[video] forward dated to 9/13

[appraiser]

Ryoji Mochizuki shared a video.
09/13 near Apprassage

[ The video starts up, dark, silent. A bedroom, if an empty desk and neatly made bed and too many cardboard boxes count as a bedroom, and then the view flips over with a soft ] Oh. [ as the user finds the front-facing camera instead of the rear that he always uses on his phone. ]

Hi... It's been a while.

[ The bottom half of the screen blurs as Ryoji draws his knees to his chest where he sits on bare floorboards, phone in his hands. He doesn't introduce himself— doesn't need to, when his name is up there for people who don't know him, his face right here for people who do: the people he's recording this video for, whispers in an empty room. ]

I'm back. I know there are probably questions as to why, or how... and I can't really explain it well myself. But I'll answer the best I can, if you want to ask, texting or in person.

[ Ryoji sits up a little straighter now, looks a little more serious. This is what he meant to say: a confession. ]

But before that, I want to say that I'm glad to be back, however it happened... a second chance like this. I also want to be more upfront about myself, and there are things I want to say to a lot of people.

There was a time in the past where I was a monster: I'd hurt a lot of people, and I ran from all of that, hid myself away, and pretended it hadn't happened. The memories I've been experiencing, I kept the good ones close, the bad even closer, pretending they weren't real and that they have nothing to do with me. I thought... that it would be better to forget about all of that and return to a simpler time. Unconsciously, I think that's what I did. I went back to before everything happened, to start over, and do better this time. But I got it wrong. I made myself forget, but I wasn't forgotten...

[ He's rambling now, a little, so he turns his eyes away from the screen, staring off at something in the distance- it's the moon reflected in his eyes, only half. ]

There's somebody I still need to say goodbye to, but after that... I want to see so many of you. I owe a lot of "thank you"s and "I'm sorry"s and "I love you"s, and I want to be with people again. I don't want to leave this world or its people ever again.

So... I'll see you guys soon.




( ooc: forward dated to 9/13 to give myself a buffer. replies can be via text, or an in-person if you want to fast-forward to ryoji showing up at your character's house/class/chance meeting at some cafe/hi roommates/he'll be finding people around town somehow. for his cr, please assume he checked up on them, whether it's handwaved or not! )

Comments

[appraiser]

oh- no, don't do that
poetry is art, something that comes from the soul
it would be a shame to let it go just because

and
i would like to hear it?

[liberal_arts]

-...-

Not even a full day out of the grave, and here you are making me embarrassed for my own carelessness. You are right. I forgot myself.

I suppose it's only fitting you hear it, even if not right now. I do owe you my life, after all.

[appraiser]

haha i'm glad you're keeping it
i still don't think i did anything as special saving your life, though
we saved each other
everyone, through everything that happened
i couldn't have gotten through it all without you too

[liberal_arts]

As morbid as it may sound, you *didn't* make it, Ryoji.

[appraiser]

...............i suppose you're right
the enormity of that hasn't hit me yet
i guess because i spent that entire time in blissful ignorance
for me, it was just... like falling asleep, having a nightmare, and waking up again

[liberal_arts]

A nightmare.

When you have a moment, I'd like to invite you to my studio. Not only so you can hear the poem yourself, but also, I feel it may serve you well to express what it is you've experienced.

At least do so in a judgement-free environment.

[appraiser]

it's
hard to put into words, harder to think back on it without wanting to turn away
but i think it would be good for me to face it
i'm not busy
dying kind of wiped all my plans clean
there's people i'm supposed to see, but after that
when will you be in your studio?

[liberal_arts]

There's no need to rush. Take your time. Especially if you want to put feelings to a medium of any kind.

I'm at the studio all week, 10am to 5pm. My studio at the university is being used for classes right now.

[appraiser]

i'm not much of an artist or a poet
but maybe i'll be inspired with you there
i'll give it a try
i'll see you tomorrow at 4?
maybe throughout the semester too, if i decide to keep my enrollment

[liberal_arts]

We'll worry about that bridge when we get to it. For now, a step at a time is the best approach.

text --> action

[appraiser]

[ One step at a time, then.

It's not the first time Ryoji's been inside an art studio, but his reason for the last time and his reason now aren't altogether dissimilar. He'd gone to process his feelings, by watching, talking... passive actions because he never believed himself much of an artist— not with charcoal or paints.

