overjoyed_logs | PRE-GAME CATCHALL.

[ Funny, how easily most are willing to forget the din and chaos of a Quarantine once the plague passes and the corpses are accounted for. The epidemic passes with a scream that turns into a whimper, and self-preservation turns to self-interest in the form of humanitarianism.

People become paperwork. Yeah, it's the daily grind.

Hanzo is— well, Hanzo is working. He always is, posture ramrod-straight and long hair pulled up over his head, tied back with an overlong ribbon that wafts like a pennant in the breeze. He's hard to miss, if only because he looks so out of place among the sick and formerly dying; there's a sterility about him that's broken only by the flash of color coiling up from an exposed forearm (shirt rolled up to the elbow today), the head of a tattooed dragon that continues and ends under his collared shirt.

He turns to Julius, hawkeyed. If he's tired, the only indication of his fatigue is a faint furrow between his brows. ]

—More bodies will have to be burned.

[ okay, well, that's one way to start a conversation. ]

Edited 2017-02-06 12:13 (UTC)

[ Julius cuts an image dark against the daylight that surround them - his uniform impeccably worn, marred only by patches of dust that had crept onto them as duty demands, his dusky blond hair the only hue distinct on his monochrome countenance. If he had any thoughts about their current situation, he has kept them to himself; silent and focused on the task at hand.

What was not necessary need not be spoken. He's in a little pain, but that's easily tanked with willpower. ]

Of course, sir.

[ He's polite, that much is evident. Hanzo is older than him by scores and thus gains his respect. ]

Edited 2017-02-06 12:54 (UTC)

[ They're the kind of duo one would expect from the Company: immaculate and efficient, willing to set aside personal qualms for the sake of the task at hand.

Some people have fun with their jobs. Some people look for their jobs to be fun.

Some people just do their jobs because it's their job. Guess where Hanzo fits into this equation. ]

First, clear the area of civilians. This does not need to be any more of a spectacle than it already has.

[ He gestures to the smattering of people who have lingered around in search of valuables they might be able to pick from the corpses, ashy-faced and deadeyed themselves.

It's a lot to deal with. ]

[ And the job must be held to importance above all else. It's a shame how many people don't understand that. ]

Right away.

[ Julius stands out from most employees in that his preferred weapon isn't a gun but a longsword - black blade trimmed with gold, belted to his waist for easy retrieval. It might also make him seem a bit more harmless, something he tries to put to use as he approaches the scavengers.

The lot of them, trying to profit off the dead - they're despicable, but he has to be polite. ]

[ Hanzo respects the adherence to an antiquated weapon of choice— after all, he usually travels around with a bow and arrow. He's without it today, wakizashi at his hip and missing the trademark firearm that most Company Enforcers wear.

(maybe this makes them squares??? Hanzo doesn't listen to the gossip much.)

As Hanzo attempts to move the crowd away, the remaining scavengers ask them for some sort of assurance, some sort of security in the sea of uncertainty. Someone is missing their child, another one is missing their mother. That's why they're digging through the corpses— honest.

Hanzo doesn't bat an eye. ]

Only fools prefer the company of the dead to the living. Step aside.

[ Directed to a particularly obstinate onlooker, who moves on to Julius to see if the younger of the two will be marginally friendlier. Or willing to level, at any rate.

Hanzo watches from a few steps away, head tipped and brow raised. ]

[ A sword can be deadly in the hands of an adept, even in an age of firearms and electricity. Even more deadly if the latter two were combined with it - Volitional houses a plasma gun hidden in its hilt, and it often catches many people unawares. ]

If you are looking for your relatives, the Genetic Registry can help. Everyone dead has been updated in the database.

[ Julius did some of the keying himself, even. While he's polite, he's also as firm as his colleague. ]

Stay any longer and you put yourself at the risk of infection.

[ It's a half-truth. He's immune himself and Hanzo has a vaccine, but these people don't. Do they also have a death wish? ]

[ People are fearless in grief and desperation: just ask all the corpses why they ended up being there in the first place. They're not paid to deal in empathy, though, and Hanzo watches as the last of their onlookers shuffle by with hunched shoulders and dirty looks, accusation clear in their gaunt faces.

Tools, is the prevailing sentiment being beamed their way. Hanzo can't exactly blame them.

He waits until the both of them are left to the silence of the dead. It's probably a little fucked up that he finds some comfort in the quiet. ]

It will be a while until the citizens of this area will find it in themselves to trust those that are in uniform.

[ He has been a tool since childhood, raised to be the perfect obedient killing machine - his mother's plans were not run to completion, but it had almost been. So he takes the sentiment without as much as a blink, grey gaze unfaltering and emotionless, letting the silence rebuild itself around the two of them.

The dead cannot speak, the dead cannot act. Whatever sins they have are frozen, or dropped on the backs of those they have burdened. The dead...

