ROLESWAP AU MASTER POST

[didnteventry]

[a post for this au!]

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[didnteventry]

[It's some time after the last Holy Grail War... Quite a few years, in fact. Our useless Matou heroes are now 16, and the next one is coming up very soon. Ten years ago, it was something that wasn't explained to them. From their point of view, the strange happenings in their house only got agitated for awhile, and then dropped sharply.

For Shinji and his near-nothing magical ability, it probably wasn't that big a deal. For Byakuya, just strong enough to see what was going on, it was the scariest week of his childhood. Still, he's always been terrible at communicating what's going on to his twin, so from the outside at 6 years old it most likely just seemed like he was being more annoyingly scared of everything than usual.

Ten years later, nothing much has changed. They say twins often have a unqiue bond. They say that many of them interact on a level that other people can't truly understand. Byakuya and Shinji are not that sort of twins -- mostly. They don't sync up with each other. They don't communicate with fluid ease. They fight as often as they get along, often violently. Most importantly, the difference in their powers is still a giant sore spot.

Byakuya would rather not have any magic at all. He doesn't have much, but it's still too much in his opinion. Of course, he can't expect Shinji to get that, especially when their grandfather only pulls one of them aside to talk about secrets -- secrets like the Grail War, which Byakuya is expected to enter whether he wants to or not.

Yeah, they definitely aren't that kind of super-close twins. But they can still tell better than anyone what mood the other is in, and even if their relationship is horrible from every angle, the older brother still has a completely stupid habit of cowering near the younger when his stress levels get too high.

Anything but being alone with the ghosts.]

Hey, Shinji...

[disenfranchised]

[ shinji doesn't deal with things like byakuya does. instead of cowering, he cultivates delusions and nurses them until they may as well be fact. he convinces himself otherwise and everyone else is just wrong. this house is full of conspiracies, though really it depends on his mood whether or not he feels like getting to the bottom of them. today, he doesn't care. about anything, really. he's in his favorite spot in the house: a bay window on the second level. the sky is overcast today, but there's enough light that he can read his book. if he isn't out of the house you can almost always find him here. the stacks of books that litter the floor surrounding the window are evident of that.

he hears foot steps approach and already huffs, double checking the page number in case it gets lost during the interaction. shinji watches with sharp eyes when byakuya makes himself present, pushing up his reading glasses and closing his book over his finger. ]

What do you want?
I'm busy.

[ he always says he's busy. ]

[didnteventry]

You're always busy.

[And thus, Byakuya will just sit himself down on a book-free part of the floor and pull his knees to his chest.

He shouldn't tell. It's the biggest secret there is. But he's pretty sure he's going to die, and that's a terrible thought. After everything, how is that fair? He's always had the most responsibility and he's always been the one to work hard and go through pain for the sake of their family. It's an ugly place and an ugly name, but he shoulders all of it, so-- So he deserves a break, right? He shouldn't have to suffer and die so early in his life. He definitely shouldn't have to do it without anyone knowing it's happening.

Of course, it's a given that anything he says will be overheard. He can't tell this secret and not be found out. But on the other hand, what more can be done to punish him now? He has to be able to fight, so... So maybe it's fine.]

I'm gonna die. For real.

[disenfranchised]

[ shinji wrinkles his nose, watching byakuya sit on the floor like a dog. he tries to swiftly push thoughts from his headspace, like i can't believe he's the favored one and how can anyone think that someone like him is better than me because of course in no way could anyone think that it would just be inconceivable and if shinji doesn't participate or interact with someone it is simply because he is so far above it that it isn't even within his scope.

a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. ]

Oho?
That's a little dramatic, even for you, don't you think?

[didnteventry]

It's true. I've got a month at best.

[He's not hysterical, though. Not like he gets sometimes, when he hasn't slept in too long and nothing's going right. This time he's just quiet, curling in on himself as if he's trying to be as small as possible.]

[blinged]

[The summoning circle is drawn perfectly, neatly, on the floor of his library, the incantation read perfectly, but there's nothing of awe or anticipation in the eyes of the boy performing the summons. He had the wide eyes of a boy and a gentle appearance to match, features that paired poorly with the the way he gave his Servant only a moment's worth of an appraisal before turning away with a dismissive wave.]

