the point where being able to take care of someone, to provide for them and ensure they ate well, slept when they needed to, felt good and/or cute in their body? That had long since become his dream. Not to be the strongest, or the best, or to burn his existence into the hearts of men who hated him — but, to love and be loved.
Konoha's wringing her own fingers, and he hesitates before reaching out to take them into his own. He looks a horror, after all. All black digits and sickly aura, like he's poisoning the atmosphere with the promise of terror and death just by existing. It abates, though. Softly settling into a mote of familiar warmth, like an ember that will ignite a night's campfire, or a firefly winking in the distant darkness. Contact with her helps that, and makes him sheepish and slow and awkward when his smile twists a little. Disappointed? Sad?
Because his answer is not the most illustrative: ] Just "wrong". Like, food that's just gone bad. I can't even swallow it, it just goes to waste. My kid brother's cook would end me for it, too.
[... Who let this kid face off against a bear at six??? Konoha grew up in a mountain village, but she was taught to run away fast if she even caught a hint of bear activity in the woods??? Also, shouldn't any kid that went against a bear be dead, not in possession of good bear meat? She would ask, but...
There's something a bit more important.
Like Ace holding her hands. Her thoughts come to a stop as she just looks down at them, and how different they look. Normally... well, normally, only her parents ever held her hands. Gonta had, just once, when he had gently handled her arm to treat a wolf bite and bandage her. Ace's were nothing like any of them. When they had first met, they seemed strong and rugged, but now he looked almost like a leper. Sickly, his fingers darkening as if rotting even though they still felt like flesh against her own...
She can't help but examine him, concerned, her bottom lip pinched between between her teeth. It's soft, and gentle, despite how physically strong she was, the many little scars and nicks on her slightly rough, calloused skin. She's warm though, just a bit more than a human was. Warmer, when she curls her fingers back between his.]
You need to eat, though, Ace...
[... Doesn't he? Everyone is supposed to need to eat. To live. No matter what might have happened, or how things were in their own worlds, they were all living here in this place now, weren't they?]
Even if it tastes bad... No, I bet we could find something that still tastes good. If we try hard enough...
[- But even as she says it, hopeful and determined and desperate to believe what she was saying was true... What were you supposed to do, if just trying harder wouldn't fix it?]
[ She's a good girl. A really good girl. His whole body aches over it, drawn in easily toward small kindnesses and the sentiment associated with someone wanting him around; he'd asked his little brother once, long ago: Do you want me to live? and the response had been a resounding and desperate "yes". Konoha, in her own way, says something very similar to that answer, as she hunts for something that can resolve his problem, make him well, feed him and keep him going. He grips her hands a little tighter, and tries not to look up from them; instead, he keeps his eyes on the little nicks and scars upon her skin.
The way they stand kind of reminds him of Yamato — who towered above him, and who's hands were just as rough, but clung to warmly. ( A wave of grief hits him, because — oh god, oh hell. He hadn't even thought of Yamato, of Wano. Waiting for him, to come back. Waiting for something that'd never happen now. His hands tighten around Konoha's even more, clinging to her. ) ]
Let's try it.
[ She's not wrong. Surely, there's something? ]
Maybe I absorb sunlight and water like some of the others. My Natural Soul's gotta' have something to do with what's going on. Maybe it has an opinion of what we can chow down on. Maybe I'll try to talk to it again. What's yours like, anyways?
[The answer is "yes". It would be "yes" for most any of the Augmented, these pitiful many who have been stolen from their own worlds and forced into this new one without any rhyme or reason, their bodies twisted unnaturally without even the most false pretendings of consent. But for someone who had been kind to her when they did not have to, who had gone out of their way to comfort her in the panic and upset of their arrival and then continue to care...
Of course she wants him to live. Of course she wants him to be well, to eat, to keep going, because... because he seems like a good man. Because selfishly, she isn't sure how she is supposed to go one without the few others who she has opened up to. He squeezes her hands, tighter, and then tighter again, and she doesn't show any sign that it might hurt or be uncomfortable, simply holding back...
Until he asks that question, and the smile starting to blossom on her face in gladness that he committed to at least trying to find a way to eat properly withers before it can fully ripen. It's a good thing he is looking at her hands. She can't look at his face anymore. Her grip twitches. Twitches again.]
I don't... I don't know... I don't want to know...
[How long will she be able to keep that "natural soul" at bay? There wasn't anything natural about it, it felt like an invader in her head, in her heart... For now, she's able to hide the sharp withers beneath the blanket thrown over her back despite the warm weather, she loses an hour or so of sleep every night just desperately plucking whatever feathers she can find trying to grow into her bay coat or along her scalp. The skin irritation left behind by her desperate efforts to remain the Konoha she thought she was, she hides beneath her clothing and wrapping her hairline beneath scarves she can pretend are for catching sweat. But if it gets stronger- ?]
Ace, do you have some time today to chat about something? I was thinking about our efforts at work and wanted to run some ideas by you around the larger scope.
