The Sun's First Rays :: Morning [Zayasu Ritsuko]

Crunch of dirt underfoot drummed out loudly to the background of the strong breeze through the leaves of forlorn trees, the biting chill barely felt by the musician. The city was just waking up now, such a surreal experience from what had happened not that long ago. On the outskirts, the cemetery, everything was silent. Still as the void. She couldn't hear the songs of birds chirping there, couldn't see the movement of people beginning their day as if nothing happened. That moment stayed there, frozen in time, untouched by the world. A separate, private sort of heartache. The entire experience had made her feel... uprooted. Alien. Like she was a specter that hadn't belonged to the world, this existence of unaware, lively people going about their day, oblivious to the tragedy all around them. It was made all the more stranger because she wasn't alone this time. Ritsuko was always used to being on her own, a pathetic, wounded creature keeping far away from the other ones as she could, both in body and in spirit. But she had met a fellow shredded soul that morning. The artist's own heartbreak, her parents... it disconnected her from her past and now she was lost.

Well, not lost, but she no longer knew where she was going, what she was doing... everything changed. She used to be a scuff mark on the earth, an undesirable thing that glaringly didn't belong yet stubbornly persisted. Now she was a scorch. A remnant of something beautiful that had been burnt away, the ghost left behind in the wake of a tragedy. No, maybe not disconnected, but reset. Nothing had ever tied her like that before. It was a fairly violent switch she wasn't prepared for. And here she was, unsure of her place in things or how to handle them, wandering down a waking street. The stark contrast of suburban houses and empty morning roads wasn't exactly welcoming, it only served to point out just how far away from that she was. She could've lived in houses like these, had neighbors and kids to play with... but that was a long time ago and it would never get any better.

Aoide weighed heavily on her shoulder as she trudged down the dirt road in scraping steps, her scratched aviators blocking out the morning shine. She was tired in more ways than one. Physically, emotionally, spiritually... it was so early in the day and yet she felt as if she had experienced a week's worth of exhausting tax. Dull blank eyes looked emptily to the ground in front of her, posture hunched as a cigarette hung out of her mouth, her scraping footsteps carrying her weary body forward. It was a long walk already, and a longer one still to her bus stop. Ritsuko hated the time to reflect. It hurt. Everything hurt. All she wanted to do was go back to her hotel room and drink all day so she wouldn't have to think about anything, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Maybe she could convince herself to do something else instead.

Heaving a heavy, shuddering sigh she looked upward, out to the street. It was mostly quiet and alone, something she hoped wouldn't change before she reached her destination. Save for a single entity turned away from her, a familiar one sporting a recognizable scarf. Ritz turned her eyes to the ground once more, continuing her trek. She didn't want to speak to her and didn't want to be spoken to, and she hoped she wouldn't notice her. The musician didn't have the energy to put up a confrontational front to shove people away from her, she would likely break down if she did. It was safe inside her little antisocial bubble. She wanted to keep inside it.

Again, like always, Ritsuko wouldn't get what she wanted. Her solo march became a duet as quickened footfalls caught up to her and matched her tempo. The hand at her side tightened into a trembling fist, her instincts spinning into full gear to tell her to become hostile at this new approach. Why? Why why why why why why couldn't everyone just leave her alone? Didn't they see she wanted to stay away from them? It was easier this way. It was safe this way. She couldn't get hurt and couldn't hurt anyone else, so why was it that people kept trying to force their way in?! What about her screamed "sociable" to them?! Why the hell did the continue to bother her then, just what the fuck were they out to prove! She hated them for it, hate, HATE, HATED them for their idiotic persistence and stupid positive attitudes! Fuck them! They could all go to hell!

...and she hated those thoughts too. At one time not too long ago she believed just that, that keeping herself segregated from people would protect her so no one could ever destroy her faith in them ever again. Nothing was more painful. A wrathful existence filled with spite was worth it to avoid the icy knife of heartache, of being made aware of just how dumb you were and of how little people saw you. An object, a dog, a tool, it didn't matter, it all played the same song and that song was a bitch to play. She wasn't so sure anymore. They had brought her up to think this way, that hate was the best course of action and anger was the correct response. It frightened her. Ritsuko could no longer tell where the cognitive programming ended and she began and there wasn't much she could do about it. Just another scar on her soul, one more invisible wound she had to live with. She was fed up with all of it. She was frustrated and hurt and afraid and emotionally vulnerable and all she wanted was for it to stop. It took an immense amount of willpower on her end to keep from breaking into tears again, she could already feel the lump forming in her throat.

