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Post by quinnquinn on Jun 27, 2016 7:02:16 GMT -8
"Oh..." Most people wouldn't talk about something like that right away, would they? "I'm sorry..." He apologised. He continued to look curiously and a little sadly at Lang. How could he leave the safety of Death like that? Or at least what would drive him away like that? Without realising it Owen was slowly leaning closer and closer, like coming in would help him decipher his acquaintance's eyes better.
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Post by woshiwolf on Jun 27, 2016 22:01:23 GMT -8
Lang's gaze dropped from Owen's face as it inched closer, but he didn't attempt to move away. "Well, it happened a long time ago," he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. This conversation brought some unpleasant memories to the surface, a little faded with time, and Lang lets them flow through his mind. The park is still around them. Lang breathes.
Without looking back, he starts talking again. "If you don't mind me asking-- why do you still reap for Death? Why do you stay by her side, even when you receive assignments like the one you had today?" He huffs a laugh. "I didn't have an answer to that, so I left."
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 9, 2016 7:09:24 GMT -8
Owen couldn't understand Lang... Just as he probably would never be able to understand him.
"Death is..." He stopped to think. "Death is everything I know. I know her. I see her. I've always seen her..." Her world, more accurately, but Owen always thought he knew her even from fragments of things that weren't really there.
Although... reaps like today... He couldn't explain. He couldn't tell Li about his... 'pact' with Clement, if it could be called that. The hospital was something he had to deal with, even though either way it could probably be his demise. "Death is worth it..." He said after a pause. "D... Dying," he stretched out his hands and looked at them, waving and bending his fingers as if he was in awe seeing how they moved for the very first time, "was worth this..."
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Post by woshiwolf on Jul 11, 2016 23:13:37 GMT -8
Lang looks down, reeling from Owen's words. He felt, probably for the first time, the gaping hole that stretched between him and Owen, maybe him and all apprentices, a grave he dug himself. "I, I'm sorry to say I can't understand," Lang said, also observing his fingers, interlaced in each other. Tangled. Messy.
"There might have been a time when I did," Lang says simply. "I understood what it felt like to call Death the only thing that mattered. But-" Images flash through his mind, memories of times long gone. They pile on his shoulders, and he sags under their weight. "Those times are gone."
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 19, 2016 16:34:04 GMT -8
"Nobody understands." He stared off somewhere, unsure where he was looking, if he was looking at anything at all. "I am tidy hard to understand."
He then looked at Lang. He looked lonely, in Owen's eyes. In a way, he knew that look too. "Death is different now." He shuffled his arms and crossed them lethargically on his lap. "Death is sick..." Why tell him this? He wasn't going to come back to HQ now was he? But perhaps he felt inclined that Lang know what was going on at home.
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Post by woshiwolf on Jul 26, 2016 21:03:36 GMT -8
Lang's eyes widened, whipping around to stare at Owen. "Death is sick? But she- she's Death." Death is perfect, invincible, unyielding; the very idea that she could get sick was-- laughable. "How did that even--" Wait. "... Was it the hunters?"
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 26, 2016 22:40:41 GMT -8
Owen seemed to tense up, seethe anger behind his eyes when hunters were mentioned. "H-He did it..." his breathing slowed and deepened, as he tried to keep calm. "He's a hunter... He needs to pay..." His expression of rage faltered a bit, as his brows twitched in worry, fear. How was anyone supposed to fight this?
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Post by woshiwolf on Jul 28, 2016 8:14:00 GMT -8
Lang watched Owen tense again, but the buzzing in his ears was louder, more demanding. "A-are hunters really that bad?" Lang asked, voice small. "Maybe they're only doing this because they had nowhere else to go." Like me. "Maybe they're just as scared as you are." Like me.
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 30, 2016 7:45:10 GMT -8
"Going nowhere is tidy different from killing someone." He seemed to scowl now. He paused for a few seconds, before turning to Lang. Owen stared into his eyes, "I... I-I am scared. He doesn't seem scared at all. I am s-scared of someone so tidy much..."
