skippedabeat | Round 3: Test Drive

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test drive

Round 3: Test Drive

Welcome to the third test drive!

Please don't worry too much about using your Personas correctly or following the prompts exactly. They're meant to give you starting ideas, but by all means, go wild and add more options!

The objective here is to try out characters and see who you could have the most fun with in the game's setting. However, feel free to follow this link to request a Persona be generated for you as if you were part of the game. (Please try to limit this to only one of your test drive characters if you can as to not overwhelm us!)

If you have questions about the test drive itself, you can ask them here! If you want to play an AU don't forget this entire post can be used for you to get AU scenarios set up and see who your character might have been related too or know before Awakening.

Now then, let's begin...

Prompt 1 - The National Leviathan Habitat

Eddan's shimmering sapphire of an aquarium, the National Leviathan Habitat, is holding a series of special events at its location in Royal Mount. Students and family groups get half off, with certain events being completely free. This include a full night's stay at the aquarium sometime during the week for any person who checks in with their card. While spots are limited, it's such a large aquarium, and nights can be booked in advance, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. So come, everyone! Enjoy whale spotting, aquarium strolling, educational shows, and a night surrounded by water. However, unknown to you, something else might be starting to beat in the deepest, darkest depths of your heart.

Similar to the flower festival that was used in the prior TDM, Unawakened characters can get a flash of memory sometime during this prompt and Awakened characters will be able to occasionally pick them out. For more information on the National Leviathan Habitat, which is a player introduced location, please check here.

Additionally, if both test drive player and game players agree, the aquarium test drive threads can also become game canon! As long as the test drive character is played as being completely unaware of what has happened in the game up to this point. Keep in mind that they would NOT have had a message on their phones. Two Test drive players can also make these game canon if they get accepted (and they keep the same requirements as above).

Prompt 2 - From Dawn to Dusk

The city has been abuzz for the past few weeks. A new string of murders is making front page news and serving as a grim reminder why the nightly curfew is so important. As families, perhaps even someone close to you, mourn, pressure continues to rise at the many police stations and at city hall. The people are afraid and they’re demanding answers.

There's not much time for you to dwell on this.. Like everyone else in the city, you have a lot to do, and a tight schedule to do it in, even on summer vacation. (Or maybe because of summer vacation for the local schools.) You don't even notice the application that has appeared on your phone's screen. The headache that follows, however, is strange and disorienting, and it brings with it an odd sensation that something is wrong today. You’re just not sure why.

The day passes by and soon, it's close to midnight. Your body, if you're not in bed by now, is completely exhausted. Despite your best efforts, you'll find yourself closing your eyes. Too bad it's quickly interrupted by a strange noise, and movement like something pulsating softly.

It's your phone, or at least you think it's your phone, but it's never glowed this orange before. There’s mist rising above it almost like fire...something's definitely bizarre about this. Despite your fears, you forces yourself to open it, and click on that strange snake-like icon.

It opens revealing a single statement and blank box;

To begin, please write your name.

Your fingers move on their own. Before you have time to really think about it, and as the pain inside your head becomes so terrible you start breathing rapidly and sweating, you've entered a series of letters and pressed enter. Now you're in a large chatroom with many others...but your 'name' you've never even heard of it...have you? It almost feels like you have...

Prompt 3 - Awakening

The last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon almost an hour ago, yet here you are, walking through the apple orchards located behind one of the campus wings. The strange app that's been sending you strange clues the past seven days now says you're ready to face the truth. It told you to come here tonight, but never to travel alone. Repeatedly, it warns you to make sure to have someone close by if you're to survive…but besides some friends, what else did you bring with you? Did you pack for this, or did you figure you'd make it up as you go? Are you in a position to be able to bring weapons with you that no one would suspect?

Something is out there, and it's getting closer.

Before you can think, you see it: a large, blackish mass, almost like slime, slithering along the ground resembling a vaguely humanoid shape with glowing yellow eyes. When it roars again, it reveals rows and rows of teeth. This was a mistake your brain warns. The strange name from the chatroom, the days leading up to this...you're fairly certain even if you are prepared that you're going to die.

And yet, something inside you stirs. Even as they move closer, you find yourself charging instead of running, as your heartbeat increases. A voice inside is guiding you, each movement bringing forth a surge of memories of a past that you had lost. You’re angry and confused, but your pain, your fears, your rage for all of this… all of that needs to be taken out on those creatures.

