[ he really needs to conserve water, truly, but at mention of the desert there really is no stopping the tears that go squeezing themselves out of his eyes. it makes the floor beneath his cheek tacky, and somehow colder than before. ugh. ]
[ he's always dreamt of beaches and water, glittering blues and whites, but. ]
I would have liked to see the Sahara.
[ he would have liked to travel in his early retirement. ]
It's where winds, deadly and merciless, live and thrive. It must be beautiful...
[ turning his hand, cool, calloused fingers wrap around Choso's wrist. not comfortable perhaps, but comforting hopefully. Nanami won't leave the boy alone in the dark until help arrives. ]
[ and it is a comfort, in the end. nanami’s grip is the anchor by which choso has moored himself, and just like any other human left adrift he, too, clings to warmth and hope. ]
The Sahara.
[ there is no digital notepad to scribe the word down onto now, so he says it instead, rolls it around on his tongue and hopes he’s got enough of a feel of it to remember it in another world, a brighter, warmer place than this. ]
The Mojave was awful. It was hot, and bright, and sand got into everything.
[ but that’s no way to reassure someone. try again. ]
But at night, there was nh-nothing but stars. More stars than I could ever count. All together we camped under those stars and watched the sky turn.
[ a soft sound like a laugh almost. laughing at himself. he's tried sending the others a message, but isn't sure if it's reached anyone or if they were able to decipher it. somewhere during the painful ordeal, he may have accidentally accessed his implant and sent who knows what nonsense. ]
[ he thinks he’s smiling, things it’s a laugh lingering on the tail-end of each syllable, but he can’t feel his face, can’t feel anything outside of the whole-body ache that’s taken root in his soul. ]
Let’s find a beach instead. All the sand you want with all the stars you need.
[ sand, small and strange and sometimes see-through depending on the grain. maybe next time, he’ll spend more time playing in the sand with the others. or eating, or drinking, or just sleeping. ]
[ he wants to cry, but it’s a waste of water, of fluid that’s already oozing out of the spear-wound in his ribs. so he sniffles, and tries to squeeze back, cheek flat against the floor. ]
What do humans dream of when they dream of beautiful things? What do you yearn for?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The Mojave. [ he says it mou-jayve. ] Have you?
oh no, don't cry, bb
[ he's always dreamt of beaches and water, glittering blues and whites, but. ]
I would have liked to see the Sahara.
[ he would have liked to travel in his early retirement. ]
It's where winds, deadly and merciless, live and thrive. It must be beautiful...
[ turning his hand, cool, calloused fingers wrap around Choso's wrist. not comfortable perhaps, but comforting hopefully. Nanami won't leave the boy alone in the dark until help arrives. ]
How is the Mojave?
🥺
The Sahara.
[ there is no digital notepad to scribe the word down onto now, so he says it instead, rolls it around on his tongue and hopes he’s got enough of a feel of it to remember it in another world, a brighter, warmer place than this. ]
The Mojave was awful. It was hot, and bright, and sand got into everything.
[ but that’s no way to reassure someone. try again. ]
But at night, there was nh-nothing but stars. More stars than I could ever count. All together we camped under those stars and watched the sky turn.
We can teh-take you there, maybe.
no subject
Ah... stars.
[ he is a city boy through and through but if there are stars... ]
Mmh, you should. I would like that.
no subject
[ he says it like a warning, like that isn’t the whole draw of the desert to humans who have seen nothing but the city-stained sky. ]
no subject
[ a soft sound like a laugh almost. laughing at himself. he's tried sending the others a message, but isn't sure if it's reached anyone or if they were able to decipher it. somewhere during the painful ordeal, he may have accidentally accessed his implant and sent who knows what nonsense. ]
Wha... what would you like to see?
no subject
Someplace like Okinawa. Colourful, and warm, with water you can see through right to the sand below.
no subject
[ his dream ending. living in a small house by the beach, going for a swim first thing in the mornings. ]
I wanted to retire in a place like that. Sandy beaches, the ocean, and waterfalls.
no subject
[ he thinks he’s smiling, things it’s a laugh lingering on the tail-end of each syllable, but he can’t feel his face, can’t feel anything outside of the whole-body ache that’s taken root in his soul. ]
Let’s find a beach instead. All the sand you want with all the stars you need.
no subject
[ there's something fascinating about those myriads of tiny grains, all single despite being lumped into this mass. a bit like people, he supposes. ]
Okinawa, then. We can help Itadori's boyfriend.
no subject
I can clean the fish. We can eat so much.
no subject
[ even if the objective is to help Raidou with his project, they should have time to enjoy themselves a little whilst on the island. ]
If there's enough fruit, we can make our own wine.
no subject
[ with everyone, with nanami, with the world. his hand twitches, fingers squeezing a touch tighter. ]
In a coconut we found ourselves.
no subject
no subject
[ yes, and why not? to eat when he’s hungry and drink coconuts with little umbrellas when he’s parched, what a luscious dream. ]
no subject
[ a raspy, amused chuckle. ]
No better place for wish fulfilment than Okinawa, I guess.
no subject
[ a raspy breath, wet with spittle or blood, or both. ]
Will you tell me how your world works?
no subject
the sound of Choso's laboured breathing has Nanami tighten his grip on the other man, thumb brushing over cool skin, trying to soothe somehow. ]
My world? What do you mean? What would you like to know?
no subject
What do humans dream of when they dream of beautiful things? What do you yearn for?
no subject
The same things as you, I reckon. Things and people that bring them joy. Something to ease the burden of living.