maskormenacelogs | race for the morning

Entry tags:

race for the morning

WHO: Jonathan & YOU!!
WHERE: Heropa and Nonah
WHEN: any day in July after the 16th
WHAT: Just a nice normal open log of nice (mostly) normal daily activities.
WARNINGS: None! Will edit if this changes.

heropa;

[as much as Jonathan enjoys taking Hyperion to the park with him, there were times when he simply preferred the company of his own thoughts on a walk. at this point he's been ambling for quite a while, and as an open bench comes into sight he decides that a break is in order.

as soon as he's settled down comfortably, he fishes a pipe and its accessories out of a pocket; despite his young age he seems perfectly at ease with the thing, quickly packing the tobacco in and lighting it up. the smoke puffs out lazily as he shoves the other items back where they came, and Jonathan smiles contentedly.

of course, even in a quiet moment like this he's incapable of remaining completely still. barely five minutes have passed before his eyebrows furrow, an expression of soft curiosity taking up residence. he summons his stand, invisible to nearly all, and cocks his head inquisitively in the direction of his own smoke rings.]

What do you think? [he murmurs quietly] Can you make it?

[he can almost hear Josuke protesting that The World can't understand him, but it only makes him smile a little wider. the stand rises from its seat beside its master on the bench, floating through the back of it, to face the smoke rings. it begins to rapidly throw punches, each landing perfectly in the center of the ring, blows flying so fast that not a single wisp of smoke is disturbed.

Jonathan is completely enthralled, head tilting back as he continues erratically blowing smoke rings to try and test The World's speed and reach. it's so exciting that he utterly forgets how loony he must look to any passersby - or just how close to the edge of the bench he was sitting.

when he leans back again he finally hits his limit; with a startled cry Jonathan finds himself flat on his ass, pipe clattering out of his mouth as his back hits the ground. his stand notices immediately and floats to his aid, thoughtfully picking the discarded pipe up for him. the mishap doesn't seem to have gotten his spirits down at least, judging from the way he's already laughing as he picks himself up.]

nonah;

[Yuri Petrov lives in Nonah, whenever he's not nervously eyeing the infrastructure of a local prison. this would have little to no impact on Jonathan's daily life if he hadn't recently been assigned as the other man's probation officer, which meant regular (and mandatory) meetings.

it was hardly fair to force his probationee to do all the travel, which means that he'll have to swallow his everlasting embarrassment and actually revisit the city that witnessed his awful mistake so many months ago. no that he wants to, but...when has he ever been able to avoid unpleasant obligations, really?

so he's decided to do a test run of sorts, to try and ease himself into traveling the city. Jonathan has been puttering around Nonah all day, too on edge to really settle into doing any one thing. no matter where he is, however, his stomach remains a constant; the incessant growling eventually chases him into a nearby cafe, although honestly he's glad to have some sort of purpose.

the place is crowded - if he wants a table he's going to have to share it with someone else. as he tries to navigate his bulky self without knocking anything over, some of the various flyers strewn about catch his eye; he picks one up idly, intending to peruse it while waiting for a seat to open up.

as fate would have it, it's an ad for a gay club. Jonathan sighs and gently places it back down, his ears already burning red. he backs up a little too hastily, bumping into someone in the midst of his retreat.]

Ah! Please excuse me.

heropa strikes back;

[no matter how much Jonathan feels he's improved with this world's staggeringly advanced technology, there always seems to be something waiting in the shadows to forcefully remind him how much there still was to learn. today, that reminder is deviously small.

he's walking home from doing some odds and ends at the club, a stack of unrelated books tucked under one arm and a music player in the other. it had been a gift sent in by an overeager fan of the show, and while Jonathan was never truly comfortable accepting presents of this nature this one happened to arrive with no return address. none of the other employees had wanted it...and, well, he can't say he minds having some music at his fingertips whenever he wants.

of course, he hadn't accounted for the fact that such devices were made for people of a different stature. no matter how delicately he tries to finagle things, his fingers are simply too large for the little player and its even smaller touchscreen. he tries his pinky this time - and once again ends up accidentally in the language settings.

he stops short suddenly, letting out a soft sigh of frustration.]

And I'd thought the phone was a dreadful pain...