All you need to do now is to tear out your heart.

Prompt 4 - A new, old life

Now that you have your memories back, the strange veil of this world has been somewhat lifted. Things that seemed simple now seem strange. You have so many questions, but not enough answers. Then there's the new weapons you wield and the strange creature inside of you...your Heart Persona.

During the day, you are encouraged to continue to live as you did before, but with old and new memories together, sometimes it is difficult to keep acting like you did. Will it cause issues in your job or school life? Will it change your reactions to whatever life you had here? Do you notice others like you who have awakened?

Maybe it would be a good time to send a chatroom message, just to ask others what they are planning to do. Maybe you should set up a meeting to fight shadows at night. Maybe you’ll organize a plan of attack or set up a club to escape the strange looks others have been giving you. Maybe you just want someone's opinion on the best place to have pizza. Hey, no one said you had to use the AppleNET just for serious things, after all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[they always did, he supposed. despite only looking out for themselves, people had a nasty habit of poking their noses where they weren't needed. it was something that he forgot, sometimes. it's a hard thing to remember when you're always leaving.

Kit's unprompted correction of the severely botched story elicits laughter from his companion - real laughter. it takes Vincent several moments to formulate a response, the cigarette bouncing jauntily between his fingers in time with the trembling of his shoulders. it was a brutal image, and yet there he was laughing as if he'd been told a fantastically amusing joke.

when was the last time that he'd laughed like this, without cynicism? the answer lies somewhere so long ago that he's no longer able to recall even the vaguest approximation of a date. an eternity since this sound had emerged...and yet he'd already done it twice tonight.

that was very dangerous.]

He never could tell vegetables apart.

[he murmurs the observation to himself, allowing one last soft chuckle as he finally settles down enough to take another drag off his cigarette. Styx could wail with the best of them, but he was never going to be an intellectual.]

It sounds like they should've been thanking you to me. Extractions are always a pain in the ass.

[Fully charged laughter was the last thing Kit expected from his companion, but after his initial surprise had worn off, he found Vincent's amusement to be quite understandable and infectious.

In hindsight, knowing how the incident had turned out for everyone involved, it really was very easy to laugh about. He hadn't walked away from the confrontation completely unscathed, but he'd felt that the minor scrapes and intensive community service he was given were both prices worth paying. For his own pride, and for the security of someone he...had come to view as a friend of sorts. Or a close acquaintance.

...the word itself didn't matter. He protected his associates. He always had. Except when he hadn't. When one had been a traitor and the other had told him to go.

Why had he listened? Was he so desperate then to save his own skin...?]

So...

[He shook his head, and with it, cast away his grim train of thoughts.]

You knew someone who was there at the same time as I was. I'm glad it wasn't the toothless one.

[However, there'd been so many coming and going all the time that isolating which person it was would be no small task. Anyone who couldn't even differentiate vegetables wasn't likely someone who'd drawn much attention from Kit.]

I should probably apologize for however many other erroneous stories you were told.

[he makes a vague noise of agreement, glad in his own way that the veil of amusement seemed to have dropped down on them both. it was more likely to prevent Kit from pointing out the sincerity in his laughter at a later date.]

If he'd been stupid enough to lose his teeth I'd have never met him in the first place.

[a vocalist with a speech impediment was hardly useful, even for a genre that often stretched its lyrics out into borderline gibberish. it's funny to think about now, though. if they'd chosen a different vocalist for the band then he likely would never have accepted Kit's invitation and found himself here. funny how paths moved like that.]

The bullshit's good for a laugh. If I actually believed any of them I'd be too braindead to deserve an apology.

[either way, there was no action required on Kit's part. people would talk, as he'd said.]

[Vincent might have been right in that Kit wouldn't point out the sincerity in his amusement, but that didn't mean he hadn't taken notice or that he'd forget. As surely as he'd registered his own comfort around his companion, he'd observed the way Vincent had seemed to relax significantly around him over the course of the night.

He almost wished he hadn't, of course, thinking himself undeserving of even the most tentative trust, but Vincent wasn't someone who appreciated being told what to do. Kit's only option in that case was to sit back and let things unfold as they would.

And...if it became too much? He looked at the stairwell across from where they stood. He knew where the exit was.]

