those feelings come flooding back: awe, adoration, admiration, respect, belonging. hell, he forgot he was capable of this sort of warmth; it'd been entrenched in desperation for who knows how long.
when snake died, so did his faith in the world.
there are too many words pounding at the constraints of his mind, heavy like lead. he wants to apologize. he wants to hug him, be held in his embrace as though he were a child. he wants to say he'll do better next time. he wants to run away. he wants to ask him what he should've done — where he went wrong. if he went wrong. but none of these ideas actualize, and he resigns to letting them remain as feelings: as fleeting wants and nothing more.
is this heaven, he asks? or is it hell?
when he meets his gaze, his eyes are tired and vulnerable. snake's standing at his apartment door. he's so young. it's like — fuck, it's like they're back on big shell. ]
...Snake. [ is all he says. the door is slowly wedged open for him with a creak. ]
[ for a spell, he says nothing. this isnt unusual of snake, admittedly. he hears it, the exhaustion laced in raiden's voice, and he wonders what it's from. he could ask, snake supposes, but he gazes over at raiden with that look, that's something between a man and a protector, predator and equal.
the mask is left on his hip, gold flecks catching the light as he walks into the apartment that is next to his; he'd picked it deliberately, made a point to settle himself in next to him just in case. overbearing and presumptive as always.
he chooses the bed. sits on the edge of it, elbows on his knees and fingers laced loosely. he can see it, the way the wrinkles in raiden's face knit together with thought and control: he looks like he's seen a ghost.
snake looks to the floorboards, clearing his throat.
maybe he has. he's not sure yet. ]
Not gonna ask about the face?
[ seriously, he expected that out of his mouth first. ]
[ raiden braces his back against the wall, heel digging into worn plaster and wood. he folds his arms and throws his head back a little. ]
Feel like I should be calling you Pliskin right now...
[ the anxiety in his voice is hard to miss. he doesn't sound like the aged, brusque veteran he normally would; no, his voice is muted and shy as he swallows. ]
I...didn't think much of it. How's it feel? To be...in the right body this time?
I think he's gotten more than briefed on the situation.
[ hah...haha. anyway. ]
... [ an irritated noise comes from his throat before he responds, which is enough of an answer on its own. ] That isn't for certain. [ but yeah. he thinks so. ]
I think this thing needs me in a state where I'm healthy. That's all I'm capable of saying with confidence. Anything more than that would be a lie, Raiden. You know that the risk isn't just me.
[time slips away like sand through a child's hand. in the darkness, she hears the beating of wings. familiar, lulling. tranquil. it feels like the mists in the moments before a match - waiting and ready.
and then she awakens with a gasp, and it's that strange city again. everything from before passes back through her mind, disoriented but leaving her standing, walking anew and trying to make sense of things.
(when she finds something that looks useful, she keeps it in her satchel.)
red flames dance and lead her to the apartments, and tired as she is - mentally, not physically - she goes. it's like a strange dream, creeping through the fading building, but that raises the question of which room she can use. by now, she's midway up the building, in a hall, and to her knowledge alone with only the creeping sense of dread and observation on her.
Emily sighs, and leans her back against the wall.]
God help me.
[the prayer is more resigned than anything else, and her voice feels so loud in this eerie quiet. hopefully no one living in these rooms actually heard.]
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11/1
those feelings come flooding back: awe, adoration, admiration, respect, belonging. hell, he forgot he was capable of this sort of warmth; it'd been entrenched in desperation for who knows how long.
when snake died, so did his faith in the world.
there are too many words pounding at the constraints of his mind, heavy like lead. he wants to apologize. he wants to hug him, be held in his embrace as though he were a child. he wants to say he'll do better next time. he wants to run away. he wants to ask him what he should've done — where he went wrong. if he went wrong. but none of these ideas actualize, and he resigns to letting them remain as feelings: as fleeting wants and nothing more.
is this heaven, he asks? or is it hell?
when he meets his gaze, his eyes are tired and vulnerable. snake's standing at his apartment door. he's so young. it's like — fuck, it's like they're back on big shell. ]
...Snake. [ is all he says. the door is slowly wedged open for him with a creak. ]
Just...sit wherever you want.
