deercountry | Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone

Entry tags:

Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone

Who: Johnny, Daniel, Ortus, Gideon Nav's Exquisite Corpse, Paul, Kaworu, Deku, Harrow, Maybe more?
What: Kidnapping, Forced Adoption, Getting these kids away from the Emperor
When: Shortly after boatgate
Where: The Bone House and Cobra Kai

Content Warnings: Probably references to Murder, Manipulation, Johnny Lawrence.

Prompts and Mingle will be in the comments.

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[ It's a valid question.

And really, considering the sheer amount of time Daniel has had to deal with teens, he's pretty used to his intentions being questioned. Hence why he doesn't even look offended by Kaworu's question. ]

I don't know the full details of you guys' situation. [ He lays those cards right out on the table. Daniel certainly won't claim to be an expert here, not with how little information has been provided to him. ] But what I do know is that you were stuck with someone who..

[ His words trail off, like he's looking for the right words. ]

Someone you thought you could trust, but who betrayed all of you. [ That feels right, judging by what he's heard. ]

I know what that's like. And I wouldn't want anyone to have to stay in that situation.

[ And Kaworu had stayed there for a little bit longer than these other kids. Though Daniel isn't sure why. ]

I was born in New Jersey. [ He quickly adds: ] That's on the other side of the country.

[ Hey, he isn't going to expect kids from other countries to know about where everything is on the other side of the world.. It's not like he would have known where the city the kid is speaking of is if Midoriya hadn't specified the prefecture or the distance from Tokyo in the first place. ]

When I was a teenager, my mother's job got transferred to California, so that's when we move out there with the two of us. Been living there ever since, yeah.

[ Even as he's talking rather casually about all this stuff, he's definitely keeping an eye on everyone in the back. Considering the way Midoriya is looking, Daniel thinks it's for the better to just keep talking about this. At least it can give the kid a feeling like he's having a normal conversation, even if he's physically looking everything but normal right now.

And then there's Paul, who seems to be watching him and yet not watching him at the same time. Daniel is half-tempted to ask him where he's from, but considering his brief answer about the slushies, maybe it's better to give that kid some space. Daniel can always try talking to him later, if he would rather stick to himself instead of engage in this moment. ]

I met Johnny when I moved out there too, we were in the same school. [ And Johnny immediately started bullying him...

.. but he'll at least leave that out, because the last thing the kids need is him and Johnny starting to bicker in the front of the car. ]

Some stuff happened, and a few months later we were already fighting each other at the local karate tournament. That was such a long time ago though. I was you guys' age back then. [ Which is saying a lot about how long ago it is. Daniel may not look as old as he is, but he's definitely an old man. ]

[Even as a poet, Ortus does not quite have the precise turn of phrase for the irony that is this: as God has plummeted in his estimation, his Saint has risen. The pecularities of the Saint of Patience have lost much of their ability to torment Ortus in their passing acquaintance, in part because he has come to witness the only relations between two people he has ever seen more fraught than those between Harrowhark and Gideon.

Then came the ship, and the beach, and his witnessing of the Saint-as-tether on the hideous wrath of God and his blackened soul. Augustine acted in aid of the children. That is not a thing that Ortus will forget. It is a thing that absolves much, as aqua regia does gaudy gilding over clean and lovely bone.

He accepts the box readily, untroubled by its construction. If anything, it shows a thoughtfulness he is beginning to suspect has always been there, concealed under the opacity that the Saint makes of himself.

(Does Ortus not know what it is to don a mask? To swallow one's grief and loneliness as bitter water until one has become inured to its sting? To make of oneself's a nothingness, untouchable, burying all that once felt beneath indifference? A strange thought to entertain, but these are strange days that he inhabits.)]

Would you come with us, Saint of Patience?

[The words come soft and unbidden to him. He knows what the answer will be even as he asks the question, for the same reason that he could not have left this place while Harrowhark and Gideon called it home, but there is something to the asking.]

[Kaworu slides off the windowsill onto the floor, his movement so light and delicate that it's a reminder that he is, either fundamentally or in some part, inhuman. He stands above the hero on the ground, looking down on him, seven eyes unreadable, expression impassive.]

Izuku.

You're the one who hurt me.

[His eyes glance up to Paul to know that he is not excluded from being the source of pain. But Paul knows this. They had spoken about this after all in a night so happy that harm to each other seemed impossible.

