Vertigo

Expedition to Isekai

𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭

__________________________________________________

Fist met tree, over and over, harder and faster, each punch taking Duncan further away from the funeral and all that had preceded it. Or that had been the plan, anyhow; by the time his fist punched through to the other side, entire arm sinking into the hole he'd made without a tinge of pain, he realized his usual method of stress relief had been rendered practically useless by his new body. So, shit.

Duncan stepped away from the abused tree, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He knew he was supposed to preserve the last few he had, but if having to bury your dead friend wasn't grounds for a relapse, he didn't know what the hell was. This was his second since the funeral, and at this rate, he'd need a third soon.

He blew out smoke and stared at the tree. Right. So, now what? Was he just going leave it like that? He hadn't exactly set out to make firewood, but since he'd sort of started beating this thing up, he might as well. Somehow. Would he be able to grab the tree by the hole and just... tear it in two? But then it'd be in two pieces instead of one, and that didn't really fucking help with anything. Holy shit, even with all his strength, he really was useless.

... Maybe he'd see if he could find a boulder and make an axe out of it or something. Truth be told, Duncan hadn't really thought about what he set out to do when he'd left camp earlier. The entire point of his violence against the local flora had kind of been to not have to think for a bit. To occupy himself with anything else than the shit that had happened or the shit he should've been doing. Like... thanking Asahi for trying, relentlessly, to save Yuki, despite being... Duncan shuddered, remembering what he'd seen in Asahi's head. He wasn't sure what to make of the guy, but snake or no, at least he'd been useful. Duncan? He couldn't even bring himself to go back and check up on Yukiko and Daisuke.

Or — and that was the one task he dreaded the most — talk with Haruko. He probably had to apologize, which sucked, because she probably wanted to comfort him, and he really didn't want to be comforted right now. But he couldn't exactly keep avoiding her, either. She very rarely asked him for anything, and the few things she'd asked of him yesterday, to talk things through with Shun and to save Sasuke and Yuki, he'd failed. Shun was nowhere to be found and probably wolfbear food at this point, he'd nearly killed Sasuke, and Yuki was like ten feet underground.

"You’re not the sorta guy to just avoid talking about this after, right?"

He was.

... Right. Time to see if he could tear a tree in two. Duncan bit down on the cig, cracked his neck, took a step forward and— was interrupted by a familiar voice, reminding him how useless what he was about to do was.

"You think I don't know that?" he snapped, turning to face Rin, but she was already continuing as if he'd said nothing at all. Apparently, she wanted to build a tower.

"What," the question came out so flat it was more a statement. When he continued, he eyed her almost wearily. "Why? For... scouting purposes, or something? To see what's out there, right? 'Cause we ain't gonna be building a place to stay. We can't stay here."

He doubted that was what she meant, but the thought alone made him nauseous. He refused to live near Yuki's grave. Refused to be reminded of him day in and out. He wanted home. Back to...

Come to think of it, he didn't exactly have a lot to return to, huh.

Another drag, this time longer, contemplative, and then he let his shoulders sag. "... I'll help. Getting bored of doing nothing, anyway."

SPIRITUM

Silje Birgisdóttir

_{W A R D E N}

---

SILJE BIRGISDÓTTIR

22 | 4'10'' | 3RD CLASS

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

For better or for worse, Silje doesn't exactly look the part of a super soldier, especially when compared to many of her peers. She's a diminutive girl, easily mistaken for someone a few years younger despite being among the oldest in her friend group. Her hair and skin don't do her any favours either, both so pale they make her look sickly. Needless to say, the sun isn't her friend, and her skin burns easily. Still, her apparent waifishness belies a surprisingly athletic and especially nimble girl, who pulls her weight when needed.

It should also be noted that it's not her paleness or her height — or lack thereof — that people tend to pay attention to the most. Rather, it's her peculiar body language; her gestures and expressions tend to always be a little off, even if you can't pinpoint exactly how or why. Exaggerated, fidgety, too still, using gestures not befitting the situation at all — she's been accused of it all, sometimes even to her face. It doesn't seem to have had much of an impact. At most, it's earned a grin and a thumbs up.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Silje is difficult to pin down, in mind just as much as on the battlefield. She seems to have a near-constant need to preoccupy herself with something, lest her mind wander off somewhere for extended periods of time. She can space out for hours on end at the worst of times, simply watching the Mist and idly painting a scenery only she can see with its hues.

