new_world_dr | [Action] Change in Fortune

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[Action] Change in Fortune

[The little figure is hanging around at the very edge of the town's market square, trying his hardest to be absolutely invisible -- and probably not faring all that well, as a small child in a heavy iron mask isn't exactly subtle. He's also crying softly, audible only at close range -- not full-on sobs, but little shivering, hitching breaths and his one visible eye welling up with tears. This isn't where he was when he fell asleep, and he doesn't know where he is, and after so long spent in dim solitude, the noise and bright sunshine in the market are overwhelming.

He needs to figure out something about where he is -- what has happened to him, where his home has gone, what he's going to do with himself now -- even though the thought of approaching a stranger is frightening.

He looks around, searching for someone who looks unthreatening, or kind, or maybe like they're good at picking locks.

(After all, if he isn't at home, there is no guard with a key who can unlock the lower half of his mask so he can eat. That's important.)]

"U-Um. Excuse me?"

[When he makes his approach, his voice is thin and tremulous.]

"If... if it isn't too much trouble... could you please tell me where this is?"

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[Sanji's arrival had gone without much fanfare or fuss, he'd figured out quickly that the SmartSnail system had all of the information he needed. And once that was dealt with, his next goal was to touch base and figure out where everyone was. And how many of everyone. And how much more he'd be going through in groceries, what timing to allot for, basic things that aren't very glamorous but important. And after what he'd come from, what he was experiencing before the worlds ended up shifting together, this felt like a vacation.

He needed to find a spot to work, he'd send out a few messages to the contacts he recognized, and it didn't take him long to realize that yes, there would possible be duplicates of himself. That, he could handle mentally. It was worth the chance of duplicates of certain people for duplicates of better people, so many Namis and Robins and yes. The idea of different timelines though, especially so violently different in range, didn't even vaguely occur to him.

And then he's there, small and fragile and fucking locked away. And no matter how he can internalize and deal with his own experiences, no matter how locked away he can push them into the back of his mind and heart, this makes him furious. And miserable, and how fucking dare they? It's funny, he's not even mad for himself really, but it puts everything into a burning, ripping perspective and his heart is pounding with the force of his crushing emotions.

What the hell does he even say? How can he deal with this poor kid?

He takes another deep drag off of his cigarette, and drops to one knee to get a better look at him. Is this what he looked like, to them? Did they see this kind of fear? Did they care?

No, he knows the answer to that. Fuck them, fuck his stupid once-family, and the bullshit they've put him through. Then, and now.] Hey. Don't worry about where we are right now. Let's get that off of you first. [Suddenly, words are painful. And he's almost surprised that he got them out without choking up or cursing or crying himself.]

[When this stranger drops down to one knee, putting himself face-to-face with the little boy who (unknown to him) is his past, Sanji sees what he couldn't from the previous angle -- that curled eyebrow, perfectly distinctive, an unmistakable mark of breeding, and he flinches hard, drawing half a step back from the stranger. The stranger who is incontrovertibly related to him, although he's never seen his like before.

(The direction of that swirl eludes him at first, in its significance. Give him a moment.)

But he's so frightened, so disoriented, that even the prospect of an unrecognized family member -- and the strong correlation in his mind between family and source of pain -- is less powerful than the draw of familiarity, something known amidst so much unknown. And the man did say he would get that (the mask, the prison he carries with him, the mark of denial) off of him. That, he wants more than anything.]

Can... can you? There's no key here....

[He sounds faltering, but deep down, there's hope.]

[If Sanji was angry before, he's nearly nauseated now with sheer distress. Dammit, this poor kid. He's so upset that it hurts, something akin to a twinge of pain running down his spine as he tries to keep his expressions steady, his mood stable. He can freak out about this later, with a great meal and no small amount of great win. But for now, he's just got to do his best for him, because fuck, no one else is going to.

He didn't think that it was possible to feel so much fury. It's the kind of anger that eats away at someone, it's like acid is swirling through him and breaking him down, just at the reactions of one scared brat. But he has to deal, god what he wouldn't give for some advice. Because flying solo with a traumatized kid is more than he's ready to deal with.]

I think we can break it off.

