bottlecaplogs | Impromptu Oran Sleepover

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guilty gear: a.b.a

Impromptu Oran Sleepover

Who: Oran newbies
What: Having fun with communal dens
When: Sometime after Mightyena gathered them up
Where: The Spire, low tier dens
Warnings: Will add if anything comes up, but not anticipating anything

[As everyone knows by now, the Oran Berries depend heavily on communal living, sharing a bed is simply to be expected. For some, this experience was temporary. Mightyena was kind enough to lend the mysterious misplaced Pokémon a place to rest, but now some of them have moved on.

For others, this is now a part of life, and it's time to get used to it. The Oran Berries value treating everyone like friends and family, after all, so you're expected to do the same! Why not have some fun with it?

Whether you've noticed your fellow newcomers are all gathering in one den, or you suddenly find yourself dragged into the the party against your will, everyone is invited! Everyone's going through the same thing, belong to the same guild, you gotta stick together.....right?]

[[ooc: Feel free to use this as a mingle log! We have nine Oran Berries (I think???) and although the dens are said to hold up to eight, I think some members are small enough that we should be able to include everyone!]]

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Something wrong? Why would you be doing anything wrong?

[Who said anything like that? If anything, Ingo's the one who's done something wrong! Not on purpose, to be sure, but he's done a great deal more to hurt Emmet than the reverse!]

Sometimes when I say or do something. You seem unsure. [ Which on its own would be fine and make sense, if Ingo was just trying to figure out how to respond, but... ] Not like you are not sure what to do but. More like you're waiting for something else to happen. Expecting something that does not come.

... Maybe I am just imagining it, though. [ An out. ] It is late. And sleep has not come easily, these past nights. I may be overthinking it.

Ah. I don't...well, no, you are not doing anything wrong.

[He should explain more. Explaining things is usually something like second nature for Ingo; he does a lot of it back home, sometimes more than people really want. But Pokemon and the mountain are subjects he understands well. This is...

Does he expect something else? Well, yes. Ingo just isn't sure what exactly that is. Should Emmet be angry at him? Should he cry? Should he ask him to come back to the room he so carefully maintained, rather than just assuring him that it's fine either way? Ingo doesn't know; he doesn't know what tracks Emmet's car typically travels. Maybe he really is just that easy-going. It's hard to say. It's hard to say a lot about Emmet.]

Though - you do not have to keep saying that it is okay.

It is, though. Because there is no one to blame. It is not your fault and there is nothing to do about it. Just is. So it's okay, because it has to be.

[ What's he supposed to do if it isn't? Is he supposed to be angry at something, sad that it happened? What's the point? What's wrong with skipping straight to acceptance when there's nothing else to be done for it?

(Unless Ingo left on purpose, originally, before whatever happened to displace him in time and space. Unless some of those trashy tabloids back then, like a broken clock, actually managed to stumble upon the truth. No. That is ridiculous. Too many sleepless nights. Doesn't make sense. They know where and when he disappeared.)

Emmet's head lifts. A tufted ear twitches. ]

... Your water is boiling, I think.

That is not -

[That's not how it works, that's not how anything works! Ingo's never thought that his amnesia was anyone's fault in particular. Maybe some of what came after - all the battles that failed to spark any more recollections, all the failed attempts to conjure those vague figures in more detail - maybe that was his fault. But surely not the initial loss? The circumstances were so strange that it was hard to imagine a person even could somehow do that to themselves. So it wasn't his fault, and he couldn't do anything about it - but it wasn't just okay -

The water is boiling. Ingo blinks dumbly at it for a second.]

........we never actually found the tea.

[ That, for some reason, makes him bark out a soft laugh. More of a yipping sound than anything, but. ]

Oh. No we did not. We rushed ahead, proceeded down the tracks without finishing checks first... How verrrry silly.

[Ingo laughs as well, of course rather louder.]

Ah, well, the water will keep a moment!

[He gets up to start searching. Watch there not even be any tea in here at all.]