... well, at least they weren't by his hands. ]

A common sentiment, I find. We are not well liked.

[ His tone implies that he doesn't care. He does, but he has to keep up impressions. Duty above all else. ]

[ There's a pervasiveness about Julius's stillness that Hanzo had found almost convenient when they first met. Unquestioning, resolute— the kind of fortitude that's built upon years of practice and is, consequently, easy to build upon.

(It makes one wonder about what could make a young man look so dead behind the eyes sometimes.)

He breathes through his teeth, a sound that borders on vaguely self-deprecating if one is paying enough attention. ]

And yet many live because of our graces.

[ Is that really so true, though? It's an exhausting thought to linger on, so he proceeds with the process of organizing the corpses for incineration; bow-and-arrow-callused fingers sifting through clothing, making sure that any identifying documents have been retrieved for filing and bureaucratic procedures. ]

So many are so easily guided by their sentiment.

[ Few people give thought to the maturity that Julius displays despite his age. Some would know that he has been serving the Company since he was fifteen, which provided a partial explanation - the other half was a secret, of course; the secret that he was raised in total isolation by a woman who instilled her ideals into him, a perfect child.

But perfect only in her eyes. Her curse will forever shadow him even after her death. ]

Emotions blind people to the truth at hand.

[ His voice is even, betraying no hint of emotion. He busies himself with the task at hand as a way to avoid eye contact. ]

[ Hanzo only knows what he knows on paper: Julius's history begins and ends, to him, from what the documentations have of him. From age 15 onwards.

But Hanzo's background is fairly common knowledge, on the other hand— the eldest son of nobility, born and bred in affluence. That he chose to be an Enforcer is perhaps the only strange thing about him; the fact that he cares enough to punish himself as just another bureaucrat.

Julius is capable, but Hanzo knos the costs of that capability. One doesn't cultivate that kind of stillness for nothing, which is why he asks: ]

A question, then. What is your truth?

[ Take it or leave it, really. Hanzo doesn't need an answer; Julius's refusal would be answer enough, if he chooses that route. ]

[ What is his truth? That he's a monster, of course.

But that's not something to be easily told. Better to resort to something else that was ingrained into his mind much like how the curse was ingrained into his body, something much more acceptable. ]

Duty above all else.

[ Duty to his mother, duty to his role, duty to his superiors. Duty that would give him relative safety if conducted well enough, provide him with the medicine that would stave off the transformation. For now.

And dedication to duty is something he knows Hanzo can appreciate. ]

[ There's something to be said about this, talking about truth as they're about to set fire to a respectable hill of corpses. It seems empty at best and insulting at worst— Hanzo doesn't miss the ultimate futility of debating philosophies when they have people to turn into ash, but it's not as if they have anything better to be discussing.

He passes along whatever identification he's happened upon in the pockets of the dead, because he trusts Julius to catalog everything as neatly as anyone can manage. ]

An honorable pursuit.

[ And really, that's all any of them ever have in the end. A way to convince themselves that they did well.

Hanzo rolls his shoulders, and looks out onto the streets. ]

I will contact the team responsible for incineration. That should conclude our duties for the day, unless they ask us to do the burning ourselves.

[ The cards are taken with care, surprising gentleness as he examines each and moves to the terminal where he had left the data entry tablet. Julius operates the touchscreen with practiced ease, each name cross-checked and referenced with the data sheets already within. These documents will have to be destroyed at the appropriate centres, but that's out of their scope. ]

Alright.

[ He's already burned bodies before with Sion, and Hanzo's words bring back the memory of dancing flames. He had gained a friend that day, though it only deepens his conviction to distance himself from them.

Better to die alone than drag others down with him.

Uncharacteristically he fumbles with the tablet, a card falling to the ground in his distracted state. He makes a faint sound of displeasure before picking it up. ]

[ As far as vices go, Westerly isn't Hanzo's go-to for indulging his out-of-uniform time (if he even truly has any). For one, the city is too loud, pulsing with too many voices and lives that pull at his thinly-made tranquility; he feels like a string pulled too taut whenever he brushes shoulders with the locale, which is probably exactly what they expect from an uptight Qreshi like him.

(Not that Hanzo is advertising.)

So. What is he doing here, exactly? That's a good question, because he would be hard-pressed to answer that himself, lone wolf that he is. It's certainly not for the drinks, that's for sure— the muddled glasses of unidentifiable alcohol that he forces down on a semi-monthly basis is less about enjoyment and more about the slight buzz that accompanies it.

The real answer is that the info broker that he'd somehow formed a steady rapport with is a phenomenally pleasant singer. There's something self-defeating about his realization that he's come early tonight to hear said individual sing, but he doesn't have it in himself to walk back out and stand outside, arms folded and gaze pointedly cast to the side, until her set is done.