I'm just heading in for a meeting right now. Would you want to meet up somewhere special around Belle Ville in about an hour? I can show you the preliminary work I've got going on for those lockers, too.
[ At the least, her message is received: the status indicates Ace had read it, though no answer arrives for an hour at minimum. As quickly as he'd hashed out the details with Mel, he's gone.
He manages to keep his appointment with her, though. Only a few minutes late, he ambles through the park in the direction of the fountain — looking drawn and tired, but capable of a smile all the same when he spots her. He lifts a hand in greeting, though the effort seems tiring, and presses on as if glad for something else to focus on. With him, a mangled wire cart filled with some additional scraps of metal and one very tall single, hammerpoint-finished locker.
he looms like a hobo...... a himbo hobo... ]
Hey, Miss Mel! Sorry I'm late, I left the stuff I wanted to bring you behind and had to double back for it.
[ She's waiting when he arrives, and she hasn't been waiting long when he makes his appearance. Her eyebrows shoot up at what he's brought and she stands to greet him better. He looks tired and worn, and she can't guess at where he's been, but her assumption is that the cart is, more or less, a chore to lug around. ]
Here, you can set it down. You shouldn't have had to push that all of the way here.
[ She could've met him closer, at least! Hazel eyes flick over the items he's brought, landing, of course, on the locker. ]
[ The cart he's rigged together for ease of lugging his work back and forth from the scrapyard to the small apartment he shares with Sabo is dragged up alongside of him, tipped forward to park it as he reaches out to steady the short locker with the flat of his palm. ]
For the most part, yeah. Metal's not hard for me to work with —
[ The ends of his fingers ignite, into flames that he holds up before him. A simple explanation, before he shakes them out. ]
And it keeps my mind off of things I don't want to waste my time spiraling about. Do you like it? You can look it over, feel free.
[ The flame produces a brief startle-response, the soul inside of her waking up with a start. It's gone before her heartbeat can get to racing, and despite the surprise, there's still an intense curiosity in her gaze that she can't disguise. Her eyes return to the locker, looking at it anew. ]
That's quite the skill. But you shouldn't need to be the only one making these.
[ ...Not that she can help, but it's the principle of the thing. Mel reaches for the locker, looking it over, fingers pushing in places. It's sturdy, enough to satisfy; it means it can stay upright, and is less likely to be easy to break.
Don't think she didn't catch the other comment, though, Ace. ]
Far be it from me to pry when we don't know each other, but...I'm happy to listen if you wish to speak on it. Holding things in can-- [ Well. ] It can fester. And I wouldn't want that for you.
[ But that's on his terms. Mel values her own privacy, and she's sure others do too. ]
Your work is very good, though. This feels like it could stand the test of weather and potential thieves. Or sabotage.
Honestly, after we all agree on it: this could be the prototype for others to follow when constructing more lockers.
[ Whatever tweaks to the design and structure that need to be made, he can do, but he'd like to turn it over to Mel and Texas and the others to bring to the people in need of work ( like the people of East Sophia ) and see if the gap between labor and wages could be bridged between them. It's rapidly becoming a bad idea for him to be the face of anything, as he grows sicker and more eerie by the month; ailing of some invisible sickness that he can't find a way to stop, even though he claws at every survival instinct to stave it off, if he can't halt the sinking suspicion he has.
She offers to be an ear, and while he doesn't leap to divulge every concern or emotion he's feeling/has felt, he does respect her position with a tentative offer: ] I wouldn't be able to make as many as we might need all on my own, anyways. My Natural Soul's making me real sick. It's not getting better, so I'm worried about how it'll impact the Steel Wing and everyone else.
[ ( And Sabo, too. ) That's all, really. He can be up front about the obvious: he's ailing, from the Corruption, and doing his best to keep in front of it for as long as he can. ]
You don't seem to be going through the same thing as me, though. You look strong.
Agreed. Let me take some pictures. Once we have Texas' weigh-in, we can move the proposal forward. I can't imagine any board will have much to say about changes.
[ Especially when they couldn't offer them initially as it is. If they want tweaks, she also imagines they can probably make them fairly easily with Ace's abilities and some other helpers. Mass producing them is going to be the difficulty, especially with what he tells her.
Mel listens, but she is taking out her device to snap those pictures while she does so. It allows her to better disguise her concern, give her the space to properly digest what he's telling her. But the device goes away and Ace gets her full attention now. ]
Mine is simply different. It's a bird. [ She brushes up one of her sleeves, letting him see the long line of dark feathers beginning to cover her arms. Her nails have been clipped today, or she'd show those too. ] And while it isn't making me ill, it's started to become painful in places I wasn't expecting.
[ With the feathers coming in, they disguise all the cracks in her skin and muscle as new flesh appears, and she'd like to not show those off. ]
Not that I would want to suggest it, but have you asked Patho-Gen why this is happening? What kind of Soul do you have, if you're all right with sharing?