[ Truly the funniest possible ending to the great tea sidequest is for there to in fact be no tea. At first Emmet works to get his legs underneath him, thinking to get up to help look too, but with Ingo's back turned to him, if just for a moment ... he's just going to let out a quiet sigh while he has the chance, gaze briefly flickering down and away, hopefully uncaught.

Slapdash, halting, clumsily, hastily; he's grieved. He's done it already, if privately, if reluctantly, if not entirely sure it even actually counted because he never actually could bring himself to believe Ingo was gone gone. He'd know, wouldn't he? Somehow? But the absence is still enough to count, at least where feelings are concerned, so he did. Took care of it, got it out of the way, pushed it aside, picked himself up to keep things running.

Why should he need to do it again here? Especially when Ingo is right there? Feeling sad, or angry at nothing in particular— isn't that what it would be? There's no need to mourn someone who isn't lost. So. ... So.

(If Ingo looks back before he manages to entirely school his expression, Emmet's smile is not quite as convincing as usual.) ]

Any luck over there? Need help searching?

Ah...I think this is tea?

[Ingo can't smell what's inside the jar exactly, but it's definitely some sort of dried leaves? Either it's tea or it's some kind of herb and they're about to have a terrible beverage! Cautiously, he tries to take it down and sort of...roll it back over to Emmet.

It's not okay. It can't just be like nothing ever happened. If they were close enough to live together, didn't something serious happen? But now that the moment has passed, he isn't quite sure how to go back and...

...and what? Insist that things not be okay? That sounds like madness, doesn't it? Maybe Ingo really should just stop and let things be...whatever this is, between the two of them. It feels strange and uneasy to him, but Emmet must be alright with it,. Isn't that what matters? Maybe it was always this way, and he's just aiming for some ideal that he made up entirely in his own mind.]

[ Is that how they're doing this. Well, surely the jar's sturdy enough for it. Emmet perks up to full attention, anyway, rousing himself enough to keep the jar from rolling anywhere it shouldn't. Tea or herbs, moment of truth...

Do they have cups, even? Is he supposed to put the leaves into the jug now, are they just using the water container as a sort of pot? That's fine, sure, he can do that, but will they be drinking out of that too? They really just rushed into this, didn't they. ]

Maybe. We should also look for smaller ... cups? Dishes? So we both can drink.

[ Maybe he'll try to look for them this time. Hopefully nothing gets dropped. Looking through the shelves again leaves him with his thoughts, but...

Something did happen, but it's fine. Nothing on that shelf. Something did happen, but they're fine. ... Aren't they? (Saucers and plates on that one.) If they aren't, then he just needs to figure out where to pick up the slack. He is Emmet. They should be okay. He should be okay. Ingo's been fine on his own, more or less, and so has he. (Oh. There they are.)

They should be better than they were, now. So why... ]

... I'm just glad you're all right. [ he says, coming back over to set carefully down the two mugs he's managed to find. His gaze stays low, fixed on the tea. ] You know. I don't remember if I said it already. Everything else, whatever else— less important than that.

It's nice, not having to wonder.

[Yes, this is probably the worst planned and organized tea-making Ingo has ever attempted! He turns to search the shelves for dishes as well, quieter this time until Emmet finds them first and he turns back to the fire as well.]

...this is not really ideal.

[He dumps some leaves in the makeshift pot anyway. They'll just...deal with it. He guesses. He keeps his eyes on the embers as Emmet speaks, trying to determine the most appropriate course of action.]

I can understand that. People go missing in the wilds sometimes. It is not...good, to find a body, but it is better than finding nothing at all.

[He knows how it works. He knows five years was an absurd amount of time to hold space for him. That space wasn't exactly for him, though, was it...? It's for the man he was before.]

It is not ideal but it is what it is. Truth does not stop being the truth because you dislike what it is.

[ And how.

Emmet yawns again, and settles back down to wait for the brew to steep. ]

Hmm. Finding nothing. [ Certainly found a lot of that. Negative space for anxious minds and true crime podcasts and who knows what else to fill in the blanks of. ] Room to wonder, yes. Wondered if it was my fault. Wondered if you were out there waiting, or in trouble, and I just wasn't looking in the right places. Wasn't looking hard enough. Or maybe if I had done something different. You wouldn't have had to go alone.

