(open) back to ordinary

[sparsity]

Who: mikazuki augus (sparsity) & various & you!
What: october plot - open prompts, closed starters.
When: various days in october.
Where: olympia & thesa.
Warning(s): violence, probably murder.

I. YOU'VE GROWN OUT OF US

[ All things considered, the events leading up to Olympia's current state are familiar in the way the lay of a skeleton is familiar, flesh stripped from bone, the impression of something once whole. Bare joints exposed, a working order, if not quite... right. Explosions rocking a populated area, terrified people, dubious claims opening up a chasm of blame for anyone free to explore. It leaves too much to people he doesn't trust. Too much like the colonies he saw falsely accused.

Years ago and yet fresh again, for all the subtleties he doesn't understand about it. All he knows is that people are ready to fight.

Mikazuki isn't really the vigilante sort, though he's moving through the streets of Olympia like he is, eyes trained and alert as he glances down alleyways he passes, storefronts and establishments a little too dark. He's most familiar with the marketplace, as much as he's a familiar face there too. All its corners have been thrown with smoke, illness, and shadow. Electricity is in the air, the same sort after the announcement. Mikazuki tastes it as he rounds the bars he knows, looking no where near old enough to enter one and now not marked by Ashti's stone or uniform to signify he's patrolling them, instead dressed in somber neutrals.

His pace only slows when he comes across one of the posters strewn about the city, wide things pasted sideways to the front of a building. Broad daylight, people around, hunters, accomplices. None of that matters. Only the face on it matters, a boy no older than himself, blocky angles and friendly eyes.

Reaching up, he scrapes his nails across its topmost edge and tears it off, crumpling the pieces in his palms. To anyone within earshot that may have stopped in light of his display, he passes a glance to. ]

What?

[ Polite, as always. ]

II. AND YOU'VE BEEN DYING TO GO

[ Every so often, the liveliness of Olympia drives Mikazuki to space. Not because of the noise, but because the conflict this time isn't his noise. It's not Tekkadan, not their conflict, save for those here with him now in the crossfire again. That's the only loyalty he owes, the only allegiance he has. Except this one thing.

Show us we can trust you.

Those words shadow his footsteps as he makes his way through Thesa and into the hangar, the chilly smell of alloy and fuel stinging pleasantly in his nose. He knows his way by heart now, just like he knows his way by heart through the stasis units on Alria to the one he visits day after day. It's quiet up here, compared to the surface below. There's an odd shuttle that takes off or docks in a whir of hydraulics, the natural shift and boom of metal, even at rest. But it's not any of the mass produced training machines that he's focused on as his footsteps thud across the catwalk lining the hangar perimeter, secured in front of the mobile suits. No, it's farther down that he focuses on, where the makes of suits starts to shift. Eventually, he slows next to a hulking white machine, crowned and clawed in gold. ]

Sleeping like usual. [ With no one else around him, he's actually addressing the suit. Hands in pockets, his gaze travels up and up, settling on its clean, quiet face plate. Repaired from that moment he was brought, breathing, to Thesa. ] I wonder what you'd want to do about this, too.

[ ...if there was any doubt that he's legitimately talking to a robot. ]

(ooc. closed starters below, if you'd like something specific feel free to hit me up here, rivalry, or axia#4656!)

Comments

[sparsity]

[ An appraising hum, without the sharp wit necessary to really indicate that there's some deep thinking going on. Mikazuki reaches into his pocket for a piece of dried fruit and pops it into his mouth. ]

— familiar, somehow.

[ Like Teiwaz's trade hubs, though the businesses had seemed more legitimate than this place of secrets and smoke. Then again, maybe that's all he had been allowed or cared to see, from his spot back home.

Either way, despite the atmosphere, he doesn't seem ill at ease. ]

[shikomizue]

[Even Mars wouldn't be without its smugglers dens, and the vastness of space is home to all sorts. Some who would fit into a locale like this, and some for whom it'd be far too luxurious, exposed wiring and crude armor suiting them far better.

