I didn't, but when we were dealing with Wu's ghost (you might want to look into that for yourself) he did something to my friend Raleigh Becket. Raleigh saw the whole thing, start to finish.
It's better than what we have at home, but I've heard that from a few people.
I have something from the pharmacy that's been helping Wu, and I have a few pills from October that helped me sleep. When I had the death flu I could barely sleep all month.
[HAS EVERYONE HE MET HERE DIED IN SOME HORRIBLE FASHION. WHY. THIS IS THE WORST. feeling like shit is bad enough but now knowing other people have done so or are currently in similar states is worse!!!!!!!!
[ PRETTY..... much. Mako's not too thrilled that so many people are dead or have died, recently. It's like another weight on the slowly-collapsing pillars of the town. ]
He has been making a lot of food in general, a lot of things that can be frozen, so he pulls a tub of miso soup from the freezer, grabs a few tea leaves, the Nyquil, and some of Korra's sleeping pills and piles it all into a bag.
They're lucky that the roads are still intact. Mako can navigate them on his bike still, and Manabu isn't actually that far away.
Dying and waking up in a river sounds... awful. Mako remembers the fog of confusion and pain crowded around his head all month, the heat of the death flu, the memories flickering in and out of his head.
Hopefully the sleeping pills help.
He pulls up outside the house with a roar of the bike's engine, which cuts out a second later, and heads up to knock at the door, frowning sightlessly at the wood. Hopefully Manabu can keep the soup down. Hopefully he's not too disheartened from dying. Mako died pretty shortly after getting here, and it was a rude awakening. ]
[it takes a bit for any substantial response — a second round of knocking at the very least before there’s distant sounds, slow and heavy footfalls down some stairs within. some unintelligible mumbling and rattling near the door before—-]
Uoh... You stopped by? [Manabu blinks blearily and looks Mako up and down with gradual surprise, looking at least half the groggy mess one could expect to be. after a beat, he moves out of view, the door moving with him to allow Mako entry. mind the blanket half-hanging off the hat rack.
peeking out from behind the door:] Did something come up? Something new?
[ Trying to tamp down on his growing concern, Mako waits, and is very glad when he finally does hear footsteps and the muttering. At least Manabu's alive.
Or something like it. He keeps his expression neutral as the door opens, hoping his concern doesn't show. It's not really working. ]
Medicine.
[ Mako holds up his little bundle like Manabu needs proof, somehow, before he takes a single step into the house and, very carefully, past the blanket. ]
And food. Frozen soup. I'll heat it up for you, if you want some now—believe me, eating something will feel awful but it'll help.
[right -- he'd mentioned stopping by at the end of that string of messages, right? Manabu dozed off at the tail-end there, so more's the quiet surprise of being visited at all.
once Mako's made further movement inside, Manabu closes the door, revealing that he is not an entire mess, but a fairly realized one: messy hair, undershirt, and jeans that are baggy to the point of making him look shorter than he already is (the guy really needs to get another set of fitting clothes)...clearly he's not in a hurry to make any pretenses that he's ready to run laps or fix the world's problems.
he's only vaguely aware of his state of near-entire-mess now that there's company, and rubs at the back of his head, frowning.]
Oh, I...I know how to cook, you don't have to go that far. Aren't you looking after Wu, too...?
That kind of makes you an outlier here. People are either great at cooking or shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen.
[ He holds out the bag for Manabu anyway, ignoring that quiet protest. ]
Still. It'll help, trust me. There's only so long I can be in a house with Wu and a reindeer and a raccoon. And... someone did this for me, after I died.
I needed it. Even if I didn't want to admit it, so.
