Joker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pipers_son) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2016-08-19 04:07 pm
pipers_son) wrote in victory_road2016-08-19 04:07 pm
027 // closed log (we're all got blood on our hands)
Who: Joker and Jimmy, and then Joker and Envy
What: Has Joker mentioned he really hates the occult? Well. He does.
When: Some point after the festival
Where: Eve's Garden Circus
Warnings: Talks of kidnapping, child abuse, child death, drugging... Not a fun time.
The first time he'd seen a flicker of her, through the crowd, he'd told himself that it was just stress. Exhaustion. That blonde girl, the one who'd liked the dancers, she'd asked that question about hypnotism and, clearly, that had gotten to him.
It was just a hallucination out of stress. He told himself that. Dead people don't come back to life. He told himself that, too.
That one, especially, is weak.
Angel had clung to him, all fear and teary eyed, and the two of them had fled from the festival to make a run for the only home they really had. Again and again, he'd told himself that everything would be fine and that they'd wake up in the morning peachy. Well, he'd woken up, and there, outside the tents...
Little girl. Not that old- he'd always figured not even ten, honestly. Hair as gold as sunshine filtering through the window in the afternoon, done up in buns. It matches the dress that had been picked out for her, pinstripes, white and yellow, a contrast to the little blue vest and the little blue bow that's tied around her waist. It hits him like a bullet to the skull how sharply he still remembers tying it so clearly, forcing trembling hands to be still while he muttered prayers to a God he could never believe in that maybe tonight it'd be fine and there wouldn't be a show and....
She's still wearing the mask.
So many of those kids wore them. When the decision had first been made, more than a little selfishly, he'd been glad. If they wore masks, if they looked less like children and more like objects, toys, then it would hurt less, right? He wouldn't have to think on them.
It never worked. How could it, when he was the one putting the masks on empty expressions that had been robbed of all energy?
Joker bolts.
Not far. Just to the staff bathrooms. He- well, it doesn't need to be said what he does, right?
What's far more important is when he comes back to himself and looks to the side. Angel is in tears, quivering, nearly about to fall apart, and Joker's heart nearly disappears in a burst. "Angel, darlin', I'm sorry-" He fumbles about at his belt, thanking God he dressed before looking outside and has his Pokeballs on him. There's a distressed cry, her tiny grip tugging at his pants, but he doesn't pay her any mind. He just recalls her for the first time in... months. Sitting there, feeling nothing but bitterness on the back of his tongue, he swallows as he holds her Pokeball in his hand. Even when he'd done his tour around Kanto, he hadn't put her in her Pokeball, just left her running around the Circus and chattering at her everytime he could through the Pokegear. It feels like he's cut off one of his own limbs, not having her energetic presence right there besides him, and Joker feels in a daze as he puts the Pokeball back on his belt and wobbly stands up to look outside.
The girl is still there, mouth set in a vacant line from beneath the rabbit half-mask he'd last seen her in. He runs all the way to the big tent where the rest of his troupe is, trying to ignore her, outrun her. Yet no matter how fast he is, whenever he looks back, she's right there behind him, completely unwinded.
Joker calls a quick meeting amongst all his Pokemon, trying to ignore the presence still behind him and the way his Psychic-types all group together while radiating worry. He makes sure that his orders are clear: none of the Psychics are to go bother him, first of all, and the second is for someone to tell Jimmy that he's in charge until further notice.
Any other time, no matter what else is happening, Joker can keep a mask of his own on and lie through a perfected smile. He has no illusions that he can do the same this time.
And with that... He tries to vanish. Going in public simply isn't an option, not with her still trailing after him. Hiding in the empty spaces of the staff area means it'll be easier to corner him if anyone comes calling- which he hopes to God doesn't happen- but it's his best bet. That means drudging up old stealth skills that have become rusty during his peaceful life in Johto, trying to avoid all his workers who might have questions, but he remembers things soon enough. He supposes you never forget. That's his plan for the daytime. When it's night, when things have closed up and all the stall vendors have gone to their own homes, he wanders through the rest of the circus grounds and does his best not to look at her.