[Or he'll get a locksmith. Or find some asshole with an over the top power can get it off, if he can't manage through more normal ways. Not that there's anything normal about the sheer awful of a kid being locked up like this.

It's easier to deal when he separates himself from the child, from himself. But it also makes it worse in a way. He can compartmentalize, and internalize every bit of personal pain and trauma he's experienced. But now, he's feeling these emotions raw and new all over, with a protective twist and he'd really rather do without.

There's not enough wine or cigarettes in the entire city to help him get through this.] Hold still, let me look. [He's not sure that he can actually get it off without hurting him, but he can't just leave it on.]

[Break it off sounds terrifying (won't that hurt?) but the prospect of getting it off is more than enough impetus for Sanji to obediently stay still and allow the mask to be examined. Even if it does hurt -- well, it's not like he isn't used to pain, as much as he doesn't like it. He's willing to suffer a little in order to be free.

But if this stranger (and he needs a name to call him, even if there's an obvious Vinsmoke that he thinks must be attached to it) is even considering breaking the mask as a possibility, then that must say a lot.]

If you can break it... you must be really strong, right?

[He's not quite sure if he feels hopeful about that, or feels it as a prelude to yet more shame about his own lack of strength, but--

Off. Get it off. Get free of it. For that, he will take anything. Pain, humiliation, shame, whatever it takes.]

A man's got to be strong. But it doesn't matter how strong you are, some things take other skills. You can't bash your way through everything. Only an idiot tries that.

[That's it, keep the voice stable and steady, while thoroughly examining the mask and trying to figure out exactly what it would take to free the kid from it. It's a strong mask, no kid needs anything like this, it's disgusting that he's been treated like a criminal. He's suddenly very much trying to act like a real adult, trying to channel his inner Zeff, because he needs an mature and responsible adult in this situation. He's just not that great with kids, and he's not a patient or kind person. He doesn't see himself as someone who can give children what they need to thrive in general, for any length of time, much less a visibly traumatized child.

But he's going to do this right, and not expose this poor brat to any more suffering than necessary.] Let's go. [If a professional can't get it off for a fee, he'll start mass texting any contact in the damned SmartSnail that might sound vaguely like a useful option. And he's wondering if he could get a large straw through without much fuss, he could make a pretty amazing liquid meal or two for him until they manage this.

It's been too long for him to thoroughly remember all the details about how it felt to wear the damn thing, how the spaces were, how it all worked. But the pain is still fresh when he looks at the kid, and his heart starts racing all over again.

Fuck the entire shitty Vinsmoke family. His mother was too good for them. And so is this kid.]

[It's not completely foreign to him, the thought that there are other things needed beside strength -- after all, the Vinsmoke children are all well-educated, all taught things like science and math and strategy -- but strength has always been prized above all, and the lack of it has been the source of so much suffering for him.

You can't bash your way through everything, this stranger-Vinsmoke says, and Sanji wonders quietly if he's someone else who has not been able to meet the standard they set.

But right now, he's going to help him get out of the mask, somehow (somehow) and that means that whoever he is, he's more than willing to defy the will that put Sanji in it to start with. And that...

... That gives him hope.]

Mister? [He hesitates, unsure.] What... what should I call you?

Come on, you're wasting time.

[While he will wait for him, and he'd never leave him behind, he's not really sure what to say to him. How would he even explain this? What is he going to do at this point? The kid has got enough on his mental plate right now, it'd be hard on him to learn about the duplicates right away.

And maybe, he's selfish. Maybe he can handle all of this easier himself if he doesn't show him that they're the same person. Hell, even a kid wouldn't believe something that sounds as idiotic as a bunch of alternative realities mushing in on each other, and dammit. This is all so stupid.] We're going to get a locksmith to take a look at that, see if they can get it off. I can't do it without hurting you.

[He bows his head and nods at the chiding tone, scampering to keep up with the man's long strides. Even if the tone wasn't sharp as a rebuke, he would still hear the pointed message of avoidance -- don't ask that. This man is willing to help, wants to get him out of the mask; he can accept that and not ask more questions, at least for now.

A part of him wants to say, I don't care if you hurt me, so long as you get it off. He's been hurt before, knows that he hates it but knows that he can survive it, and if the tradeoff of pain is getting this six-month torture device off of him, he'd make the trade in a heartbeat. But that's not the kind of thing you say to a stranger, and besides, he's not quite sure how much it would hurt. How this man would be able to get it off of him.

