skippedabeat | Round 3: Test Drive

Entry tags:

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

[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.]

[Really, Kit knew he should have anticipated his companion's sudden change of heart, but he was still taken by surprise when Vincent pushed away from the wall and joined him. Once more, his theory was proven correct. Just when he'd given up trying to convince the other boy to come back with him to the Habitat's guest quarters, Vincent conceded.

Only this time his willing participation was disconnected from what Kit had intended to achieve by leaving.

He felt the same stirrings of concern, but they were polluted by an unrelenting nostalgia and selfishness. Lingering, let alone acting on either feeling any further than he already had, would only spell trouble for them both. That was why he had deigned to leave. With time and sleep he could recover from the fall he'd had earlier. He could calm his racing mind and beating heart, willing them both into submission. Only then could he keep his promise. Not as he was now, injured and overburdened by memories of days past...by feelings he could normally set aside so easily or shut off.

Now that escape wasn't an option and Vincent had joined his side, however, Kit was forced to put on a complaisant face.]

I suppose that makes sense.

[Better the roar of the lion than the mewl of a kitten and all that.

Which was a thought that brought him to a stop at the top of the stairs. Considering the difference in their height...]

There really isn't any need for concern but, out of curiosity, how exactly did you intend to prevent me from falling?

[again, none of this is any of Vincent's concern. this was the danger of needing to be so constantly in control of one's reactions, pressing down on anything unpleasant and not useful. all that pressure only made things more dangerous when they were shaken up, even a little.

if Kit really wanted to gain mastery of himself then he would have to face that turbulence head on; pushing it away only lent it more power in his mind. and if he wanted to keep spending time in his company? he absolutely had to learn to navigate through the weaknesses. his very nature made people uncomfortable and exhausted, after all.]

Who said I was going to stop you?

[he pauses when Kit does, canting his head to the side almost quizzically. there had been no claims of protection, or even any outward concern. where could he had gotten such an idiotic idea?

breathing out a soft laugh, Vincent begins to proceed down the stairs - on the railing side.]

[Perhaps no verbal claims had been made, but Vincent's physical presence was a testament to his true intentions. Of course, Kit kept that thought to himself as the other boy rattled off his disinterest and started down the steps. On the railing side. And on his own.

He made no move to join Vincent. Instead, watching his companion descend while wearing his indifference like a mask, Kit approached the railing and peered over the side. Directly below was where they had fought earlier, their one misstep sending them both careening down the steps in painful disarray. Parts of him still ached from that confrontation, but not enough to keep him from sliding one leg up and over the railing followed by the other.

He sat there for a moment before speaking up, feet dangling in midair and green eyes focused on the drop. How far down was it? Eleven, maybe twelve feet? And precarious landing on the bottom portion of those steps, too.]

I think that's for the best, don't you?

[the assumption behind his movement had been that Kit would follow suit almost immediately, like a regular human being. even when the footsteps don't instantly multiply he refrains from looking back for several moments, presuming that he was taking his time due to soreness or more pensive thoughts. again, like a normal person.

his mistake, apparently.

Vincent glances back around at the same time that his former companion decides to speak up, giving him the highest jolt possible in these circumstances. most of it (thankfully) stays off his face, but there's no mistaking the way that his shoulders shoot up past his ears. what the hell was he thinking!?

that answer follows almost as quickly as the query which birthed it, and his blank gaze hardens into a frightening glower. he knows exactly what reaction Kit was trying to goad from him, and he'd rather let him hit the pavement below than give it to him.]

I don't really care either way. Do whatever the hell you want.

[it's a bluff, and he was going to call him out on it. and if he did actually jump? it's no concern of Vincent's. either he survived the fall or he didn't. there'd be no one to blame but Kit himself.]

[By climbing over the railing and calling Vincent's attention to his position on the wrong side of the guard, Kit had achieved exactly the reaction he'd hoped for and, with it, proof that the other boy was lying to him as much as he was to himself.

The joke should have ended there. A civilized person would have crawled back over to the safety of the landing and apologized for taking things so far. However, Kit had something else to prove, and after a few more moments of careful assessment, he lowered his feet down to the narrow platform on the wrong side of the railing and met Vincent's glower with an unfaltering stare of his own.]

