Trunks ( DBGT ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
capsulecorps) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
empatheias2018-11-01 11:50 pm
capsulecorps) wrote in empatheias2018-11-01 11:50 pm
Entry tags:
( closed ) you know sometimes it makes you sick to the bone
Who: Trunks and others
Where: various places
When: first week of the month
Format: [ like this ]
closed
Summary: With Thras dead, Trunks has to deal with the loss of his friend and it's not too good because half-saiyan and all.
closed to his future self, backdated to october 31st.
[ He's gone.
Thras, the Arehtei he met as a child and loved so much that he went out of his way to draw up a good hundred or so posters for The Knights of Thras recruitment to protect his Arehtei... he's gone. Just like that. In a flutter of dragonfly-shaped lights. Gone... and there had been nothing he could do to stop it or save him.
Somehow, time slips away from him and he hasn't even realized that he's come to stop mid-air, having been on his way to Shaarnath as quickly as he could and yet... he hadn't been enough- he hadn't been fast enough.
He never is, is he?
At first, he believes it to be rain touching his cheeks, the skies dark with it being evening and it looked as if it might rain as he zipped his way through the night skies. But it's when his vision begins to blur, when he begins to feel an uncontrollable wave of sadness wash over him that, slowly, he begins to descend from the sky and drops down to his feet first, then his hands and knees. From his shirt, the pendant he had made when he was a child for The Knights of Thras swings forward and he catches sight of it with watery blue eyes, grasping it with a trembling hand that he at first curls tightly within his fist, before he opens his hand and stares to the small pebble he had used with the KoT he had carved in on the front of it. He curls his fist again, tightly so, eyes squeezing shut as he trembles with tears forcing their way out.
He's gone.
His friend, someone else he cared for... he's gone and he couldn't save him. He can never save them.
It's not fair.
It's not fair.
It's not fair.
And just like that, all emotion within breaks loose in a flash of gold as he screams with hands curled into fists and a wave of energy whips off him with a trembling explosion around. The ground beneath him cracks, trembling beneath him as he sinks into it, trees thrown back and just barely holding their roots to the ground as he continues to scream up to the sky in a flurry of emotions.
Anger. Grief. F a i l u r e.
It pulls at him from deep within, rips out a source of power that is so tightly wound around these emotions and refuses to let go, gripping and clawing and trying to remain within... until he rips it out of him as if one would their bleeding heart and everything around him cowers as he explodes with fire, explodes with anger, explodes with bolts of electricity that snap and pop around him so violently. Trees are obliterated, the ground splitting for miles away from him, the sky crying out with him in streaks of lightning high above as he reaches in and rips out more of that power, more of that pain, letting it consume and destroy everything around him.
Congratulations, you've unlocked SSJ2.
And all it took was the death of your Arehtei, of your friend, who you promised you would protect.
But his grief doesn't stop, his anger refuses to calm, and so he slams his curled fists down into the ground, splitting it further as he screams with tears in his eyes... over... and over... and over... he'll bury himself here. He doesn't care. Nothing matters. He's never enough. ]
closed to rokurou.
[ Giru is the first to make his way inside Thras' Temple and he does so on foot this time, small feet tapping against the flooring as he goes to ensure that it's safe before he turns and gives a no danger detected, no life detected to the half-saiyan who lingers near the entrance. His eyes fall shut, a pained expression touching his face. He knows Giru doesn't mean anything malicious with his words it's just... the no life part is... swallowing thickly, he smiles a little to his robot companion and nods once before he makes his way inside, pulling his poncho around him a little tighter.
Coming here is so familiar to the half-saiyan. Days when he would fly his way here as a small boy with his posters in hand and clapping loudly to try and get the dragon's attention... demanding they race and calling them friends, showing the dragon so proudly his drawings and his even being knighted by the Arehtei himself as his first and official knight... all of those memories feel like ghosts within these temple walls now as he slowly makes his way inside, finding the temple to now be eerie and empty of that pride and warmth that Thras would fill it with.
As Giru continues to walk ahead and investigate further, the half-saiyan finds himself stopping a little ways in as he notices the dried blood that's streaked across the flooring. His heart sinks, aching at the sight, and he swallows again as he gives a shaky breath before he proceeds to move in further; he needs to be brave, it's what Thras would want. It's when he comes across the weapons that are left behind - the bloodied sword in particular - that he comes to pause and stares to it all, feeling that ache within him grow as he sees what his dragon friend had been met with and how he could have stopped this if he had been here. Swords, arrows, knives... he could have easily broke all of these, even smacked them away if he had been here and yet...