[ooc; if you want a different prompt, feel free to pm me and I'll set you up c:]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Yuri, prepared to retaliate with some silver-tongued rebuke, opens his mouth only to find himself effectively interrupted by the clink-clink-clink of Jonathan's spoon against the side of his cup. Needless to say, as the sugar that was heaped into Jonathan's tea is stirred in circles, the stare Yuri levels in the other man's direction is immeasurably disapproving. In what ass-backwards country did they consider those manners acceptable?]

A pity that I'm not the sort of man who keeps company with fools. I'm afraid that makes you and I and everyone else of your ilk terribly incompatible with one another.

[Placing his hands upon the table, Yuri pushes himself up out of his chair.]

If you'll excuse me a moment...

[certainly not Britain, but they weren't there at the moment. Jonathan wasn't even in the presence of someone worth checking his childhood bad habits for - at least, not at this moment.

he sets his spoon on the edge of his saucer neatly, as if there weren't an ounce of negative judgement being mentally beamed his way. if not for the granite set to his jaw, one might mistake him for being in the middle of a very pleasant conversation.]

You'd be surprised how things match up in the end. [a pause and a sip. much better.] Please, take your time.

I assure you, I won't be.

[Excusing himself from the table, Yuri retreats to his bedroom where the door is promptly closed behind him. He takes his time, and would have regardless of Jonathan's allowance. Straightens his hair, ties it back with a black ribbon, and does what he can before his bedroom mirror to mask the appearance of his scar. It helps considerably, feeling suddenly less vulnerable to the world, less exposed, and he's even able to briefly address the network to announce his release from prison. A courtesy, he calls it, and proof of his commitment to change.

Do those listening believe him? Or do they see through his meek facade?

Questions he asks himself as he responds in turn to some of the replies people have left him, but the exchanges are kept brief and, not long after, Yuri disconnects so that he might change out of his prison dress outs and rejoin Jonathan in the other room. A pair of navy cotton pants are selected from his wardrobe along with a pale blue quarter-length sleeve sweater. He feels then, for the first time in more than a month, considerably more like himself, and as he returns to the dining room to sit across from Jonathan, he's able to do so with the hint of a smile.

As though they never disagreed on anything. In fact, as Yuri takes up his teacup and glances at the clock, he even has a polite suggestion to make.]

I can't imagine that you ate much of anything having arrived at the prison when you did. You ought to stay for dinner.

[he's quietly poured (and over sweetened) himself another cup of tea from the pot during Yuri's absence, but otherwise not done very much else when the other man returns. the more suspicious-minded might have taken the opportunity to rummage through the house, but Jonathan has no intention of prying.

the silence is enjoyable, especially with the teacup providing a ready-made focus for his habitual fidgeting. even so, the pleasant way he nods his head upon Yuri's return is just as genuine. there was a difference between pretending an argument didn't exist and setting it aside, and he's happy to take that distinction now.

in fact, the offer even jostles a gentle chuckle out of him.]

I think you may want to do some grocery shopping first before making that sort of offer.

[he restrains himself significantly when out with company, but still...Jonathan is a large man.]

Edited 2016-07-25 03:55 (UTC)

[His tea a little on the cool side now, Yuri tops up his cup with more Darjeeling from the pot and a little extra honey afterwards. He stirs silently when Jonathan suggests that shopping may be in order before preparing a meal, and it is then that Yuri realizes, more belatedly than he'd like, just how frequently Will Graham must have come over in his absence.

Perhaps not every day, and there was a period during which the man had gone missing, Ported out as it were, but regularly enough to see to it no food went bad, to dust, water the plants...keep the place looking lived-in. Or as lived-in as clinical clean could ever appear.]

I've a number of frozen goods and non-perishables I can utilize in making a respectable meal. [And plenty of perishables that, thanks to his bestest buddy, were restocked, fresh, and ready to use. But there's no need to mention that, so Yuri doesn't.] Or I could order something.

[He mirrors Jonathan's chuckle, adding as he glances down at his drink...]

To be quite honest, I'm simply a little eager to eat anything that isn't served on a plastic tray the color of a school bus.

In that case, it would be incredibly cruel of me to stand in your way.