Needless to say, she gets easily bored, and isn't afraid to voice it. In fact, she's rarely afraid to voice anything — not that you'd likely hear her utter a truly bad word about anyone. Extroverted and excitable, Silje very much enjoys the company of others, even of those that do not share the sentiment. Her behaviour alienated many of her fellow WARDENS during training for reasons she doesn't quite fully understand, and so she is particularly glad for those that did stick around. For them, she's willing to do anything.

While not readily apparent at first, Silje seems to have a somewhat limited, surface-level capacity for certain emotions — as well as understanding them, which can lead to her spurting out situation inappropriate things without any ill will. It is speculated this might be due to a Mist-related injury, but considering her body seems otherwise lacking in telltale signs of Mistburn, it is but a theory at this point. Either way, due to this, Silje harbours a deep-rooted desire to feel things, and goes out of her way to put herself in situations that might provide her with strong emotions. Unfortunately, some familiar examples of this are the fear of death and the exhilaration of a life narrowly spared; the very first things she ever remembers feeling, back when she was discovered wandering the fields alone.

When given the chance to follow them, Silje's whims, freedom, excitement and action are what guide her actions, and whatever caution she does practice seems to be more for the benefit of others around her than for her own sake. After all, while she might have been a loose cannon if left to her own devices, she is a WARDEN, a trained soldier, and she knows how to follow directions.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

Silje's life as she remembers it began the way it's also likely to end: with an explosion. One noticed by Inquisitors returning from a holy mission of heretic cleansing. Upon investigation, they found a young girl in tattered clothes, clutching onto what appeared to be the remains of a beast of some sort. She was unable to recall who she was or what'd happened, but it was assumed her remote village had been attacked by monsters. Despite the clear remnants of magic lingering in the air, the girl seemed both unharmed and not suffering from signs of Mistburn. Suspecting her of being able to wield the Mist, she was taken, as many other orphan girls before her, to join the Maidens and learn to harness her powers for the good of the Gods.

It turned out she was anything but a Maiden, in any sense of the word. An unruly, wild child who nevertheless seemed to hold immense capacity for magic, the good sisters of the Order did their best to instill in her holy virtues that she then systematically failed to uphold. The peace she enjoyed, while no doubt soothing to many orphans who'd been through hell in their short lives, was unbearable for her. Her escape attempts were many, but only one of them successful. She was twelve at the time, so when she found herself part of the Government's grand survey, she was already two years older than her peers.

As it turned out, WARDEN training fit her much more than work at the Church ever had. She excelled at combat studies, particularly those relating to the use of Mist, and it was clear she would be classified as a Battlemage early on. However, lessons on strategy and the like never quite seemed to stick. So though her magical aptitude was — is — above that of most of her peers, she's far from a 2nd class classification, and is assumed to require direction on the battlefield to reach optimal results for some time to come.

_{C O M B A T}

---

Combat Class: Battlemage, with some aspects of a Ranger

Combat Style:

In a word, Silje's preferred combat style is destructive. At her truest she is a cannon of magical prowess, primed to be aimed at whatever you no longer want to exist. Of course, wanton destruction is not always the most reasonable of approaches, and so Silje's had to learn to make-do. Her mastery over mist allows her to just as easily take down enemies in more controlled, concentrated bursts of magic from good distance away with whatever elemental flavour she happens to fancy. Sometimes she chooses none, and opts to choke those who get too close with pure, concentrated Mist instead.

Despite being an important target for the enemy, Silje doesn't don very heavy armour, if any at all. Rather, she focuses on being light-weight and nimble, using magic to keep herself from harm's way; be that by propelling herself away from potential attackers, or towards them to deliver an electric shock straight to the heart. Can't kill her if you're dead first! The tricks up her sleeve are aplenty, though despite what the Maidens tried to instill in her, she's never found herself practicing healing or shielding more than necessitated by her studies.

Needless to say, she has a tendency for recklessness that often has her paired with someone more cool-headed and rational in high-stakes combat situations when resources allow for it. She is capable of operating alone however, and has survived many a situation she wasn't expected to.

_{R E L A T I O N S H I P S}

---

Specifically, your character's general impressions/relationships with other player characters. This section can stay blank until characters have been accepted.

_{M I S C}

---

- Silje is unable to perceive colour. Whether it's something she was born with or the result of a sustained injury is unknown, but magic seems unable to cure it. As such, some have peculated it to be Mistburn related. Particularly since when it comes to Mist, she does, in fact, perceive it as dim hues in various shades. By harnessing Mist she can then make said colours more vibrant, and upon releasing bursts of it into the monochrome world around her, she can, if for a moment, enjoy an explosion of the most beautiful of colours. And probably intestines, if anyone happened to stand too close.