[as Mako makes his case, Manabu slowly reaches and accepts the bag, peering down at its contents absently before looking back up, just missing that "reindeer and a raccoon" part (and thank goodness for that; it'd just confuse him on the spot like this).
rather, the more important thing to focus on is what follows, and when it properly registers in his head a couple seconds late, Manabu's expression grows grim.
everyone just...dies here? all the time? and it's just...people just...deal with it? he's been very insistent on not adjusting or getting used to anything weird here, but...how does he keep up with this without going crazy? estranged from everything he knew, all the people he trusts with his life, left to try and understand it all with folks just as lost if not more...
his head starts to hurt again, but he doesn't speak to it, instead just nodding, accepting Mako's offer.]
...Y-you might be right. So--yeah. You can stay if you like. I'd just--I mean... [his eyes wince.] I don't like being bad company, is all. There's a whole lot of that already.
[ It's too much to hold sometimes. Mako deals with pieces of it at a time, tries to focus on what he can control. He is used to a world just out of his grasp, used to his fingers being too small and too weak to contain the awfulness being flung at him.
Something no one should have to get used to, but here they all are, talking about death and sacrifices and murder like it's teatime conversation. Maybe it's good that Manabu is here to remind everyone how awful it is.
Mako bends once he's free of the bag, once Manabu has given him permission, really, and starts to unlace his boots before he gets any further into the house. ]
I don't mind, if you don't want to be alone with your thoughts. It drove me up a wall after I died. Couldn't sit still.
Anyway, I... wanted to know more about your work, at home.
[ Maybe storytelling is a lot to ask of him while he's like this, but Mako could use a distraction, and figures Manabu could too.
He pauses with his fingers on the lace of one shoe all the same. ]
If you're up to talking about it. I can just let you sleep.
[even with the grim mention of his own demise, Mako may as well be echoing Manabu's conscience, saying things like that. reasonable things. cutting him some slack -- way more than he's apt to do. it takes a lot to pound hard truths into his thick skull, and even when he knows the right call, if it doesn't move him forward, well...it's a hard sell.
now that he's agreed, Manabu knows it's for the best, and he can just move ahead from that feeling and onto what's next...which is apparently an ask about work?] Mm-? Sirius Platoon, you mean? Uh, sure, I don't mind...
[after all, talking about it makes it more real, puts it outside of his own head, keeps the memories stronger, and perhaps harder to snatch away from him the way Orpheus says this place is apt to do. after all, it's what he's learned in the SDF that makes him as capable as he can be, and without it? well...he's going to be a helluva lot of dead weight around here.
more than currently.
absolutely no death-related puns intended. not allowed.
he moves toward the kitchen to set things on the table and lay them out bit by bit, giving Mako room to finish taking his shoes off and take his own time. if they're lucky, Michael's freaky warg-dog-thing, Eleanor, won't wind up roaming back into the yard and spook them, and things can be at least calm for a spell.
when Mako's arrived:] What did you want to know about? [a beat, and then his eyebrows lift, remembering something.] Uoh...the ghost-train, right? That you asked about at the college. Was that it?
[ It's always a little weird to be inside someone's house for the first time. There's an instinct in Mako running deeply through him, ingrained a long time ago, that still makes him look around as he's unlacing his boots, clocking every visible entrance and exit, the places you could hide, the things that look the most valuable.
He feels a little guilty every time he notices something like that, expensive and easily-pocketed, hasn't acted on those impulses in a long time, but they're there. Mako shoves them away with the ease of long practice, lines his boots up neatly by the door, and pads after Manabu, trying not to notice anything else. ]
I mean, all of it.
[ He slips into the kitchen and sort of hovers there, watching, trying to figure out where to fit himself in. ]
But especially the ghost-train. Is that... normal? Did you know it was full of ghosts before you got on it? What's Sirius Platoon, exactly?
[ Maybe pull back on the questions to the recently-dead guy, bud. Mako doesn't notice exactly how rapid-fire they're coming out. ]
[for the most part, the place is fairly innocuous. if you...ignore the weird hat-with-a-face on the hat rack by the door. Manabu chooses to ignore it. it's a Michael thing, it's for the best.
the kitchen isn't much, though it shows signs of life and intense use, thanks to the latest grease fire Amara had to stamp out. there's a deck of cards on one of the counters, the usual suspects of appliances and things, and sign that this won't be the first round of soup Manabu's had since returning to the house.
before he can think about what he needs to do with this stuff first, Manabu shivers and winds up slumping into one of the chairs. once he's rode out that wave of weariness, he rubs at his face and lifts his head back up.]