How did you meet, then?

[There's a story there. A reason for why Vincent's friend having his teeth was important. And Kit was willing to listen to anything right now that would silence his self-sabotaging internal monologue.

Let them be the ones who talked for a little while. Just a little...]

[Kit will have to suffer on his own for just a little bit longer, as his companion draws out the silence for several agonizing moments as he contemplates whether he wants to divulge details as personal as that.

an ordinary person would hardly count such a trivial story as personal, but Vincent was intensely private. after all, the pair of them had suffered through so much tonight and he still had no intention of giving out his name if he didn't have to. but this involved someone else more than himself, and it never hurt to give the band a little publicity...

he makes a thoughtful sound, vaguely dissatisfied, and finally speaks up.]

We needed a vocalist for the band. He's not all that bright but he can at least read music and he's got a hell of a growl.

[...and their other shortlisted candidate was a little too into Satanism and had gotten himself arrested for leaving headless roosters in his ex-girlfriend's yard. petty details.]

You're in a band...

[Despite the note of surprise in his voice, Kit's words weren't posed as a question. He hadn't expected someone as unsociable as Vincent to be drawn to such an exuberant profession, but on second thought, perhaps it was its excitement and theatrical nature which provided appeal. On stage, Kit imagined a performer could behave almost any way he liked, or be anyone he wanted. In the right light, with the right song, even someone small could seem larger than life.

Had he known anyone at the detention center who was interested in music? For the life of him, he couldn't remember. But he thought that someone with a hell of a growl would have stood out if he'd met them. Or at least, they would have if he'd had the chance to hear such a thing, but considering how often he tuned out his peers...would it have been too surprising if he'd heard and simply chosen not to take notice?]

Growling... [With one final pull from his cigarette, Kit stamped out the butt against the wall and, before flicking it into the nearby trash, made certain there was nothing still left burning inside.] Metal, I presume?

[he nods, waving his own rapidly-dwindling cigarette and leaving a trail of smoke and carcinogens in its wake.]

Black.

[it's important to make the distinction. the subgenres of metal were as numerous as the stars in the sky, and Vincent didn't want to be mistaken for dabbling in any of the softer bits. but maybe that went without saying, that he'd gravitate towards whatever made others the most uncomfortable.

Kit's comment wasn't posed as a question, but he'd have to be deaf not to hear the surprise in his words. he supposed that without knowing the sort of music it might be shocking to hear he'd deign to interact with so many people that way, but as it was he couldn't say that it was all that intolerable - he and the others got paid to screech insults and threats of death at a thrilled audience. there was really no way he could lose.

still, he supposed if he'd come so far as to mention it, some vague form of explanation was in order.]

I'm irreplaceable, so they can't kick me even if they wanted to.

[At the mention of kicking Vincent out of the band, Kit only laughed. The mere thought of anyone trying to force the other boy into doing anything he didn't want to do, whether or not he really was irreplaceable, was something Kit knew to be more difficult than scaling a mountain. Truly, Vincent defined obstinate.]

The founder, perhaps? Or...

[Appearing more thoughtful, Kit considered the way his companion had been poring himself over that notebook of his earlier. He wished he'd taken a closer look at it when he'd held it in his hands, but for now he could only take an educated guess.]

...maybe the lyricist or, to be more precise, the songwriter?

[Players and even vocalists were easier to replace than the one who defined the signature sound of the band, or at least that's what made the most sense to Kit. But could the same theory really be applied to a genre as poignant as black metal?]

[a flicker of irritation crosses his face as his companion slams the nail on the head, overshadowing any satisfaction he might have felt over the laughter. it was true, after all - he rarely did anything he didn't want to, and his bandmates had far less stamina than Kit.

unfortunately, sometimes what he wanted was completely out of his hands. such is the case with his identity as the group's writer, despite his preference to keep that detail in the dark. Vincent makes a 'tsking' sound before crushing the lit end of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger; the sting is an excellent way to keep him from brooding on the matter. it was his own fault for letting someone sneak up on him.]

Maybe. Guess it depends on how much you think I'm capable of.

[...well, not entirely out of his hands. Kit may have sussed out the truth, but that doesn't mean that he has to confirm it so readily. let him work for it a little bit.]

After our little experiment earlier, I'd feel comfortable betting that you're capable of enough to support your claim of being irreplaceable.

