interstellar5555 | [OPEN] if i could begin to be

Entry tags:

steven universe

[OPEN] if i could begin to be

Who: Steven/Tiger and YOU.
What: Sad glowing child attempts to play music and wanders Pride HQ, doing various things, in anticipation of upcoming concert.
When: Any time around nowish.
Where: Around Pride HQ.
Warnings: Possibly mentions of torture and child abuse.

SYSTEM CRASH PENTHOUSE (OPEN TO BANDMATES AND VISITING CR)
He’s been trying. At least there’s that.

Ever since Trucy made her announcement to the band about her flash concert plans, he’s known that having to get up on stage again is an inevitability, no matter how messed up he is. The inhuman features of his broken appearance can probably be concealed by pretending as if they are intentional special effects, but the difficulty he’s had focusing is another matter entirely.

So, he’s been practicing. For the last several days, he’s often been found camping out in the living area of the penthouse, trying to work over his parts, and trying to remember how they’re done. Sometimes it feels impossibly difficult, like every time he tries to piece a new part of it together, the rest of the puzzle falls apart. Other times, it almost seems to flow, and he feels just a little bit like how he’s supposed to be.

Right now, he isn’t sure which it is. It seemed like it was going well earlier, but now he’s hit a dry spot. In one particular song, he keeps trying to play his keyboard part but every time it feels like he’s losing track of the rhythm until it falls completely out of line with the rest of the synth arrangement.

He’s getting frustrated, which only seems to make it worse. The glowing pink crack lines only seem to form more frequently when he feels like this. But he’s trying.

AROUND PRIDE HQ (OPEN TO ALL)
When allowed to wander the residential areas of the Pride tower, he kind of sticks out like a sore thumb. The glowing pink crack lines that have formed across his body have remained there since he returned from his punishment, moving in constantly shifting patterns across his flesh. He’s been dressed in sweaters and full leggings or pants most of the time to try to hide them, but they still appear on his face and hands from time to time. Sunglasses have been covering the glowing expanses of his eyes.

There’s probably a body guard lingering somewhere nearby, while he’s out and about like this, within range of sight but not closer. He spends his time lingering on the balconies and star watching in the evenings, a series of space related books brought along with him and left hanging open across his lap. He’s been trying to learn the constellations recently, and part of him wonders why he never learned them before.

During the day he’ll sometimes be found having zoned out of dozed off in public, in a number of the different lounges, sometimes in the middle of drawing a bunch of pictures that range from normal to surreal to mildly disturbed. The quality is pretty good, for his age.

He hasn’t been wearing makeup recently, which is perhaps one of the most glaring differences, despite everything. The bratty and obnoxious child of months ago has never seemed further away.

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"Hey."

Pinkie's been listening to Tiger practice for a little while - not quite hovering, but definitely in the area. She doesn't like to let any of the band too far out of her sight anymore. Well, except for Kido; god knows where Kido is. It's not practical in the least. But at least she can keep an eye on Tiger, right? Eventually, when things don't seem to be going so well, she wanders into the room. "Would it help if like...I did my part too? I can get my keytar."

She should probably practice anyway. She hasn't played the keytar in...well, a really long time.

He stops when he hears her approach, looking somewhat ashamed, as if concerned that she's heard how bad he's been playing. When she offers to play with him, though, his foggy expression lightens a little - like she's offered something that actually makes him happy.

"Yeah...okay. I'll...I can try. We have to do this together, anyway..."

Despite everything, they're all in it together.

"Okay! Let me get my keytar!"

It's not as exciting a prospect for her. Keytars are weird instruments. They make her spread her fingers out and use all of them at once, which sometimes feels like too many limbs to be keeping track of. But it'll make Tiger happy, and she needs to do it anyway, so she bounces out of the room and returns in a few seconds.

"We should have a big practice sometime," she suggests as she leans over to plug it in. "Like, just here, but all together."

He watches her with particular interest, though it can be hard to tell with the strangeness of his eyes. He thinks about that for a moment, and then nods.

"We...we gotta be ready for Trucy's show. I don't wanna mess it up."

It really feels like mostly Trucy's thing at the moment. He's doing it for her more than anything else. He doesn't want to let her down. He wants to try, even though he's scared he'll fail.

"I miss when it was...when this was stuff was more fun..."

"Yeah, me too."

Pinkie perches on the arm of a couch and kneads at the keys. It's not tuning - it doesn't need tuning, and anyway nobody tunes an instrument with their knuckles. It hurts a little, stretching them farther than they're meant to go. She uncurls her fingers and tries again.

"I used to get excited like her, but I kinda wish we weren't even doing it." Saying that feels wrong, and she's quick to add, "Not forever, I mean! Just not right now."

Steven watches her try to stretch her fingers, and the obvious discomfort that comes with it. She never used to be like that. She used to be able to play the keytar with no problems at all, but every time they perform in more recent history, it's seemed like more and more of an ordeal.

He understands how she feels. He's having a hard time too, even if it's for totally different reasons. He runs his fingers over his broken gem again, trying to remember what it felt like to not have his thoughts constantly scattered.