...your name?

[He spoke quickly, the question a cold formality.]

[prebeard]

[He wasn't really expecting it to be pleasant. He's seen three wars go by since the one that tore his family apart and got him killed in the first place, after all. Each time, he'd flexed his power and tried to get the attention of the grail. Each time, he's failed and been left sitting bound in the house he'd died in while the war went on around it. Now, coming up on the 40th anniversary of his death, he's finally succeeded.

Obviously, this is going to be ugly. And obviously, it would be pointless to be attached to his Master. So he doesn't mind the coldness. He just responds with an equal businesslike disinterest.]

Tohsaka Tokiomi. And yours?

[blinged]

You can call me Gil.

[He sets his book back on the shelf and turns back to Tokiomi, displaying his hand, command seal and all.]

As you can see, I'm your new Master. I think it's an unnecessary formality, though. I don't have much need of a Servant.

[prebeard]

Is that so?

[That, on the other hand, is not a good sign. Only one can have their wish granted. He's not likely to get his own if his partner is both powerful and selfish.]

[disenfranchised]

[ okay, so maybe it was tough to live on your own. maybe shinji didn't know anything about anything. it was a little too late for that, though. he was in too deep to be anything but confident in his decisions. work had been hard to come by, though he had managed to charm his way into a few odd jobs as an errand boy. most of the time, though, he stole. picked pockets; snatched watches. if they were dumb enough to allow it to be stolen, then it wasn't really theirs in the first place, right? right. this is what he hummed to himself while he lined his own pockets with his spoils and casually paid the night watchman up-front for another week's stay in the creepy hostel they'd taken up (temporary) residence in. it didn't see enough traffic for them to have to share space with others, making it just as decent as a motel, but more cost effective.

byakuya had been having ... difficulties finding work.
the look on his face when he would return empty handed pulled in his chest in ways he didn't understand. eventually it actually became unbearable. so, shinji tells him to stay. that he can take care of it. this was his idea, after all. he'd told byakuya to trust him. and so far, all things considering, he was doing pretty damn well. a roof over their heads and money for food -- for now, it was good. it was a big city, so at least there was the comfort that shinji wouldn't run out of hapless tourists to scam.

but of course, things can't always go smoothly. not even for shinji matou, who, in his head makes everything bow to his whims. so when he returns to the hostel that night, with blood trickling down his face and a deep wheeze to his breath, he's shaken. he'd been caught. he'd been punished for it. it's not a thing that's ever happened before and he doesn't really know how to feel.

quietly, he closes the door behind him.
this time, his pockets are empty too. ]

[didnteventry]

[Byakuya's just not good at people. He's not good at functioning in the real world, where he's expected to smile and be welcoming and operate calmly and quickly. He's too clumsy, too jumpy and awkward and afraid, and every time he tries it inevitably goes badly. On a good day, he gets brushed aside. On a bad day, he gets a chance only to muck it up and get fired within the week.

He was more than grateful when Shinji decided to do the work. It felt bad to think he couldn't handle himself, but he was willing to take that hit just to keep from having to go out there again.

So he's just taken to hiding out in the hostel, curled up by the window and watching the world go by. Sometimes he reads. Sometimes he pokes around the shops down the road. He makes sure anything extra they get isn't thrown away, and he wonders if maybe he'll find a niche other than moping at home some day.

He's staring out the window again when Shinji comes home. Worry crosses his face instantly (fear, even), and he uncurls to get up off the bed.]

...What happened?

[disenfranchised]

[ the abrupt change in lifestyle was a definite blow to shinji's ego, but the realization that he felt more comfortable here than in his own family home tried to balance things out somewhat. it's not as if he came from a background that was stable and included love or praise, so at least the satisfaction of making his own money to support not only himself, but his brother too, whom that old man had always treated better than him, lifted him slightly.

shinji had been right. byakuya wasn't so great, after all.
the (unfortunate?) side effect was that the growing levels of dependency on their alliance were not only endearing to him, but shinji unconsciously is reciprocating them.

back against the door as it closes, there's still adrenaline pumping through his veins. he'd ran all the way here, becoming a panting, sweaty mess. perhaps he ought to stick to stealing from women, or at the very least, people not four times his size. he gingerly brushes hair out of his face, right eye half open, already swelling and darkening.

he's silent a moment.
then moves as casually as he can manage to shrug off his jacket. ]

It's not important.
Did you eat yet?