[who could ever refuse such a request, let alone someone as easily coaxed into polite acquiescence as Jonathan? he has a clause to the agreement, however, which he adds after another small sip of tea.]

But I'll pay for anything I eat.

[takeout or not. it's the only way to keep things fair as a bottomless pit being talked into raiding a newly free man's fridge.]

[Now this is familiar. When Jonathan and Yuri had first met, the other man had insisted on paying for himself at the diner they'd eventually relocated to when wandering from the park. Probably, Yuri thinks, that noble demeanor of Jonathan's isn't just an act, then. As a characteristic to have survived this long, it's very likely something deeply rooted in the man himself.

Not unlike Yuri's beliefs...

In any case, he concedes this time instead of arguing.]

If you wish, I won't stop you.

[Quickly draining his cup, Yuri is to his feet again in a matter of quick seconds, carrying himself to the kitchen to pull open his refrigerator door and explore its contents.]

A souffle wouldn't take too long to prepare...about as much time as it would take to order Italian or Chinese. Do you have a preference, Mr Joestar?

You'll find that I'm quite happy with anything, so long as it's edible.

[a testament to his inability to be picky if he wanted rather than any fretting about Yuri's culinary skills; the distinction is easy to make, accompanied as it is by such a pleasant smile.

Jonathan himself remains seated for the moment, trapped in that awkward uncertainty that etiquette sometimes abandoned him in. it was easy enough to offer help when eating at a friend, but there were several layers of distance here. the best thing to do was stay in place until an opportunity presented itself, as contrary to his nature as it was to remain inactive.]

I promise, I'm not so unkind as to serve you anything inedible—or bad for your health.

[And neither is he eager to leave Jonathan too long to his own devices behind his back, though he hopes that isn't too obvious as he places some fresh ingredients on the island counter near the dining table and collects a sharp chopping knife from the block on the counter behind him. With any luck, he only appears a good host, reluctant to be rude to his guest. Or more rude than he'd been earlier. Perhaps...this dinner invitation was even a way of apologizing for that episode?]

You're certainly not obligated, but if you'd like to help cut preparation time in half, I wouldn't protest an extra hand finely chopping these broccoli florets while I separate some eggs.

[He turns the knife handle toward Jonathan, blade pointed toward himself and a liquid honey smile on his face. Positively dripping niceties now.]

You can use a knife, can't you?

Whenever they hold up long enough, yes.

[is he aware of Yuri's discomfort about leaving him to his own devices a second time in one night? can he sense the sardonic undertones hidden behind the polite inquiry?

surprisingly, it's quite impossible to tell. Jonathan may be a man with his emotions on his sleeve at all times, but here it makes no difference; the reaction Yuri receives would be identical regardless of how much he grasped. the other man stands, carefully maneuvering around the table to take the outstretched knife. he grasps it with a gentle precision, taking care not to accidentally endanger Yuri.

nothing hurts more than sincerity in the face of bitterness.]

I'm still learning my way around the finer points of cooking, but I'm capable enough when it comes to the basics. Please let me know if you need anything else done as you go along.

[the blade really does appear minuscule in Jonathan's massive hands, lending more than a little credence to his self-deprecation. but this is hardly the first time that he's worked with improperly sized tools, and he sets about chopping with the ready precision of a seasoned hand. it likely doesn't appear too elegant, mismatched as he is, but the broccoli doesn't suffer for it.

this had been the easiest part of learning to cook. focus, precision, a blade in his hand...all things that he'd studied diligently in other forms. it was almost soothing to be able to bring them together here in the kitchen.]

[The oven is set to preheat before Yuri returns to the task of separating egg yolks and whites, sifting them between cracked shells and delegating the rich, golden yellow centers into a small bowl, the whites into one marginally larger and of an appropriate size for mixing. A little cream of tartar is added to the latter, but before whisking begins, Yuri turns on one of the stove's burners and sets to heating up a medium-size skillet.]

The only blades I've any experience or skill with are the culinary sort, but even those I keep in pristine condition—a dull blade is far more dangerous than a sharp one, after all.

[He fetches a bowl for Jonathan to place the broccoli in once he's done chopping, still smiles and no hint of bitterness, and then returns to the stove, tossing measured amounts of butter and flour into the pan.]

