destinystrings | Shadow Event Log

Slowly, the slumped figure stirs, eyes barely opening. Instead, there's a shudder through his shoulders, and he turns away slightly. How can this person be offering something like this to him? To a reject, a waste of space?

"What's the point?" he mutters, voice heavy and shaky. "You're a generous young man, I'm sure, but I ... hardly deserve it."

Turning away? Totally pointless; he jumps to the side so that he's still in his new buddy's line of sight, lips pursed in determination. There's no escaping a persistent Dagran, alas.

"What's the point? That's a stupid thing to say. The point is that you look like you're down on your luck and I want to give you my bed for the night."

As if that decides it all, he plops down beside Even; there's some part of him that sympathises with this all-out pity party so fiercely that it hurts. ...Even through the frustration he's feeling at this sort of defeatist attitude.
"I know what it's like, bein' out here alone. I'm not going to drag you back to the place they gave me, but what's the point of sitting out here and moping? That does jack squat compared to a warm bed."

And some company, he thinks. Anyway; if this turns dangerous he's always got his shiny new persona and a dagger in his boot. What's there to be afraid of?

Pity party indeed, and a far from dignified one. But right now, for who this is, it's hard for it to be anything else.

"Really? You'd put up with me? That's more than the others ever did," comes the reply, as Dagran's new companion manages to look at him - tired golden eyes actually open, now. "I thought they were just too foolish to appreciate my work. But I was the fool. Thinking I could ever do something worth their time."

Eh, pity parties are acceptable in some situations. Assumedly, one of those situations has happened to have this poor man in such a mopey state.

...So Dagran thinks. It had better want to be something big, anyway; he's not good with sad people, and something about Even's constant dreariness is making him a touch uneasy.
"I haven't left yet, have I? I mean sure, you're a bit of a downer, but that's not a crime. There's lots worse in the world, mate."

When their eyes meet at last (gold on gold, the telltale sign going over Dagran's head for his own natural eye colour), he smiles a little. Sure, the whole 'Thinking I could ever do something worth their time' bit tempers it a little, but it stays all the same in the hope that Even might smile as well.
"Come on, tell me about your work if it'll make you feel better. Working's always a virtue, so my mum used to say; your friends sound like a bunch of tossers if they didn't appreciate you trying your hardest."

...They also sound like they need a good roughing up for making anyone think like that, but he decides not to vocalise that thought.

That comment actually gets the faintest hint of a smile from the Shadow before his face lapses back into the same tired sadness as before. He nods.

"We were involved in... a large project together, to put it simply. It was going to be glorious - something that would help us all. I was the lead researcher on a number of topics... at least, that was how I saw myself.
So many of them, though: they looked down on me. There were only two out of the thirteen of us who ever saw me as more than a joke. To the others, I was a tool at best, a nuisance at worst. No matter what I tried, it was never good enough. It never worked out. The only constant in my own failures was myself. ...And in the end, all I ever earned for it was a stab in the back."

A literal one, at that. How could he have been so worthless to them all that they could have thrown him out that way? For all he'd tried, for all he'd worked, to be taken down by a traitor in their midst?

He pauses for a moment, looking rather thoughtful - but a look of resentment boils back onto his face soon enough. This time, it seems less directed inwards-

"...I've come to understand that the worst one of them all arrived here not so long ago."

"Whoa...So you're a scholar? I guess I can see it...You just need a good meal and you'll look the part proper."
Dagran's tone is admiration and curiosity; he'd seen mages and scholars wandering the city, occasionally followed them for easy targets. The libraries and schools they tended to frequent seemed so imposing back then...With only a basic village-taught education to his name, he itched to learn how to burn pickpockets' fingers as they'd done to him a million times.
Getting to meet a man who, by what he was hearing, was an accomplished scholar? Perhaps it could be a good opportunity for him to glean what he could.
"That sounds rough if they treated you like a dope. I bet they were jealous or something if they acted like babies. You really seem like you were into your job, so it can't have been that you were a burden or anything--"

Betrayal, the burning hot desire for revenge; it seethes in his gut as a sympathy pang, turns his grin almost feral for a second. When the same bitterness is mirrored on the blond's own face, Dagran knows then and there that he likes Even (or at least his Shadow).
"I don't keep track of the newcomers, so I'm no help there. But...I hope you get to pay them back for what they did to you."

"Why, thank you." Those golden eyes flicker somewhat wickedly for the moment. Yes - payback. The chance to get revenge on the one who'd failed him so badly, on the one who'd let him down time and time again.
Revenge on himself, for not living up to his own promises. There aren't too many places he could be, are there? Not someone so new to the city... he just has to find his way back that far, and surely, the choices'll narrow themselves down.

"And 'look the part proper'? Please don't tell me that I can't even manage that, now... hah." He actually laughs a little. It's directed at himself, but it's a laugh. "Study always came before mealtimes, I'll admit. For all the good that ever did me. If I can't even take care of myself... no wonder so many things went wrong."