Ritz stopped. She stopped moving to allow the rich girl to catch up... and she shut down. There wasn't much else she could do.

Her raven hair danced in the breeze with her back to the girl, a trembling form slowing to stillness as she took a slow, purposeful drag from her cigarette. Inhale...
One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
Five...
...exhale. The musician closed her eyes and kept them that way, even behind her reflective mirrors. Initially she'd wanted to rend the girl to shreds, to tear her down to such a foundation that she would never attempt to approach her ever again... but she had no idea if that's what she really wanted or if that's what she was taught to do. Ritsuko knew what she wanted. She wanted to be left alone.
"No. It's not. Nothing was your fault." spoke Ritsuko in dull, empty words. Her tone dragged through the dirt with their weight. Dead weight. Lifeless and lusterless, much like herself. Ordinarily she would've left it at that, but that wasn't really an answer to a question. She knew the wealthy teen wouldn't understand, and games weren't on her list of things to care about at the moment. Maybe if she gave her a clearer response she would leave her be.
"...I have a medical condition. It happens sometimes. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't worry about it."
A medical condition she could do nothing about. Therapy was expensive, drugs more so, and hospitals horrified her. The listless musician was never angry at her for causing her panic attack, she'd learned to live with them. If anything she was upset with herself for having them or with... others... for making her prone to them.

But she had nothing more to say on the subject. No more apologies, no more useless words. None of it helped anyway. Ritz adjusted the guitar to sit higher on her shoulder as she began to take steady steps away from the high schooler and her unwanted reparations

With her back to the rich teen Ritsuko had not seen any of her warm gestures. The shirt, curtsy, none of it, but that mattered little. She could feel the positivity in her voice, the invitation in her words. She'd have none of it. Her cheery mood floated across the breeze to lay over her like a blanket and it was suffocating. The musician even resented it to a degree, how someone could be so carefree while she stewed deep in the layers of the suffering others had driven her to. The scuffing of dirt crunched loudly as she halted her footsteps, turning her head slightly to the polite little child behind her to look at her through the corner of her eye. Her dull auburn eyes peeked out from behind her scratched aviators, sullen and lacking light. Her lids were puffing from mourning the loss of everything she thought she'd known, lamenting what had been taken away from her. She witnessed the gentle beam from her expression and the hand around her guitar strap unconsciously began to clench. Anger bit at the back of her mind, gnawing like a starving beast, begging her to become irate. Why did everyone get to be happy but her...? Why...? Why why why why WHY!? It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all...! It was disgusting... it was disgusting to walk around and look at... all these stupid happy people with their perfect fuckin' lives! She never got a life, why should they have one?! Fuck them! They should all go die!

A scowl tugged at her sorrowful expression, her eyes reflecting brightly with what would soon be further tears. Was she angry? Was she really? Or was it what she'd been told to do, something they taught her to make her a more effective weapon? Ritz was frightened of it. Spite was her rock, it kept her going in the roughest seas Life could throw at her. And it might all be a lie. A false hope, an artificial reason to persevere. It left her conflicted. If they wanted her to keep charging on no matter what maybe it would be better to just kill herself... but that was something she could never take back. She would need to absolutely sure and that scared her too. The head games. There wasn't anything left she could trust anymore, not even herself. Ritsuko refused to allow Life to win out of stubbornness and now she wasn't sure if she was winning or losing by staying alive. What if they'd wanted her to continue, to break everything she touched like she couldn't avoid? The melancholy young woman turned away from her counterpart and a puff from her cowboy killer, beginning to tremble slightly as uncertainty and existential depression washed over her.

"...I'm not anyone important..." she shuddered. Ritz never felt like she was. No one cared about her, it was easier that way. She didn't have anyone to disappoint when she left. People didn't cry when their tools break, no one would shed a tear when she was gone. Good. She didn't care, why should they? It was counterproductive, and her thoughts went out to Renata, but it wasn't something she could control. She was too accustomed to everyone not giving a shit just like she did, and was unsure if she wanted that to continue or not. Either way this was no longer a situation she was indifferent to, it was something she wanted to run from. The musician didn't want to be faced with expressions of happiness, to be mocked with the splendor she could never achieve.Ritz didn't want to start crying again, she didn't want to scream and throw things either. She just wanted everything to stop. Her steps away were with purpose now, posture like a slinking dog. She needed to stay away. People stayed safe that way.

