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POSTED ON Nov 2, 2020 3:33:15 GMT

when the adrenaline bleeds from him, when the dust settles over the cycling road and when their vessel sinks to the ocean floor once more; dominic will close his eyes but he will never sleep.

there’s commotion outside the door by the medical bay, but the breakroom is empty but for the underboss and the arcanine by his feet. his wounds are for the most part superficial so he waits for his turn with bruises running along his sides, with gouges at his back from the explosion - but otherwise intact.

he carved this place in the submarine out for himself, the mere presence of the man enough to deter most from entering. someone does anyway and dominic eyes his colleague for a moment before reaching for bottled water behind him and tossing it toward the admin.

"cheer up," dominic says flatly, without even looking too closely at marcel’s expression. he thinks he already knows what he’ll see.

marcel maeda

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POSTED ON Nov 2, 2020 12:12:41 GMT

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[attr="class","ePostMain"]the aftermath has been expectedly tumultuous. still unsure of himself, still shaken by the war, dominic's words are the first clue towards what it is he's feeling. he lets the bottle hang by his side.
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digging out of his headspace, he closes the distance to pull up a chair.
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"easy for you to say," he murmurs, "not all of us are soldiers." marcel leans back—and immediately sits back up. the wince is poorly hidden.

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POSTED ON Nov 4, 2020 0:49:20 GMT

the three days that the war lasted weren’t long enough; the gnawing, scraping ache living behind his ribs was never sated.

when dominic tilts his head sideways his exhaled laugh is humorless and dry. "yeah? you could have stayed back here. safe," he says slowly, his gaze contemplative when it flickers to study marcel’s face. "why didn’t you?"

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POSTED ON Nov 4, 2020 1:46:57 GMT

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[attr="class","ePostMain"]marcel's gaze drops to the bottle as he carefully unscrews its lid. something about his silence suggests an answer he himself is still searching for. self-preservation is the easiest lie.
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"there an answer you're expecting?" is what he settles on, before taking a drink.

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POSTED ON Nov 5, 2020 6:44:49 GMT

he's familiar with marcel's propensity to answer questions with his own. dominic's smile turns jagged; the back and forth is a fleeting distraction from the festering in his chest. he spreads his fingers - hands bloodless - across the table's surface.

"are you saying you don't have one?" he counters in a lazy drawl.

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kosuke sato

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POSTED ON Nov 5, 2020 12:00:07 GMT

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[attr="class","ePostMain"]his eyes meet his, only slightly narrowed. "no." marcel falls off where the follow-up should be; they both wait, in that moment.
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then, before dominic can pry any further: "did you have fun?" the edge of his mouth curls without humour.

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POSTED ON Nov 6, 2020 3:11:09 GMT

the losses were too exhaustive to call it a victory, although really dominic knows he will never be satisfied. he - all of them here, leagues under the sea - suffered nothing.

his eyes narrow and his smile, briefly, grows wider only to fade just as quickly. "not really," he says with an apathy that he doesn't truly feel. "unlike those two we have locked up in holding, i'm not a savage."

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POSTED ON Nov 6, 2020 11:58:01 GMT

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[attr="class","ePostMain"]marcel watches dominic. he thinks of thalia, and the second general at mauville; he wonders if there is anyone who will ever get the chance to wake from darkrai's imposed slumber.
[break][break]
jules cotillard begins to occupy his thoughts, next; marcel cannot bring himself to quash his sympathies.
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his voice grows heavy. "do you miss it, then?"

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POSTED ON Nov 6, 2020 13:27:51 GMT

maybe it will be generations before hoenn can consider itself healed; reconstruction efforts with the aid of legendary beasts can remedy a gored land but nothing can undo what has been done to a shattered people. although kanto burned differently, he still knows it to be true.

dominic runs his tongue along his teeth and scoffs. he wants to laugh in marcel's face but settles for a half-hearted sneer. "fishing to see if i'm a danger to myself and others?"

marcel maeda

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kosuke sato

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POSTED ON Nov 6, 2020 14:45:58 GMT

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[attr="class","ePostMain"]his expression is answer enough. marcel, at least, has the grace to look embarrassed.
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"you know what they say about old habits," he mutters, defensively. perhaps he's known him too long—the memory of the underboss at kanto is hard to shake.

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 0:31:52 GMT

he couldn't articulate why something smoulders under his skin. usually, in the long quiet periods, dominic can reduce it to an almost forgettable ache; dulled either through ingested substances or something more carnal.

"sorry to disappoint," dominic says after a moment. he pauses before speaking again, his tone turning sardonic. "at least it'll look good on a written report."

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kosuke sato

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 1:24:43 GMT

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[attr="class","ePostMain"]something curls in his gut—perhaps it's guilt. in the pause between, marcel finds himself wishing for an interruption. it's a shame dominic's presence spoke for itself.
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"i never said this was going on a report," he replies, stiffly.

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 4:46:15 GMT

the arcanine at his feet shifts in its slumber, pressing its weight closer against dominic's leg. idly, he stretches an arm down to stroke the canine between the ears, prompting it to heave a satisfied sigh.

dominic's lips quirk into the ghost of a soft smile - intended either for the pokemon or for marcel, maybe both. his voice is deceptively light when he speaks, "it's you; i just guessed that that's where it would go."

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 11:52:45 GMT

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[attr="class","ePostMain"]his fingers curl around the bottle, but he doesn't take a drink. it's easy for marcel to avert his gaze to the arcanine; the scene is almost endearing.
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"no," he finally says, "it was just a question."

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