If he just keeps moving... If he doesn't stop... Maybe she'll leave him alone.
The entire time, it doesn't occur to him to even check his Pokegear and see what's happening.
He doesn't even really sleep.
What: Has Joker mentioned he really hates the occult? Well. He does.
When: Some point after the festival
Where: Eve's Garden Circus
Warnings: Talks of kidnapping, child abuse, child death, drugging... Not a fun time.
The first time he'd seen a flicker of her, through the crowd, he'd told himself that it was just stress. Exhaustion. That blonde girl, the one who'd liked the dancers, she'd asked that question about hypnotism and, clearly, that had gotten to him.
It was just a hallucination out of stress. He told himself that. Dead people don't come back to life. He told himself that, too.
That one, especially, is weak.
Angel had clung to him, all fear and teary eyed, and the two of them had fled from the festival to make a run for the only home they really had. Again and again, he'd told himself that everything would be fine and that they'd wake up in the morning peachy. Well, he'd woken up, and there, outside the tents...
Little girl. Not that old- he'd always figured not even ten, honestly. Hair as gold as sunshine filtering through the window in the afternoon, done up in buns. It matches the dress that had been picked out for her, pinstripes, white and yellow, a contrast to the little blue vest and the little blue bow that's tied around her waist. It hits him like a bullet to the skull how sharply he still remembers tying it so clearly, forcing trembling hands to be still while he muttered prayers to a God he could never believe in that maybe tonight it'd be fine and there wouldn't be a show and....
She's still wearing the mask.
So many of those kids wore them. When the decision had first been made, more than a little selfishly, he'd been glad. If they wore masks, if they looked less like children and more like objects, toys, then it would hurt less, right? He wouldn't have to think on them.
It never worked. How could it, when he was the one putting the masks on empty expressions that had been robbed of all energy?
Joker bolts.
Not far. Just to the staff bathrooms. He- well, it doesn't need to be said what he does, right?
What's far more important is when he comes back to himself and looks to the side. Angel is in tears, quivering, nearly about to fall apart, and Joker's heart nearly disappears in a burst. "Angel, darlin', I'm sorry-" He fumbles about at his belt, thanking God he dressed before looking outside and has his Pokeballs on him. There's a distressed cry, her tiny grip tugging at his pants, but he doesn't pay her any mind. He just recalls her for the first time in... months. Sitting there, feeling nothing but bitterness on the back of his tongue, he swallows as he holds her Pokeball in his hand. Even when he'd done his tour around Kanto, he hadn't put her in her Pokeball, just left her running around the Circus and chattering at her everytime he could through the Pokegear. It feels like he's cut off one of his own limbs, not having her energetic presence right there besides him, and Joker feels in a daze as he puts the Pokeball back on his belt and wobbly stands up to look outside.
The girl is still there, mouth set in a vacant line from beneath the rabbit half-mask he'd last seen her in. He runs all the way to the big tent where the rest of his troupe is, trying to ignore her, outrun her. Yet no matter how fast he is, whenever he looks back, she's right there behind him, completely unwinded.
Joker calls a quick meeting amongst all his Pokemon, trying to ignore the presence still behind him and the way his Psychic-types all group together while radiating worry. He makes sure that his orders are clear: none of the Psychics are to go bother him, first of all, and the second is for someone to tell Jimmy that he's in charge until further notice.
Any other time, no matter what else is happening, Joker can keep a mask of his own on and lie through a perfected smile. He has no illusions that he can do the same this time.
And with that... He tries to vanish. Going in public simply isn't an option, not with her still trailing after him. Hiding in the empty spaces of the staff area means it'll be easier to corner him if anyone comes calling- which he hopes to God doesn't happen- but it's his best bet. That means drudging up old stealth skills that have become rusty during his peaceful life in Johto, trying to avoid all his workers who might have questions, but he remembers things soon enough. He supposes you never forget. That's his plan for the daytime. When it's night, when things have closed up and all the stall vendors have gone to their own homes, he wanders through the rest of the circus grounds and does his best not to look at her.