Sirius Platoon is...we're the ones assigned to Big One. Of all the SDF trains, it's one of the strongest, most balanced between combat and recon. Vega Platoon's more combat-oriented, Spica's more intel...and Sirius is a fair mix of both.
[ Without missing a beat, Mako steps forward and grabs the bag from the counter to pull out the miso, still mostly frozen in its tub. This, at least, is something he can do. He feels a bit ill at ease in someone else's kitchen but it's better than just hovering awkwardly by Manabu peppering him with questions. Anything's better than that. ]
I'll put this in the freezer— [ He hefts the miso up, showing it off for a second ] —unless you want some now.
[ There's some tea, too, but that's much easier. Mako doesn't even really need a kettle for that.
Or thinking. Which is good, because Manabu has just brought up the idea of what sounds like a battle train, and that is... kind of wild. ]
What does the combat? The train, or the platoon? Is it like an armored train?
[ Kuvira, he thinks, had something similar. They all thought it was her whole strategy, using the rails, until they'd pulled out that massive awful mech. ]
[he breathes out a little laugh, rubbing at the goose bumps on his arms.]
Both. The train cars are...designed to house offensive and defensive equipment. And platoon members man them remotely from their stations at the engine. Or...well, if it's got a few fighter birds, then they climb onto those.
Iron Berger's able to lug around the really heavy cannons...but usually only for big emergencies. Like asteroid sweeps. Stuff like that. Big One's got a nice artillery array, too... [that's where his bias is. as much as he admired Captain Murase's team and rig, Sirius Platoon is where his heart still is.]
All the trains on the railway have...armor plating. Just in case. Asteroids, magnetic storms, pirates...
[ What an absolutely wild series of things he's describing, Mako thinks, trying actively to picture these things and, largely, failing. Fighter birds could mean anything from literal birds to ostrich-horses that Manabu's platoon outfits in armor the way Earth Kingdom troops used to.
Asteroid sweeps, too, could be anything at all, and magnetic storms. Pirates, at least, make sense.
He notes the goosebumps, absently, and leans on the counter across from Manabu and starts pushing heat into the air around them. It's not an easy thing to do by any means, but he can do it with enough concentration, and it's something else to focus on. ]
You're gonna have to explain a few of those things. Asteroid sweeps. The trains are how people get around your universe, right? Are they all that dangerous? How many are there?
[some time after this, Manabu's going to find it weird that he knows two different people who seem capable of heating a space just...at-will. for now, though, he's barely aware that's Mako doing that -- could very well just be the oven on!
...or. y'know. fever stuff. he doesn't know how diseases work here, so who's to say?
that aside, another flood of questions comes. it's nice to be able to talk about things he knows, though Manabu's a little worried he won't be able to keep up with the pace at which these questions are getting shot his way.]
Well, um. I... [he grimaces.] Okay. How...much do you know about how space works? [does he know?]
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Some kind of demon. We think.
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did you see it? any toher accounts?/
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Do you have any idea what happened, or is it all fuzzy? Do you need anything?
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MMedicine isnt realy good here?
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I have something from the pharmacy that's been helping Wu, and I have a few pills from October that helped me sleep. When I had the death flu I could barely sleep all month.
I can bring them over.
[ Along with, almost certainly, some food. ]
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uh anyway:] sure
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Address? I'll come over ASAP.
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[ And true to form, Mako is.
He has been making a lot of food in general, a lot of things that can be frozen, so he pulls a tub of miso soup from the freezer, grabs a few tea leaves, the Nyquil, and some of Korra's sleeping pills and piles it all into a bag.