Takasugi leads them down the initial path, vendors stacked nearly on top of each other to sell their ill-begotten wares before the new arrivals run out of money. Not ten booths in he raises an arm to brush a flap of cloth away, revealing jewels with brown husks that hardly gleam in the light.

It's just a glimpse, offered wordlessly, before he continues.] You seem like a hard sell, in a place like this.

What were you doing? Physical labor? [His probing isn't pointed, though he likens the labor of lifting stock to spilling blood.]

[sparsity]

[ Following along, gaze slipping along the makeshift storefronts, thrown with rope and canvas and narrowed, daring eyes, Mikazuki's attention doesn't catch on any one thing, not enough to indicate that he might covet anything rare or lucrative or powerful. He's just looking.

Even the sight of previously-promised jewels garners a twinge of familiarity and not much else. ]

Listening, mostly. An ally of ours had places like this along his trade routes.

[ Not Mikazuki's business, obviously. But every dealing could benefit from a little muscle. ]

[shikomizue]

[Mikazuki saw them, and that's all Takasugi intended. For the youth to know such beauty existed, however out of reach or ill-suited to them both it may be.

Though, Takasugi wonders what Mikazuki's sense of aesthetic is. If he even has one.

Probably not.

A shame, as they weave down an aisle of shops with intricate patterns on lush fabrics. Some catch Takasugi's eye, a glance spared before he continues on.]

Aah. [This one does seem like a good listener, and the type not to balk at any ally, should they be true.] You stayed out of their games, I assume.

[However good at bluffing he may be - Takasugi presumes he'd have a natural talent - it sounds like Mikazuki left the politics to others.]

[sparsity]

Until I was told not to.

[ A deep-seated loyalty that's stabilized even here, if his assistance in finding this place was anything to go by. Still, he keeps his gaze forward for the most part in comparison to the blithe way Takasugi peruses, giving a subtle motion of his shoulders. ]

I don't really understand a lot of it.

[ Trying to would just distract him from his usual purpose, so he sticks with what he knows, even in the face of material gains. ]

[shikomizue]

[Which came first, Takasugi wonders, the obedience or the loyalty? He'd like to think its the later, a severe - almost crippling - dedication begetting the habit of listening.

It had almost been the same for him once, though he's always been a brat.] You'll have to learn...

[For his place in the guard, for the sake of keeping his friends safe, for the sheer fact that blissful ignorance is impossible to maintain.] I've found you somewhere good to start.

[He turns a corner, quickly ducking under a dusty awning and into a parlor filled with smoke and dim lights. Once inside, the weight of silver clinks from his palm to a counter, exchanged for two sets of tiles.] Want to play?

[Not that he's really giving Mikazuki an option.]

[sparsity]

I guess so. [ Learning in and of itself is a worthy concept to him, though he did always hold it separate from his responsibilities as they stood. Learning was for the day he could set down his weapons rather than destroy wholeheartedly. Whenever that would be. Unruffled, his gaze roves, circling once overhead and then brought back down by the sound of coins. His expression shifts, attention leveling intently. ] Play...

[ A flick of his eyes to the tiles. ]

— what?

its like weird space mahjong

[shikomizue]

[Dull though Mikazuki may appear, more brawn than intelligence, less creative than direct - smashing through his problems rather than puzzling them through - Takasugi would bet that he's a fast learner.

He's more or less done as much, putting his money down on a set of tiles for his companion.] It's a betting game.

The rules are mostly about matching and bluffing. You'll do well. [After handing Mikazuki his set of play pieces, Takasugi moves deeper inside of the room, finding a spot large enough for two to sit, and set up.]