He reaches out to touch a freckled cheek but there's no affection in the gesture. It's as though it's a message that he exists to tell and nothing more.]

And I have hurt you.

Though I knew it was inevitable, I was... not prepared for how much it weigh on me to be hurt by those I cared for and to hurt them in return. I... couldn't bear it if I was left again. Or if I hurt you both again.

If I remain here. None of that will happen.

[ For a second, if Ortus is looking at just the right angle, he might see one of those masks crack and fall — in all the shattered heartache and weariness of a man who has seen it all, done it all, grieved it all, lost everyone and everything he has ever cared for, one way or another, as years stretch into decades into centuries into millennia and then keep going, with each new loss scoring a new and deeper wound into his heart, until it no longer even exists, because how could it? — something about the set of his eyes, the shock and vulnerability of someone who was absolutely not expecting such a question — ]

Oh, please — after all this time, the least you can do is call me Augustine, isn't it?

[ His tone is lighthearted enough, playful enough, dismissive enough, as to indicate disinterest, disinclination, distaste — except, of course, for the simple fact of what he's offering. ]

Anyway, I'm sure I'd be simply delighted to come along, at least as much as everyone else wouldn't be to have me join you where you're going, but... [ a shrug, a glance across the yard, marking each person finding a place in the truck, packed in with just as much care as all those jars of Paul's jam. ] Not yet, I think.

[ His smile is a flicker, the corner of one lip only, as insubstantial as a flame, as his gaze fixes on Ortus again. ]

I realize you're having something of a crisis of faith, and under the circumstances I think it speaks well to your sanity to be having it — well.

He was worth loving, once. He deserved it, then. Everything that built up around that came after — I'm sure at least a third of it, in the first few centuries at least, was my fault and everything — but somewhere at the core of all of it was someone who —

[ He cuts himself off, shaking his head, and pulls out a cigarette with hands that are if anything too steady, in the way of one who is concentrating very hard on forcing steadiness. There's the faintest rustling-and-slithering sound, as well, as his brother-Omen emerges from nowhere at the small of his back, coiling up and around his shoulders, in a shawl or a hug; when he's finished lighting his cigarette, his hand rests against a coil for a moment, providing comfort to one of them, or the other, or both.]

I made my promises too long ago to give up on them now. And anyway, I suspect if I leave, there won't be anything to come back to, here.

[ A bleak and resigned certainty. ]

[Midoriya sits down on the floor, teary-eyed and resolute, committing himself to self-destruction. Kaworu drifts over to him with a velvet, razor-lined tongue, dreamily damning himself alongside him. Paul watches it all unfold with wide eyes, a bleak event horizon of obliteration approaching that he doesn't need his prescience to see.

Leaving Midoriya here with Kaworu like this would destabilize the already tenuous situation under this roof in days, if not hours. Midoriya would impale himself on God's splintered patience, and Kaworu's horror would destroy him not long after, one way or another. The attempt to pull one person from this wreckage ending with two left in it is an unacceptable end.

Paul takes another step into the room, and he thinks about Midoriya never wants him to hold back during a fight, how Kaworu wants him to see him as capable and strong. He thinks, already, that he's sorry. He doesn't think about whether they will forgive him.]

Kaworu. He doesn't want you. He didn't want any of us. He wants shadows he can paint ghosts over. Izuku-kun does. He gave his blood for you to bring you back, and he was only gone to keep you safe. You know that.

[Where Midoriya is raw and Kaworu is abstract, Paul is controlled. The dullness has left him, replaced with heated clarity. He looks between them as he speaks.]

Izuku-kun, staying here doesn't keep Kaworu safe. It only gives him another thing to hold over his head. Over mine. [There is a ripple of fear there, at the edges.] He stopped you on the ship. He could do it again. He could do worse, and Kaworu would blame himself for all of it.

If you stay here, if either of you stay here, it protects no one. Not each other, not yourselves.

And if you stay here, so will I. [His voice drops, but his gaze doesn't.] Neither of you want that.

[Johnny had spent a lot of time trying to avoid or cut away from the care he had been deprived of had failed to give to his loved ones. But it felt like lately the more he tried to tug away from the more he realized how weak he was for it.

He wasn't just trying to do right by his students. They were doing a lot of good for him too.