"I'm sorry that...that you have to feel that way." He frowns, stretching his fingers over his keyboard in anticipation. "I don't know if anybody wants to do this anymore..."

"I guess Trucy does," she points out with a shrug. She doesn't begrudge her that; it's good that there's someone who's still enthusiastic. Pinkie only worries that it won't last.

She curls and uncurls her fingers, then stretches them across the keys in the normal way. It feels gross, but she's going to have to get used to it sooner or later. "But yeah. Things aren't any better at Virgo either, it sounds like. It'd be nice if we could all just take a break for a little while." It's out of the question, of course. It's not like they even set their own schedules.

Ever since Yuffie had disappeared and Luci had too, Xanxus had been watching. Watching the others. He's made promises though. He's promised two people he'd behave and he will keep that promise, no matter what. Still, that doesn't mean he can't watch. That doesn't mean he can't notice.

It's hard to miss the little shit. Hard to miss those fissure lines around the kid, like he's been shattered like glass. He tells himself he doesn't give a shit. He let this kid nearly drown. But this kid might have answers as to what happened to Yuffie.

He's never apologized for a damn thing in his entire life. He doesn't even know how. So instead, he just lets himself out onto the balcony with a cigarette, noting the book on the kid's lap.

"That one is Polaris. The North Star. But it shouldn't be there... It should be over there." He points to a different area of the sky. Where the star would be if they were in Italy.

Even with everything disconnected in his head, his first reaction to Xanxus is still fear. He shies away from the gesture, looking at the man uncertainly. A sense of anxiety is already stirring in his chest. He doesn't know what he wants - he assumes it can't be good.

But he doesn't tell him to go away. He's scared to, and he doesn't have it in him to be rude like that anymore.

"...Y-Yeah..." he says, huddling down over his book uncertainly. "I guess..."

The kid looks like a scared dog. He almost wants to laugh and call the little shit a mutt. He doesn't. He's just out here for a smoke and to get his head wrapped around all the bullshit that's happening. Maybe, maybe to make some sort of peace. Maybe. He hasn't decided yet. But the point still remains that they're both out here and he's watching the sky.

"Not I guess. Look up there. Really look. Nothing's in the right place. Nothing. That should be there." He points with the glowing cherry of his cigarette. "And that should be over there." He blows out a long puff of smoke. "And that one right there...shouldn't exist."

The one he points at might or might not be the Sun from the solar system.

Steven blinks up at the stars, his eyes glowing fairly vibrantly in the dark. He thinks about it for a while, but the simple answer of it being the perspective of a different location on Tera doesn't come to mind.

He looks down at the book in his lap.

"...It looks the same in here," he says softly. He's not really trying to argue with the guy, just stating a fact. He's not sure where Xanxus's confusion is coming from.

Edited 2016-03-01 23:14 (UTC)

"That's because that book is from here. Of course it's going to be right." He growls a little and returns to look at the stars in the sky. He knows it's ridiculous. This isn't even something he should be talking about, least of all to some kid he didn't give a fuck about. But at the same time, it makes him think about it. How the book and the sky line up but his memories of the stars don't.

Stars look different when you're in another part of the globe. How different must they be when you're upon another planet all together! But that's not something he's willing to voice to anyone. He already is certain he's slowly growing insane.

He breaths out another heavy puff of smoke, "It's not like some brat like you would even get it. I bet you've never been outside your mom's basement until now."

Sabo can't help but be a little distracted by all the things happening. He feels like he's missing out somehow still. That there's something he's not quite catching. It unnerves him and makes it impossible to settle. Especially since he also has the feeling that something is very very wrong.

He is somewhat distracted from his thoughts, though, by the kid drawing nearby. There's something definitely wrong with him. Those pink cracks don't seem to him to be normal though the kid looks okay enough. It sort of reminds him of red hot lava showing through black and the thought makes him sick somehow.

Nevertheless, he sits beside the kid, giving him space but close enough to make it seem that he is, indeed, sitting beside him.

"What are you drawing?"

Steven looks at him in surprise, and then adjusts his sunglasses, like he's hoping Sabo won't see behind them. He doesn't think he's talked to this guy before - he's new, and everything has been so crazy since the new people came in.

"Just...a girl I met," he says. He keeps scribbling away. He's drawing what looks like a girl sitting on the lip of a crescent moon, with almost angelic wings.

It's probably alright. Sabo won't recognize him anyway. Though the sunglasses do look like he's trying to hide--either himself or a lack of sleep. Maybe he's light sensitive... or maybe his eyes are cracked as well and he doesn't want people to stare. Whatever it is, it doesn't bother Sabo much.

"She's pretty." He folds his arms over his raised knees and rests his chin on them. "Do you like this girl?"

"Yeah," he says, without much question. He might not be thinking of 'like' in the same terms, though. "I think I just met her once, but...I dunno. I...I'm not sure."

He hunches down over the table, frowning at his own drawing.

"She talked to me at a show."

Probably not the same way, no. But he thinks its cute anyway. Even if there's something off about this. The kid likes her and they talked once at a show. Was she a fan perhaps? That could always be awkward as far as he'd seen-- but he doesn't really know if it's because of that or any number of reasons.