A second set of scraping footfalls in the loose dirt signaled the more optimistic girl joining her, yet Ritsuko didn't adjust her gait or look in her direction. She didn't wish to have another conversation like this so soon... or at all. The musician found that even more frightening than the alternative, having people be concerned for her own sake. Disappointing them was something she would certainly do, and it happened every single time anyone dared to show compassion to her. All she could claim to be was a displaced fuck up, a self-destructive sorry excuse for an adult. Worrying about her was an effort in futility when she was marching angrily into the void as she was, something she was aware of. It scared her that people would get caught in the crossfire. Unlike the facade she liked to present Ritsuko wasn't as heartless as she appeared to be, hers was an incredibly fragile one. Opening up to people and being whipped for it, allowing others to actually give a damn about her and letting them down, that hurt much worse than constantly shoving people aside and growling at them to keep their distance. She didn't need to care then, and if she didn't never had to she would never get hurt. It was better to leave the knife in than to rip it out and bleed to death, no matter how much pain it brought her. Ritz was stubborn that way.

It's how she'd stuck with her twisted and tortured course through life for so long, not so much a drive or motivation pushing her than the sheer refusal to lay down and give up. Her existence wasn't a great one but it was all she had. The small and spiteful woman wouldn't let anything further be taken away, she'd drawn that line clear. Even if they had taught her to persevere, to be a weapon, she would use it how she saw fit and turn it against them. Ritsuko stewed in her vile thoughts as the younger girl strode beside her, her eyes shut tight as she attempted to regain control of herself. The guitarist wouldn't want to hate the helpful teenager but it would happen anyway. Things were easier that way, she wouldn't cry, and she didn't know how to do anything else. She breathed a shaking sigh filled with the sadness she tried to let go, attempting to let petulance take over once more.


"That's because you don't know me," she growled in an accusatory tone, shooting her a sideways warning glance. Her eyes, previously subdued and sullen, were now filled with a slow-burning hostility.
"You don't know who I am and what I've been through. People aren't worth a damn if they don't matter, you pass hundreds of people in the street every day. Are they important? Do they matter?" Ritsuko halted her strides and turned to face the helpful young lass, glaring through tinted lenses.
"Would you care if any of them died? Heh, they're already doing it. Each and every day thousands of people you don't know or care about die, do you notice? Do you even pay it any mind? I'll answer that- no, of course you don't, because none of them are important. None of them matter to you and that's all there is to it." Even though her words were harsh, her manner of speaking probing and stressing and overwhelming, the outcast's voice remained even. As if it were a fierce lecture rather than an accusation. Ritz held her glare for a second longer before turning her body away to continue walking, paying no mind to whether or not she would be followed.

"No, I'm not important. I don't matter to anyone, no one matters to me."

The subtle gale seemed to halt as the pair walked on crunching gravel through the innocent streets. A chilly, pristine morning chirped to life in front of them as they marched, the slumbering people coming alive unaware of the tension in the air that plucked at the two. Ritsuko would halt as well, quivering from a chill beyond the cold. The hand resting on her guitar strap trembled in volatile emotion as she took in the girl's hopes and dreams. Friendship, connections, people that cared for her. It made her feel sick, green with a twisted sense of envy. These were things she couldn't afford, luxuries forever beyond her reach. She was toxic, broken, cursed to break everything she made contact with. That's what she was created to do, kill, destroy, annihilate. Another cross for her to bear with the burdening weight of everything else. Anger, fear, hopelessness... she was a vessel for it all, a Horseman of Pestilence of the spirit. It was necessary for her to exist that way within the scope of things. Through her tortured existence she brought forth strength, both literally and metaphorically. Her sorrow gave her the motivation to persevere through venomous spite, the sadness manifesting in the waves of agony her guitar strummed forth. Happiness had no place in keeping her breathing and moving toward her goal, vengeance was a much better carrot at the end of the stick.

And she wanted part of that. This naive little princess wanted to be her friend. Either because she pitied her or because she didn't know any better, Ritz would have neither. She didn't want or need anyone to be her friend, why couldn't everyone just leave her alone?!
"You're making a mistake..." her voice quaked softly. The musician took one long, last drag from her cigarette before grinding it under the sole of her tennis shoe. The intense feelings rising within in her began to sear upward in a volatile mix of anger, depression, jealousy, and pain as her furious, pained expression met the French lass's hopeful one.
"You haven't been listening to a damn word I said, have you...?!" she shouted in a desperate cry, thrusting an open arm out to towards the path she came from in a violent gesture.
"You think I was being dramatic, you think this is a fucking game?! There's no one! They all live up the fucking road! Everyone else is smart enough to keep their distance,[/i] get with the fucking program!"