He feels a smile tug at his lips when Paul agrees and relaxes his grip only to put both hands on Paul's shoulders.]

Alright then.

I've got your back. We're going to face down whatever comes your way, and we're going to do it together.

Whether it's finding a way to own up to this shit or facing down anything new that comes your way.

You're going to be unstoppable by the time we're done.

[The boundaries between their emotions run thin as Oscar explains himself. They're both so tired, so - and Paul jolts away from the blurring like the illusion of falling at the boundary of sleep, a noticeable external flinch.

He recomposes himself and swallows, concentrating on shoring up the distinction between these thoughts even as he tries to map where it lies.]

So this is temporary.

[His pulse of alarm at the concept of body hopping wizards will be palpable to Oscar within the shared confines of Paul's skull. He grasps at the concept of reprieve to banish it.]

One day.

[ Be thankful that Kainé has been dressing more sensibly here. Sensible meaning a miniskirt, low-cut croptop, and thigh highs. Some things never change.

It's not that hospitality is lost on her— she was already intending to provide for the residents here, keeping them fed and provisioned, and was in fact going to take care of her own meals. But she's a practical woman, and material needs are something that she focuses on before such niceties as being polite. And maybe she was just never very good at that to begin with.

Practical also means that she won't turn down free food. She smells it before he answers, sniffing the air like some wild beast. ]

Well shit. You're officially on my fuckin' good side, nerd.

[ She grins, though, her jab meant without any malice. She's not gonna insult anybody that gives her free shit. ]

Kainé. You're not Lawrence, so who are you?

[The flinch was palpable in their close space. The ripples of it stung at Oscar's lack-of-body, as if a coldblood lance had been thrust forth. It was an icy burn, with hoarfrost rippling like lightning on his non-existant nerves that only reignited an old fear:

That of rejection when someone finally understood his truth.

Pulling himself inward on reflex, he wondered how it was that Ozpin had secreted himself away in their shared space for months.

Unwittingly, an image was shared-- that of the painted dawn above the tundra, the warmth of the hues distracting from the icy winds that tore at his clothes while he plummeted through the sky.]

One day.

[He confirmed quietly.]

That's how it was in the Dream.

...I'll be out of your way soon.

[Johnny had a soft spot for the kids in his life that was for sure. Whether it was Miguel, Hawk, Bert, any of the kids from back home or the ones he had met here. They had done a lot to help pull him out of the hole he had dug himself into. He owed them everything to make sure they didn't fall into the same sort of situation he had been in.

Johnny gives that some thought and actually doesn't have a good answer.]

I don't know- He's more the kind of guy to sit back and let other people do his dirty work by the looks of it.

[And then it suddenly dawns on him how much he's actually asking of LaRusso here.]

You're free to back out if you want. I get this isn't your fight.

[ There are definitely a few near-comical facial expressions that Daniel seems to go through upon the word 'nerd' being thrown around like that. At least one of them is a long-tortured face with his eyes closed, because is this his life now.

Is he being called a nerd by a bunch of young people.

Mister Miyagi, give him strength. He sucks in a breath, then slowly breathes it out. That's it. Zen. Zen. ]

Daniel LaRusso. I know Johnny from back home. [ That sort of thing is always best described in the vaguest of terms, Daniel thinks, because otherwise it's going to involve dumb stuff like karate feud explanations. ] Are you.. training with him?

[ Honestly.

This girl does seem like Johnny's type of person. The swearing and the 'nerd' thing included. ]

[ It's a little surprising - the fact Johnny would even bring up that last part in the first place, especially after how this started. (Then again, that's typical of Johnny, isn't it? Strike first, think second.)

It shows, too, because it seems to render Daniel quiet for a moment. He glances ahead of him, using the fact that he's got to pay attention to the awful road instead as an excuse to be quiet for a moment before speaking up, and not that he had to just process that for a moment. ]

I've been here for a few days now. [ He then finally starts. ] And I still have absolutely no idea what's going on here.

[ Just in general. With this place. Everything. It's so confusing. ]

But if there's a bunch of kids in trouble, then it doesn't matter whether I know them, or whether I know what's going on at all. I'm not going to stand by while they're in trouble. [ Even if they're Johnny's kids, rather than his own. Daniel knows he would've done the same thing back home. ] Or let you run in there by yourself.