[Intimate knowledge of demonic folklore and cultural rituals? Kit couldn't think of a background that was more "metal" than that, except perhaps being raised by a Satanic cult. But then, what did he really know of the genre? It wasn't as though he'd ever felt compelled to listen to that brand of music on his own, his tastes tending toward the more melodic in nature than the obscene.]

Then again, even if I was correct, I don't suppose you'd feel courageous enough to produce evidence?

[He couldn't help his curiosity. What sort of lyrics had Vincent been writing earlier? Were they far-fetched and fantastical, or perhaps even inspired by something he'd seen in one of those hallucinations? Reading them off a sheet of paper might not yield the same effect as hearing them yowled into the deafening cries of a zealous audience, but for Kit...it would be preferred. Especially if it told him something more about his companion.]

As if you needed it to know that.

[the fact that he was irreplaceable was never the past up for debate, and it's obvious by the little smug grin on Vincent's face as he chucks the now-dead cigarette into the trash to chase after his companion's. he was the heart and soul of that band, the driving force that none of the others had the willpower to stand up to. every performance bore his handprint.

despite his prick of temper just moments before, the pain of his burn has given Vincent enough clarity to see what the other boy is trying to goad him into doing. he cants his head to the side to look at Kit more fully, grin curling up into something a little more playful.]

But courage's got nothing to do with it. Nobody sees evidence like that without a cash advance.

[did Kit's curiosity have a price tag? he was about to find out.]

[And just like that, Kit's curiosity seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye, the expression that was left in its wake best described as indiscernible.]

No one with half a brain pays for anything before he's confirmed whether or not it's worth the asking price.

[And in their case, it didn't even matter what that price was, only that it had been suggested before Vincent had produced even a scrap of proof to support his bombastic assertions. If it weren't for how much Kit had already grown to like him, he'd have been offended at having been taken for such a fool.

As it was, his mild irritation was perfectly veiled, his question posed more like a calm business negotiation than a response spawned by insult.]

So what's the problem? You're already concussed.

[well, he figured that it would go like this. but Vincent had wanted to have a little fun with him before inevitably succumbing to the siren song of his pride having been put into question. Kit had technically shorted him on their previous cash agreement by drinking his soda, after all. he owed the other boy a little trouble.

he'd let it go for a few more rounds before pulling out the notebook, assuming that Kit hadn't quit on the idea entirely by then. they both knew that it existed - drawing attention to it during the conversation as 'proof' would simply be pointless.]

Would you like to be, too?

[The question was void of any real threat despite Kit's dissatisfaction. Instead, he found himself wondering how he could lift the notebook off Vincent's person without his permission. It would be easiest to get into close proximity with it if they were to come to blows once more, but if he wasn't fighting seriously, it would be painfully obvious what his real goal was. Vincent was clever enough to see straight through such a haphazard plan, Kit was certain of that.

So, what were his alternatives?

On one hand, he could abandon the idea of hearing or seeing any of those lyrics himself. It wasn't ideal, but it was an option. Or he could supply Vincent with what he wanted, or a form of what he wanted. And that was...

...more than even money, Kit supposed what Vincent wanted was indulgence.

And it made some sense. Someone who placed so much importance upon himself would probably want nothing more than for others to recognize and accept his self-proclaimed worth. Whether or not it was deserved at this point had really never been the right question.

Sliding his back down the wall, Kit took a seat on the ground and drew both knees up to his chest, arms wrapping around them.]

In any case, if you don't want to show me, that's alright. It can't be a very attractive proposition, sharing something so intensely personal with someone you don't know well. It's not like I'd be a very good judge, anyway. Reading a lot of books is one thing, but lyrics are another.

[even if there had been any real danger in that question, it would have elicited the same response from Vincent. he chuckles lowly, shoving his hands nonchalantly into his jacket pockets. his fingers curl around the notebook resting there almost protectively, as if he expects to be accosted in an instant.

his mind knows better, though. they've only spent a single evening together, but Kit is clearly the sort of person who uses finesse to filch people of what he wants if he can't get them to hand it over themselves. a full-blown assault would be closer to his own style.]

There's nothing personal about them.

[his gaze flicks downward to follow Kit's descent, brows already bent in minor annoyance. it was back again, that trait which had irritated him so much about this boy earlier - that damned habit of simply making assumptions about what he must be feeling. there was no reason for him to have drawn that conclusion based on his responses otherwise.]