The abrasive young lady stepped closer, staring above her scuffed glasses at her taller counterpart. The loathing and pain she felt could be clearly reflected across their wet sheen, the weight of her words wafting in with the odor of nicotine on her breath.
"You wanna know what it's like...? You want to understand...? You need to lose. You need to lose everything that was ever important to you, a-and then you'll still be a step ahead'a me because you had shit to lose in the first place!" Ritsuko's voice became more strained and broken as she continued to speak, the salt from her tears tingling at her lips as she could feel them grace her face. The staples she placed in her heart weren't enough to hold her wound closed, it opened up just as painfully as the first time that morning. She shuffled slightly, cocking an arm back as she prepared to shove her liability to the ground... but found herself quickly unable to do so, the thought of becoming violent toward what she deemed as a threat to her emotional well-being rubbing itself along the front of her skull. Her hand reached up to pull herself by the hair in frustration instead.

Turning her body and taking a few stomping steps away, the turbulent alcoholic would growl loudly through her teeth. Stupid fucking child! Why did she have to rub her nose in it!? Oh, I have parents just like everyone else because my brain is too small to imagine something different, why don't you? Dumbass, fucking, aaaargh!
"*sniff*...you don't have any idea what it's like being alone, y-you don't have a damn clue...! *sniff*" Her arms moved lower to cradle her heaving chest as she began to sob. The memories of what she could have had were fresh and stung with the new ache she had brought within herself. It would hurt, but it reinforced her. She'd become better for it.
"I don't need you, I-I don't even want you...! *hic* Take your damn pity and go fuck yourself with it...! *sniff* ...wuh... why don't you go bitch about it to someone who cares, I fuckin' don't...!" Her heart began to pound constricted in her chest, face turning flush as more tears began to fall. She attempted to take a few staggering steps forward and away from the source of her distress, but Ritz didn't make it far. Sobs leaving her breathless, the pain in her ribcage weighing her down, she would have collapsed to her knees if not for the fence next to her to give her stability.

Fucking people. This never happened when she was by herself. This was all their fault.

The girl was persistent, so much different from herself. Even through the insults and venom Ritsuko had spat in her face she persevered for... what? A foreign concept to her, the antagonistic guitarist  she wasn't one to hold her ground in the face of some pointless confrontation. Running was safer, easier, and less complicated than getting involved. But still she persisted. Why. Was it principle? Was it a confrontational attitude? A twisted sense of kinship, a hero complex? Desperation? At some level Ritz knew. People fought for something, there was a reason they struggled and it was always important. It was usually an ideal, sometimes it was something precious that they wanted. In her own case it was self preservation but the fight was always worth the trouble to those who laid it out on the line and risked the damage. Either she had tread on one of her values she felt the prideful need to defend or there was something more at stake, something that warranted such a resolve. But Ritsuko was very different indeed. To her, this very situation was threatening, something to flee from and keep her distance. People were dangerous because they lacked understanding. They didn't realize how much they could hurt others even with good intentions. She was aware of how toxic she could be, but only because it was the best way to remove herself from people and what kind of pain they could bring. Because the closer they were, the more easily she could hurt them or be hurt herself. So the loner responded to Batilde's genuine attempts at a human relationship the only way she knew how: more ichor.

Ritz allowed the spite to take hold and drive herself, filling herself with the stubborn contempt at how what she was doing wasn't working, about how she couldn't step away from all this. Her sobs slowed and then halted, replaced by unsteady breathing as the younger lass approached. And as she would go to explain her situation and lay herself for her fellow outcast to see, Ritsuko would attempt to talk over her into what devolved into a small shouting match. She wouldn't have any of it, not a single word of it.
"You don't know a goddamn thing! You can't even comprehend what a whiny little bitch you are! Daddy never loved me, is that it?! I could give a shit about your problem because you have no fucking problems! None! If you'd been through what I been through maybe you'd understand the shit that's coming out of your mouth! People are scum and I don't fuckin' need'em! You don't get it, you won't get it, and you should-!"