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Post by woshiwolf on Aug 7, 2016 21:01:28 GMT -8
Lang saw the fear in Owen's eyes and gulped. "Cle- he, doesn't represent all of the hunters," He says, almost pleadingly. "Please believe me." He wants to will Owen to believe that, but there is likely no getting rid of Clement's influence on hunter reputation. Clement was their leader, their face, of course apprentices would assume that other hunters think like him.
Lang sighs, looks away. "It's fine, never mind. I know how awful he can be, so be careful, okay?"
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Post by quinnquinn on Aug 7, 2016 21:59:31 GMT -8
Owen didn't even realise he did, but he shrunk away at even just the beginning of the man's name being dropped. He stared wide-eyed at Lang, mouth open as well, unsure whether he should say anything else. "H..." his head darted around, looking around for some danger, scared again. "H-How do you... know..." he whispered now, afraid someone else was watching. He wasn't alone anymore, with his... friend..? here.
"H-How do you know his name..?" he raised a hand to part of his hair, tugging on it slightly. This was not... what he wanted... "Y-You won't tell him my name will you..?!" Owen looked desperate - haunted, even - and he'd grabbed Lang's hand, arm, something, and held fast.
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Post by woshiwolf on Aug 14, 2016 23:43:21 GMT -8
Lang watched Owen get more and more distressed, and panics, covering the hand clinging to his arm with his own. Oh no, this was not how this was supposed to go. "I-I," He stammers. What does he even say to that? How does he even begin to explain this mess?"I won't tell him anything, I promise," Lang swallows. "I-I'm sorry, this is all wrong, I--" He cuts off, unable to say any more.
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Post by quinnquinn on Aug 15, 2016 0:21:37 GMT -8
"P-Please don't," he begged, grabbing the other's hand tighter. "Please don't, please don't, please don't..." he muttered over and over and over, as if he'd forgotten how to speak any other words. Owen forced himself to stop, tried to gather his composure, and his head jerked around as his muscles tried to expel whatever irky feeling he had stored up inside. "W-Why... Why don't you... want her... anymore..." a question, perhaps? Or self-questioning? His face was downcast and he had nothing else could say or think, other than... this weight on his chest.
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Post by woshiwolf on Aug 15, 2016 10:32:28 GMT -8
Lang flinched under Owen's strong grip, his questions and pleas and accusations. This was a mistake, all of this. "I-I." He couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry," he wheezes, finally. Mustering all the strength he had, he wrenched his arm from Owen's grip, running back to the hospital.
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Post by quinnquinn on Aug 24, 2016 7:15:17 GMT -8
Owen almost panicked as Lang wrestled out of his grip, wanting to hold him tighter, closer, as if maybe that would erase what had been said. But he couldn't find it in him to do that. He let the other man go, and watched him disappear back towards the hospital the had delivered him from. "Li!" He called out after him, standing up from the bench, reaching a hand out, a trembling voice.
He whined in distress to himself a few times, grabbing his hair, unsure. Owen finally sat himself back down on the bench, feeling frightened, a certain hollow look in his eyes. He didn't know what to think anymore. Would he... see him again? Or did any chance of that run away with him?
An eavesdropping sparrow hopped into his shoulder and chirped in his ear. With a large breath he calmed down, but this wasn't enough. Owen looked at the small bird. How considerate. He wanted nothing more than to go.
"His name isn't Li, is it?" He asked the bird, still chirping, ignorant of his own words. He stood up and the sparrow flew ahead of him, darkness tearing open in the middle of daylight, a cold open world beyond.
"What are you supposed to call a friend who has no name?"
The sparrow chirped again for him to walk onwards into the void. He put one foot in, trying to empty his mind to concentrate on the journey home.
A face lingers, the name associated with it blurring in uncertainty.
He could not.
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END
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