If he just keeps moving... If he doesn't stop... Maybe she'll leave him alone.
The entire time, it doesn't occur to him to even check his Pokegear and see what's happening.
He doesn't even really sleep.
no subject
It's left him with a whole hell of a lot to think about, not much of it good.
He and Heather have decided to spend one night back in Goldenrod before they hop on the train back to Kanto, and there's always one place that's good to go to and not think. The circus is practically his second home by now, a comforting and familiar place, and running through a practice routine or several can occupy him plenty. He needs it, right now.
An absences of Joker is always something noticeable. It had been back when their ringleader had gone on his own badge journey, and it is now. But this time, there's something off. He's heard worried mutters among the other staff, questions as to where their boss has gotten off to, and the Pokemon troupe doesn't look quite right when he sees them either. Something's not right.
And after everything that's been happening? Envy thinks he has an idea as to what. He remembers what Joker told him about his own past.
He hadn't had to deal with his ghost alone, and he doesn't have any intention of letting Joker do so either. And if there's nothing the matter, if it's all in Envy's head from stress, then...well, he'll just have to take the risk of looking stupid and paranoid.
So he goes looking, checking every corner of the circus grounds, Lucky by his side in case the Houndoom can pick up a stronger scent or something to help find the wayward ringmaster.
no subject
He’s not in good shape.
His clothes haven’t been changed for a few days now, and he’s forgone his usual eyecatching makeup which unfortunately means there’s nothing hiding the dark circles that have started to form notably beneath his eyes. The fashionable twist of a ponytail he often puts his hair up into has started to fallen apart, and droops in the places where it isn’t outright loose. Stains, dirt stains, coat some of the areas of his pants. Worst of all, he seems more than a little out of it, not even noticing there’s anyone else nearby.
Then again, the way he keeps glancing towards the girl at the other end of the little alleyway gap is certainly keeping his attention preoccupied.
no subject
This is bad.
He doesn't see the little girl right off, attention occupied with hurrying over to Joker.
"Hey. Hey, Joker!"
It's only once he gets closer that he follows that haunted look and sees its target. The little girl with the mask, all dressed up for a performance, as though she was just another worker here. If it wasn't so obvious that she was one of the ghosts, between her silent stare and Joker's distress, he would've wondered if there was just a new hire.
He remembers what Joker had told him a while back. About what he'd used to do...that he'd stolen children for some cultish purposes or other.
"Look at me. How long have you been hiding back here?"
Lucky, alarmed at the state his trainer's boss is in, whines and sniffs at Joker's hand.
no subject
“Envy! Hey, just, haven’t been hidin’, it’s just-”
The words flounder in his throat as he realizes the shape he’s in and that, really, no excuse is going to cut it here. Any kind of lie will be seen clean through. If there’s any a time for emotional honesty, it’s now.
What Joker does instead is try to duck around Envy and step over Lucky.
no subject
He is not in a normal state of mind. Lack of sleep, not eating right, and the general emotional turmoil of the past few days have put him in more of a state where he's just all around Done with social niceties.
When Joker steps around him, Envy turns with him and just...reaches out to grab him, either by his good arm, and then if that misses he's going to try and get an arm around his middle. And if neither of those catch?
He's following.
"Oh come on--no you can't just go hide somewhere else."
no subject
“Envy, c’mon- lemme go. Just. Please.” His voice breaks.
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"You wouldn't if you found me looking like you do now. You look like hell, Joker."
He glances towards the last place he saw that little girl, as though to check that she hasn't moved, and his voice quiets, tired.
"They don't go away from ignoring them. I tried, too."
no subject
Joker seems perfectly happy to keep weekly tugging at his arm, not wanting to address the problem at all… at least until those final words. Those are the ones that have him pause, looking up from beneath limp bangs in confusion.