Even with the weight of the mask, though, his head is swiveling, looking around as much as he can -- a little more reassured, now, with someone clearly taking charge of him, and better able to set aside his fear and feel the immense curiosity at being somewhere different, somewhere entirely new to his limited life experience.]

[Smart kid. Sanji is impressed, he doesn't really remember all of his reactions from back then. He's buried them so far down, trying to crush his memories, some of that being successful but most of it not. But he's pretty sure that he'd be worse shape right now, in his place, that he wouldn't be so quiet and so good. It's still easier to consider him someone else entirely, and he's quietly furious still that such a good brat had to deal with any of this.

He walks through, making sure to set his stride so that the kid isn't left behind, and he gets them both to a locksmith's shop without much fuss or searching. And the man blinks at the mask, and unlike Sanji he doesn't even attempt to hide how angry he is about the whole situation.] Keep it down. Just get it off of him. [He's worried that too much fuss will scare the child more.]

[ Law is adapting quickly enough to the idea of this convergence, even if none of his old phone numbers seem to be working on this strange new snail. He'll figure out his way around that, around the new device, eventually; distracting, though, is a familiar voice nearby. In the last few hours he hasn't recognized his location or any of the people in it: a voice not just familiar but of a tenuous ally is welcome. ]

[ And as he approaches, glancing at the sign above the open door to see locksmith as the location, he sees what the proprietor is working on (struggling with) and stops dead in his tracks. ]

[ After a solid two or three seconds of cold, blank staring, a fury like he hasn't felt in years blazes up in his chest. ]

Blackleg-ya.

[ It's a snap, bristling with poorly-controlled rage, even if Sanji isn't actually the source of all this anger rocking his entire core. ]

What the hell is this?

[Sanji doesn't know that voice, but the tone of it freezes his heart in his chest; he knows the rage behind it all too well, has heard it from exactly one person in his life and that one person is the source of more pain and woe than all his siblings put together. This person is angry, and poorly restraining that anger, and even with the locksmith puzzling away at the back of his head, he tries to shrink away, as if he could hide himself behind nothing but himself.

Is this man with him Blackleg? He notices the name, but that's for later -- that's for after this anger, whatever the source or reason for it, is assuaged, or at work, after it has broken over him and left him in its wake.]

Don't scare him. [Sanji doesn't know what to do, he's not equipped to be loving in this sense, to be comforting and supportive. But he can keep himself together, he can keep his tone steady. And he sets his hand on the kid's back, trying to keep WWND in his mind. What would Nami do?. A fantastic idea, in theory. Which doesn't work out so well for him, she's got such a way with kids, and he just doesn't.

And he doesn't exactly have a soft, perfect, comforting form to offer either, but that's neither here nor there.] It's locked on. I hired him to get it off. [His tone is stable still, but the locksmith is getting frustrated. His tools just aren't meant to handle something like this, and one of the more fragile pins he's trying to use snaps while he tries to pick it.]

Room.

[ There's no hesitation; Law brings up a (relatively) small blue bubble as soon as that pin snaps, encompassing the entire inside of the building. He can examine the... the muzzle, the cage, like this, without getting too close, because not scaring the child isn't something he feels within his capabilities right now. He can usually control his anger, but this... This child locked up like a monster. The lock is complex, meant not to be picked, multiple interlocking gears and tumblers all focused around this single keyhole. He has no context for this little boy but it's too much like -

- wait a second. ]

[ The boy's body is small and young and not terribly strong but that entire bone structure is familiar, especially with what it reminds him of right here to glance at. ...Mirror worlds converging indeed. ]

[ He breathes out, the surprise actually mollifying his anger a little. So many questions, and none of them correct to ask. ]

Step back, [ he says with eyes on the blacksmith, thumbing Kikoku from its seat in its sheath with a clink. ] I can get it off without hurting him. You'll still be paid for your services.