So there he is, occupying a stool at the very edge of the bar near the stage. He watches, listens, and only briefly establishes eye contact with the young woman behind the microphone before he turns his attention back towards his untouched glass of. Whatever this is.

That's his cue to say 'I'm here for our monthly meeting', but. Well.

#doyoueverplayyourself ]

[In all honestly, most people either came to bars on Westerly for the sole purpose of getting completely and absolutely drunk, or to gather info/talk to those that have info. Though Lapis certainly has more than enough confidence in her singing to feel that her songs pull people in too - which makes her other job easier.

So when she sees a certain familiar face and how his eyes catch hers for a moment, she feels a swell of pride to know that it's most likely her song that drew him into the bar today - usually she would meet him outside, when she needed to get a break from the loud noise and crowded spaces.

As her song comes to an end and she steps down from the stage, there's almost a hint of pride on her expression as she steps over to his table. Her smile faint, but still there - the closest to smug someone as withdrawn as Lapis can look.]

So, what did you think of the song? [If you thought she wouldn't call you out on this Hanzo you were wrong.]

[ The fact of the matter is that Lapis is usually too unobtrusive to get defensive over, so his mild inconvenience at being accurately called out doesn't manifest in anything beyond a faint twitch of his brow.

He slides a glass of water to her, cold and sweating. Strangely considerate, as if he's been bred under strict expectations of propriety (he has). ]

My answer would depend on whether you are looking for honesty or flattery.

[ As if the two choices will yield vastly different results (they won't). He's just being difficult, as per usual.

(Still, he looks marginally more relaxed than usual. He can appreciate a good song or two.) ]

[Sadly, her general lack of a social filter means nobody is safe from being called out, when she sees an opening to do so. At least she isn't too smug about it most of the time - today, she's simply pleased that he actually stayed and listened.

And the smile on her face becomes something more warmer as he slides the glass of water to her, giving a soft murmur of thanks before taking a good few sips of it. Even with all her stamina, singing for a good while is draining.]

Honesty, of course. [Even if he's being difficult, it's easy to answer - flattery means nothing to her. So gold eyes watch him attentively once she sits, curious about his thoughts. A good singer must accept all feedback, after all.]

[ The bar loses its light when Lapis stops singing; it settles back into the same-old rancor of raucous laughter and crude conversation, and he feels, genuinely, that the establishment suffers for it.

That's the honest opinion of how he feels about the song, but it feels like overkill. A sentimentalism offered to curry her favor.

So he chooses something that sounds more palatable to him, spoken after a beat he takes to wash his excess words down with drink. ]

You've gained confidence.

[ Patronizing words offered with sincerity. The quiet serenity of his expression speaks to the fact that he means what he says. ]

Your singing hasn't suffered for it.

[Lapis is simply patient as she waits for his verdict, sipping on her water as golden eyes keep watching him. It's always nice to here what people think of her singer, not matter good or bad - any sort of bad responses only push her to try and improve.

But his words then get her to blink, tilting her head slightly before she smiles softly, noting the serenity of his expression. And his words are a relief to hear, that she's gained confidence and she hasn't let her singing be dragged down by it - confidence has always been a shaky thing for Lapis.

So her smile brightens, clearly pleased at his words as she nods.]

Thank you, Hanzo. I've had some trouble with confidence in the past, so it's a relief to hear that.

[ Do you ever try really hard not to have any feelings just to have someone give you the feelings unexpectedly... Lapis needs to quit it, tbh.

The truth of the matter is that no one ever smiles around Hanzo, so the honesty of Lapis's expression is like a momentary blow to his head. His reaction is subtle— a blink-and-you'll-miss-it transition from placid to surprised.

He gets over it. ]

...Have you. A difficult thing to imagine.

[ She's here talking to him right now; she has no shortage of confidence. ] We are only talking now because of your audaciousness, after all.

[Can't stop, won't stop, Hanzo. Accept the feelings.

Even if his reaction is subtle, Lapis makes it her business to keep a close watch on people - noting that brief switch to surprise, the transition so quick that she thinks that maybe she's just seeing things. But she doubts it.

Though her smile does fade slightly at his words, if only because her expression turns something more thoughtful.]

Hmm, that's true. But there's different kinds of confidence too. I find it easy to just come up and talk to you, but when it comes to myself, my confidence is shaky sometimes.

[She basically has zero sense of self-worth, but this is a much easier and not so depressing way to explain this.]

PRE-GAME CATCHALL.

JULIUS.

\o/ also when in week 4 would you like this thread to be?

maybe day 3 or 4? does that work for you...!

3 works! \o/

sweet sweet 8')

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LAPIS.

SLAMS IN HERE

SLAMS INTO YOUR CUTE FACE

CLINGS TO TIGHTLY

gently carries you down to my dungeon lair...

kyaaaaaa~

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