[ He doesn't have to, but it just feels...wrong for these people to have given him a Soul that would hurt him as much as it is. ]
[ He takes a step away from his handiwork, to better allow her to snap pictures of it without running the risk of capturing his image in any of them. It's been frightening enough, seeing himself in the mirror and having to immediately think of scary stories whispered in groups around the fires — the dread atmosphere arising off him in reflections might translate to images, and it's just not something he's willing to inflict on people. Holding his coffee to his mouth, he continues to sip at it dutifully and watches her move — she's graceful.
It makes sense, then, when Mel shows off the feathers covering her arms. It's a sight that actually makes him smile, loose and fond. ]
— my crew's doctor was a phoenix. [ It's an easy way of summarizing the whole story. ] We have this thing called Devil Fruits, back home. You eat one, you get a unique power. His was to take the shape of a phoenix, to various degrees. Birdy legs, wings for arms, or even a full form. I always thought he was cool.
[ It's his way of explaining that he doesn't find her body disturbing. More familiar, comforting. ]
If it's muscle that's hurting, I give a mean massage! Come with my own warming system, too.
[ At the least, he can get the eager offer out before she asks him about his own Soul. It's an elusive thing, but he's noticed some similarities between himself and others. The dread aura, the draw to death and dead things. The steadily intensifying sickness within him. ]
I think it's dead. My Natural Soul, I mean. Patho-Gen's had me in check-ups since arrival, 'cause I was dead, too. And all the things that are happening... they make sense if it's dead.
[ In Mel's silence, she turns his way, and her expression softens ever so imperceptibly. Ace offers her a kindness she hasn't earned and yet it is offered just the same as every other piece has been given to her since her arrival — freely given, unfettered, and it makes her heart ache in her wretchedness. She hears all of what he is saying and what he is circumventing by inference: he has seen such a thing before and it doesn't frighten him, and maybe does not need to hide herself from him as they continue to work together.
(And the offer is more than she can ask for, though it still is nice to hear.)
It's an uplifting thought. Mel offers a faint smile that, for just a brief moment, warms her expression.
And that shatters with his response. ]
What?
[ She heard him. He doesn't need to repeat himself. Mel's eyes are wide and horrified. ]
Why... I don't understand. Why would they do that to you, or to anyone? That's— [ It's cruel. It's utterly, despicably cruel. And for him to be dead, just like Silco and Vander, to be brought here just to be used... The anger is blinding for a moment, seizing up her golden spine, and Mel has to keep her lips pressed so firmly that she says nothing else for several seconds.
And then, only then: ] Ace, I'm so sorry. Are they offering anything to help you? Do they have any kind of plan?
[ Uniting his little tail about Marco and his mention of massage is the intention behind it: familiarity with bird-like anatomy, and a lack of horror at seeing what is becoming of her. Only concern that it may cause her pain, and the idea that he has both a familiarity and a heat-generating power that could be put to great use. He used to take care of other members of his crew, like that; especially Pops, when he was too sick from the medication but too agitated to rest. It had been Ace who had put his fire-warmed hands to the worst spots and left them there until Newgate had settled, had softened, had praised him and thanked him with all the love in his elephant-sized heart.
Being of service, taking care of people — he wants to, so badly. Especially now, as the changes overcoming him leave native Karterians wary and frightened. Something about him is wrong to them, and there's some innate fear they possess when they look upon him. ( He'd always known he was a monster, but this? This is just the truth manifesting for everyone to formally see, even without the context of his filthy bloodline. ) ]
Nah, they just want to watch it happen.
[ And strangely, he seems fine with that. There isn't any energy in his admission, nor resistance. Like he's already come to terms with it all, even if his mouth strains to find that easy, warm smile. Even if his expression twitches, like he's holding more at bay. ]
Patho-Gen said me getting sicker isn't Corruption, it's my Natural Soul doing what it needs to do. "Perfectly normal", they called it. I got a doc I trust helping me through it, gathering data. We're trying to do as much as we can, in case it means the worst.
[ He gestures to her, trying to move the topic away. ]
Who knows, maybe this will help us find better care for you and the other Augmented.
[ It spills out too fast, her hammering heart flooding out the pragmatism she clings to so fiercely. It's impulsive and messy, and she can't stop the initial word that makes its way past the horrified lump in her throat. 'They just want to watch it happen.' All of this is 'perfectly normal'. She feel like she might be ill. Is it not enough to give someone an experimental soul to begin with, a dead one, but to be so unperturbed by the outcome?
They knew. They had to have known. And here is Ace, this man who has spared no thought for himself but for the people of this city and for the Augmented besides, who just smiles and insists that maybe it will help.
She can't. She can't accept it. It's just too cruel. ]
It's not worth it. Finding any of that out... Ace, that isn't worth your wellness or your life.