Gray foxes are said to be capable of jumping five or six feet high off the ground, and they have also proven to be very powerful climbers.

[His point?

Kit surveyed the drop again. From where he'd been perched on the railing, feet still above the landing, it had been more like a thirteen or fourteen foot drop. But from a position with both feet firmly planted on the ground, the eleven foot estimate he'd first gauged was much more accurate. Still, it was a dangerous height to fall from, especially onto concrete steps where a roll would be impossible to soften his landing.

He could aim for the railing itself, and in better condition, he might have actually been able to pull off such an acrobatic feat. As he was now, however, a stunt of that nature was out of the question. The stairs themselves were his best bet. So long as he remained unwilling to fold.]

The gray fox clears such heights alone, of course. They're not pack hunters and don't rely on others for assistance.

[Just as he refused to rely on Vincent.

Evidently, while the implication that the other boy seemed to care had amused him, it also struck a nerve. He didn't need anyone to take care of him. And he would prove it precisely where he'd boasted earlier that knowing how to land would be all he'd need to survive these treacherous steps.

Holding onto the railing with one hand, he squatted down carefully and picked out a spot below as his target landing zone and then, taking a deep breath...let go.]

[god, he was really going to jump. in the split second between that realization and Kit letting go, Vincent felt something like...almost as if he were impressed.]

[the feelings of respect don't last long.

his feet clatter down the steps as he resumes moving once more, driven less by any lingering concern and more by pure curiosity - would he actually snap his neck when he hit the ground? having been riled up thusly, he wanted to see the moment of impact with his own spiteful eyes. right now he'd feel nothing but satisfaction if Kit ended up paralyzed by that little stunt.

it was that god damned speech which had tipped him over. the sheer balls required to do something so monumentally stupid would have been enough to get Vincent to forget the unkind reason this whole stunt had begun for - but then he'd had to open his mouth again. what a self-satisfied prick.

his steps slow as he reaches a few steps above where Kit ought to come down, coming to a halt as he waits to see what will come of all this. whatever the result, he's decided that as soon as he hits the ground he's going to be walking around the other teen like a piece of litter. even now, motionless, he's ready for his next insult.]

[It took less than one second to complete the jump from the moment Kit let go to the moment his feet touched down, but in that moment he felt like himself again. The wires all connected. Sparks firing. And with them, every angle he would need to consider to make a safe landing. The position of his body, the tenseness of his muscles, which direction to aim for to keep from striking his knees off the steps above as they bent to reduce the shock of impact or to keep from falling over backwards...

There was only a faint wobble at the bottom caused by the briefest twinge of discomfort, but Kit refused to acknowledge its existence. It wasn't a break and it wasn't a sprain, it was only his muscles protesting this act of stupidity. Rightfully so, perhaps. And yet...he'd nailed his little performance. Just as he'd known he would.

He didn't need anyone else. This truth would make it easier to overcome whatever strange effect Vincent seemed to have on him. His ability to inspire such nostalgic reactions and make him recall that which was best left to the shadows of his subconscious. Kit didn't need him and, as he carefully rose to his feet, he contemplated staring down his companion one last time to drive that point home...

...and then didn't.

He turned away instead, starting down the few remaining stairs in silence. As though the faint burning in one foot were imagined, and the jump itself had never taken place.]

...tch.

[the single sound that Kit's performance elicited from his audience was, if anything, disappointed rather than impressed. it had certainly pained the other boy, but such a small level of discomfort wasn't enough to satisfy him despite knowing it must still be plaguing him as he recovered and continued on down the stairs.

he seems for several long moments to be content to play along and pretend as if none of the theatrics had ever happened, shoving his hands into his pockets and proceeding after Kit at a more sedate pace. it's only as they reach the doors leading back to their original floor that he speaks, breaking the silence and addressing the door rather than his companion.]

Like I said, people who gamble that way don't understand themselves.