Trunks sinks down to the floor then, Giru coming to stop and look back at the half-saiyan as he buries his face in his hands and sits there, fingers tugging at lavender coloured strands as he tries to keep it together. But he could have stopped this, he really could have and didn't, he couldn't, and it's not fair. Approaching him, Giru gently places a small hand on the half-saiyan's leg and gives a Trunks hurt? Giru help? but he's met with nothing from the half-saiyan and so he stands there, keeping watch with his small hand still on his leg. ]
for castmates or close cr.
[ In the days to follow the death of Thras, the half-saiyan is clearly grieving the loss of his friend. His room is about the only place he's ever truly found the times when he is around and hasn't disappeared to wherever, ignoring any pings or attempts to get in touch with him over the amulets. If he's not curled up in his bed, back facing whoever comes in, he's sitting on the floor, staring at the posters he'd made as a child for The Knights of Thras or the pendants he still hadn't finished before he disappeared from this world for a short time. The only other place one might find him is sitting on the roof, though this is typically at night, either staring to the night sky or with his face buried in his arms that are crossed against his knees, Giru sitting there with him and eating some nails for a snack. The light that shone so brightly within the half-saiyan who was maybe a little awkward and always willing to chat anyone up is dulled considerably and it's as if he's a shell of the man he was just a few days ago. ]
Where: various places
When: first week of the month
Format: [ like this ]
closed
Summary: With Thras dead, Trunks has to deal with the loss of his friend and it's not too good because half-saiyan and all.
closed to his future self, backdated to october 31st.
[ He's gone.
Thras, the Arehtei he met as a child and loved so much that he went out of his way to draw up a good hundred or so posters for The Knights of Thras recruitment to protect his Arehtei... he's gone. Just like that. In a flutter of dragonfly-shaped lights. Gone... and there had been nothing he could do to stop it or save him.
Somehow, time slips away from him and he hasn't even realized that he's come to stop mid-air, having been on his way to Shaarnath as quickly as he could and yet... he hadn't been enough- he hadn't been fast enough.
He never is, is he?
At first, he believes it to be rain touching his cheeks, the skies dark with it being evening and it looked as if it might rain as he zipped his way through the night skies. But it's when his vision begins to blur, when he begins to feel an uncontrollable wave of sadness wash over him that, slowly, he begins to descend from the sky and drops down to his feet first, then his hands and knees. From his shirt, the pendant he had made when he was a child for The Knights of Thras swings forward and he catches sight of it with watery blue eyes, grasping it with a trembling hand that he at first curls tightly within his fist, before he opens his hand and stares to the small pebble he had used with the KoT he had carved in on the front of it. He curls his fist again, tightly so, eyes squeezing shut as he trembles with tears forcing their way out.
He's gone.
His friend, someone else he cared for... he's gone and he couldn't save him. He can never save them.
It's not fair.
It's not fair.
It's not fair.
And just like that, all emotion within breaks loose in a flash of gold as he screams with hands curled into fists and a wave of energy whips off him with a trembling explosion around. The ground beneath him cracks, trembling beneath him as he sinks into it, trees thrown back and just barely holding their roots to the ground as he continues to scream up to the sky in a flurry of emotions.
Anger. Grief. F a i l u r e.
It pulls at him from deep within, rips out a source of power that is so tightly wound around these emotions and refuses to let go, gripping and clawing and trying to remain within... until he rips it out of him as if one would their bleeding heart and everything around him cowers as he explodes with fire, explodes with anger, explodes with bolts of electricity that snap and pop around him so violently. Trees are obliterated, the ground splitting for miles away from him, the sky crying out with him in streaks of lightning high above as he reaches in and rips out more of that power, more of that pain, letting it consume and destroy everything around him.
Congratulations, you've unlocked SSJ2.
And all it took was the death of your Arehtei, of your friend, who you promised you would protect.
But his grief doesn't stop, his anger refuses to calm, and so he slams his curled fists down into the ground, splitting it further as he screams with tears in his eyes... over... and over... and over... he'll bury himself here. He doesn't care. Nothing matters. He's never enough. ]
closed to rokurou.
[ Giru is the first to make his way inside Thras' Temple and he does so on foot this time, small feet tapping against the flooring as he goes to ensure that it's safe before he turns and gives a no danger detected, no life detected to the half-saiyan who lingers near the entrance. His eyes fall shut, a pained expression touching his face. He knows Giru doesn't mean anything malicious with his words it's just... the no life part is... swallowing thickly, he smiles a little to his robot companion and nods once before he makes his way inside, pulling his poncho around him a little tighter.