The infuriating guitarist's hoarse rant came to a sudden stop when the teen struck her across the face. It left her spellbound, mouth agape, as her mind began to slowly tick and realize exactly what had happened. Surprisingly enough the slap had the intended effect, Ritsuko shut her mouth, calmed down, and began to pay attention. She took in information as the girl spoke and pleaded before slowly turning her head toward her... and grabbing her sharply by the wrist that had dared to touch her. Unlike Batilde's transgression she was holding her arm tight enough to hurt as she clawed her nails into the fabric of her blouse. Ritz's eyes may have still been wet but they were blanked over, devoid of life and emotion much like her expression was. Her other hand had twitched toward the guitar on her back but never made it there. Old habits die hard. Meet violence with violence. But this wasn't a fight or a combat sim, she realized, and nothing further came of it. Her empty eyes reflected against the girl's for a few moments, her grip staying tight on her arm. Ritsuko's head tilted at the teen.
"Watch your language," she spoke eerily. Her voice was neutral, a far cry from the raw emotion she was communicating moments before. At once she let go of Batilde's arm as the light slowly began to file back into her eyes.

"I know what I'm doing..." stated the damaged soul softly and calmly, "...and you still have things to lose. Losing is an option. Think about it." She'd let those words sink in as she attempted to normalize her breathing. The adrenaline was still dumping into her veins, giving her a strange sort of prescience as she trembled lightly. As much as she pretended not to care, Ritz could see into the nature of her problem. It was a simple one, they normally always were, but people suffered from the things they weren't able to figure out. People were set in their ways and frames of mind, they took on fears and little simple details that never changed the bigger picture because change was frightening. From her outsider's perspective everything was easy. The girl had to lose. Not all losses need to be negative, not all the time. But she didn't expect her to understand that. Not many people did. The tortured musician pulled her reflective lenses back over her eyes by the frame. She was done here. Anything else she could say would be glossed over or misunderstood. It would take time for the idea to form, she knew that. Change wouldn't happen over an hour, never did. She would need to keep an eye out for the French student in the future. It didn't sit well with her for this degree of ignorance to exist as unnecessary suffering, all of it was pointless. Wordlessly, she turned her back to her younger counterpart and once more began to leave, the breeze licking at her back.

These things take time, and either way it wouldn't be a bad thing to break off. Should she run into her again Ritz would have a point to prove, and if not? It was no longer her problem. Problems were a thing you could just leave if you wanted to. She'd demonstrate that.

OOC:

The irritable woman wasn't surprised at the girl's lack of understanding. That's not what she'd meant when she stated losing was an option. Not just something that could happen, not a tragedy to mourn, but a path to choose. She could choose to lose if she wanted to. It might even make things easier in the long run. Giving up and walking away from a shitty situation were two completely different things entirely, not many people considered that. What did subtly impress her was her level of patience. If Ritsuko had done to her what she'd just done, she'd have clocked that bitch in the jaw. She could tell she was getting on the rich girl's nerves bu she held back every single time. Impressive... but not always admirable. Some people deserved everything they got. Ritz had been asking for it, almost literally on account of how she didn't like people getting involved with her personal affairs. It was better to keep them at arm's length.

Though her last comment would strike a chord with the miserable wretch. She'd never stopped walking, long done with the conversation, but suicide was a touchy subject for her. The guitarist met the French lass's smile with a heated scowl. It nearly set her off again, which quite frankly wasn't difficult to achieve. Violent visions danced in front of her eyes of pulling black hair out by the handful. She already had a damn reason! Hate. Spite. Murder. Ritsuko wasn't going to let them get away with what they'd done to her. Everyone else could call her motives whatever they wanted. Revenge, misguided duty, perverted justice, it didn't matter to her. She'd never analyzed it, to her this was reality. It was a problem she was going to solve. So it really, really pissed her off when people assumed she was a liability they had to check on to keep an eye on like a damn toddler. And while the last comment had set her blood boiling, the very last sentence disarmed her.


The troublesome young lady wasn't sure exactly what about the words she said put her flame out. It could've been the pitiable persistence she'd shown that made her want to shake her head or the futile optimism, maybe the indignation that she didn't want anyone to care. It was probably how much she reminded her of someone else for a second, but the punk didn't want to deal with any of that. She sneered and continued on her way.
"Tch, shut up. Dumb bitch..." she muttered to herself as she stepped away. Strangers trying to bullrush themselves into her life wasn't warranted and certainly wasn't appreciated. If people cared it meant that they could be let down and somehow it'd be her fault. The thought made her want to destroy something, but the only socially acceptable thing she could tear apart was herself. That was her business.

Batilde and Ritsuko's social link has ranked up!