ROLEPLAY / Shinjiro Aragaki - Tumblr Posts

@icyexecutioner // x

when the words left Shinjiro's mouth, he'd hoped that the more aggressively unwilling approach would've been enough to cause the other to withdraw, reluctant but refusing to force a hand so adamant about staying as it was, but if he were being truthful; he knew better. Mitsuru wasn't someone he ever expected his attitude to work on, like a null strike against her that while Akihiko's immunity came with time as he learned all the little quirks of his body language and the way he spoke to see through any bluff ( nearly any bluff ), Mitsuru always felt to him to be organically engineered to piss him off.

he stifles his irritation, half of it from a thousand years ago, when it was just them, when he could recognize their footsteps down the hall or clatter in the floor beneath and be able to tell who was who because it was only them, only them, and it's very hard to convince himself to be angry when a deeper exhaustion whittles at his stomach beneath it; one not from her. Nostalgia turns to nausea, an argument going for forever, and he pushes it down. ( a talent he's gotten good at. he wonders if his winning streak will break anytime soon. out of the frying pan, into the oven. )

the superior, winning tone did get on his nerves a little, though. endlessly, things were requested of him... ... Jeez, these two would be good for crime investigation, wouldn't they?

" Sometimes, you're just as stubborn as Aki... " Shinjiro sighs, snipping in that indirect way he so likes to; maybe hoping to get under her nerves. " I told you a hundred times, I'm not going back. It's not like they'd take me, anyway, so don't push your luck. "

Shinjiro hadn't been a terrible student, at least not in the years he'd actually attended. He was never as perfect as Mitsuru herself, as most were, but his grades would go toe-to-toe with Aki's. On the days he decided to stick around, anyhow. His habit of ditching had existed a long, long time, until it grew up and out and eventually he decided staying away was better than facing it head on.

Maybe he'd been a little bit right to do it, too. ━ he tries not to think about it.

" Plus, " he continues, perhaps as if it'd win him mercy, his guts in opposition of Mitsuru from so far back still holding strong even now. " The less distraction, the more I focus on fighting Shadows. That's why I'm here, remember? " ( he lies, as if it was the only reason. as if, as if. )

patch . help my muse patch up a wound . - Shinji or Ken!

Shinjiro had always been able to handle pain. To him, it was second nature. Growing up with Akihiko being the rough-and-tumble type he is even before learning how to box, in the Orphanage they both were raised in, meant there was a level of necessity to be able to roll with the punches, rewarded when you could, punished when you couldn't. a skill he'd learn repeatedly, endlessly, the necessity of during his time away from SEES. ━ the second you were on your ass, or you froze up, or your arms were tied, it made you easy. easy to hurt. easy to kill. ━━ Shinjiro never liked making things easy for anyone.

SEES had always been an exception, though : or rather he should say it'd always been to those he considers friends, which might be why for all the way he twitches; arm in Takeba's grasp as the muscles seize & he can't help the way the overzealous pang of nerves make him want to rip it away outright; he does not pull away even as he draws a sharp breath through his teeth, ignores the way the smell of antiseptic makes him feel more than slightly lightheaded, clenches his hands into fists before; in a moment of surprisingly animalistic single-minded worry; thinks that shit, he'd rather not look like he's about to hit her when she's helping him out, and lets his rough hands go limp again.

Still, his fingers twitch as the burns are cleaned, nerves overworked and bitterly loud in this fact. He'll have to jab at Akihiko later to aim his Zionga's better next time they're in Tartarus together, just for the fun of starting a fight, even if he knew damn well it wasn't Aki that kept lighting him up like a Christmas tree this time...

" Damnit... " the curse writhes between his teeth, bruised jaw grinding. his eyes linger, intense, at Yukari's hands as they work & he sits on the first floor of Tartarus; bones aching; staring as though in judgement ( even as he attempts to make himself as pliable to work with as possible. ) " Those annoying Maya did nothing but cast Zionga the whole damn time... "

a piece of Shinjiro recognizes that Yukari might be helping him in the first place because of this fact, but as it is not the one cussing wildly ( and he can't pretend he knows her all that well to begin with ), he elects to ignore it.

a well-worn sigh escapes him, gazing at the burns littering his hands & arms as the roughest parts that had to sustain the damage; melee be scorned, his axe like a lightning rod. it deepens into a light scowl, stare flicking to Yukari's face. it stays there a long few moments, before he speaks again.