[ Her fingers flex. The anger is blinding, terrible, as painful as the horror that accompanies it. Before she can stop herself, she's reaching gently for his shoulder, fingers spread so she isn't touching his skin but nor are her claws so close to harm him. Her eyes search his face.
How can you offer me such kindness and then act as though it'll all be okay? ]
Please, there has to be something. What can I do to help you? What can any of us do to help you? It's not right that you go through this on your own—
Edited (nope I lied ONE MORE THING) 2025-06-21 22:42 (UTC)
[ Once again, he's stricken dumb and frozen in place by the vehemence in her tone; she's not angry, not at him, which is confusing and surprising. Even years later, it muddles the lessons inside of him — the comfort of the Whitebeard pirates and their love already a distant thing he'd spend more time being lost to than ever having ( by killing them in piles and heaps and droves just because they wouldn't let him GO; by dying, insulting all their hard work and mocking their devotion and loyalty forever — ), and the way some people were just hardwired to care.
What can she do, though?
The question sits tense and sickly inside of him, a kernel of resentment that he's done his best not to taunt or feed: why does he have to feel this way? Why was he brought back, if only to feel like this? To have to think about how miserable his end was, how miserable his life was save for a few shining moments where he'd been happy and loved and free. What was it worth, if this is what he has now? A foreign world he can't chase his dreams in, can't see his brother in, has to imagine that — if he wins, if he goes back... won't he just be dead again? And if so, what's the point? ]
I don't, [ he sounds smaller, younger. A twenty-year old kid who'd already died violently and is trying to outrun everything that that means. ] Know. I don't know.
[ His mouth quivers, momentarily. The bravado's a lie, apparently. ]
I guess, we could be friends? Until whatever happens, happens? That'd be nice. I don't really... have anything else I could ask for.
[ Of all the things people have requested of her, she will never understand why friendship is what's desired. And from her. It'd be laughable in any other instance. Here, with Ace, it simply strikes her as an incredibly upsetting desire — because it means there really may be nothing that she or anyone else can do. It simply doesn't feel fair (and she has long grown out of the thought that there is something 'fair' or 'righteous' in much of life).
And yet, hadn't she just been telling Gale something similar, that it can be difficult to know how to help someone's darkness — and that sometimes, one can only offer to stand beside them?
Mel's eyes are on his face, searching. And then, softly, she lets go of the breath she was holding. It's impossible to deny him, not like this, and not when he looks so incredibly forlorn, just shy of hurting. Her hand closes gently around his shoulder, squeezing. ]
Of course we can be friends.
[ Leaving out that she doesn't know how to do that properly... He really is just a kid, isn't he? Only a little older than she was when she was exiled.
What would she have wanted people to tell her when she was all alone? ]
I'll be right here with you no matter what happens. I promise you. Whatever you might need. [ It's genuine. But she knows, too, that she wouldn't have believed such an assertion once upon a time. So, she adds: ] Only you can walk this path, unfortunately. But I can still walk beside you for as long as the time we have.
[ In silence, in sharing, in strength, it doesn't matter to her. So long as he knows he isn't alone and needn't bear the suffering by himself. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
un: treeleaf
🌳🍃！ 👧🏽🐎
健あｌｔｈ？ ☺️？
SHE'S SO PRECIOUS
"ace" "tree leaf" "horse girl"
"smile?" ]
Konoha? Is it you!?
Did I figure out the riddle?
SPECIAL CUTENESS DELIVERY
Hold on, what should she say when she can’t read the rest of it… She’ll guess!]
🌳🍃！
👍
🅰️𝓒🅴 ☺️？
🥩🍚☺️？
😢？
no subject
♠️🔥!
Um, meat rice happy. [ lmao that could be his lil bro's callsign ]
Sad... "?"
You feeling sad 😢, Konoha 🌳🍃? Or, um. Are you asking if I've eaten?
🍽️ ?
no subject
♠️🔥!
🌳🍃 👋🏽☺️ ♠️🔥
meat rice food 🔜 ☺️
meat rice food ✖ 😢
♠️🔥 ☺️？
♠️🔥 😢？
no subject
I missed you last month.
Sorry, I didn't mean to be so busy I couldn't make time for you.
I'm not all that hungry lately,
meat rice food ✖ ♠️🔥
But, I'll come keep you company? ♠️🔥 ➡️ 🌳🍃 ?
no subject
Something something... month? Something something time?]
3 month
🌕🌕🌕 now
[But gasp... he's a ✖ on food????]
♠️🔥✖ meat rice food!?!?
🌳🍃😢
🌳🍃🤲🏽 meat rice food
now?
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♠️🔥 ➡️ 🌳🍃
Let's meet up outside the Valentia. 🏨🛌🛍️
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🏨⬇️ now?
🏨⬇️ 15!
[She hopes this communication is going well… Otherwise she's going to look silly standing alone in the hotel lobby in 15 minutes.]
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Hey, Konoha! You're looking cute as ever!
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Except he says that, and her initial perking up at his arrival turns instead to a blip of confusion that soon becomes a bashful wave of her hands, a bit of a ruddy blush warming her honey brown cheeks.]