Coming here is so familiar to the half-saiyan. Days when he would fly his way here as a small boy with his posters in hand and clapping loudly to try and get the dragon's attention... demanding they race and calling them friends, showing the dragon so proudly his drawings and his even being knighted by the Arehtei himself as his first and official knight... all of those memories feel like ghosts within these temple walls now as he slowly makes his way inside, finding the temple to now be eerie and empty of that pride and warmth that Thras would fill it with.
As Giru continues to walk ahead and investigate further, the half-saiyan finds himself stopping a little ways in as he notices the dried blood that's streaked across the flooring. His heart sinks, aching at the sight, and he swallows again as he gives a shaky breath before he proceeds to move in further; he needs to be brave, it's what Thras would want. It's when he comes across the weapons that are left behind - the bloodied sword in particular - that he comes to pause and stares to it all, feeling that ache within him grow as he sees what his dragon friend had been met with and how he could have stopped this if he had been here. Swords, arrows, knives... he could have easily broke all of these, even smacked them away if he had been here and yet...
Trunks sinks down to the floor then, Giru coming to stop and look back at the half-saiyan as he buries his face in his hands and sits there, fingers tugging at lavender coloured strands as he tries to keep it together. But he could have stopped this, he really could have and didn't, he couldn't, and it's not fair. Approaching him, Giru gently places a small hand on the half-saiyan's leg and gives a Trunks hurt? Giru help? but he's met with nothing from the half-saiyan and so he stands there, keeping watch with his small hand still on his leg. ]
for castmates or close cr.
[ In the days to follow the death of Thras, the half-saiyan is clearly grieving the loss of his friend. His room is about the only place he's ever truly found the times when he is around and hasn't disappeared to wherever, ignoring any pings or attempts to get in touch with him over the amulets. If he's not curled up in his bed, back facing whoever comes in, he's sitting on the floor, staring at the posters he'd made as a child for The Knights of Thras or the pendants he still hadn't finished before he disappeared from this world for a short time. The only other place one might find him is sitting on the roof, though this is typically at night, either staring to the night sky or with his face buried in his arms that are crossed against his knees, Giru sitting there with him and eating some nails for a snack. The light that shone so brightly within the half-saiyan who was maybe a little awkward and always willing to chat anyone up is dulled considerably and it's as if he's a shell of the man he was just a few days ago. ]
no subject
But you can't save them all is something he's heard from a couple others as of late and while part of him knows that, it doesn't make it any easier to swallow. ]
I know you're right but that doesn't mean I like it, you know.
[ Because Trunks is someone with a good heart who only wants to protect others. Even if it costs him his own life. ]
no subject
But all the more reason why you have to keep pushing forward.
no subject
Trunks, on the other hand, bows his head some, strands of lavender falling before his face before he reaches up with a hand and gently takes hold of Rokurou's, giving it a bit of a squeeze. ]
Promise me you won't do anything drastic without letting me know. I can't...
[ ...lose someone else. ]
no subject
Technically I've already made the promise. [There's a bit of a wry grin as he refers back to their little talk after Trunks had sent him that letter. Granted it was when he was still a kid. So with that in mind, he reaches up with his free hand to ruffle his hair a bit.] But I'll reaffirm it right now. If I decide to do anything crazy, I'll let you know.
Plus I already told you about one possible crazy plan.
[Even if it had been half a joke, he really is considering it just to see what happens. Given how anti-Otherworlders the group seems, he doesn't expect much, but...hey, never know what might slip if he eggs them on enough.]
no subject
Thanks, Rokurou.
[ He says that softly yet genuinely, Giru coming to hug Trunks around his neck then with a Giru promise, too, promise to tell Trunks if Rokurou being bad to which... the half-saiyan gives just the gentlest form of a chuckle under his breath. ]
Thanks, buddy. I appreciate that.
no subject
What are you, my watchdog now? [But he just laughs before pulling back.]
Now I don't know about you—[He holds up the sword that he's just going to take because he can.]—but I'm going to see what I can find out about this sword.
no subject
Yeah... let me know what you find out? I'll see if any of the Arehtei will speak to me about Thras and if they know where and when he might show up.
no subject
Will do. And Giru—[He looks over at the robot.] Don't let him do anything weird or get too sad on his own, all right? Just hug his face if he does.
no subject
no subject
Daemon style.]