I'd have to be a fucking idiot to write anything personal in something that dozens of people are going to hear. Most of them aren't smart enough to get it in the first place.

[They were on a different level now, and from Kit's current position he was forced to tilt his head up to gaze at Vincent. A deliberate move on his part, but then...he seldom did anything at all without purpose.]

I suppose that proves my point, doesn't it? Music isn't something I know a lot about.

[It wasn't a lie, of course. For all that he'd read a great deal while he'd been at the juvenile detention center, his target interests had been very specific and hadn't included music. He enjoyed listening to different melodies and compositions, but if he was honest, there was nothing quite like the calm clarity that only silence could provide. That, or the "music" of the world around him. The ambiance of people and traffic, animals, and even the inner workings of his own body. His lungs ushering air into and from his chest, heart pumping blood, and a pulse like an ever steady rhythm in his own ears, one that beat according to his conduction...

Still staring up at the other boy, gaze unwavering, Kit continued.]

I wonder, though...if they aren't very smart, wouldn't they be the perfect audience to receive personal lyrics? Like hiding the truth within plain sight.

[It was both an opportunity to bask in one's superiority, as well as a way to contend with the risks of being discovered, a challenge that could scarcely be turned away by someone so enticed by peril as Vincent was.]

[a derisive puff of breath escapes his lips, equal parts amused and unimpressed. his gaze moves away from Kit to look out at nothing as he rolls his shoulders idly.]

It doesn't work like that. For every ten morons in the crowd, there's always one like you.

[someone with clear eyes and too much time on their hands, staring straight through the band on stage to the dark moments behind the curtain that had brought them there. he could cloak his emotions in as much mystical imagery as he liked, but they would always know.

...not that it had ever stopped him. Kit was mistaken in believing that only his songs were intimately tied to him - every aspect of every show was a facet of himself, carefully planned and displayed with brazen pride. in moments like these he might hide such details, but the moment the stage lights flickered on he was practically daring the audience to call him out on baring all.

so far no one ever had. whether it was ignorance or fear, he couldn't say, but both possibilities were intensely satisfying.

for now, he lets his stare fall back down onto his companion. intentional or not, he appreciates having the metaphorical upper hand when it comes to height for a little while. it didn't happen often without some intentional positioning of his own.]

You don't need to know about music to figure that out. Just people.

[Kit could hardly believe his ears. Had Vincent just paid him an actual compliment?

There was no other explanation, for the other teen's insults thus far hadn't exactly been subtle.

But there was more to those words than recognition of his acuity, Kit thought. Vincent was telling him that the window between them was visible from both sides; if Vincent was transparent to Kit, then Kit was also transparent to Vincent. In a way, and perhaps because he expected it, having already acknowledged the other boy's cleverness, Kit found the whole exchange to be a relief.

It was better to have such things out in the open and it allowed something softer to return to his expression at last.]

I suppose you're right, but I wonder...why would you perform at all if what you're playing isn't personal in some way? I think would be a lot like standing on a stage and giving someone else's speech: ultimately devoid of all meaning and unsatisfying. And certainly not a way to make one's mark on the industry.

[it's a compliment, yes, but one that could easily be turned on its head had Kit chosen to pursue it further. he'd never said which trait made these imaginary concertgoers 'like him', after all.]

Anything can be satisfying if you're paid enough for it.

[it's delivered only half-seriously, but there's a note of truth in his words. before running away Vincent had rarely ever thought about money; his parents were more than well off enough to be able to cover his wants and needs alike with extra to spare.

since then...he's become a lot more aware of any possible opportunity to make even a single macca. extreme poverty, even temporarily, would do that to a person, although he frequently wondered if it wasn't simply an outgrowth of his own natural selfishness.]

Just because it doesn't mean anything to me doesn't mean I can't get into it. There's a difference between personal and exciting.

I suppose.

[Conversations with Vincent were a lot like playing a game of snakes and ladders. Just when one thought he was getting ahead, some unsuspecting snake reared its head and undid all the progress that was made. Such was how Kit felt when he suddenly found himself recalling his past once more. He'd thought he'd moved on from that, had distracted himself enough with talk of music...

But he was wrong.