In any case, the knife you're holding shouldn't fail you. But, if it should slip, I've a first-aid kit in the bathroom. [It wouldn't do to let his company bleed out in the souffle, even if Englishman and rosemary go together about as well as wine and cheese.] Once you're done there, the broccoli needs heating in the microwave. Two minutes at the most. It should still be crisp. And then the egg whites need beating. The mixer is in the drawer.

[Speaking of rosemary, however, a little sprinkle is added to the pan after some milk and some mustard have been stirred in. When the mixture thickens, the yolks are poured in along with a handsome helping of goat cheese from the fridge.]

They're the most difficult sort to master, if you can believe it.

[Jonathan could handle a sword with some measure of skill, after all. in his mind that was all it took to qualify as the more easy sort of blade to handle - or perhaps that was the hours of late night cooking shows he'd absorbed during his time here. it was hard to say.]

But there's no need to worry about any mishaps I might cause. I can take care of myself without abusing your supplies.

[he can't say that there won't be any accidents, even with his practiced handling, but he can at least keep from draining any more of Yuri's things. the ripple was wonderfully convenient like that.

the broccoli tips off the board into the proffered bowl in short order, making its way over to the microwave safely in Jonathan's hands. there's an awkward pause as he quietly tries to puzzle out Yuri's unfamiliar appliance (why was the same equipment so different from brand to brand?) before the familiar buzz starts up.

he stays where he is in front of it all the same. there's not much confidence in his button choices.]

Culinary knives or dull knives?

[Mildly amused, Yuri shakes his head.]

I suppose mastery of either one is difficult. The former requires a more delicate precision, while the latter demands one have the utmost control over their own physical strength. A steady hand for both, and yet...neither is an edge that anyone can wield safely without plenty of practice.

[Not that he cares much for blades at all outside their use in the kitchen, though of course even Lunatic's crossbow had been outfitted with a bladed apparatus at the end—for those particularly pesky close encounters, though in hindsight he supposes the sort more likely to engage in close-quarters combat with him here were also the type to leave his bow or him crippled.

With Jonathan refusing to leave the microwave unattended, Yuri sees to the egg whites himself. The mixer is procured from the drawer, plugged in, and for a few minutes the eggs in the bowl are beaten until small, stiff peaks form on top. He is then able to set out a baking sheet and four prepared ramekins atop it, gesture for the broccoli from the microwave and, when he has everything he needs, begin combining the various parts into a folded mixture in the white serving dishes.

The oven beeps, signifying right on time that it's heated, and into the oven the baking pan and ramekins go...

As Yuri begins to tidy up, however, his attention returns to Jonathan. In particular, to something he'd said.]

So, you've regenerative capabilities? [Always good to know.] That's very fortunate.

The same could be said for a great number of things, I think.

[it's with no small relief that Jonathan is able to hand the perfectly cooked broccoli over to the other man; it's almost comical, although the moment passes quickly as his attention strays to the rest of the meal's preparation. is this something he might be able to replicate at home, he wonders? it certainly seems worth the attempt.

once the food is safely tucked away in the oven he moves his focus over to helping clean up the natural messes of cooking. his response comes easily, in between swipes of a sponge, with no outward appearance of attempting to hide anything.]

It's not the sort of power that will be regrowing limbs, but I can do a fair bit of healing. ['fair', like he didn't fix his own broken neck once.] I'm glad that it extends as far as it does.

[to restore life, even in a small way...it's his favorite application of the ripple.]

[Cleanup is quick and painless with the two of them working in tandem, the task of putting things away and wiping down the counter top made even easier due to the fact Yuri is a rather tidy chef.]

I'm envious. [The admission is quiet as he withdraws some plates from the cupboard to set aside for when the souffle is ready.] I wasn't blessed with such a power upon my arrival, nor back home, though I also think it's better that I wasn't.

[once they've finished cleaning Jonathan moves to wash his hands, more out of habit than any actual need. years later and he can still feel the disapproving heat of his father's gaze bearing down on him at the supper table.]

Everything has its price.

[his had been paid for with Baron Zeppeli's life. was it worth it? it's a familiar dark thought that he shakes off before it can ever surface on his face. there was no point in brooding on a past that would never change - better to make his friend proud by honoring his legacy.]

