[It'd been foolish. A slip of wistfulness in the last moments as everything went dark. This is how it should be, he'd said, but some part of him must not have believed it. Some long-ago buried spark finding its last gasp as he bled out in that alley. I wish...
He comes to in a garden, and immediately wonders if he's somehow been punked. Shinjiro's never had any particular belief in the afterlife, but he doubts it would be so nice. It's a hallucination, isn't it? He's still in that alley, life leaking out of him with the warmth into the streets as the others looked on (god, the others, they weren't supposed to be there, Aki wasn't supposed to be there, he was supposed to leave without a goddamn fuss--)
But then there's that parchment, and he remembers, doesn't he? He knows exactly what he wished for as he closed his eyes for the last time, and if the Dark Hour was something that could exist, why is this impossible to believe? Something foolish in him clings to the notion, unable to fully accept the ending he'd resigned himself to. No other ending would've been acceptable, but none of it should've ever happened in the first place. If it was true, he could erase it all like it never happened, and this pathetic wretch he'd become could disappear with it.
....Even so. "Drink me", really? Could this be any sketchier. (Well, probably. He doesn't really have any stones to throw from his glass house anyway, considering how he died.)
He lifts up the blue potion vial in his hand, squinting at it, and if anyone nearby seems to be waffling, he'll make up his mind with a shrug.]
...Well. I sure can't get any deader, so. I can go first.
ii. mistletoe
[hm,,
Shinjiro has, over the years, seen at least enough American movies to know what mistletoe is, and what it's for. The whole idea isn't really a thing in Japan, but the moment he steps near one he starts to get this weird giddy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and that's about the moment when he realizes he is indeed being messed with.]
Seriously? You've gotta be kiddin' me.
[This is gonna be a long, long contract, ain't it.]
iii. bonfire
[Shinjiro had only settled in by the fire for some warmth. He's always a little bit cold, these days, due to the aftereffects of the suppressants, and this had seemed like a nice way to warm up without needing to worry about money right off the bat.
The best laid plans of depressed teenagers. He finds himself sliding closer to the crowds, and tells himself it's only because the main parts of the fire will warm him up better. So when someone tries to strike up conversation with him, he only hunches inward tighter, grumbling:]
Ain't much to tell 'bout me. Just another scruffy orphan type.
[he does not want to take part in this touchy feely bullshit ok he would like to brood quietly in peace as is dECENT.]
shinjiro aragaki | persona 3
[It'd been foolish. A slip of wistfulness in the last moments as everything went dark. This is how it should be, he'd said, but some part of him must not have believed it. Some long-ago buried spark finding its last gasp as he bled out in that alley. I wish...
He comes to in a garden, and immediately wonders if he's somehow been punked. Shinjiro's never had any particular belief in the afterlife, but he doubts it would be so nice. It's a hallucination, isn't it? He's still in that alley, life leaking out of him with the warmth into the streets as the others looked on (god, the others, they weren't supposed to be there, Aki wasn't supposed to be there, he was supposed to leave without a goddamn fuss--)
But then there's that parchment, and he remembers, doesn't he? He knows exactly what he wished for as he closed his eyes for the last time, and if the Dark Hour was something that could exist, why is this impossible to believe? Something foolish in him clings to the notion, unable to fully accept the ending he'd resigned himself to. No other ending would've been acceptable, but none of it should've ever happened in the first place. If it was true, he could erase it all like it never happened, and this pathetic wretch he'd become could disappear with it.
....Even so. "Drink me", really? Could this be any sketchier. (Well, probably. He doesn't really have any stones to throw from his glass house anyway, considering how he died.)
He lifts up the blue potion vial in his hand, squinting at it, and if anyone nearby seems to be waffling, he'll make up his mind with a shrug.]
...Well. I sure can't get any deader, so. I can go first.
ii. mistletoe
[hm,,
Shinjiro has, over the years, seen at least enough American movies to know what mistletoe is, and what it's for. The whole idea isn't really a thing in Japan, but the moment he steps near one he starts to get this weird giddy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and that's about the moment when he realizes he is indeed being messed with.]
Seriously? You've gotta be kiddin' me.
[This is gonna be a long, long contract, ain't it.]
iii. bonfire
[Shinjiro had only settled in by the fire for some warmth. He's always a little bit cold, these days, due to the aftereffects of the suppressants, and this had seemed like a nice way to warm up without needing to worry about money right off the bat.
The best laid plans of depressed teenagers. He finds himself sliding closer to the crowds, and tells himself it's only because the main parts of the fire will warm him up better. So when someone tries to strike up conversation with him, he only hunches inward tighter, grumbling:]
Ain't much to tell 'bout me. Just another scruffy orphan type.
[he does not want to take part in this touchy feely bullshit ok he would like to brood quietly in peace as is dECENT.]