"'S no problem, I know how you feel."
The nonchalance sweeps back in over what little slivers of emotion Dagran had let slip; he doesn't have the excuse of being a Shadow, not yet.
Not that it would do good to get caught up in a slaughterfest if Even decides to go after whoever had wronged him so...The cogs are already whirring in his mind as to how best to turn this to his (their) advantage and keep from sparking a riot with murder.

Revenge is delicate and precious, after all.

Enough of that though; when the blond laughs, he genuinely grins and props his chin up on one hand. It's kind of nice to think that he played a part in making someone else happy, even if it was only minor.
"Hey, don't go down on yourself like that. Once I practiced using my dagger so long that my arm went numb; it's all just...Er, trying your hardest and gettin' caught up in it. Plus, I guess I could spare food if you ever need it too; consider my place your place to take care of yourself if you need it, right?"

Not like he spent much time there anyway. Someone might as well use the bed if they need it.

It takes the Shadow a moment, but he nods. An ally here? He's not entirely complaining. Expecting to be stabbed in the back, still, but he'll take what he can get for the moment... this person can't really be ready to help him in this way. Not out of sheer goodness. Or maybe it's just that he doesn't know...

"Your offer's greatly appreciated. I could likely use somewhere to - get myself together, at the very least."

For whatever he'll be doing next.

Such a worry is entirely reasonable in Dagran's eyes at least; either win your opponent over so completely that they're enchanted by you, or prepare for betrayal. ...Or incriminate them into helping you, but that can wait for later. Upon seeing the Shadow nod, he readily hops to his feet and holds out a hand (might as well make the most of his youth by playing up the cutesy kiddy act) with a warm smile.

"That's what I want to hear; no one did anything great without a full belly or a good night's sleep, not without dumb luck anyway."
He pauses, frowning for a second as he realises his great faux-pas. "Er. Sorry for being rude by the way. I'm Dagran. You can call me whatever you like, but if it's not my name there's no guarantee I'll answer to it."

Hah. The Shadow gives a very slight smile as he takes Dagran's hand and stands up. The cute act's not all that effective against him, but it's not going to earn any complaints from him either.

"Very well. Call me Even." After all, it's his name, too, isn't it? As much so as that original, that wreck, that ruin. Why should something like that get the honour of having the name to himself? As far as he's concerned, he's every bit as much as the real thing as the other.

"Even, eh?"

Dagran doesn't even try to hide the amusement on his face. "Fits you then, don't you think? Still a pleasure t'meet you, Even."

The irony of such a name keeps him grinning even as he tugs the blond along to Pisces Ward; it's quite the walk, but if he knows one thing about Hinoto-Ri it's that the place is chaotic enough that he doesn't trust the streets quite yet. He's not even game to release his grip until they're inside the apartment building and safe from monsters.

Haha. Sweet, sweet summer child.
"So, what sort of work did y'do, anyway? If it was for the good of your team, it must've been pretty big stuff you discovered."

His mind refuses to let go of the idea that maybe his new friend had a kind of cannon or something; he's still wrestling with puberty after all, and the idea that weapons aren't for the good of everyone is still quite beyond his reasoning.

Ngh. Frankly, this is getting less and less comfortable as he's getting dragged along, and his mind's starting to churn with potential problems. And what's so funny about his name? Hmph. Just like everything else of his, it's been turned into a joke.

"We studied the nature of the heart and soul. I'd been deprived of my own, as had we all: I was looking for a way to restore us to our original selves. I'd gotten so far as creating artificial beings with artificial hearts - only to see them thrown into battle and misused.
I was restored not so long ago. But not one bit of what I'd spent so long working on was of any use in that restoration. The solution came out of the blue... and I could never have guessed."

"...Whoa."

That's all he can manage, really; still not as cool as a superweapon or really awesome magic, but pretty dang awesome all the same. He jabs at an elevator button with a small whistle, completely unaware of his companion's growing unease.

"How did you survive without a heart, though? I've heard of stuff where old sorcerers split their souls away but...Hearts are kind of meatier and less spirit-y. D'you have a scar?"
Not big on philosophical concepts, this one. At least he stops himself from his excited gushing with an apologetic smile. "Sorry that your work got passed over though. That's rough, and seven shades of unfair. Least they could've credited you or something when they found the solution, or paid you extra or something. No wonder you're riled up at 'em."

"The heart as in the true self. Not the muscle. You're not the first person to make that mistake - although the mistake was likely mine."

He pauses for a moment, smiles without humour, and adds- "I do have rather the scar, though. From when one of them stabbed me. See what reward I get? So many of them - I hated them for so long. Not that I could bring myself to believe that... I had no heart. I had no emotions. What was there to feel with? But I felt all the same.
There was one of us - a musician. He always claimed that we still retained some emotion. Most of us called him a fool - I certainly did. But I was the biggest fool of all. I call myself a scientist, and yet I deny the evidence that's in front of me?"