Wh- What are you talking about, Ace, no I'm not- !
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[ Hands deep in the pockets of his slouchy, sagging coveralls - the emblem of the Steel Wing office on the left breast pocket. He looks plenty wan, clothes baggy around his chest and shoulders as though he's lost weight.
No matter the changes coming over Konoha, too, she's still way cuter than Ace's corruption process. He just looks like he's dying. :/ ]
What's new and interesting with you? Did you go stomping around in the Asphodel Fields last month? I was finding bog in my boots for weeks!
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[Konoha certainly didn't think that she was unfortunate looking, but she felt like she had a very realistic handle on things! Men liked pretty, willowy girls, usually, right? And she wasn't a slim-legged field jinba, but a stockier mountain breed, plus she was so dark and skin in coat, not a pretty palomino or a dapple roan... sure, if she did her hair and clothing nice for a festival or something she felt very cute, thank you, and her parents always said she was, but that was her parents, it only half counted, and-
Hang-ups based on the human beauty standards of her world aside, Konoha can only fluster so long before she begins to notice something. Her own body seems to have hardly changed since they first met, but that's only because the feathers that had started growing in to her undercoat are shades of brown, and to cover them even more she has started wearing a blanket draped over her equine back. Nervermind the temperature outside.]
I did a little, my hooves were so hard to pick out after, aha...
[She already sounds distracted, though, and with her hooves shuffling she turns a bit more towards Ace, the blush fading in favor of furrow in her brow, her hands coming together to wring her fingers slightly.]
Have you been eating well... ? The food here is kind of strange, but it's not as bad as I was afraid of the first day...
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[ She's talking to a guy who lived as a child among two other stinky, feral children in the woods / a Literal Garbage Heap, there is absolutely NO bias he has regarding what makes someone cute. It's just about who they are, as a living person. As she draws closer, his eyes do wander down her body — in a very curious way, looking for signs of her own Corruption. And maybe, because her own changes are so subtle to look upon, the brief expression of anguish that flickers across his face is understandable. He knows how he looks.
Keeping his hands in his pockets because his fingertips have gone grey and keep getting darker, like black poison is spreading down into his veins from that origin. He looks sick, like he's being stretched thinner and thinner as the days pass, but his strength remains and his power hasn't really waned. A few strands of stark white flow throughout the curls and waves of his dark hair, easily hidden for now. And the worst of it ( the scar, on his torso and what's happening to it ), he keeps hidden. Definitely hidden. ]
I've been trying to, honest. I usually eat enough for four guys, but lately it's been a struggle getting a meal for two down. I can't tell if I'm getting full faster, or just not thrilled by what's on offer. What about you? You find anything that reminds you of home?
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She smiles gratefully.
The closer she shuffles, the more a keen observer would be able to pick up the changes that have started to come over her body... but they would have to be looking, because like Ace (though perhaps for a different reason than Ace) she has put a great deal of thought and care into hiding them. The downy brown feathers in her undercoat become more clear; curiously, they seem most numerous on her back legs. Because she can't reach her back legs well, and she's been plucking the feathers out every night no matter how painful it is to do that. The horse blanket she has thrown over her withers hides that her withers have grown sharp with some weight loss, unable to eat enough in the current shortage to feed both the natural needs of a half ton body and a greedy extra soul she never asked for. Her eyes, which had been a brownish amber when they first met, are tinged with a subtle hint of gold that hadn't been there before.
And those eyes look over him for signs of sickness, but... she can't tell. What might be sick and what might be what the people here called "corruption".]
I usually eat enough for five, but... the servings are getting kind of smaller these days... and I don't want to take more than everyone else gets...
[Her own (adopted) parents had sacrificed for her sake when food had been in short supply, knowing she required more... and she had swallowed her protests because they had been family, and she accepted their willing choice. She couldn't ask strangers in the Augmented, families, children, to watch her receiving more than them. But her hunger response was fine, the taste wasn't bad... so his problem-]
The food here's nothing like my home's, though. And people stab everything on their plate...
[... with forks. What the heck kind of a word was "fork", anyway?]
Do you think maybe your appetite would be better if the food was like you're used to? If you describe it... maybe I could try making it for you? I'm pretty good at cooking...
[And she'd much rather be doing that than... searching the dangerous wilds for killing stones.]
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[ It's not about being greedy, when it comes to a girl like Konoha. She's made bigger than other people, and if she doesn't eat what's proper for her body, it'll start breaking down. While he wouldn't think of her as a burden, per se, he doesn't want to give Karterians any reason to take a look at her ( or any of them ) and see them as one. He runs a hand through his dark curls, jaw shifting to the side as he thinks; pensive, and wondering.]
— I could get you more, if you want. I used to hunt and gather as a kid — a bear might be enough to feed you for a while.