" ... I'm lucky it's not bad enough to get Mitsuru in a twist about it, but you don't gotta do this, you know. " Shinjiro studies her, meticulous, which always ends up feeling like he's trying to scare you out of something when it was him doing it. maybe he was. " It's some burns. It'll heal fast. Besides, you were carrying my ass most of the way anyways. "

"Now that's a load of bullshit..." the mutter leaves him as if second nature at the notion of him being the one carrying the team, he wasn't blind, he knew how easy it was to try and be evasive when it came to nasty wounds like these, how looking down the barrel of the gun was sometimes harder than pulling the trigger; not to wriggle out of them took a certain kind of guts even if Shinjiro hadn't been here long enough to see where it started from, but he's smart enough to relent when she notes the condition they both would've been in if not for him looking something like an easy target. Something in him shifts discontented at the notion that he was, however vague it might be, in a nervous pacing kind of way. Something that made him antsy. He knew better than anyone how much abuse he could handle and where his limits lied, but when they thought you were an easy target, the vultures flock, looking for a meal.

He shakes it off, and the daunting brunette relents to an exhale of quiet bone-deep relief ━ nearly humming ━ as the soothing gel is applied, nearly going slack in Yukari's hands like a big dog when you find just the right place to scratch, letting his head bow & his hair curtain his face as he gives in a little easier to her delicate handiwork.

He murmurs a response to the note of infection, albeit less hard edged than before, a "don't remind me..." as he permits himself to yield to her, just for now, pliable in the sore muscle along his wretched arms, a part of him acknowledging distantly how she might be able to feel the old scar tissue from times past depending on how far she ran her hand. ( He's a little thankful, he finds, that the coat and the turtleneck act as pretty good insulation at least as far as his torso was involved, he wouldn't want Yukari to see the remains of a thousand first aid hack-jobs littering his skin, notice the concerning discoloration under-the-skin splotches and the divots along the bones where the skin clings a little tighter than it should, feel the way he'd shiver without the padding even in so much heat... )

But speaking of. ( a contest between what he wants and what would make this easier for the both of them. How rarely he gets the opportunity for something a little more proper, how strongly he wants to hold his cards to his chest, as if he barely even knows her even now, as much of a stranger as she used to be... )

...

" ... if you need me to take off my coat, say something." he grunts as he shifts his weight uncomfortably on the steps he's sat on, hard material pressing into his tailbone, thumbing at the wood of his axe resting next to him as he feels the fabric bunch up further along his bicep. He casts an intimidating look over her shoulder, "Sweater stays on. That's the only rule I got. Whatever else that'd make this easier is fair game. God knows they're gonna need you for the rest of the night, anyway..." can't eat up too much of your precious time. ( not like there was much worth saving left anyway... )

Continued from here. ♥ @quillheel

There would have been a time that Yukari would have been afraid of tending such serious burn wounds, not to mentioned scared of the Hierophant who bore them. Back in the beginning, when she hadn't even been able to summon her Persona without hesitating at the idea of pointing her Evoker at her forehead and pulling the trigger? Oh, she would have insisted that Mitsuru take point on this, made up some excuse to busy herself elsewhere just to avoid the interaction. Over the months of exploring Tartarus and facing powerful foes that could--and had--caused her and the others grievous harm that needed to be treated, though, the Lovers' heart had hardened, courage forming an effective armor that helped her hold fast in the face of such things.

In a way, Yukari had become the best combat medic in their group.

Such meant that she was able to keep her hands steady, her touch light as possible--her attention focused on Shinjiro's burns even though her own injuries ached. A Diarama had been enough to take the edge off so she could function, but she had to keep some of her magic in reserve in case the group that was on the front lines got in over their heads. If it wasn't for that, she would've just opted for a Diarahan to handle the Hierophant's burns and been done with it.

That would've spared him considerable discomfort, if the way he cursed was any indicator.

To her credit, Yukari didn't so much as bat an eyelash at his coarse language, an absent-minded nod her response to his comments about the Mayas. It was honestly a miracle that she hadn't been fried to a crisp, considering her weakness to the Zio skills they utilized. The thought of him holding up his axe as if to act as a lightning rod was what had her looking up to meet his gaze as she finished wrapping a clean bandage around the last of the larger burns on his wrist.

"We both know you're the one that was carrying us, Senpai." A nod affirmed her point as she held his eye contact, refusing to be intimidated into looking away. It seemed that learning how to stand up to Mitsuru's aura of regal authority had its perks. "If you hadn't been drawing the lightnong away from me, then we both would've been a lot worse off. I can't help anyone if I'm electrocuted, y'know."

Retrieving a tube of antibiotic gel from her supplies, Yukari's attention returned to the lesser burns that were still exposed. The Lovers popped it open and set about applying it with a healer's gentle touch, the cooling gel probably offering more than a little relief to the Hierophant. "Besides, if any of these get infected, then you'll be out of action for way more than the rest of the night."