[ Because he has seen back home how that can end.. And in this place there's even a bigger chance that only one person might not be enough. ]

Even if that means-- I don't know, facing down some three-armed alien or whatever else this place has got in store. [ He doesn't know! Basically everyone he's run into seems to have some weird supernatural thing going on for them!

So this guy they're about to face probably does too. ]

[Sophia is an elusive Omen. She rarely makes her presence known, and even more rarely does she stray from her Sleeper's side.

The last few days have been different. She's no easier to find, but she is not hidden in one of Paul's pockets or curled against his collarbone. She is a tiny flicker of dark motion at the corner of other's eyes, as silent as the smoke she's made of, and every time someone turns to catch her out she is already gone. There are many places for a mouse to hide in a place like this one.]

[The smile that Paul manages in answer to Johnny's is a pale wreck of one, but it exists, shining through the slick of his face that all the sodden scrubbing in the world can't correct. ]

Yes, sensei.

[There are so many ways to say two words. This time, Paul says them sleepily, but sincerely. He doesn't have to believe in himself now, in the quiet, desperate, thin hours of night. He can let Johnny believe in him, and it's enough to let him lie back down on his side in his cot, disentangling from Johnny as gracefully as he can. For the most part.]

I'm sorry I woke you up.

[It's too much to ask him to stay until Paul falls back asleep aloud. Paul goes silent with his face half-turned into his pillow, his fingers casually, absently circled around Johnny's wrist.

(He still doesn't know what he's done, from his betraying tongue to the sear on Johnny's hand. He knows that it feels like something has passed over him: a sword, a storm. He knows that he thinks that if he sleeps now, freshly scoured of tears, he might stay asleep, and that's a gift in itself.)]

Thank you.

[Johnny actually gives Kaworu a perplexed look as though he doesn't really understand what he's saying at first.]

Right? You mean when we fought?

You showed me just how fucking wrong I was about you when we did that.

It might take some work to get it out of you but deep down you've got the heart of a true badass in there. That nothing will stop you when you actually put your mind to it.

[Perhaps more literally than Johnny would like to admit but he didn't have a magic shield or some bullshit like that. He did see that Kaworu was unwavering in his dedication to Paul though.]

But take it from me, kid. You have to work to make things right.

I spent thirty years of my life not trying to do that and just watched as everything broke down around me. It took someone else to remind me that striking first isn't just something you do in a fight. It's something you need to do in everyday life too.

[Paul's capacity for caring for anyone outside of himself is scraped down to the bone, in this particular isolated hour, so it's fortunate that Oscar exists inside of him. Paul reaches out with a quieting pulse of assurance at Oscar's flinch and fall, the mechanism that he uses to calm his own fears activating at the sensation of someone else's.

It's still disorienting. The feedback loop is distorted and slowed, the milliseconds long difference between the response he expects and the one he receives just enough to throw him, but he can adjust. He can always adjust.]

It's not -

[He swallows, shaking his head, and focuses inward. He constructs a blackboard, like the ones in the Archive, and on it he imagines lines of chalk forming.]

It's not like that.

Isn't it?

[The words were right, but already he was starting to calm. It was the switch in communication method that caught his attention first. When did Paul learn-- ?

Willing himself to calm, Oscar started again?]

Everything bad that could have happened just did. There's people we can't account for, others running around making things worse--

I'm in your space exactly when you don't need me to be. I need to be Home, making sure that everyone's okay.

[ It's Kainé's turn to make a face when Daniel suggests that she might be Johnny's student, as though the very idea of training with him is some sort of insult to her competence. Which it is. What would a sadsack like that have to teach her? She was baffled as to why Sayo bothered taking lessons from him.

But she has to say, this guy's reaction is pretty funny. ]

Hell no. I'm a Hunter. I can take care of myself.

[ As though it's a simple matter of strength, and not those kids looking for some kind of mentor, however flawed. ]

The sad skull dude said you were whipping bread. So... what does that even fucking mean?

Edited 2022-07-18 22:15 (UTC)

[Johnny was up early enough. He may be a little exhausted from helping the rest of the kids move in but he'd always strike first against a new day. Or at least that's what he liked to tell himself.

He's in track pants and work out shirt when Kaine pushes through the door. He's shared a few words with her on the network but those had mostly been over text and he didn't recognize the face.