[sparsity]

[ Considering Mikazuki just saw money exchanged for these, he handles the tiles fairly delicately given the way he typically forgoes nuance. But they're pretty things, the ivory tiles embossed with colorful patterns and pictures, gently smoothed at the edges. The clacking sounds they make are nice. He finds himself studying them closely as he follows Takasugi into the belly of the establishment, tendrils of smoke obscuring the lights.

When they find a table, he slides the rack of tiles onto it and looks to the other man for direction on what to do with them. Betting, huh... ]

So you make money off this. Or lose it.

[ Not entirely a foreign concept. ]

What do you bluff?

[shikomizue]

[They've situated themselves between a man with a pronounced beer-gut, sweat sheen on his neck almost discernible in its stink, and a thin, few-toothed individual, hair long but features too gaunt to discern gender.

Neither are too lively, thrumming away with their tiles in bored anticipation of the next round.

Takasugi sets his out in no obvious order, patterns nor numbers stacked together.] That's right. [He pulls his hand away from his stack of tiles, not bothering with further adjustments like those besides them.]

You want to make them think you have a good combination. Build on yourself, and others, but playing the black flower ends your route. At that point, the highest bidder wins all the pot for your color. To play you'll need to cast some wager, but you can keep it low if you want. Don't forget to draw at the end of your turn.

Since the profit grows along with the line, people try to push it beyond themselves until they draw what they need.

If you end up unable to play, though, you'll pay everyone ten times their ante.

[Simple enough?]

[sparsity]

[ Following suit, Mikazuki begins to place his tiles out also, noting the textures of the embossed images, worn only by the many who've played this game before him. There's been worse company in his midst, believe it or not, so their tablemates go largely unnoticed as Mikazuki listens, gaze steady as usual, but ears sharp. ]

So, you stall. [ If it was an attack scenario, it'd be a feint... ] Until a chance comes.

[ Very pointedly does he use the word chance, understanding that chance is just that, nothing guaranteed until all the pieces are in motion. And even then. Humming, he leans forward, placing another stack. ]

I can do those odds.

[ Arguably, he's put things more valuable on the line than money. ]

why did i make this game so damn complicated

[shikomizue]

[Floorboards creek as a few more players, stragglers even beyond Takasugi and his charge, take their seats. A flicker of flame travels around the perimeter, an aid relighting extinguished lanterns.

Takasugi smiles, fond of the comparison Mikazuki has drawn. To learn, think in terms you know.

And Mikazuki chooses war.] Mmn. That's right.

[A moderator places five tiles in the middle, the signal of the game's start.] I look forward to seeing what you can do.

[Takasugi isn't a kind teacher - he's sat such that Mikazuki's turn comes before his.]

windows 98 didn't prepare me for this elise

[sparsity]

[ A quiet nod. Mikazuki might be far from a social person, but the addition of more bodies doesn't seen to phase him any more than the situation itself, sweat and smoke and liquor smell hanging above the table like the light haze in front of the lanterns.

Wordlessly and with his drawn tiles set in front of him, he watches the game begin, eyes keen on the way the dealer disassembles the stack of tiles and the rest of the players begin to take them and arrange their hidden hands. His body stays relaxed, however, betraying the amount of focus he has. It's too early to really understand the combinations without instructions, but if it starts with matching, then... the player to his left finishes by discarding a tile, and Mikazuki casts a small amount of silver to start in exchange for two tiles, placing them in front of himself without glancing to Takasugi. Off one of his own tiles goes into the pool.

Minutiae might escape him along with the propensity for dishonesty, but likening the game to war draws out a few of his more controlled habits. ]

but did 1998 tv prepare you cos everythings made up and the points dont matter

[shikomizue]

[Tiles clacking against one another is more audible than the dull creak or thud of players shifting their weight or their effects. There's no raucous banter, no boasting of prowess or contrived comments meant to disarm opponents.

Everyone here speaks in silence, a language Takasugi thinks suits Mikazuki well. His move isn't ill advised; he doesn't seem like a new player, a foreigner.