[ Hilariously, he makes the same offer she does, at the same time. Their cross-communication overlaps one another briefly: I can make you something homey, bursting through in rich sentiment. Ace can't help but color briefly, turning red around his own freckled cheeks at the idea that Konoha would look out for him like that. After all, he's been the big brother to his sibling(s) for longer than he's allowed anyone to care for him, in turn. Marco, maybe. But Marco wasn't to be resisted, only endured. ]
I'm not partial to anything, promise. My crew and I sailed to thousands of islands with thousands of different food styles — our cook, rest his soul, was great at making anything out of anything. It's more that... it doesn't taste like food anymore to me.
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[She loved bear, the few times she'd had the opportunity to have it. Dark and rich, and especially tasty in the autumn... even when it was an unhealthy animal, like the holeless males that became aggressive enough for expert hunters to be called from another village, the greasiness could be cooked out well enough in a stew and...
Wait, no, that wasn't the point of all this, even though the idea of that sort of meal did make her want to salivate. They all but talk over each other in the rush to offer the other something, no, no, not me, what about you?, and then they're both blushing, cheeks warm, though only her fingers are wringing. He insists that it isn't an issue of partiality, that it won't make a difference if it's her food or someone else's, but...]
- What does it taste like?
[She just asks. The worst most people would do is just refuse to answer.]
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[ Six? Give or take. Definitely when he was at least ten, running around the hostile mountains and the hostile garbage slums of Grey Terminal being a hostile little brat with teeth and a steel pipe and a whole lot of hate in his heart. He's long, long since mellowed — clearly. To the point where being able to take care of someone, to provide for them and ensure they ate well, slept when they needed to, felt good and/or cute in their body? That had long since become his dream. Not to be the strongest, or the best, or to burn his existence into the hearts of men who hated him — but, to love and be loved.
Konoha's wringing her own fingers, and he hesitates before reaching out to take them into his own. He looks a horror, after all. All black digits and sickly aura, like he's poisoning the atmosphere with the promise of terror and death just by existing. It abates, though. Softly settling into a mote of familiar warmth, like an ember that will ignite a night's campfire, or a firefly winking in the distant darkness. Contact with her helps that, and makes him sheepish and slow and awkward when his smile twists a little. Disappointed? Sad?
Because his answer is not the most illustrative: ] Just "wrong". Like, food that's just gone bad. I can't even swallow it, it just goes to waste. My kid brother's cook would end me for it, too.
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There's something a bit more important.
Like Ace holding her hands. Her thoughts come to a stop as she just looks down at them, and how different they look. Normally... well, normally, only her parents ever held her hands. Gonta had, just once, when he had gently handled her arm to treat a wolf bite and bandage her. Ace's were nothing like any of them. When they had first met, they seemed strong and rugged, but now he looked almost like a leper. Sickly, his fingers darkening as if rotting even though they still felt like flesh against her own...
She can't help but examine him, concerned, her bottom lip pinched between between her teeth. It's soft, and gentle, despite how physically strong she was, the many little scars and nicks on her slightly rough, calloused skin. She's warm though, just a bit more than a human was. Warmer, when she curls her fingers back between his.]
You need to eat, though, Ace...
[... Doesn't he? Everyone is supposed to need to eat. To live. No matter what might have happened, or how things were in their own worlds, they were all living here in this place now, weren't they?]
Even if it tastes bad... No, I bet we could find something that still tastes good. If we try hard enough...
[- But even as she says it, hopeful and determined and desperate to believe what she was saying was true... What were you supposed to do, if just trying harder wouldn't fix it?]
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The way they stand kind of reminds him of Yamato — who towered above him, and who's hands were just as rough, but clung to warmly. ( A wave of grief hits him, because — oh god, oh hell. He hadn't even thought of Yamato, of Wano. Waiting for him, to come back. Waiting for something that'd never happen now. His hands tighten around Konoha's even more, clinging to her. ) ]
Let's try it.
[ She's not wrong. Surely, there's something? ]
Maybe I absorb sunlight and water like some of the others. My Natural Soul's gotta' have something to do with what's going on. Maybe it has an opinion of what we can chow down on. Maybe I'll try to talk to it again. What's yours like, anyways?
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Of course she wants him to live. Of course she wants him to be well, to eat, to keep going, because... because he seems like a good man. Because selfishly, she isn't sure how she is supposed to go one without the few others who she has opened up to. He squeezes her hands, tighter, and then tighter again, and she doesn't show any sign that it might hurt or be uncomfortable, simply holding back...
Until he asks that question, and the smile starting to blossom on her face in gladness that he committed to at least trying to find a way to eat properly withers before it can fully ripen. It's a good thing he is looking at her hands. She can't look at his face anymore. Her grip twitches. Twitches again.]
I don't... I don't know... I don't want to know...