- While not many of the Order's teachings stuck, Silje does pray from time to time. Whether this is a sincere practice born out of genuine faith or simply a habit that stuck is unknown.

SPIRITUM

Am fine with Discord too, yeah.

Probably easier to figure out relationships there, but I know I'd at least be hoping for someone to be a particularly close friend to Silje. Maybe the first one she made during training? Someone she can fuss over, listen to at the end of the way, bother endlessly, you know, the works.

Maybe someone she'd try to teach a thing or two about Mist, too? Whether because the other party asked her to, or because she dictated they need the help. She might not be entirely helpful.

Will mull over more stuff once we got our crew in.

SPIRITUM

Half asleep but done, edited the full sheet into the previous post!

SPIRITUM

Will have to finish tomorrow, sickness been stealing most of my time oop, but I do gots a wip. If something does seem off so far though, lmk.

Edit: done yooo

Silje

_{W A R D E N}

---

SILJE BIRGISDÓTTIR

22 | 4'10'' | 3RD CLASS

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

For better or for worse, Silje doesn't exactly look the part of a super soldier, especially when compared to many of her peers. She's a diminutive girl, easily mistaken for someone a few years younger despite being among the oldest in her friend group. Her hair and skin don't do her any favours either, both so pale they make her look sickly. Needless to say, the sun isn't her friend, and her skin burns easily. Still, her apparent waifishness belies a surprisingly athletic and especially nimble girl, who pulls her weight when needed.

It should also be noted that it's not her paleness or her height — or lack thereof — that people tend to pay attention to the most. Rather, it's her peculiar body language; her gestures and expressions tend to always be a little off, even if you can't pinpoint exactly how or why. Exaggerated, fidgety, too still, using gestures not befitting the situation at all — she's been accused of it all, sometimes even to her face. It doesn't seem to have had much of an impact. At most, it's earned a grin and a thumbs up.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Silje is difficult to pin down, in mind just as much as on the battlefield. She seems to have a near-constant need to preoccupy herself with something, lest her mind wander off somewhere for extended periods of time. She can space out for hours on end at the worst of times, simply watching the Mist and idly painting a scenery only she can see with its hues.

Needless to say, she gets easily bored, and isn't afraid to voice it. In fact, she's rarely afraid to voice anything — not that you'd likely hear her utter a truly bad word about anyone. Extroverted and excitable, Silje very much enjoys the company of others, even of those that do not share the sentiment. Her behaviour alienated many of her fellow WARDENS during training for reasons she doesn't quite fully understand, and so she is particularly glad for those that did stick around. For them, she's willing to do anything.

While not readily apparent at first, Silje seems to have a somewhat limited, surface-level capacity for certain emotions — as well as understanding them, which can lead to her spurting out situation inappropriate things without any ill will. It is speculated this might be due to a Mist-related injury, but considering her body seems otherwise lacking in telltale signs of Mistburn, it is but a theory at this point. Either way, due to this, Silje harbours a deep-rooted desire to feel things, and goes out of her way to put herself in situations that might provide her with strong emotions. Unfortunately, some familiar examples of this are the fear of death and the exhilaration of a life narrowly spared; the very first things she ever remembers feeling, back when she was discovered wandering the fields alone.

When given the chance to follow them, Silje's whims, freedom, excitement and action are what guide her actions, and whatever caution she does practice seems to be more for the benefit of others around her than for her own sake. After all, while she might have been a loose cannon if left to her own devices, she is a WARDEN, a trained soldier, and she knows how to follow directions.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

Silje's life as she remembers it began the way it's also likely to end: with an explosion. One noticed by Inquisitors returning from a holy mission of heretic cleansing. Upon investigation, they found a young girl in tattered clothes, clutching onto what appeared to be the remains of a beast of some sort. She was unable to recall who she was or what'd happened, but it was assumed her remote village had been attacked by monsters. Despite the clear remnants of magic lingering in the air, the girl seemed both unharmed and not suffering from signs of Mistburn. Suspecting her of being able to wield the Mist, she was taken, as many other orphan girls before her, to join the Maidens and learn to harness her powers for the good of the Gods.

