SOLDIER BLUE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
soldieringblue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2011-02-14 01:41 am
soldieringblue) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-02-14 01:41 am
Entry tags:
stop
WHO: Soldier Blue, resident(s) of the Mu Mu Hakusho house if they wish.
WHERE: City, sky, aforeementioned house
WHEN: late 2/12-2/13 early early morning
WARNINGS: buckets of unhappy
SUMMARY: it's enough
FORMAT: no
Enough.
Soldier Blue left the ravaged streets with slow and unsteady steps that took him skyward; there were roofs below him before he was aware that he'd begun to fly away rather quickly. The realization sent a strange wave of panic over him that stretched his mind in two directions - partly back to the scene he'd left behind and partly away, as far away as he could force his body to take him. The more he flew, the more unanimous his thoughts became and the faster he went, broadening the distance with short teleports that made him both a faster traveler and slower flier. He was bone-tired. Sick and tired. Fevered with a mounting disgust that made his blood feel thick and heavy in him, weighing him down and drawing him so near to the roofs that he nearly nicked their spires and antennas with his hands and feet.
Enough.
Logic dictated that the responsibility for what had occurred was allotted to no single party, least of all him. That fact in of itself only made him feel more at fault - where had he been?
Soldier. He'd only just recently explained his title to Baroona, but it sounded so obsolete and false. Contradictory to the freedom that was laid out before him, he was a suffocating force, bred for a world very different from the one he was racing through. He'd fought hard with the notion, arguing its value there, his value there, standing under the shadow of a self that may not have been truly himself at all. The ideal Soldier was buried in a cemetery miles away.
That was why...he'd chosen to take a step away from the role. To wear it as a reminder, yes, but to quietly recede and give his fellow Mu the very thing he dreamed they could have in their home world. The City was full of freedom and choice, chance to not simply survive, but live with humanity. Despite the setbacks that had come with his decision - the attacks, the underlying suspicions, the careful compromises that came with trying to blend in naturally - Blue had believed he was right. He though he would only be wrong to intervene too greatly with the freedom given the Mu by that City.
Then...Leo was attacked and Soldier Blue was not there.
It was a fierce punch in the gut, coming with the realization of just whose voice it was that pierced his mind at that moment. Inattentive Soldier Blue had swooped down to find his friend and comrade shot and bleeding, pierced by bullets that he could have stopped had he been there. But only if he had been unwilling to give Leo the freedom to be out in that world without him. Did that put Blue at fault? Or was it solely on Keith Anyan, the man who pulled the trigger?
Blue saw him dead, but not by his hands. Nor the hands of the one he saw it through. Jonah's mind barraged him with the colors and sounds of the end of that man, so potent as to send him reeling into utter despair, lashing out at the world as only a Mu could when emotions were so palpable to them. Blue felt those, too, reminded of the fury he'd felt in the past. But Jonah's was much more personal and he knew it.
Where had the Soldier been?
He had no clear answer to that, and that fresh fear was a spur that pushed him on, faster again. The burn of his limbs felt justified despite the hurt; he didn't know what punishment he was rightfully subject to. All he could do was push ahead, looking for his stopping place, home, or-- well. He didn't really have a home in that world, did he? Or...
Before a real decision could be made, Blue found himself nearly face to face with the building he had begun to reside in with Leo and the friends he had made in the City. The shingled roof came zooming up to him, so fast that he very well may have collided right into it had he not flickered out of that space in another sudden show of power. He reappeared in the room allotted him, still heavy with his speed, and hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind right out of him. His vision blackened for a few moments - more, maybe. He wasn't sure. But his breath drew in a hiss of pain by the time he realized that was what he was doing. It hurt. The side of his head, his chest, palms...Everything just hurt. His friends and the people he'd had the nerve to call such...always getting hurt, one way or the other. He wasn't protecting anything.
Another painful exhale preceded a loud and strangled gasp, which set his body to shuddering, which repeated it all again and again...The sound was frightening and new to his ears, and Blue gaped at his fingers as the curled against the floor as roots against the trembling of his arms. They blurred; his chest was a heavy weight and his head swam in all the things therein, and Blue felt as if he would explode.
His sobs became more human the longer it went on, and he drew his arms to himself, curling his hands around his head and digging his fingers into his hair and scalp. He forcefully muffled the sound against his arm, ashamed of it, squeezing his eyes shut to stop their part as well. Everything about it was awful, but it would not stop on his command; it had grown immune to his efforts to drown all those unhappy things in himself and keep his presence neutral and strong. Like a Soldier.
There was no fooling anyone anymore, though. He wasn't Soldier Blue anymore. It was possible he'd never been him at all, but even if he was...not anymore. And he had nothing beyond that to fall back on.
