thoughtformed | (no subject)

WHAT: Ryoji's dream mind
WHO: Whoever needs to chill
WHEN: Every night, ladies & gents, Thurs - Sun.
note I probably won't be replying to this! If you'd like to float around in Ryoji's head, or need more details on it, just let me know. It's sort of a chance for some characterization on anyone who wants some dream quiet time. If you want something specific, or details, like I said, give me a hollar.

There isn't much to say other than the darkness is comfortable. It's quiet, loving and without judgment, joy or anger. There's nothing but silence and stillness. It's hard for the human mind to comprehend just how dark it is with the absence of light, or how the silence is affected by action and the life that scatters in the background, but this, perhaps, is what it would be like. It isn't anything that could be imagined. Even as it happens, it's difficult to allow it to penetrate the senses. But it doesn't really seem to matter, because it's nice here in lifelessness.

Gentle, accepting, and enveloped in death.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Curiosity killed the cat. Sometimes quite literally.

Knowing the truth about Ryoji — who he is, what he is — hasn't changed Nathan's opinion on his friend. The irony isn't lost on him, being mates with Death, but it doesn't really mean much to him. At this point, it's easier to assume that everyone he meets in New Moore has some mental secret and psycho comic book shit going on.

So the darkness isn't exactly a surprise. The silence is, though. "Ryoji," Nathan calls out, but only his own echoes return. "Oi! I get it, you're being a little freak as usual, hiding and waiting to jump out. I'm letting you know right now, mate, I've got balls of steel, it's not going to work on me!" After a few minutes of total silence, Nathan just rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Right, right, death, being alone, all that rot. Whatever, man."

The longer he stands there, the more his mind wanders. But it's not his own deaths that come back to him — those can honestly be boring to dwell on. Instead, it's Jamie that springs to mind. Someone for whom death was permanent, not a fleeting moment and a fucking fantastic story to tell over drinks.

Nathan rocks back and forth on his heels, still restless despite the peace and quiet. He doesn't talk about Jamie — it's not that it's a secret, or that it hurts too much, he's just never sure what to say. The kid showed up for a few days of Nathan's life and managed to make a bigger impression than anyone. Sharing a shite dad does wonders for a friendship.

If asked, how would he even describe Jamie? Barely knew him a week. He was a good kid, he'd probably say. Generic and ironic, considering the circumstances of their first meeting (you hit dad with a toaster and then you put him in the boot of the car). And then he was gone. Quick as he came, up in flames. It's bullshit. He was young and, yeah, alright, maybe a little fucked up, but he's a Young. It's practically a genetic trait. He would've had time to sort himself out, but of course, the brother who got in that car wasn't the immortal one. Sometimes it makes the short list of things Nathan regrets.

Nathan lets out a low whistle and scuffs at the floor. He doesn't normally think of this shit. But it feels strangely alright here, so he allows himself to uncover long-buried memories of Jamie.

"It'd be ace if you had ghosts here," he says to the darkness after a long while, and laughs despite everything.