[ he can't really manage to say that he failed at something. the words wouldn't come even if he wanted them to. ]

[didnteventry]

Yeah, sure. Not important.

[He doesn't buy that for a second. Shinji's not the kind of guy to take a hit to his face kindly. Byakuya ignores the question about food, instead reaching under his bed for the first aid kit he bought awhile ago. He himself is prone to injuries from sleep-deprived stumbling around, so it's one of the first things he made sure to get.]

If you're going to get beaten up like that, maybe I should go work after all...

[prebeard]

[Ever since he's been young, Tokiomi's had strange dreams. He hasn't the slightest idea why, but he can't remember a time when his nights were plagued by scenes of magic and death and a long, long lingering existence. It always ends up vague within moments of waking, but he knows he dreams about it at least once a month, always. He's even considered writing it down, hoping the details will solidify. He's pretty sure that if he did, it'd make an interesting story.

A weird girl he mentioned it to in high school once told him he must have had a really amazing past life. It seemed stupid to him, though -- for one, there was no such thing as past lives. For another, if it was so amazing, why was he always so small in those dreams, and why were the ones about dying so vivid? They were more of a nuisance than anything, and by the time he got to college he was so used to them that he didn't even think about it anymore.

Things are going well, after all. He's studying geology and chemistry, headed for a long path of graduate study and a good solid career his family can be proud of. His parents are more than wealthy enough to pay for school, he has a couple of friends (and doesn't feel the need for more than those), and everything is pretty great. There's no reason for anything in his life to be less than perfect, or for him to pay attention to anything that isn't his goal. Like flashy classmates in the dorm hall as he carries his boxes into his room, for example. His roommate is a mystery, but his parents assured him that it was the son of a family contact, so he doesn't expect any problems whatsoever.]

[whoreofbabylon]

[Sometimes in that hazy space between sleep and the moment he first opens his eyes in the morning, Gilgamesh is someone other than himself. Gil-but-not is smaller, with small hands and small feet. He speaks with the voice of a child and the authority and bearing of someone far older than that, and inside of him there's always something pushing from inside, black and violent and viscous, threatening to tear open his skin and leak out.

To his horror, it always succeeds. In the moment he feels himself rip open, he can do nothing but laugh and scream at lash out in anger. His insides stain the ground beneath his feet, and there's always someone who needs to be punished for that.

It's their fault. They emptied him out and made him like this and look at the mess they made.

He reaches out, his hands still too small, and he knows more than he knows anything else in that moment: he'll tear them apart with his bare hands and stuff their throat with their own viscera.

And then he wakes, always suddenly, always unexpectedly, and goes about his day with a rock in his stomach and the distinct feeling of loneliness and dissatisfaction. It's altogether unlike him - he has a best friend and other people around him who are tolerable because they sleep with each other. He can do what he wishes (Except, maybe, tear apart that vague someone, though he doesn't consider that a real wish that's a part of real-Gil) because he has the money to get away with it.

So he broods over those strange visions and sensations, but never for long.

In fact, it's been months since the last incident and he hardly even thinks about blood or guts or black ooze. He's far more concerned with the now -- with moving in to his dorm and claiming the most appealing side of the room for his own. Which he has.

When Tokiomi opens the door, Gilgamesh is already lounging on the couch with his tight jeans, low cut shirt, and 3DS.]

Oh.

[He looks up, mostly dismissive, before looking back to his DS screen]

I didn't think you'd be here so soon.

[prebeard]

[That kind of greeting is less than the polite exchange Tokiomi would have hoped for. But it hardly even registers.

The moment he sees his roommate, he's hit with the heavy force of memory -- he knows that face. Softer, younger, but definitely the same. He couldn't mistake it. He's seen it more times than he can count.