[and, in Kit's particular case, don't understand other people half as well as they'd like to believe. did he really think that assuaging the deep threat he'd felt the possibility of Vincent's concern was would do anything to stem the actual source? the jump itself didn't matter - it was the esoteric message it had intended to convey - but even so, it hadn't phased him.

the way that the other boy looked at the world was completely self-centered. every interaction revolved around what it could do for him, what it was doing to him. the possibility of his involvement being crucial was something that he'd never consider. when faced with something he felt dangerous and didn't want to truly understand, then, it was natural to assume that some action on his own part could cut down the problem.

that was incorrect. Vincent's thoughts and reactions had almost nothing to do with his companion, and certainly not to the degree that he must be imagining even now. for him to think that he was so invested in his life as to need some idiotic stunt to prove his 'freedom' from him was almost comical, and it's only the vague derision coursing through him that keeps the laughter at bay. imagine being so insecure with one's identity that even the smallest neutral gesture could be misread as overtones of even surface friendliness.

he wouldn't be cowed by such feeble, ignorant tactics as that. regardless of what Kit wanted, he would continue doing as he pleased around him. his presence was determined by his desire to be there, not anything that his companion preferred. he'd cut ties when he felt like it and no sooner.]

I'm afraid I have to disagree.

[Coming to rest next to his companion before the open mouth of the double doors, Kit slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and stared ahead down the long hallway. He was selfish, but solitary creatures often were. How better to ensure their survival? That was not a point he would ever refute, but what he could not allow was Vincent's assertion that he lacked personal insight.

A similar comment from the other teen had rattled him earlier, but not now. Kit had felt his life was worthless, and perhaps it still was...but it was also his and he was the one in control of it. Having that authority made a world of difference. For example, he could choose for himself who to keep company with, and he could even choose when and where he wanted to die. The entirety of the night up until that point had been an unplanned exercise in exactly that: power and jurisdiction.]

People who are too afraid to gamble will never come to understand who they truly are, their limits, or how to surpass them.

[The stinging in his foot was evidence of that, and acted as a reminder for next time. If he was more like the willow, if he remembered when to bend, then he would not break. It wasn't something which to regret, that hard lesson learned. It was something to embrace and to nurture, for that was the only way he would ever flourish.]

Your greatest adversary will always be the one within. Hold yourself back when you need to, but always be conscious of when you should let go...for without sacrifice, you are sterile and not only useless to the world, but useless to yourself.

Ten feet isn't enough to escape him.

[the person within Kit, the one who held both his ugly past and all the frailties that he was so terrified of another person so much as brushing up against. it was clear that this whole thing had been about personal validation, and that understanding tints Vincent's gaze with faint cynicism as he finally cants his head to look his companion's way.]

The only thing you won was another illusion. You're still not in control.

[he doubts that he'll believe him, but that doesn't matter. it was the truth, and someone had to say it eventually.

the way he was now, constantly haunted by a specter he refused to neither fully fight nor embrace, Kit was beyond neutered. there was no future for someone so carefully cultivated to avoid deep self-reflection. he barely even had a present.

he could gamble all he liked, but the person determining the bets was that shadowy self. there was nothing to be won and only more of his own self to lose.]

Perhaps.

[He felt Vincent's gaze on him and cast his own in his direction.]

Escape from something must seem impossible when your roots are buried deep into the same soil, but there is another way.

[Was he talking about escaping himself? Or his connection with Vincent?

The answer remained unclear even as he carried on, scarcely missing a beat.]

A flower in a forest of trees will starve without sunlight and wither until it is nothing more than food for the vegetation that both surrounds and has outgrown it.

[He just needed to be the tree. To reach for far greater heights and cast his old self into a shadow so deep it would never again see the light of day. Eventually...that minuscule spec would die. Like the strange bond he'd felt forming between him and Vincent.

That was what he wanted, wasn't it? ...wasn't it?

Or would true control be found in embracing those roots rather than denying them?

He considered the familiar faces he'd seen that day, and all the whispers that had stalked him this far. Smothering that part of himself might be an impossible task unless he was also willing to stamp out all the life around him that had come into contact with it. But if he were to absorb it instead...would he be more than he was now, or merely more frail...?