More impressed by his ability to blend in than his play, Takasugi gives his companion a nod before playing himself. He offers more silver, his tiles arranged in a string of four. A risk, but the sort the player after him won't want to ignore.

The man increases the bet - stakes rising play after play until the participants can't help but lean inscrutable faces forward. And then someone breaks, the combination interrupted and the money largely lost. By the time play returns to Mikazuki, the betting has taken a milder turn.]

https://i.imgur.com/PNld29a.gif

[sparsity]

[ This is quiet by his standards too. Not in that he wants to be disruptive, but that these environments, in his experience, always were. That the men around him are mostly serious about their wagers and quiet about their plays shows him how much of a threat they pose. More than posturing and crowing would, anyway.

Mikazuki watches Takasugi play, focused on the action of it, but also the leverage. Around the players it goes, swelling and then receding again, giving him a concentrated look at what he's up against. When the play returns to him, he's more conscious of the man at his opposite elbow than he was, something sticking him right in his chest, stirring up the thick layer of pride that accompanies the feeling of being watched, waited on. Sliding his tiles along the rack and arranging two without a crease in his brow, he picks up one from the pool, slotting it in, and likewise doles out more silver — most of what he has on him.

It's then that his gaze flicks up over the table, somewhat... predatory. ]

lmao

[shikomizue]

[Takasugi prefers the quiet, the games played with subtle glances and deepening glowers rather than loud arguments or boisterous bragging. He's gambled amongst his fair share of both types. Be it a victory or loss, he's always been more pleased with the results of the former.

Which isn't to say that it's a relaxing venture.

Stakes rarely fall for long.

Takasugi isn't the only one looking at Mikazuki by the time his turn is done, but he's the only one wearing a smile. High stakes suits them both best, it seems. And the more aggressive the play, the faster those without the guts to meet them will be out of the game.

He raises Mikazuki's bet, his own play unimpressive, but the rippling of silver hitting the table after him rises quickly into a wave. The pot is stacked high enough for chatter to rise, and it's some poor bastard two seats away from them who ends up losing it all.

And everyone else is running on change, some less poor than others.]

[sparsity]

[ Putting what he has on the line for money is a concept he's intimately familiar with. Mikazuki isn't as black and white as he seems, either, but the fiercer the competition, the more this viewpoint seems to take root in him, sowed in his mind by too much experience and yet simultaneously too little. That it's gambling seems to make no difference to him as the pot waxes and wanes.

However, it's tough to tell just by looking at him. Aside from the brief flashes of his eyes (positively menacing in their color), his expression remains as impassive and steely as ever, even when he's going on the offense more often with bids for certain tiles.

Around them, most of their tablemates have either stopped smoking in their concentration or started to drink more as the walls dwindle and the pool thins. There won't be many to match soon. Which is why the second the man to his right casts away a red flower tile, Mikazuki is placing his bet on it, dropping two more coins down in exchange for being able to slot it onto his rack.

Perhaps that'd been too quick, too single-minded. But it's beside two of its own make and color, and a pair of dragons. ]

[shikomizue]

[With a partner like this, the gleam in his eyes brighter than any of the flickering lanterns in the room, and more alluring then the sheen of silvers on the table, Takasugi knows he's won his bet.

It doesn't matter if his hand casts the final wager or not.

Mikazuki's bet is reckless, but it puts a smile on Takasugi's face. Even as he casts a simple three match set, a move which increases the bet but leaves Mikazuki in an advantageous position for the next round.

All of Takasugi's silver added to the pot, anyone who wants to challenge his companion will have to go all-in, as well.

Some do, some fold, cutting their losses with enough to buy a drink or two to nurse their bad luck away. When the turn comes back to Mikazuki, there's only luck to look to for whether he wins or loses.]

[sparsity]

[ That round cleared a lot of space out, making his focus hone like claws. It's actually indistinguishable to him now, whether or not this gamble is for the tiles he's needed or for something that's far more dire in his mind's eye. Less people meant more opportunity on a battlefield, but that's not so for gambling, leaving everything to chance. If there's one thing about him that hadn't changed even when he'd passed through the eye of the storm, it's his insatiable hunger for a win.