His sleeve was soaked.
WHERE: City, sky, aforeementioned house
WHEN: late 2/12-2/13 early early morning
WARNINGS: buckets of unhappy
SUMMARY: it's enough
FORMAT: no
Enough.
Soldier Blue left the ravaged streets with slow and unsteady steps that took him skyward; there were roofs below him before he was aware that he'd begun to fly away rather quickly. The realization sent a strange wave of panic over him that stretched his mind in two directions - partly back to the scene he'd left behind and partly away, as far away as he could force his body to take him. The more he flew, the more unanimous his thoughts became and the faster he went, broadening the distance with short teleports that made him both a faster traveler and slower flier. He was bone-tired. Sick and tired. Fevered with a mounting disgust that made his blood feel thick and heavy in him, weighing him down and drawing him so near to the roofs that he nearly nicked their spires and antennas with his hands and feet.
Enough.
Logic dictated that the responsibility for what had occurred was allotted to no single party, least of all him. That fact in of itself only made him feel more at fault - where had he been?
Soldier. He'd only just recently explained his title to Baroona, but it sounded so obsolete and false. Contradictory to the freedom that was laid out before him, he was a suffocating force, bred for a world very different from the one he was racing through. He'd fought hard with the notion, arguing its value there, his value there, standing under the shadow of a self that may not have been truly himself at all. The ideal Soldier was buried in a cemetery miles away.
That was why...he'd chosen to take a step away from the role. To wear it as a reminder, yes, but to quietly recede and give his fellow Mu the very thing he dreamed they could have in their home world. The City was full of freedom and choice, chance to not simply survive, but live with humanity. Despite the setbacks that had come with his decision - the attacks, the underlying suspicions, the careful compromises that came with trying to blend in naturally - Blue had believed he was right. He though he would only be wrong to intervene too greatly with the freedom given the Mu by that City.
Then...Leo was attacked and Soldier Blue was not there.
It was a fierce punch in the gut, coming with the realization of just whose voice it was that pierced his mind at that moment. Inattentive Soldier Blue had swooped down to find his friend and comrade shot and bleeding, pierced by bullets that he could have stopped had he been there. But only if he had been unwilling to give Leo the freedom to be out in that world without him. Did that put Blue at fault? Or was it solely on Keith Anyan, the man who pulled the trigger?
Blue saw him dead, but not by his hands. Nor the hands of the one he saw it through. Jonah's mind barraged him with the colors and sounds of the end of that man, so potent as to send him reeling into utter despair, lashing out at the world as only a Mu could when emotions were so palpable to them. Blue felt those, too, reminded of the fury he'd felt in the past. But Jonah's was much more personal and he knew it.
Where had the Soldier been?
He had no clear answer to that, and that fresh fear was a spur that pushed him on, faster again. The burn of his limbs felt justified despite the hurt; he didn't know what punishment he was rightfully subject to. All he could do was push ahead, looking for his stopping place, home, or-- well. He didn't really have a home in that world, did he? Or...
Before a real decision could be made, Blue found himself nearly face to face with the building he had begun to reside in with Leo and the friends he had made in the City. The shingled roof came zooming up to him, so fast that he very well may have collided right into it had he not flickered out of that space in another sudden show of power. He reappeared in the room allotted him, still heavy with his speed, and hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind right out of him. His vision blackened for a few moments - more, maybe. He wasn't sure. But his breath drew in a hiss of pain by the time he realized that was what he was doing. It hurt. The side of his head, his chest, palms...Everything just hurt. His friends and the people he'd had the nerve to call such...always getting hurt, one way or the other. He wasn't protecting anything.
Another painful exhale preceded a loud and strangled gasp, which set his body to shuddering, which repeated it all again and again...The sound was frightening and new to his ears, and Blue gaped at his fingers as the curled against the floor as roots against the trembling of his arms. They blurred; his chest was a heavy weight and his head swam in all the things therein, and Blue felt as if he would explode.
His sobs became more human the longer it went on, and he drew his arms to himself, curling his hands around his head and digging his fingers into his hair and scalp. He forcefully muffled the sound against his arm, ashamed of it, squeezing his eyes shut to stop their part as well. Everything about it was awful, but it would not stop on his command; it had grown immune to his efforts to drown all those unhappy things in himself and keep his presence neutral and strong. Like a Soldier.
There was no fooling anyone anymore, though. He wasn't Soldier Blue anymore. It was possible he'd never been him at all, but even if he was...not anymore. And he had nothing beyond that to fall back on.
His sleeve was soaked.
no subject
Demon or no, there was value and comfort in being looked out for. Someone called Soldier simply spent too much time doing the looking to ever think to allow himself the same courtesy.
I believe you.