It's all in how we use what we're given, anyway. If I waste my gifts it's the same as not having them at all.

I suppose.

[He pauses, gazing down at his hands. They're clean. He'd washed them at the sink the same as Jonathan. But even so, they feel heavy, mired in the lives they've taken, in the sins they've committed, and the longer he stares at them, the more he thinks he can see the red that stains them to the bone.]

Some prices are steeped in blood.

[And some are paid before there was even a question of what was at stake. Not that the universe has ever cared about fairness. Just as it doesn't care who wastes what, Yuri thinks.]

Some gifts...aren't gifts at all.

[he wipes his hands off quietly, with an expression far too thoughtful for the task at hand.]

I can't say I agree with that.

[what a surprise - but that was hardly the point. a bloody past (and an even more brutal future) trailed after Jonathan with every step he took. too many people had sacrificed themselves to ensure that he could stand where he was now. it was painful, but to call the experiences anything less than a gift seemed unforgivably disrespectful.]

Everything can be used. That isn't to say it's always simple, or without pain - but nothing can truly be said to be a curse.

[even Dio...no, especially Dio. he was impossibly grateful for that.]

Edited (OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO CHANGE IT OUT FROM THE ABORTED GAGTAG) 2016-08-01 07:07 (UTC)

Are you certain you don't deliberately disagree with me, Mr Joestar?

[An attempt to lighten the mood a little, to interrupt the tension enough to allow for a gradual change of topic, even accompanied by the faintest hint of a smile. Not that Yuri hopes to venture too far from the discussion at hand, but lingering too long on curses is bound to dredge up memories or, much worse, apparitions of him.

And the last thing Yuri wants to see right now...is his father.]

Or perhaps we're just too different, predisposed to seeing the world from opposing perspectives? I wonder, would you say that is something that needs correcting?

I promise you, I'm not a contrary man!

[he laughs, waving a hand as if trying to shoo away any untrue accusations. at some point they'd wander into a topic that they could share an opinion on; apparently all they had to do was run through all the hot button issues first.

well, Jonathan was at least used to that.]

But there's nothing wrong with seeing the world from another angle. It simply means that we have a great deal to learn from one another.

[if those differences became harmful, he would naturally step in. but there was no reason to close oneself off from the outset, or assume that even if things did crumble there still wasn't something that could be taken from the exchange.]

Nothing, you say?

[Yuri smiles and collects the teapot and cups from the table.]

There are many who would disagree with you, I think. At least, where such an opinion concerns me.

[With a nod of his head, Yuri indicates he would appreciate Jonathan's help retrieving the sugar, honey, and milk that were left on the table. At the sink, he sets about washing the cups and teapot, but not before his guest has rejoined him in the kitchen and he needn't converse with his back to Jonathan.]

As an example, the imPorts from my world would likely tell you my way of thinking is problematic, as would several of the imPorts from other worlds: Kitty Jones, Raina, and if Miles Edgeworth were still here, I think he would agree. Why, even Dr Chilton seems to think I might benefit from therapy. Perhaps in this case the masses are right? What do you think, Mr Joestar—would you have me see a doctor?

[it's a timely request, although Jonathan would have complied even without an excuse to shield the way his face sobers up at the mention of Chilton. the additives look comically small in his large hands, but they're conveyed back to the kitchen counter without so much as a hiccuping splash from the milk.]

I'm quite used to being the odd one out by now.

[on its own that isn't an answer, though, and he takes several thoughtful moments to form the rest of his response into something proper. it wasn't a question of deliberating on how honest to be so much as the struggle to express himself adequately. his words had a habit of fighting with him when the situation wasn't dire.]

That said, I must admit that the concept of therapy as it's practiced now is completely foreign to me - we haven't even begun to develop it in my own time. It would be imprudent of me to simply dismiss it out of hand, but if this recommendation is coming solely from Dr. Chilton...

[a soft pause and the clink of the sugar bowl as he lifts its lid to check how much is left. there just didn't seem to be a way to say this politely, did there.]

If it's something you're interested in pursuing, it may be wise to seek a second opinion.