Recalling his own words a moment later, Kit smiled and shook his head. In the end it all boiled down to one thing: was the payoff worth the risk?]

In any case, a cursed child is the last person who should be lecturing me about illusions.

[it's a bit of a simplistic view of flora for someone who apparently had an especially soft spot for them...or at least enough botanical knowledge to never shut up. plants had a will to survive so strong that it could seemingly defy the very laws of nature which had placed it there - and the most towering tree could be felled by an unassuming parasitic vine, if it had enough patience. even Vincent knew that.

the thought is amusing, given the metaphor which spawned it, and while Kit is lost in thought he allows himself a brief chuckle. he'd intended to share what was so funny with the class, but unfortunately his companion had decided to settle down on an annoyance instead. given that he wasn't particularly dedicated to converting the other teen's philosophical outlook regarding himself, he gives into the irritation easily.]

Then it's a good thing he's not here to do that, isn't it?

[he'd known that this was a futile argument from the beginning, but this just drives the point home utterly. how many times did he have to be shot down before he let go of this inane concept?]

[Nature's true beauty resided within its capacity to be an unpredictable and unrelenting force, Kit knew that too well. Nothing lived forever, everything returning one day to the earth from which it had sprung. Not even the tallest trees were an exception to that rule. But it wasn't mortality that Kit wished to outrun.

Death didn't frighten him. He would fight tooth and nail to survive, but one day his time would inevitably come and he had already accepted that long ago. Perhaps that was part of why it was so easy for him to take the risks that he did. He had nothing left to lose and everything to gain.]

I wouldn't be so certain.

[Shrugging, Kit started through the doors, past the out-of-order vending machine and into the long hallway leading back to the guests' sleeping quarters. Everything was as quiet as it had been earlier with not a soul in this area seeming to be out of bed besides them. In order to keep that at bay, he told himself it meant nothing. Even if he didn't believe it.]

I would.

[the things that he'd seen in those visions had been as frightening as death was to Kit, but that didn't mean that common sense had completely vanished in the face of that. Vincent knows instinctively that even if such things were possible in a world like this, he could never hold those experiences and still remain as he was. something was bound to shatter - his own personality and those 'memories' were both too intense.

and since he was still perfectly himself...well, it stood to reason. whatever those visions had implied to the contrary, there was no way there was a genuine visceral connection between its actors and himself. Kit must know that as well; the only reason he was implying otherwise was to try and wheedle a more intimate connection between himself and his lyrics out of him.]

You wouldn't be hesitating at all if it were true.

[that, at least, he could say for sure. the boy he'd seen (been, briefly) had a presence like no other. there could be no mistaking him.]

Who's hesitating.

[Kit knew the visions meant something. If he could be sure of nothing else, at least that point remained irrefutable. The fact that he and Vincent had both experienced them, and the hefty toll that experience took upon their bodies, was all the evidence he required to support that theory. Claiming there was no connection was just an attempt to delude oneself into a false sense of security in his opinion.

Exactly how he was related to the person he saw in his own visions, Kit didn't know. They appeared to be of a similar age, shared a face, and both exhibited an inclination toward gambling with their lives, but that seemed to be about all they had in common. Was that specter truly a rose by another name? Or did those hallucinations have something to do with the feeling that there were things amiss in the city?

It seemed impossible that they could be the same people, but if he believed in demons, spirits, and gods, why not also past lives? Perhaps, if his life was a forked pathway in a dense forest, that phantom was attempting to steer him down the correct road...maybe even toward the purpose he felt he was lacking.]

What would he do if he were here, then?

Cut you down.

[the answer is instantaneous and born from a part of Vincent that he isn't entirely certain actually belongs to him. but the answer feels right, threatening as it is. that unwanted child whose rage had already been great enough to overwhelm an adult...if he had managed to grow up, he wouldn't have the patience for the sort of tricks Kit spun.

he certainly wouldn't be lecturing him for any reason. there was no room for love in that boy's world, even of the most cursory sort. the only thing he cherished was his revenge.]

[Cut him down?