“What…?”
no subject
"I tried that. Tried ignoring her for three days...no matter where I went or how much I screamed or threw things or...almost anything, she didn't leave. There's a lot of these...ghosts, following people around. Ever since the festival."
He looks back over, this time almost studying the girl, thinking this over.
"She's...someone you know, isn't she? Or...you told me about those kids...?"
no subject
Usually, Joker isn’t that bad when it comes to the network. He flicks through it regularly, now that he’s had the years to get used to this level of technology, and sometimes he even has Invidia set things up so that it pings whenever a new post has been put up. A naturally talkative and nosy type, Joker will freely admit that about himself, so of course he’s not going to miss out.
...At least, that’s his line of thinking when he’s put together and in his right mind. However, the appearance of the girl has thrown all of that out of order, and it even takes him a second to realize that of course people would be talking about this on the network. That’s humanity for you- it could almost be the end of the world and raining sharks, but people would chatter about it if they had an audience.
Reluctantly, shoulders drawn up and his fingers still curled into a tight fist, Joker glances back over his shoulder at the girl while Envy talks. Actual enormous and near magical beasts, people who could beat him in a fight, bizarre natural disasters- he can face all of them with a lazy grin and a bewildered laugh. But her? He looks at her like she could take out his other arm and leave him to die. When he swallows, he might as well be eating sandpaper for how comfortable it is.
“...The last performance he had me do,” Joker finally admits in a mutter, grimacing. “The person he’d been lookin’ for, this child earl, he’d finally showed up and Father… He wanted a show ta go with the dinner that'd been prepared.”
no subject
As before, Envy listens to what's said without recoiling or even looking disgusted with Joker. The homunculi may have never gone after children specifically, but there are plenty of horrors that Envy is responsible for.
And he knows what it's like to have a master. For all that Joker's his boss and Envy seeing him as an equal...comparatively, Joker is so much younger.
"What kind of show?"
It's a quiet question, a prompting rather than an interrogation. Whatever Joker says, Envy's not sure he'll be surprised no matter how awful it is.
no subject
He’d been an adult. He is an adult. He ran a circus and runs another one, doing all the hard work that such a thing entails. And yet... None of it had ever mattered. All of his accomplishments were nothing compared to the constant failure of not finding Earl Phantomhive.
And in the end, even accomplishing that had ended in failure and death.
Joker’s arm shakes and jerks in Envy’s grip, wanting to reach up and tangle his fingers through his hair. “Circus show. Y’know-” He takes in a deep rattling breath, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head like he can force out the memories if he does it well enough. “Classics. Knife throwin’. Beast tamer.” His expression spasms in a grimace. “...Tight rope.”
Suddenly, he twists sharply around to face Envy as words hiss out from between clenched teeth. “I ain’t a clue what they did ta ‘em! I don’t know! I brought ‘em, I know I ain’t innocent, but I never hurt a hair on those kids! I never would have wanted to! They- they were always a little drugged, a little loopy, but it wasn’t ever bad. They were still there, still themselves, laughin’ and smilin’ even if it were a little- not there. If… If that’s how they were when I had ta put on the shows…”
His shoulders slump as he presses his face into his hand, hair hanging limply about his face. “...Woulda kept ‘em safe. Best I could. I swear I woulda. Ya can teach kids, ya can- we were kids when we started learnin’ things on the street.” The inhale he chokes in is half wet.
“...But Father did somethin’. Or someone he knew, maybe. Next time ya saw those kids, they… There wasn’t any trace of ‘em. Just- blank. Some couldn’t even do nothin’ but stand and stare unless ya prodded ‘em along. And gettin’ one ta walk across a tight rope...” After a second, he draws in a stuttering hiss of a laugh.
“Hell with me. Like anyone wouldn’t know what got done, lookin’ at the scars left on their heads, and I’m tryin’ ta say it was just somethin’.”