[Setting the last cup aside in the drainer, Yuri reaches for the hand towel and, leaning back against the sink, gives Jonathan his undivided attention. He's interested now, having noted his probation officer's unmasked reluctance to put stock in Dr Chilton's opinion.

Did Jonathan know something? Or was he a man who believed in instinct, and did his intuition tell him there was something not right about the psychiatrist?]

Our resident psychiatrists haven't always painted the most reliable picture of their practice, but there are certain advantages to the services they provide.

[Slowly, deliberately, he dries one hand off and then the other, his gaze never wandering from Jonathan's.]

I'm certain there are therapists we could consult, but if I'm to be honest, their ability to assist with my particular state of mind would be tenuous. As for Dr Chilton, he is an expert in his field, and he hasn't any of Dr Crane's list of criminal offenses stacked against him. He is also an imPort, and I would much rather entrust my mental health to someone from our particular community than someone who hasn't an understanding of my experiences here.

[A thoughtful pause, a hum, and then a shake of his head.]

Others of a different professional background might attest to my needing therapy. The members of RISE, for example, as my recent actions have undoubtedly cast shade upon and jeopardized their organization, and my victims...those with still-living relatives as well as those of imPort status who have revived and not left this world by some other means.

[there's no other small help to offer, nothing to do that wouldn't be an obvious way to vent an excess of energy. rather than fight a losing battle, he accepts that and props himself up against the counter.

meeting Yuri's gaze is easy enough, even if he takes his time in replying. a small smile tugs at his lips as he rattles off the list of people who might vouch for his needing outside intervention - there was no way of knowing he was speaking to one of those relatives now. always the odd one out, indeed.]

You still haven't told me if it's something you want to go through with.

[and as for the issue at hand...there's a small part of Jonathan that feels a bit irritated at the whims of the universe trapping them like this. were there really only two imPort psychiatrists in such a large group of people from such a diverse pool of worlds?]

I'm certain that Dr. Chilton's credentials are impeccable, and he certainly rises above his competition.

[if that's true, then why does Jonathan look so unhappy about the whole thing?]

But I don't think that he views his patients as a true doctor should.

Naturally, I have reservations. Most men would if it meant not only letting someone into their head, but their very soul. We, each of us, have secrets...and I am no exception, Mr Joestar. There are things about me the people in this world do not yet know. There is still a great distance left in which I can fall, and for that reason, submitting myself to anyone for psychological therapy is...

[He pauses, brows knitting inward as he struggles to find an appropriate word, but in the end decides there isn't one.]

Well, it means making myself completely vulnerable, and that is a terrifying prospect for even the most guarded of men. What's more, like you, I have noticed Dr Chilton's less than orthodox perceptions...but perception isn't practice. There isn't anything that man could do to me that is worse than what I've already done to myself.

[Folding the towel, Yuri hangs it back upon its hook.]

Perhaps you should speak with him? And gauge for yourself if the match is suitable. Though if my opinion matters at all, I think it fair, and I believe if I'm to make any progress...professional treatment may be in my best interest.

[So long as Frederick Chilton oversees the sessions personally, that is. Yuri wants nothing more than to dissect the doctor's intentions, to root around in that brain of his even at the cost of offering up a portion of his own. It won't have been the first time he'd sacrificed himself to learn more about another. Probably, it won't be the last, either. Even despite claiming he was trying to change.]

In fact... [Yuri wanders around Jonathan and toward the fridge, pulling open the door. The light from within washes over him, making him appear even paler than normal, his back in shadow despite the overhead glow.] ...I would feel more comfortable in the care of someone who did not regard me as someone deserving of sympathy. I am tired of people trying to victimize me.

...would you like some wine?

wait why are their limbs broken ISN'T THAT EXCESSIVE

THEY JUMPED OUT A WINDOW what did you expect

I EXPECTED FLYING BECAUSE YOU SAID FLYING????

IT'S NOT THAT KIND OF FLYING

WHY N—oh is this a "because no happy thoughts for Sasaneki ever" thing?

also do you think anyone in that house is smart enough to fly

...i believe in their imaginative capabilities `^`

you're gonna have to clap a lot harder, then

http://imgur.com/xCmI2we

well now they're permanently crippled, good job

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