It turned out she was anything but a Maiden, in any sense of the word. An unruly, wild child who nevertheless seemed to hold immense capacity for magic, the good sisters of the Order did their best to instill in her holy virtues that she then systematically failed to uphold. The peace she enjoyed, while no doubt soothing to many orphans who'd been through hell in their short lives, was unbearable for her. Her escape attempts were many, but only one of them successful. She was twelve at the time, so when she found herself part of the Government's grand survey, she was already two years older than her peers.

As it turned out, WARDEN training fit her much more than work at the Church ever had. She excelled at combat studies, particularly those relating to the use of Mist, and it was clear she would be classified as a Battlemage early on. However, lessons on strategy and the like never quite seemed to stick. So though her magical aptitude was — is — above that of most of her peers, she's far from a 2nd class classification, and is assumed to require direction on the battlefield to reach optimal results for some time to come.

_{C O M B A T}

---

Combat Class: Battlemage, with some aspects of a Ranger

Combat Style:

In a word, Silje's preferred combat style is destructive. At her truest she is a cannon of magical prowess, primed to be aimed at whatever you no longer want to exist. Of course, wanton destruction is not always the most reasonable of approaches, and so Silje's had to learn to make-do. Her mastery over mist allows her to just as easily take down enemies in more controlled, concentrated bursts of magic from good distance away with whatever elemental flavour she happens to fancy. Sometimes she chooses none, and opts to choke those who get too close with pure, concentrated Mist instead.

Despite being an important target for the enemy, Silje doesn't don very heavy armour, if any at all. Rather, she focuses on being light-weight and nimble, using magic to keep herself from harm's way; be that by propelling herself away from potential attackers, or towards them to deliver an electric shock straight to the heart. Can't kill her if you're dead first! The tricks up her sleeve are aplenty, though despite what the Maidens tried to instill in her, she's never found herself practicing healing or shielding more than necessitated by her studies.

Needless to say, she has a tendency for recklessness that often has her paired with someone more cool-headed and rational in high-stakes combat situations when resources allow for it. She is capable of operating alone however, and has survived many a situation she wasn't expected to.

_{R E L A T I O N S H I P S}

---

Specifically, your character's general impressions/relationships with other player characters. This section can stay blank until characters have been accepted.

_{M I S C}

---

- Silje is unable to perceive colour. Whether it's something she was born with or the result of a sustained injury is unknown, but magic seems unable to cure it. As such, some have peculated it to be Mistburn related. Particularly since when it comes to Mist, she does, in fact, perceive it as dim hues in various shades. By harnessing Mist she can then make said colours more vibrant, and upon releasing bursts of it into the monochrome world around her, she can, if for a moment, enjoy an explosion of the most beautiful of colours. And probably intestines, if anyone happened to stand too close.

- While not many of the Order's teachings stuck, Silje does pray from time to time. Whether this is a sincere practice born out of genuine faith or simply a habit that stuck is unknown.

SPIRITUM

Realized I got a few questions re: magic!

So I'm going for a more destructive angle with my Battlemage, in a "point her at a direction and it goes boom" sort of way, but unsure what the powerscale for magic like that would be, or how specialized a typical Battlemage is. Like are they more focused on their own niches, or is it typical for a Battlemage to supplement their main focus with other spells (like, say, a d&d wizard)? And if someone's main focus was to cause destruction, what scale would we be talking?

I'm cool with anything, just don't wanna take her in a completely different direction than intended!

SPIRITUM

Probably gonna go for a Battlemage angle for a change, since I rarely do. Or make something up. Anyway, should be able to work on a sheet this weekend.

POKeMON: A Mystery - Always Open

Hope I didn't do too much at the end there btw, can edit the last bit down if needed.

Pokemon: Dream

Late but finally done, will add colour to make it look all spiffy later, getting late. Lmk if anything needs fixin'!

Chloe

Name: Chloe Rothschild

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Appearance: A little taller than average, Chloe stands at 5'8'' without heels — so, really, chances are she's at least a good few inches taller whenever you see her. Her fussiness over appearances has kept her physically active throughout the years, even long after she quit her various active hobbies, lending her a slender build. Her eyes are a striking purplish pink and hair blond with a red gradient towards the tips. Though her hair is very long, reaching past her waist, you'd be hard pressed to find a single strand astray on most days.

Partly by nature, partly by design, Chloe tends to be very expressive, sometimes exaggeratedly so, and you can usually read her mood well enough from her face. Though usually smiling and bubbly, once annoyed, her glares can freeze running water and scowls make grown Aggron jump. Or so her friends have described her, anyway.