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the mask is left on his hip, gold flecks catching the light as he walks into the apartment that is next to his; he'd picked it deliberately, made a point to settle himself in next to him just in case. overbearing and presumptive as always.
he chooses the bed. sits on the edge of it, elbows on his knees and fingers laced loosely. he can see it, the way the wrinkles in raiden's face knit together with thought and control: he looks like he's seen a ghost.
snake looks to the floorboards, clearing his throat.
maybe he has. he's not sure yet. ]
Not gonna ask about the face?
[ seriously, he expected that out of his mouth first. ]
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Feel like I should be calling you Pliskin right now...
[ the anxiety in his voice is hard to miss. he doesn't sound like the aged, brusque veteran he normally would; no, his voice is muted and shy as he swallows. ]
I...didn't think much of it. How's it feel? To be...in the right body this time?
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Like drinking coffee in the morning.
[ it really isn't. ]
Raiden... Jack. [ a part of him hopes he uses jack now, but he has no idea. ] I... [ a beat. ] This place. How's it settling for you?
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[ that makes no fucking sense.
raiden's gaze uncomfortably roves somewhere else — anywhere else but his face. ]
I don't use Jack anymore.
[ ... ]
It's been fine. We've all got voices in our head around here.
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he holds up his mask. ]
It's tied to these.
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[ raiden’s mask is stashed away somewhere in this room. ]
What’s yours like? Whatever’s attached to you, I mean.
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It's an Okami. [ he might be wordsalading whatever it's telling him now, truthfully. ] Kept me out of danger... So I guess I owe it an ear, at least.
[ he'll let him ask questions or explain his own, if he wants. ]
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[ y’all remember those 5 minute long explanations in MGS2? whew.
anyhow, raiden tilts his head. ]
Do you think the body you’re in now has something to do with it?
[ might as well get straight to the point. ]
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[ hah...haha. anyway. ]
... [ an irritated noise comes from his throat before he responds, which is enough of an answer on its own. ] That isn't for certain. [ but yeah. he thinks so. ]
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That's why you keep the mask on you all the time.
[ a beat. ]
You don't wanna risk it.
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Charming as it is that you deduced that, you know it's not the entire reason we're talking, Raiden.
[ he makes eye contact, holds it. ] How long's it been?
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[ he’s blunt, brutally so. it’s oddly characteristic of him — the brashness from all those years ago is still there in its own way. ]
But I need to know if you think letting this thing have control over you is worth the risk.
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I think this thing needs me in a state where I'm healthy. That's all I'm capable of saying with confidence. Anything more than that would be a lie, Raiden. You know that the risk isn't just me.
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he leans his head back against the wall. ]
Losing control of your own mind is serious shit, Snake. That’s all I’m saying. Don’t forget that.
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I'm not playing around with this. I'm taking it seriously. But I'm not giving in and avoiding it.
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I’m used to this. Not having control — someone else being in my head. This is my normal.
And she’s less of a threat than I am, anyways.
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Sounds like you've gotten to know yours pretty well.
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11/24
and then she awakens with a gasp, and it's that strange city again. everything from before passes back through her mind, disoriented but leaving her standing, walking anew and trying to make sense of things.
(when she finds something that looks useful, she keeps it in her satchel.)
red flames dance and lead her to the apartments, and tired as she is - mentally, not physically - she goes. it's like a strange dream, creeping through the fading building, but that raises the question of which room she can use. by now, she's midway up the building, in a hall, and to her knowledge alone with only the creeping sense of dread and observation on her.
Emily sighs, and leans her back against the wall.]
God help me.
[the prayer is more resigned than anything else, and her voice feels so loud in this eerie quiet. hopefully no one living in these rooms actually heard.]