"Oh! ...That makes a little more sense. ...I guess; I don't think I got the brain for scholarly pursuits, but it sounds pretty great to research."

He tuts a little at the 'stabbed' part, frowning in actual concern; Even's list of grievances swamp his own by far, which to Dagran is quite the feat. Not feeling...He can't admit that that part sounds too bad but the rest is a pretty nasty business.

"Look, Even. Let me be straight with you, alright? Stuff that's happened in the past; there's no point ignoring it 'cause you just get more worked up. But getting sad over it? That's useless too; you learned from whatever mistakes you made with the whole heart thing, so moping forever is dumb. You have to get mad. Don't let anything else get in your road. Just get mad."

Arms akimbo, he leans against the wall and glowers up at his companion in what's intended to be stern yet motivational. ...It just ends up looking rather sour, but the thought's there or something. "What's the point of being able to feel emotions again if you don't use them to push you to do what needs doing?"

That comment earns quite a wicked laugh - one with a touch of the 'mad scientist' to it, to say the least.

"You believe in me, do you? Well... if you insist on doing so. Who am I to argue with what anyone else thinks? Very well, then: I'll work on.

There is someone in this city I have to find. And a ... project I have to finish. Perhaps it'll be yet another failure. But I can, at the very least, try."

Hooooo boy Even, that laugh is...Really...Something. Sure is. Wow. It sends a chill down Dagran's spine, but he swallows and pushes it away. Being afraid so isn't his style.

"Why not? I mean, you obviously believe in me a little since you came back here. I could've murdered or mugged you, and you're smart enough to know that."
He puffs out his cheeks a little, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Whether it's real or not is a whole other kettle of fish. "If you look in the right places or ask the right people, finding anyone here isn't hard. And there's lots of...weird...flashy stuff here if you're after finishing your work. But it's down to you, and you're not trodden down yet. Even I can see that much."

As if to punctuate his neat, tired out little lecture, the elevator pings beside him and makes him jump a little; the fact that electricity and other such contemporaries can act so silently still shakes him up a little now. At least that much is visible in the irritation sweeping over his face.

"Tell me if you figure out how these things work, by the way."

"A system of powered pulleys and counterweights, I believe. Not that I'm the person to ask on such things."

The Shadow shrugs slightly, waving a hand. "And you could have. But I've been killed once already. Why should I care any more? You say you see worth in me, you've given me respect that I hardly deserve... I'll take that chance." Anything to try and boost the little self-respect he has.

"...Oh. ...Told you I wasn't one for scholarly pursuits."
There's a tinge of shame in Dagran's embarrassment; pulleys and levers and whatnot are for the birds, but they're contemporary for him all the same.
Nonetheless, he still looks a little unhappy about hopping into the elevator, as if it's going to swallow him instead of safely take him to his floor.

"That sure is one way to see it." The Shadow's dismissal (which should, by all rights, insult him to high hell) draws an amused bark of laughter out of him. "No one's seen death like you have that I've talked to, and they sure as hell don't care what I think most of the time; I'll add that to the list of reasons why I think we're gonna get along well, huh?"

It's almost sad, how genuine he is in their strange little kinship and how honest he's being to his emotions; ever since the war, dragging such things out of him had been like pulling teeth.

While the Shadow grins, it's less crazed than some of his previous reactions.

"I see no reason why not," he says. "After all, I don't plan on going away in a hurry, now that I'm here."

No. He's going to stay. He's going to be the real thing, now. Thoughts of the Replica he once created - or his original did - run through his mind: seeking to become the true self.

The difference between them is, he thinks, that he knows the truth of his existence. He knows where he belongs.

Dagran snorts to himself, rather pleased that this is all going so well. Especially the elevator-not-plummeting-to-their-doom thing. That's a bonus for him at least.

"That's good then; it'd kind of bring me down if you just up and left before we get a chance to plan out your revenge or at least get some food into you, huh?"

Luckily for them both, his apartment's on the sixth floor and it's not much of a wait before the doors slide open again; as he fumbles for his passcard, the sword attached to his back jingles and swings dangerously. "6-04, 6-04...Perk up, I mightn't be much to look at but I have a pretty good store of food at least."
Understatement of the year; most of Dagran's allowance goes to food since he'd rather not be in the unpleasant state of 'starving and broke' ever again. The amount of ramen and jerky in his cupboard is insane.

In either life, Even's never been culinarily inclined. Eating? Psh - a distraction from research and study. Therefore, he'll hardly be in a position to criticize the stash of edibles for what it is - not that the Shadow'd criticize anyone outside of the Organization right now.

"Either works for the moment," he says, making sure he's somewhere that he can keep an eye on that sword.

Shadow Event Log

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