It takes a moment for his slow brain to figure out if he had forgotten someone at Black Eye's house.

He thumbs over to room in a far corner.]

There's a kitchen over there. Watch out for the right corner, there's some black mold over there.

Bathroom's upstairs. Don't make too much noise because the others are sleeping in there.

Clean up and then you can tell me who the fuck you are.

[Johnny let's Paul slip away and he feels a tinge of relief that the boy has managed to calm down. His experience in situations like this left him wondering if what he had said was right or if might end up causing more trouble than he had meant to.

Either way he makes a fist and lightly taps it against Paul's shoulder. Ignoring the pain from the burn for now.]

Don't mention it, kid. If you need anything else. Just ask. Or I'll be around.

[He starts to pull himself off the bed and there's an awkward moment where he stares at the sheets. ...Does he tuck him in? No- He was told old for that. He didn't want to embarrass him around the other kids too. That'd be the worst.

Instead he'll reach down and ruffle Paul's hair just a little.]

Just try and get some sleep. We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow.

[...And with that he quietly heads toward the door and closes it behind him. He only gets a few steps away before he leans up against the wall. He slides down against it to the floor and settles in there. If something happens again it'd probably be best if he was close by.]

[ Kainé gives him a brief once over, then looks past him to the makeshift living space. About what she expected from an unkempt man that gets into pointless arguments over the network, but she's lived in far worse conditions. Hell, running water and electricity makes it downright luxurious compared to anything she ever knew. ]

Kainé. I'm the one your dad is deepthroating. I know a few of these people.

[ She has no reason to be here. She doesn't belong anywhere now. The aftermath of the fiasco that got her killed is as good as anything. ]

Washed up before I got here. I'll mostly stay out of your hair. I'm sleeping outside.

[ This guy is really stubborn on the whole 'helping' thing, huh? Ordinarily, Gideon would jump at the chance for some free food. She'll never get used to how much better the food is here compared to the Ninth, and this guy has the personality of ~~Magnus Quinn, who she should have saved but didn't~~ someone who likes to cook. Now, the idea just makes her stomach turn.

Tea might be nice, though. The warmth might help. ]

Sure. [ Gideon says, carefully, like stepping around a trap. ] Tea sounds good. Thanks.

[ She's not really sure how he's going to make tea in the middle of a warehouse, but he's probably got his ways. Gideon figures she'll just follow behind him, a silent, well-muscled shadow. ]

[ Gideon holds Ortus tightly. Cling might be more accurate, honestly, although she'd never admit that, especially not to herself. The pressure feels good, even while the finer aspects of sensation are still missing. Gideon can feel a hint of warmth, at least, and she's doing her best to count her blessings. Her skin is still cold to the touch, and she hopes Ortus doesn't mind. She doubts he'll say anything about it, at least. ]

Yeah, dummy. Thought you were supposed to be the smarter cavalier.

[ Thanks to all the books and stuff. There's no bite of sarcasm to Gideon's words. If anything, her tone is the opposite: a soft, nearly choked relief at being a member of a group. Part of an us, rather than an extra annoyance no one wants around.

Gideon doesn't move, not for a while. Instead, she tucks her head in the nook where Ortus' neck meets his shoulder, making herself as small as she can. She feels younger, like this. Tiny. She is eleven years old again, and this time, she is not rocking herself to nightmarish sleep inside an empty cell.

She should thank him. Or make a joke, or put Ortus at ease somehow. He must have been so worried. But what comes out instead, in a very small voice, is: ]

You kept my sword.

[ Ordinarily, Gideon would punch him back. Or she'd laugh, and make some joke about how Johnny would need to try harder than that, or that he hits like an old man. But too often, when Gideon closes her eyes, she sees him lying lifeless in a pool of too-slick blood.

Instead, she takes the contact as an opportunity to try and pull her sensei into a tight hug, fierce and desperate. ]

Yes, sensei. [ Gideon agrees, in the low, soft tones of I'm glad you're back. I'm sorry I didn't save you. ]

I've -- [ There's a hitch in her breath, and it's ugly and awful and embarrassing, but Gideon just has to plow through ] -- I've always wanted to try a sandwich for men.

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Page 4 of 10

Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone

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when i was a child i had a fever (gideon, big boy, stasya)

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