That had been what the masked man had wanted to do, and the boy named Kaito. Steal his life, steal his soul, each of them wanting to tear him down in their own way, and before each of them, the boy who wore his face had been unwavering in his determination to survive.

Just as Kit was then, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing his butterfly knife once more. An ornate little thing with a golden handle embossed with roses and a blade that appeared forged by water, it was flipped open and around and then held out for Vincent to take.]

So, what's stopping him?

[he takes it naturally, the only expression hanging around Vincent's face that of faint interest. he owned knives of his own, of course, but had allowed a brief attack of politeness to prevent him from bringing any to today's activities; it's with a soft flash of admiration that he contemplates how Kit must have smuggled this one in.

despite its pretentious design, it's obvious to anyone with a scant amount of knowledge that the blade is well-made. he hefts it around a bit to get a feel for it, tossing it up and down occasionally purely to be an annoying little daredevil. he knows he'll catch it. as the knife makes one of its high-flying rotations, he hears a voice in his head - his own voice.

Do you know why I chose Kurama as a partner? It's because I'd never want to fight him as an enemy.

...not that I'd hurt him either way.

the flash is much softer than the others he's experienced, prompting nothing but a half-hearted punch to the head and a brief spate of wobbliness. Vincent still manages to catch the knife without incident, and he imagines that his momentary silence can easily be interpreted as examining the unnecessary design.

when he speaks, his words come slowly despite their firmness.]

He doesn't exist.

[of course. although he can't help but wonder whether that's his own attempts to impose his will on reality, a thought which troubles him as he hands the blade back to its owner.]

[While Kit retrieved the blade immediately from Vincent, he did not return it to his inside jacket pocket. Instead, holding it in the palm of his hand, he concentrated upon its weight, felt even through the fabric that concealed the minor burn he'd received when he'd thrown his hand down into the ashes. That weight was proof of its existence. Even if he were blind, he would know that it was real because he could feel its effect upon him. The coolness of the handle as his fingers curled around it, the shape preventing his fist from closing all the way, a smooth surface that would be traitorous to anyone unfamiliar with its handling...]

You know, there are some who say the same thing about gravity.

[That it didn't exist and wasn't real. And yet, without gravity, Kit's little stunt in the stairwell wouldn't have been so alarming, and their earlier tumble down that same flight of stairs wouldn't have hurt nearly as bad as it had. Simply being able to see something did not confirm its existence. Sight alone never could.]

He isn't something your subconscious conjured out of thin air. He is a force of nature within you unwilling to be silenced.

The Heisenberg uncertainty principle states that you can either know exactly how fast a particle is moving or where it is, but not both.

[Vincent is loathe to break out anything that might give the indication of deeper learning, but he feels that this is something he's obligated to struggle against with all his might. Kit's irksome habit of spouting useless trivia is also a factor, much as he'd hate to admit it; given the theme of physics, he naturally gravitated towards a similar analogy.]

As long as I know myself, he's as real as a dream. That's not going to change.

[the two of them can't exist in this world simultaneously, just like the knowledge of location and momentum. so long as he remembered that it didn't matter how loudly the voice in his head railed. he wouldn't be intimidated by such feeble actions.]

[Sighing, Kit finally returned the knife to its pocket inside his jacket and shook his head.]

Everything changes.

[He was fairly certain neither of them were having visions this time last week, but now all of a sudden...

It was that strife within them that would give birth to something greater, fortifying the people they were now or plowing them into the dirt to fertilize the soil for the growth of someone else. Either way, though, they wouldn't remain the same people they were a year ago, a week ago, or even yesterday.]

You assume you're the particle, but what if you're the position? If the you that exists here and now is something he is moving rapidly away from, what can you do to stop it if you cannot even measure that velocity accurately?

[He'd considered that possibility himself already: that the one who was real wasn't the person he was now. It seemed an unrealistic theory, and yet...was there any better way to explain the urgency that accompanied those visions? The forcefulness they usually demonstrated when they were triggered was like that of an individual buried alive banging on the inside of his coffin. He was in there, screaming at the top of his lungs, Let me out, I'm still alive!]

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