Ryoji stands by the door when he enters, knocking on the doorframe before calling out, ] Kasen? It's me.

[liberal_arts]

-The studio itself was littered with various unfinished works, most of them covered in sheets and tarps, with the majority of the central space left open and clean for work. Towards the back there was a small stairwell that lead to a loft area, which appeared to have a table, a kitchen, other living essentials. But the vast majority of the building was made for creation, exploration, and all that entailed.

As for Kasen, he was already in his work apron, one in hand for Ryoji which he tossed his way.-

Are you ready for this? I know you said you weren't much for art, but... we're not here to be good at it.

[appraiser]

[ Out of surprise, Ryoji fumbles with the catch, but he slips it over his head and ties the straps dutifully behind his back. ]

I've never done art therapy before. But I trust your guidance.

[liberal_arts]

Truth be told, I've never done it before either. At least not consciously.

We'll start with something simple, though. A basic white canvas... -Kasen gestured at the one laid out on the floor, before picking up a fairly large brush and black paint pot.-

And black ink.

[appraiser]

[ Ryoji takes the pot in his hand, along with the brush, but doesn't make a move yet to do anything. With the canvas on the ground rather than leaning against an easel like he'd expected, the nostalgia comes in waves- him as a child laying flat on his stomach, drawing on white printer paper right on the ground. With nostalgia, there's some agitation, because that child was him for all of two weeks and he'd caused a lot of trouble just being him. ]

...I kind of want to smash the pot on the ground. On the other hand, maybe you should hold it.

[liberal_arts]

-Kasen didn't move to take it. In fact, he gave Ryoji a very pointed look.-

Why would I stop you from smashing the pot? I'm not here to interfere with how you choose to express yourself.

[appraiser]

[ Ryoji's shoulders drop when faced with that look. It's expressing, but this isn't- ]

Because I don't want anger and spite to be emotions I express, at any given time. They're not good feelings to have drive me, even though they would have helped, back then...

[liberal_arts]

Anger doesn't go away simply because you reject it. Identifying emotions in simple, morally simplistic terms limits your ability to express yourself in a meaningful way.

Anger isn't the problem. It's how the anger is directed. How it is channeled.

[appraiser]

[ He knows that. He knows that very well, bottling up any negative emotions and letting them fester forever until he tires himself out instead of addressing it. This isn't really addressing his anxieties and frustrations either, but staring down at the pitch black ink, at the very least, it's facing it. That's the first step.

The second is lifting the pot without another word, and dashing it right across the ground, where it hits the canvas and shatters, ink spilling out and staining the canvas black, white here and there where the surface is protected by the very shards of pottery that once housed the ink. ]

[liberal_arts]

...

-Kasen stands there silently, letting the moment rest and breathe, before finally speaking up.-

What do you see in the blackness?

[appraiser]

[ ...Ryoji kneels, lifting the larger shards of pottery he's able to without cutting his fingers, and sets them aside. ]

It's not total blackness. It reminds me of space... the overwhelming, infinite emptiness of space, but at a single glance, there's light to be found as well.

[liberal_arts]

That light. It's fleeting, isn't it? It sounds worth clinging to...

[appraiser]

Yeah, but it doesn't last.

[ Even on the canvas, however much the paper tries to hold the ink there in its fibers, it spreads and eventually fills in all those white spaces. ]

...There isn't much else I can do with a completely black canvas. Do you have white paint?

[liberal_arts]

-He didn't want to mention that he could have stopped it. Practically or metaphorically, that wasn't a productive line of conversation. Instead he silently nodded, taking up another jar, another brush, a pure white, and handed it to Ryoji.-

[appraiser]

[ He could have, but he didn't. That's his problem, he thinks as he dips the clean brush into the white ink, and holds it over the canvas: he hesitates, and doubts, and all the while, time marches on and his indecision is every bit a decision in itself. Even now, just standing there, paint drips from the brush and splatters white on black, and they lie there in contrast, too thick to blend into grey. ]

...I still don't know what I'm doing. Being impulsive... isn't a good thing. But neither is doing nothing. [ He stands there, and flicks flecks of paint off the brush, letting them speckle the black like distant stars. ]