[ Don't scare him, his supposedly nameless rescuer says, but it's far too late for that -- years too late, really. Fear is an old companion, familiar but no less galling for it. ]

[ Just like the weight of the mask that these strangers -- three now, his blond rescuer, the locksmith, and now this swordsman -- are all bending their wills to get off of him. The sense of unreality makes the edges of his thoughts waver. To have help -- to have people around him, adults, who want to see him freed of it, who are concerned about him feeling the fear that has always marked him as less... ]

[ It's amazing. ]

[ But that doesn't stop him from shrinking back a little against that supportive hand. The clink of the sword being loosened in its sheath isn't reassuring. Is this newcomer going to cut the mask? ]

Thank you...

[ Cutting him or not, this man just showed up and already intends to free him. He never thought the world might be full of people like this. ]

[Don't scare him more was closer to what Sanji meant by it. He still remembers, still knows that sickening dread that bubbled up inside of him, how his existence was cruelty. And he's not going to let that pain continue here, in this world of worlds where nothing is limited to them.]

He's going to get you out of it. Hold still.

[Sanji moves away as well, hand leaving the kid's back. But he keeps himself close and in view in case that actually does something to help Sanji stay calm. And he's going to leave this in Law's hands now. If this was someone else, a normal kid in trouble maybe, someone he wasn't so intrinsically connected to he'd probably be fine just waiting for the locksmith or taking him to search for Nami with him. She'd definitely be able to get it off without traumatizing the brat further.

But now, it's about getting it done fast. So he watches, cigarette slowly burning down unsmoked, as he keeps a protective eye over the child that has already been through so much.

A thought comes then.] Be good and when it's off you can come with me and make something to eat.

Edited 2019-03-14 14:59 (UTC)

[ Law doesn't have the time or patience to explain himself to the child right now, not when this is about an entirely different kind of mercy than medical life and death, when it's not a delicate procedure involving moving lead out of organs or poison out of blood. Still - ]

Close your eyes.

[ - it'll scare the absolute shit out of him if he figures out what Law's doing. ]

[ So when Law unsheathes Kikoku, wielding it one-handed, he holds out a hand toward the young Blackleg before swinging. A quick flash, a diagonal strike, cuts the mask in two - cuts the boy's entire head in two, but his empty hand closes with a murmur of Shambles to put it back together before it can shift, before it's separated by more than just the swish through of the blade. Invisible to the locksmith, though perhaps not to the cook. Half a moment later the ugly mask separates with an audible clank of angry clockwork and slips from the child's head. Another Shambles deposits the pieces unceremoniously into the locksmith's trash before they can fall far enough to hit the boy's shoulders, much less his small and so important feet. ]

[ The stranger doesn't say have something to eat, he says make something to eat, and Sanji brightens up despite himself, despite all the confusion and intimidation, because that's really the crowning glory on today! Out of his cell, freed of the hateful mask, and off to cook afterward? It's wonderful! ]

[ The swing of the sword startles a yelp out of him, and there's a moment of intense, painful cold in his head -- but then the weight of the mask is gone, gone for good, his head so light it could reach the clouds, and he puts his hands up to feel his own face, his own hair, fingers tracing his features as though they're entirely new to him, and the smile that breaks across his face is like the dawn, growing into a pure shining radiance of happiness. ]

It's gone!

[ And before he can think about whether this is a good idea, he flings himself forward and hugs the strange swordsman around the waist. He doesn't understand exactly how it all worked, but it's gone and he's free. ]

Thank you!!

[Sanji knows what Law is capable of, he knows he's trustworthy when it comes down to it, but that doesn't mean his heart isn't in his damn throat the entire time. And he's absolutely horrified as he watches, even though it's for the best and it's sure as hell getting the job done better than the locksmith's attempts.

Still, he wishes that it didn't have to be dealt with at all, no matter what method got the mask off or how fast it happened.

Sanji turns to face Law as the kid hugs him, fuck that's cute, he's so happy. He probably would have felt the same way though, in this situation. Free of that prison, free of that genetic horror show, free of the mask. It would have seemed too good to be true.] Thanks. Means a lot. [Fuck, he is not equipped for emotional moments with men, this makes things a lot harder. He figures that he'll offer a meal as thank you in a minute too, for now he goes over to pull out his beri for the locksmith. He figures he owes him a little more for that tool too.]

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[Action] Change in Fortune

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apologies for late skdjlsa

aaaaaah yay!

Poke at me if I miss a turn.

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