He stops in the doorway, frozen and staring. They were just dreams. Vivid dreams, but only dreams. He can't remember the details. But there are a few things he can't forget, and "Gil" is one of them.]

...

[whoreofbabylon]

[The silence is irritating, and after he's watered several more flowers, Gilgamesh can't allow it to persist. He looks up, appraising, making it perfectly clear he has no interest in being ignored--

--and then realizes he's actually holding every bit of Tokiomi's attention.

Normally Gilgamesh would make a smug comment, or ask if Tokiomi was looking for a fuck. Instead, he's overwhelmed by the sense that there's something incredibly important lying on the floor beside him, just out of reach. All at once he thinks back to those dreams of his and feels desperately like he needs to gather his insides and shut them back up inside them, like a man trying to hold his intestines in.

It's disturbing. Downright offensive. And all he wants to do is cry and scream because an immaterial, missing someone has suddenly become solid and walked through his door.]

Stop staring.

[prebeard]

[Gil and Tokiomi are doing pretty good, all things considered. They have been doing pretty good for a few weeks now, in fact, much to the confusion of their classmates. Dealing with having a whole previous life in their heads has been odd, but they've managed it mostly with copious amounts of lying on top of each other and Gil helping Tokiomi do less studying than he would otherwise.

One thing Tokiomi did not think about, though, is the potential problems that would be caused when his friends from home came to visit for an afternoon. Fortunately when they walked in and his hideous death flashbacks hit him, he was able to swallow it and suggest that the three of them go out for lunch, before Gilgamesh could come back. Unfortunately Gilgamesh will be home when they come back, and he might just see Kariya and Aoi dropping Tokiomi off at the door.

Yep.]

[whoreofbabylon]

[This is what he wanted to avoid - that screaming in his head and the surge of blood in his veins that makes him feel out of control and out of his mind. It starts the moment he hears voices outside the door and hits a crescendo when Tokiomi walks in and gives him a full view of Kariya through the open door.

Kill it kill it kill it

Gil knows that there's no danger in this life and no apparent reason to hate and fear the boy he saw outside the door, but he's seen that face in his dreams far too many times to ignore it.

By the time Tokiomi's inside, Gil's gone and knocked his laptop and a stack of books from the table by the couch, a strained and twisted expression on his face]

Who was that?!

[prebeard]

[Oh, lovely. He was hoping to avoid letting Gil see Kariya at all, but it seems that was impossible. Tokiomi freezes, regaining all the tension the had just started to come out of his shoulders at his friend's parting.

He gets it, of course. There's a part of him that wanted to scream or run or lash out the entire afternoon. He had to cover for his own reflexive recoils when Kariya reached in his direction more than once. But he's hating his own lack of self-control for that. It's not Kariya's fault -- not this one, anyway. Tragedy hasn't ruined the trio's friendship this time, and he's not about to let a past one ruin it now.]

They were friends from home, Gilgamesh. It's nothing to worry about.

[whoreofbabylon]

[He settles, barely, curling up on the couch with his shoulders tight and a frown on his face. Tokiomi's calm is reassuring, but not enough to rein him in entirely]

So you still call him 'friend'?

[prebeard]

[BEFORE DYING THE FIRST TIME

It's early afternoon! Time to wake up and do normal existing things, before nightfall and battle time. They defeated Assassin last night, so tonight all bets are off. It's going to be unpredictable, this time.

Maybe they could use some breathing, first. Tokiomi wakes Gil by climbing into his bed, sitting next to his sleeping form and reaching out to pinch his nose closed.]

[blinged]

[He wakes up. Of course he wakes up. When one cannot breathe, that's the natural reaction.

He doesn't wake up much, though. Only enough to swat at Tokiomi's hand and mumble something grumpily. It almost sounds like "m'sleeping," but you never know.]

[prebeard]

[This is unsatisfactory. If nose-holding won't work, he's going to have to up the ante: moving to the other end of the the bed and running a finger up the bottom of his foot.]

[blinged]

[Gil jerks awake and instantly curls in on himself to protect the vulnerable bottoms of his feet. Decidedly unconcerned over how unimposing he appears right now, he squeaks]

Good morning?!