Chloe is very particular when it comes to the image she portrays, and treats every jog and shopping trip like a modelling tryout. If she doesn't look her best, she isn't leaving the house, period. This means that whenever people do see her, she's a polished sight; neatly done hair, hand-picked jewelry, meticulous makeup and latest trends for clothes. With that said, she does prefer clothing she can actually move in comfortably, such as skirts and shorts. She saves long, beautiful dresses for contests and formal occasions, much as he loves them.

She will wear shoes with high heels at absolutely all times however, and no threat of broken ankle will convince her otherwise.

Personality: Despite her well-crafted appearance, Chloe can hardly be accused of being fake. Confident and outspoken, she wears her thoughts and emotions on her sleeve, letting you know exactly what she thinks of you at any given time, for better or for worse. And boy, can that wary from moment to moment. Her moods can fluctuate from one extreme to the next alarmingly fast, though never without reason — it's just that to anyone else than her, the reason might seem minor.

At her best, Chloe is upbeat and friendly, ready to talk your ear off if you give her the go, or to listen if you'd rather do so instead — to an extent, anyway. Extrovert to the core, she is far more comfortable talking and being the center of attention than standing at the sidelines, waiting for her turn. Or, well, waiting for anything, really, and it's when she wants something she can't have that you'll catch her at her worst. She's never had to learn patience, and doesn't take rejection or setbacks well. She hates being told what to do or being forced to dance to someone else's tune, and doesn't take insults - ones that actually manage to wound her, anyway - lightly.

With that said, her attitude does extend to her friends as well, as she does care deeply for those closest to her, and will fight for them the same way she does for herself if she feels someone's wronged them. Of course, the same goes for her Pokémon companion as well.

Though Chloe finds it hard to fathom a life without luxury nowadays, there is still a spark of that curious, adventurous girl who loved nothing more than visiting new places and seeing new sights hiding behind it all, and that's part of the reason she dared fly across the globe to a new region at the drop of a hat. She does still want to see the world. Just... nowadays, she'd prefer to do it from a ventilated tour bus.

Hometown: Goldenrod City, Johto

Background: Born as the only child to an affluent couple in the heart of Goldenrod City, Chloe grew up privileged and pampered, never left wanting a thing. Her father in particular treated her like a princess, catering to her every whim - which meant that by the age of twelve, she'd gotten to try a dozen different hobbies, owned a rare Galarian Ponyta at the local ranch, and gotten to ride the train to Saffron City in first class whenever she wanted to shop at Celadon City shopping center. Which, for the record, was often. Chloe was a curious, active child who loved seeing new places and trying new things.

Chloe's mother, a Pokémon trainer until the incident ten years ago that turned Pokémon against their trainers, was less accommodating to her daughter's whims, but also far busier than her husband and often not at home to put a stop to his coddling. The one thing she did insist on, however, was that she wasn't to be left alone with Pokémon without supervision. The only exception to the rule was the Snubbul which, over the years, had proven herself to be an able protector of her daughter, much as her mother had hated the thing at first.

Come her teenage years, Chloe's interest in her old hobbies and adventures waned, replaced by an admiration of various contest and movie stars, as well as the fancy life they lived. She had a lot of what they did, from money to fashion sense and looks, but what she didn't have was fame. And if Chloe had learnt anything during her formative years so far, it was that if she wanted something, she would have it.

And perhaps she would have, had her father remained in the picture. Unfortunately he, too, harbored an admiration for beautiful young contest stars, and it was one of them that he eventually left with. Understandably angered by the betrayal, Chloe's mothers wanted to hear nothing of contests or Pokémon in her house, the latter which she still feared. Chloe didn't take the new rule lying down. Argument after argument ensued, with Chloe insisting she wanted to get into a contest school, her mother declaring that she would not fund such an endeavor.

It was then she received the job offer from professor Camphor, who'd probably sent it to her due to her mother's reputation as an elite trainer back in the day. Or maybe the prof was simply one of Chloe's fans! Who knew? Who cared? Not her. Chloe saw it as an opportunity to stick it to her mother, prove that at almost eighteen years old, she was practically an adult who could make her own decisions, and to fund her contest career.

Besides, how difficult could filling a Pokedex or whatever be, anyway? Oh noo, she'd have to walk around the warm, picturesque region of Eidda and take amazing pictures for a few months! What an awful fate!

Sign her the up, like, yesterday.

Kind of Pokémon you like: Cute, pretty, tough, though she also has a soft spot for Pokémon others might describe as "ugly cute". Just keep anything creepy and crawly away from her, thanks.

Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other:

♡ Chloe's main aspiration, and the reason she left behind not only her hometown but her entire homeregion, is to become a world famous coordinator. To that end, she needs money, talented Pokémon and fans, all of which she intends to acquire on this trip. She's vlogging her adventures in hopes it'd garner her some pre-contest fame and buzz.
♡ Can, in fact, run in heels.
♡ Knows a few self-defense techniques, due to his father's insistence, and the help of his Hitmonlee.
♡ Has never slept outdoors — yet.
♡ Believes ghost Pokémon aren't real ghosts, because those do. Not. Exist.

Items: 1x Potion.

Pokédollars: 1000p.

Snugglebutt, or Snuggles for short

Species: Snubbull

Appearance: Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the giant orange ribbon between her right ears — and whatever other accessories or pieces of clothing Chloe has deemed look good on her at any given moment.

Level: 5

Gender: Female

Type: Fairy

Ability: Intimidate

Moves: Charm, Fire Fang, Ice Fang, Scary Face, Tackle, Tail Whip, Thunder Fang, Close Combat (egg move)

Personality and Nature: Don't let the silly, cutesy name fool you - Snuggles is as vicious as they come. She's ill-tempered, prone to barking and lashing out at everyone and everything she doesn't like. She does listen to Chloe however, and can be calmed down with only a few choice words from her. Treats help, as well; she's particularly keen on sweet foods and can eat a lot when given free reign. In fact, her first reaction to everything new is to take a bite out of it, as many unfortunate strangers have found out.

Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other:

♡ She seems to favour interacting with girls, and enjoys being petted by them. Guys? Keep your hands away if you want to keep them.
♡ Aspires to one day take down an actual dragon Pokémon, preferably a fully evolved one. Unbeknownst to Chloe, Snuggles was bought from a breeder specializing in producing Granbull for battles and hunting dragons after all, not performing at shows.
♡ Likes to watch others do battle. The more intense, the better.
♡ Leppa Berries are her favourite.

Held Item: n/a

Expedition to Isekai

𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭

__________________________________________________

This was exactly what Duncan had wanted to avoid. The reason he'd left well before anyone else awoke, why he'd dedicated himself to digging deeper and deeper with no regard for depth reached or time spent. Why, when he'd heard someone's footsteps come close enough to his grave-digging site to hear him were he to speak, he'd kept going and pretended he wasn't aware of their presence instead.

He'd wanted to avoid feeling... this.

Duncan's fist was clenched so tightly the dirt within threatened to turn to dust. He was shaking, tall form resembling a tree being whipped about by a storm. Ironic, because there really was a storm, only it raged inside him. Anger, sadness, fear, memories of Yuki, of his mother, of life and death and how there really was such a fucking thin line separating the two. He wanted to punch something - someone, his father, a monster, a wall, himself, Yuki for fucking dying on him, but he knew he could do none of that. Knew that even punching a wall meant shattering the shelter the others had painstakingly scraped together. He was envious of Daisuke for that; for getting to punch something and being able to feel himself bleed.

Daisuke was here now, and Duncan couldn't bear to look at him, much less at Maki or god forbid, Haruko — if she realized he was about to cry, it'd destroy her. She was too kind for her own good like that.

It was okay, though, because he wouldn't cry. He wasn't a goddamn kid.

Throughout the ceremony Duncan hadn't really known what to do, where to look, what to say, where to keep his hands. It wasn't the kind of funeral he was used to, and not just because they were - or, well, had been - in Japan. He doubted funerals were quite like this there, either. But by the end, once the chanting had ended and the last fingers of smoke started to fade, he finally knew what he was supposed to be doing. It was up to him to seal the ceremony off. To seal Yuki underground, forever.

All he had to do was shovel dirt and not cry. That was it. How simple was that?

Duncan took a step closer, feeling rows upon rows of eyes on his back. He might've imagined them; he doubted anyone was paying attention to him when their dead classmate was right there. Maybe Hiroshi would, it felt like he was always watching, but that fucking creep wasn't here. Man... why couldn't it be him in the hole?

If they didn't get back home, wouldn't they all eventually end up—

Duncan threw the fistful of dirt onto Yuki as gracefully as he could muster, which wasn't very. Then, before he could think too much, he dug his hands into the pile of dirt next to the grave and threw in two fistfuls more. Then another two, and another. The others would join him soon, probably, but if they didn't, that was fine too. He'd fill the grave with the same vigor he'd dug it, and leave no room for any other thought.