Still. No body meant there was still a chance. Even if it was small. And here you are.

Here I am.

[It would have been kinder to have left a body behind, perhaps. That's...not something that could work, from a purely physical perspective, but the Ingo from before seems gone nearly as surely as if he'd died. If he'd done it properly, Emmet could have moved on.

Maybe that's cowardly of him to think.]

Well, I do not see why it would have been your fault.

[He can't know that for sure. Maybe they'd been fighting; he doesn't know. But it seems important to reassure him, because now that they know what happened, it's pretty plainly not anything either of them could have accomplished on their own. Something must have happened to him.]

[ A single eye blinks at Ingo, a little curiously, maybe thoughtfully, the other obscured by softly waving fur. ]

Well. Dreams aren't logical. Late night thoughts, not so much either. You know too, don't you?

[ The kinds that find you once the sun's gone down and there's no work left to do, nothing to keep busy with. Wondering, wondering. If he'd noticed sooner, if he'd been with Ingo when whatever it was happened... ]

Like right now. You are thinking something ridiculous, I think. Like I would have been better off if there was no reason to hope.

[What the fuck, is he a witch]

Oh - no, no. Though, at least then you would have had that closure, would you not?

[ It's not hard to guess considering the things he's been saying!

But plainly: ] No, because then you would have been dead. No ifs, ands, or buts. No coming back from that.

You being fine— somewhere, anywhere— is better than that. I already said. Everything else, whatever else— [ his mouth snaps shut, mind working to try to figure out what words he needs next. ] I am Emmet. I would not want something as small as a lack of uncertainty if the cost was your certain death.

Mm, well. When you put it like that, I suppose that is true.

[Or, at least, Ingo imagines it would be true of basically anyone.]

But that does not mean that the uncertainty is itself easy to bear.

It was not. That is true. But that is on me. Not you.

[ Maybe in some ways, it's easier to try to look for ways they could have done things different. That way, it makes it seem less like it was all up to chance— that these things just happen, outside of anyone's control. ]

I am doing something wrong if you are trying to take responsibility for something like that. We were, are a two car train. But what I do, what I say, that is mine. Not your fault.

It is hardly your fault either.

[Maybe it isn't his fault. Probably it wasn't - even if he doesn't know what his previous life was like, Ingo has difficulty imagining himself abandoning everything and everyone without a word no matter how unhappy he might have been. But it certainly was not Emmet's fault!]

I know that! I do. What I mean is—

[ A faint noise, low in his throat. ]

I am not saying this right. Sorry. [ He glances to the side, somewhat nervously, ears flattened and posture apologetic. ] This isn't ... it's not very cool of me. You weren't supposed to worry because it wasn't supposed to be a big deal.

[Ingo frowns at him. This isn't...that isn't what he meant. Why should Emmet have to be cool about this? It is a big deal! But saying things like that only seems to be upsetting him further, so...]

It's - fine. I'm sorry, too.

... Silly. That is what I am trying to say you don't have to be.

[ Can be, if he wants to, just doesn't have to be. ]

I've been trying to make this — easy. But right now, I ... Are you unhappy?

Edited (actually lemme tweak the wording rq and add) 2025-02-28 04:05 (UTC)

Unhappy? Not at all!

[That seems too strong a word for it! Ingo is simply...uncertain? Perhaps a bit uneasy, in spite of Emmet's apparent efforts to the contrary.]

Why are you trying to make it easy? It cannot be easy for you. It's not an easy thing, in general, I understand that.

It isn't. That's true. It's not easy, but trying to make it easier where we can shouldn't hurt. But also, if I wanted easy for me, I wouldn't have kept your room for you. Stuff like that. I am Emmet. I like winning, more than almost anything else.

[ the direct emphasis on him, though, and the question of why ... ah, he can't duck out of this very well, can he? not unless he tries to do something like pretend to or actually doze off mid conversation. ]

Mmm. Let me explain. Please? Need a moment to figure out how to say it.

Of course.

[He'll wait, then. There's certainly things he could say, would like to say, but that doesn't seem very helpful.]

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