"You don't seem to happy about that..."

"I don't think I'm going to see her again," he mumbles, a glowing crackline spreading across his cheek, as if responding to his despair. "I can't go outside, and...I'm in too much trouble."

That gets his attention like nothing else and he straightens, eyes widening a little as he watches the crack grow and his hand twitches, almost as if he feels compelled to touch it--but doesn't.

"Too much trouble? What sort of trouble?" And what can he do about it? There has to be something.

"I did something bad and...I got punished for it...and I'm not good for anything now. They...they don't want me around anymore."

It was all so terrible he doesn't even know how to discuss it. All his friends have told him it wasn't his fault but he's paying the price anyway.

Screw that. No, really, screw it. He hates that anyone is lead to feel like this! Especially a kid! That they messed up so badly-- No kid could do that! And to end up so hurt, so cracked, so broken--

Sabo slams the side of his fist into the wall, feeling the plaster give and dent and crack but not much caring. When he speaks, though his voice is tense and low.

"No... It wasn't your fault. I don't care what-- Listen who was it? Who did it?"

Sabo can't fix what has already been done but maybe he can prevent it from happening again. He feels like he has to. He feels like he needs to. Like holding a steel pipe and feeling reverberations along its length.

Steven flinches away, startled and terrified by Sabo's sudden violent action, like he's scared that the anger is directed at him. What Sabo actually says make it more clear his intent, but by then Steven has already wrapped his arms around himself protectively, shying away from the man.

"Miss Santiago," he says in a very small voice.

He flinches himself at the kid's reaction. Damn. He got mad. He hadn't meant to. Sabo stands to give the boy some space, especially as his own thoughts spark and roil around his skull. Santiago...

What the hell did the kid do to deserve it? That was the first thought, sudden and fierce. He must have done something. Miss Santiago was only looking out for their best interests after all and she wouldn't have reacted unless seriously provoked.

Right?

No that was all wrong.

It felt wrong. It tasted wrong. Everything about it-- because punishment was one thing but that-- that looked like torture. And he was so young-- whatever he was. There couldn't be anything... Sabo runs a hand through his hair. Shakes his head. His hears a buzzing in his ears.

When he speaks it's softly.

"What did you do?" Curious but not accusing and yet... he has to know.

Steven is quiet for a few moments longer, obviously reluctant to go into detail. Gradually, though, he loosens up enough to give a very short version of the tale.

"We...broke in somewhere she didn't want us to. And...and we wrecked her stuff, and...and it was stupid and bad. I'm so stupid."

He clutches at his hair, leaning forward against the table.

That is pretty serious... But he's also pretty hurt. Sabo isn't sure what to say. Or even what to feel. He wants to feel sympathy and he does, but it seems like a stupid thing to do, and for what? Why? It's not easy getting a gig like this so what were they trying to do even?

"Why did you do that? It's no excuse for... what happened but... these people... Pride are our benefactors..."

"Because I want to go home," he says, wrapping his arms around himself and sounding totally miserable. It's the truest thing he can say.

Sabo starts reaching out, hesitates, and ultimately puts his hand back in his pocket. Wants to go home, huh? He wants to ask what's stopping him but he has a feeling he knows. It's something important only he can't think of it. It's like a phrase he just can't remember.

"Well your contract should be up soon, right?" He doesn't actually know. He hopes so. A part of him is screaming for him to do something but another part rebels completely going against this label that's given them so much. "You'll just have to be patient." Though he says so kindly. Or tries to.

When Yuffie sees Tiger her entire face seems to go through about four or five different expressions before setting on something worried. She sidles on up to him and sits down on the couch beside him. She's more careful than she usually is, none of her flailing or wild dramatics. She seems much more subdued but a lot of that is very much intentional. She saw what was done to him, and she doesn't want to have any part in accidentally hurting him worse. She's also surprisingly careful of all of the sketches that have been spread out.

Yuffie is capable of that sort of thing, surprisingly.

"Hey there, kid." She says and smiles at him, making an effort to at least act somewhat normal. "How're you feelin?"

It takes him a moment to tune into her presence, blinking at her foggily with his weird looking eyes. He clasps the paper he's been drawing on hard enough that it crinkles between his fingers.

"I dunno," he says, holding it closer to his chest. "Okay." He's quiet for another few moments, and then: "Are you?"

"I'm always okay." She says it with a grin, and she tries to keep it in place when he looks at her with those odd eyes. Man, that's unsettling. She somewhat manages, which is better than she was really expecting to be perfectly honest.

"What'cha drawin'?" She says, and then after a beat Yuffie continues on talking. "If ya don't wanna tell me or somethin' it's okay. Ya don't have to. But you don't have t' crunch it up. I wont look."

"Oh..." He hadn't even really considered what he was doing. He guesses he just instinctively didn't want people to see. He hesitates for a moment, and then slowly unfolds his arms and hands, laying it back on the table. There's a drawing of a girl with glasses and long dark hair.

"Just someone I've...I saw her somewhere."

He sounds awkward about saying so, like that's not the whole story.

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[OPEN] if i could begin to be

Penthouse

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this can only go well

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