[How long will she be able to keep that "natural soul" at bay? There wasn't anything natural about it, it felt like an invader in her head, in her heart... For now, she's able to hide the sharp withers beneath the blanket thrown over her back despite the warm weather, she loses an hour or so of sleep every night just desperately plucking whatever feathers she can find trying to grow into her bay coat or along her scalp. The skin irritation left behind by her desperate efforts to remain the Konoha she thought she was, she hides beneath her clothing and wrapping her hairline beneath scarves she can pretend are for catching sweat. But if it gets stronger- ?]
You actually talk to it... ?
text. @medarda
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I'm just heading in for a meeting right now. Would you want to meet up somewhere special around Belle Ville in about an hour? I can show you the preliminary work I've got going on for those lockers, too.
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And don't worry about snacks for me, they're feeding me during the meeting. I'll catch you there in an hour, leave a message if you change your mind!
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He manages to keep his appointment with her, though. Only a few minutes late, he ambles through the park in the direction of the fountain — looking drawn and tired, but capable of a smile all the same when he spots her. He lifts a hand in greeting, though the effort seems tiring, and presses on as if glad for something else to focus on. With him, a mangled wire cart filled with some additional scraps of metal and one very tall single, hammerpoint-finished locker.
he looms like a hobo...... a himbo hobo... ]
Hey, Miss Mel! Sorry I'm late, I left the stuff I wanted to bring you behind and had to double back for it.
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Here, you can set it down. You shouldn't have had to push that all of the way here.
[ She could've met him closer, at least! Hazel eyes flick over the items he's brought, landing, of course, on the locker. ]
...Did you do all of this yourself?
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For the most part, yeah. Metal's not hard for me to work with —
[ The ends of his fingers ignite, into flames that he holds up before him. A simple explanation, before he shakes them out. ]
And it keeps my mind off of things I don't want to waste my time spiraling about. Do you like it? You can look it over, feel free.
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That's quite the skill. But you shouldn't need to be the only one making these.
[ ...Not that she can help, but it's the principle of the thing. Mel reaches for the locker, looking it over, fingers pushing in places. It's sturdy, enough to satisfy; it means it can stay upright, and is less likely to be easy to break.
Don't think she didn't catch the other comment, though, Ace. ]
Far be it from me to pry when we don't know each other, but...I'm happy to listen if you wish to speak on it. Holding things in can-- [ Well. ] It can fester. And I wouldn't want that for you.
[ But that's on his terms. Mel values her own privacy, and she's sure others do too. ]
Your work is very good, though. This feels like it could stand the test of weather and potential thieves. Or sabotage.
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[ Whatever tweaks to the design and structure that need to be made, he can do, but he'd like to turn it over to Mel and Texas and the others to bring to the people in need of work ( like the people of East Sophia ) and see if the gap between labor and wages could be bridged between them. It's rapidly becoming a bad idea for him to be the face of anything, as he grows sicker and more eerie by the month; ailing of some invisible sickness that he can't find a way to stop, even though he claws at every survival instinct to stave it off, if he can't halt the sinking suspicion he has.
She offers to be an ear, and while he doesn't leap to divulge every concern or emotion he's feeling/has felt, he does respect her position with a tentative offer: ] I wouldn't be able to make as many as we might need all on my own, anyways. My Natural Soul's making me real sick. It's not getting better, so I'm worried about how it'll impact the Steel Wing and everyone else.
[ ( And Sabo, too. ) That's all, really. He can be up front about the obvious: he's ailing, from the Corruption, and doing his best to keep in front of it for as long as he can. ]
You don't seem to be going through the same thing as me, though. You look strong.
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[ Especially when they couldn't offer them initially as it is. If they want tweaks, she also imagines they can probably make them fairly easily with Ace's abilities and some other helpers. Mass producing them is going to be the difficulty, especially with what he tells her.
Mel listens, but she is taking out her device to snap those pictures while she does so. It allows her to better disguise her concern, give her the space to properly digest what he's telling her. But the device goes away and Ace gets her full attention now. ]
Mine is simply different. It's a bird. [ She brushes up one of her sleeves, letting him see the long line of dark feathers beginning to cover her arms. Her nails have been clipped today, or she'd show those too. ] And while it isn't making me ill, it's started to become painful in places I wasn't expecting.
[ With the feathers coming in, they disguise all the cracks in her skin and muscle as new flesh appears, and she'd like to not show those off. ]
Not that I would want to suggest it, but have you asked Patho-Gen why this is happening? What kind of Soul do you have, if you're all right with sharing?
[ He doesn't have to, but it just feels...wrong for these people to have given him a Soul that would hurt him as much as it is. ]
1/2
It makes sense, then, when Mel shows off the feathers covering her arms. It's a sight that actually makes him smile, loose and fond. ]
— my crew's doctor was a phoenix. [ It's an easy way of summarizing the whole story. ] We have this thing called Devil Fruits, back home. You eat one, you get a unique power. His was to take the shape of a phoenix, to various degrees. Birdy legs, wings for arms, or even a full form. I always thought he was cool.