With the silver piled high and both the circle and walls broken beyond repair, Mikazuki waits for the next person to cast. The tiles go down, discarded, and Mikazuki doesn't even blink as he retrieves one.

Settling it against his rack, Mikazuki looks at his procured tiles intently, the tips of his fingers rubbing against one another, wrists against the edge of the table. A second passes and he reaches to push it around — four red flowers, 1-4 blue numbers, 5-8 bamboo. Two winds. ]

[shikomizue]

[Of the people who folded and struck out, several have lingered. They stand, intending to leave but halted in their step, or linger seated, glued to a shred of hope for schadenfreude that the brat who beat them crumples.

Takasugi's poise contrasts sharply, leaning away from the circle, relaxed but no less focused. The play before him isn't a simple game, not a quick move for profit or for the sake of learning. Mikazuki snatches his tile with the intent to win.

And, to the chagrin of their observers, he does. What's revealed isn't an incredibly impressive hand, but it's above the partial straights others have been trying to build.

He takes his turn with little-diluted delight, flipping his tray around with a swish of his finger. Two pairs, and four black flowers.] Looks like I'm out.

[And so is everyone else at the table, judging by the scowls on their faces.]

[sparsity]

[ Though Mikazuki's gaze briefly sticks on the sight of all the black flowers on Takasugi's tray, it's soon refocused on the dealer, who counts up the silver and parcels it into a linen pouch for him. Mikazuki takes it with little commotion so the dealer can get to his task of raking in the tiles for the next round while the losers disperse into other corners of the establishment — either toward drinks or games with more familiar faces, less intent on a monetary bloodbath.

It'd been a win, but he hadn't intended to do anything other than vie for his place once he'd gotten the motions down. His expression may have told otherwise, but there were no feints, no sleights.

Stepping back from his chair, he pauses at Takasugi's side. ]

It won't always be like that. But it wasn't bad, this time.

[ Shaking the coins around, he pinches the middle of the pouch, halving it. One half he empties into his pocket, the other he tosses to Takasugi.

No sleights, just Mikazuki brightly taking what opportunity gives him. ]

[shikomizue]

[Not long is spared to look over the seething visages of the gamblers around them. Takasugi's interest lies not in the game, but in the boy at his side - and he casts him a glance in time to see the boy's eyes lingering on his tray.

Maybe someday, they'd bet against one another.

Seems like fun.

As the tiles are gathered into a pile and the game reset, the din fades, complaints only uttered under the breath of the losers.]

Aa. Though I doubt this was beginner's luck. [Takasugi catches the pouch of silver and tucks it away. Mikazuki is welcome to the half he took, a gain well won.]

You've got quite the bloodthirsty approach. [He's not offering a warning - it's a compliment.]

[sparsity]

It was my first time.

[ Gambling in an official capacity, that is. Mikazuki states it casually, quiet among the other sounds of establishment still carrying on. He can't even call his bets in a fight gambling, though maybe putting his body on the line for money was no different than putting money on the line for money.

Things equal out, in any case. The second statement doesn't have him looking at Takasugi either as he turns to make his way out. ]

Yeah? [ A genuine question, at least. ] I just go into it thinking I won't lose.

[shikomizue]

[Mikazuki's first time sitting down at a table with the stake of silver, but hardly his first time being left at the mercy of skill in a game he doesn't know the rules to, and a bit of luck.

Or, in the very least, that's what Takasugi would bet on.]

Heh. [He wonders if that boldness includes an understanding of what the risk of loss entails.

Either way, Takasugi can't help but want to see where a mentality like that takes him.]

See you around, Mr. Pro Gambler. [A lazy wave ushers Takasugi's farewell, before he turns to find the bar himself.]