There was a time, not even that long ago, when he'd thought that way. Even now, there were times when the rewards for doing a job were enough to convince him to take it. But there was no real satisfaction in anything that was purely for monetary gain. Such things were like an infertile paradise. Once all the fruits were plucked, there was nothing left. It was empty. And he'd filled so much of his youth chasing such treasures...spent so much time looking in all the wrong directions and not for what was truly important.]

I've learned that risk reaps the greatest rewards, but I've also discovered that the type of risk is an important factor in that equation.

[Turning his gaze away from Vincent, Kit lowered his chin to the top of his knees and stared out over the empty and dimly lit lobby. He was hesitant to continue speaking, as if voicing his thoughts would dredge up old feelings, or amplify and make those already present that much worse. But he did not remain silent for long.]

The more of ourselves we sacrifice, the greater the prize that awaits. Like playing roulette, with everything you are hanging in the balance — that sort of risk is the most exciting of all because it yields the greatest return.

[although he can't see the thoughts clawing at Kit's psyche, he can certainly feel the sudden shift in the tone of conversation. it's what prompts him to answer a bit more honestly than he'd usually be inclined to after a long pause.]

Nothing is worth even a piece of yourself.

[not in this life or any other. it was the reason he'd abandoned his parents, and perhaps even the root cause of his indomitable stubbornness.

there was no item, no feeling, no person who could ever justify allowing your core to be eroded. to back down from the things which made him himself would be tantamount to blasphemous - and to gamble any amount of that would be beyond foolish. even victory would be hollow when playing for an inferior prize.]

People who chase that thrill only do it because they find themselves worthless, whether they realize it or not.

[so, then, was that the explanation for Vincent's own reckless behavior as well? a total disregard for the value of his very existence? it would be a logical conclusion, but as with all things involving him, that was precisely why it was incorrect.

the risks that Vincent took never appeared that great to him. his confidence was so overwhelming that even hanging from a precipice felt as safe as viewing the drop from several dozen feet away. he knew himself, and he knew what he was capable of; with such a certainty there were no odds that he couldn't triumph over. there was no gamble when the outcome had always been predetermined.]

[Worthless.

Kit turned the word over like a coin in his mind, inspecting it from every angle. He spun it around so that it danced, all the while reflecting its different sides: heads, tails, and then heads again, but no matter the direction it revolved, the meaning remained the same. And so did the truth behind it.

He felt worthless. No...he was worthless.

The foolish dream he'd had one year ago of controlling Eddan's underworld had been even less real than the hallucinations prompted by their stay at the Habitat. The countless people he'd left behind, the number of families he'd cycled through and disappointed, the inhumane acts he'd turned a blind eye to simply because someone had stepped out of line and needed to be punished...

No amount of tutoring kids, planting trees and tending flowers, or maintaining a perfect GPA could make up for that. He could masquerade all he wanted as a fine and upstanding young man, but the truth would always be there beneath the surface, like some dumping ground or cesspool resting under the glassy top of a lake. The smallest ripple would disrupt all the murk below and reveal the true nature of the body of water: not a lake at all, but a diseased swamp.

Why did he even bother to keep trying? Was he really so lonely? Or was the risk of dragging others down with him actually worth it somewhere in his withering subconscious?]

You shouldn't show me those lyrics, then. Unless they really aren't personal at all.

[Turning the subject back to music. Something safer, if only by a little bit, and that safety allowed him to look once more back in Vincent's direction. His smile wasn't effortless as he did so, but it didn't appear strained, either.

As a matter of fact...it didn't appear like very much at all, excepting the kind of smile mirrored reflections wore, practiced and insincere, more to convince yourself than onlookers.

He was tired. That was all. Just...tired.]

[it's good that Kit seems to be completely absorbed with his companion's reply; it means that he's likely to have completely missed the sharp way that Vincent watches him as he mulls over the statement.

the look has vanished by the time he looks up at him again, but by then Vincent had seen enough. it's clear that his words had touched something even deeper than a nerve. a lesser person might feel some guilt, but there isn't an iota of remorse in his countenance. the other boy's troubled thoughts were his own problem and no one else's. if he couldn't handle the truth, that was something he had to work through.

it does, however, influence his response. a rustling noise accompanies his words as he pulls out his notebook, idly flipping through its pages.]

I already told you, they aren't personal. How many times do I have to repeat myself?