[ It's his way of explaining that he doesn't find her body disturbing. More familiar, comforting. ]
If it's muscle that's hurting, I give a mean massage! Come with my own warming system, too.
idk why i separated this save for tone
I think it's dead. My Natural Soul, I mean. Patho-Gen's had me in check-ups since arrival, 'cause I was dead, too. And all the things that are happening... they make sense if it's dead.
you did it to hurt my heart specifically
(And the offer is more than she can ask for, though it still is nice to hear.)
It's an uplifting thought. Mel offers a faint smile that, for just a brief moment, warms her expression.
And that shatters with his response. ]
What?
[ She heard him. He doesn't need to repeat himself. Mel's eyes are wide and horrified. ]
Why... I don't understand. Why would they do that to you, or to anyone? That's— [ It's cruel. It's utterly, despicably cruel. And for him to be dead, just like Silco and Vander, to be brought here just to be used... The anger is blinding for a moment, seizing up her golden spine, and Mel has to keep her lips pressed so firmly that she says nothing else for several seconds.
And then, only then: ] Ace, I'm so sorry. Are they offering anything to help you? Do they have any kind of plan?
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Being of service, taking care of people — he wants to, so badly. Especially now, as the changes overcoming him leave native Karterians wary and frightened. Something about him is wrong to them, and there's some innate fear they possess when they look upon him. ( He'd always known he was a monster, but this? This is just the truth manifesting for everyone to formally see, even without the context of his filthy bloodline. ) ]
Nah, they just want to watch it happen.
[ And strangely, he seems fine with that. There isn't any energy in his admission, nor resistance. Like he's already come to terms with it all, even if his mouth strains to find that easy, warm smile. Even if his expression twitches, like he's holding more at bay. ]
Patho-Gen said me getting sicker isn't Corruption, it's my Natural Soul doing what it needs to do. "Perfectly normal", they called it. I got a doc I trust helping me through it, gathering data. We're trying to do as much as we can, in case it means the worst.
[ He gestures to her, trying to move the topic away. ]
Who knows, maybe this will help us find better care for you and the other Augmented.
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[ It spills out too fast, her hammering heart flooding out the pragmatism she clings to so fiercely. It's impulsive and messy, and she can't stop the initial word that makes its way past the horrified lump in her throat. 'They just want to watch it happen.' All of this is 'perfectly normal'. She feel like she might be ill. Is it not enough to give someone an experimental soul to begin with, a dead one, but to be so unperturbed by the outcome?
They knew. They had to have known. And here is Ace, this man who has spared no thought for himself but for the people of this city and for the Augmented besides, who just smiles and insists that maybe it will help.
She can't. She can't accept it. It's just too cruel. ]
It's not worth it. Finding any of that out... Ace, that isn't worth your wellness or your life.
[ Her fingers flex. The anger is blinding, terrible, as painful as the horror that accompanies it. Before she can stop herself, she's reaching gently for his shoulder, fingers spread so she isn't touching his skin but nor are her claws so close to harm him. Her eyes search his face.
How can you offer me such kindness and then act as though it'll all be okay? ]
Please, there has to be something. What can I do to help you? What can any of us do to help you? It's not right that you go through this on your own—
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What can she do, though?
The question sits tense and sickly inside of him, a kernel of resentment that he's done his best not to taunt or feed: why does he have to feel this way? Why was he brought back, if only to feel like this? To have to think about how miserable his end was, how miserable his life was save for a few shining moments where he'd been happy and loved and free. What was it worth, if this is what he has now? A foreign world he can't chase his dreams in, can't see his brother in, has to imagine that — if he wins, if he goes back... won't he just be dead again? And if so, what's the point? ]
I don't, [ he sounds smaller, younger. A twenty-year old kid who'd already died violently and is trying to outrun everything that that means. ] Know. I don't know.
[ His mouth quivers, momentarily. The bravado's a lie, apparently. ]
I guess, we could be friends? Until whatever happens, happens? That'd be nice. I don't really... have anything else I could ask for.
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And yet, hadn't she just been telling Gale something similar, that it can be difficult to know how to help someone's darkness — and that sometimes, one can only offer to stand beside them?
Mel's eyes are on his face, searching. And then, softly, she lets go of the breath she was holding. It's impossible to deny him, not like this, and not when he looks so incredibly forlorn, just shy of hurting. Her hand closes gently around his shoulder, squeezing. ]
Of course we can be friends.
[ Leaving out that she doesn't know how to do that properly... He really is just a kid, isn't he? Only a little older than she was when she was exiled.
What would she have wanted people to tell her when she was all alone? ]
I'll be right here with you no matter what happens. I promise you. Whatever you might need. [ It's genuine. But she knows, too, that she wouldn't have believed such an assertion once upon a time. So, she adds: ] Only you can walk this path, unfortunately. But I can still walk beside you for as long as the time we have.
[ In silence, in sharing, in strength, it doesn't matter to her. So long as he knows he isn't alone and needn't bear the suffering by himself. ]