[even diminished as he is, Kit should know better than to directly tell Vincent not to do something. it was simply asking for it.

having found the appropriate page he tosses the notebook his companion's way, the angle making it very likely to collide with his head if his reflexes aren't keen enough. should the other teen decide to peruse the predestined selection, he'll find even the title to be an ominous one: The Cursed Child.

Vincent had only gotten halfway through the lyrics before being interrupted, but their unfinished state does nothing to make the words any less powerful. every line is completely raw, overflowing with pain and bloodlust in equal measure. despite its murderous intent and graphic imagery, the overwhelming feeling the song gives off is...all-encompassing, unending loneliness.

for someone to have written this without any personal attachment, they must truly be a visionary.]

[Kit might have missed the way his companion had been staring at him, but he didn't miss the book, neatly snatching it out of thin air with reflexes a cat would be proud of.

This was starting to become a habit, he realized. If he wanted to know something about the other boy, Vincent would dangle that information before him until he demonstrated signs of losing interest. Then, and only then, did he seem to give in and supply what Kit had been seeking all along. It was a ridiculous game, the sort a child might play and the sort he'd outgrown himself a long time ago.

Or at least...he'd thought he had outgrown it, but as he turned his attention back to the open notebook, it was with a sliver of genuine amusement even his voice emulated.]

I suppose you'll need to repeat yourself as many times as it takes for you to sound convincing.

[Which was beginning to look like a grand requirement, indeed.

Not long after Kit began reading, his amusement slipped away again. He was completely absorbed by the crude poetry scrawled upon the page, all sense of personal affliction replaced by an intense focus on what felt a lot like a lyrical autopsy. How strangely haunting and yet impossible to turn away from it was to be offered a glimpse into someone else's soul...

But worst of all was staring and finding things there that resonated with him.

Ultimately, it was that which made him return the notebook after a few more moments, and then rise once more to his feet. He may not have learned the other boy's name, but he'd learned everything else he'd set out to discover that night. He'd confirmed someone else had experienced visions like his own, and had established there was a force at work preventing them from speaking too freely about what they saw. He'd also determined how Vincent had come to know who he was, as well as achieved taking a look inside the other boy's notebook. It was enough. Maybe even more than enough when some things couldn't be unseen...]

...I can see why it would be easier to have someone else sing your lyrics.

[Not only would it be less revealing, but it would be considerably less painful a reminder if he weren't the one belting out each raw emotion himself.

Starting toward the stairwell doors, Kit waved his hand.]

I think I'm finally going to turn in. [And, with something of a wry smile cast back over his shoulder in Vincent's direction, he added...] Live. Until our next fight.

[his teasing gets nothing in reply but an ill-tempered 'tsk'. the prospect of having to repeat the same words over and over simply because he wasn't taken seriously wasn't something that he relished, but got the sense that it may indeed be a reality if he continued to hang around Kit. what a pain in the ass.

Vincent may have stared his companion down during his emotional crisis, but he makes no attempts to do the same as the other teen looks through the notebook. he watches the dim glow of the vending machine with vague interest, never stealing so much as a peripheral glance downwards. what he thought of his lyrics was of no concern to him.

it's impossible to interpret Kit's expression as he stands up to return the notebook, but he likes to imagine that the song has struck a chord, even half-finished. it was blistering even for himself as he wrote down what was burning in his mind - he can't imagine not being moved by it.

the strange satisfaction at knowing someone else had shared those feelings which coursed through his veins so discourteously prompts a soft sound of amusement as he checks to ensure nothing's fallen out before tucking it back into his jacket.]

It's all about the sound. I wouldn't make the same impression.

[not that Kit had needed even music to be shaken up, although he keeps that bit to himself.

there's a part of him that feels it would be more appropriate to remain where he was, slinking back into the sleeping quarters only once he's certain that everyone else must be asleep. it would be fitting for the prideful spite which had brought him there in the first place. instead he finds his foot pushing off from the wall, propelling himself at a leisurely pace towards the lobby doors and the other boy.]

Sounds like advice you should be taking yourself. At the rate you're going you'll just fall over the railing on your own.

[that was his excuse, anyway. the fight. but Vincent can't help but wonder, as he shoots his companion a sardonic look, if this wasn't the stirrings of genuine concern.

it really was troubling.]

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