They're lucky that the roads are still intact. Mako can navigate them on his bike still, and Manabu isn't actually that far away.
Dying and waking up in a river sounds... awful. Mako remembers the fog of confusion and pain crowded around his head all month, the heat of the death flu, the memories flickering in and out of his head.
Hopefully the sleeping pills help.
He pulls up outside the house with a roar of the bike's engine, which cuts out a second later, and heads up to knock at the door, frowning sightlessly at the wood. Hopefully Manabu can keep the soup down. Hopefully he's not too disheartened from dying. Mako died pretty shortly after getting here, and it was a rude awakening. ]
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Uoh... You stopped by? [Manabu blinks blearily and looks Mako up and down with gradual surprise, looking at least half the groggy mess one could expect to be. after a beat, he moves out of view, the door moving with him to allow Mako entry. mind the blanket half-hanging off the hat rack.
peeking out from behind the door:] Did something come up? Something new?
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Or something like it. He keeps his expression neutral as the door opens, hoping his concern doesn't show. It's not really working. ]
Medicine.
[ Mako holds up his little bundle like Manabu needs proof, somehow, before he takes a single step into the house and, very carefully, past the blanket. ]
And food. Frozen soup. I'll heat it up for you, if you want some now—believe me, eating something will feel awful but it'll help.
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[right -- he'd mentioned stopping by at the end of that string of messages, right? Manabu dozed off at the tail-end there, so more's the quiet surprise of being visited at all.
once Mako's made further movement inside, Manabu closes the door, revealing that he is not an entire mess, but a fairly realized one: messy hair, undershirt, and jeans that are baggy to the point of making him look shorter than he already is (the guy really needs to get another set of fitting clothes)...clearly he's not in a hurry to make any pretenses that he's ready to run laps or fix the world's problems.
he's only vaguely aware of his state of near-entire-mess now that there's company, and rubs at the back of his head, frowning.]
Oh, I...I know how to cook, you don't have to go that far. Aren't you looking after Wu, too...?
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[ He holds out the bag for Manabu anyway, ignoring that quiet protest. ]
Still. It'll help, trust me. There's only so long I can be in a house with Wu and a reindeer and a raccoon. And... someone did this for me, after I died.
I needed it. Even if I didn't want to admit it, so.
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rather, the more important thing to focus on is what follows, and when it properly registers in his head a couple seconds late, Manabu's expression grows grim.
everyone just...dies here? all the time? and it's just...people just...deal with it? he's been very insistent on not adjusting or getting used to anything weird here, but...how does he keep up with this without going crazy? estranged from everything he knew, all the people he trusts with his life, left to try and understand it all with folks just as lost if not more...
his head starts to hurt again, but he doesn't speak to it, instead just nodding, accepting Mako's offer.]
...Y-you might be right. So--yeah. You can stay if you like. I'd just--I mean... [his eyes wince.] I don't like being bad company, is all. There's a whole lot of that already.
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Something no one should have to get used to, but here they all are, talking about death and sacrifices and murder like it's teatime conversation. Maybe it's good that Manabu is here to remind everyone how awful it is.
Mako bends once he's free of the bag, once Manabu has given him permission, really, and starts to unlace his boots before he gets any further into the house. ]
I don't mind, if you don't want to be alone with your thoughts. It drove me up a wall after I died. Couldn't sit still.
Anyway, I... wanted to know more about your work, at home.
[ Maybe storytelling is a lot to ask of him while he's like this, but Mako could use a distraction, and figures Manabu could too.
He pauses with his fingers on the lace of one shoe all the same. ]
If you're up to talking about it. I can just let you sleep.
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now that he's agreed, Manabu knows it's for the best, and he can just move ahead from that feeling and onto what's next...which is apparently an ask about work?] Mm-? Sirius Platoon, you mean? Uh, sure, I don't mind...
[after all, talking about it makes it more real, puts it outside of his own head, keeps the memories stronger, and perhaps harder to snatch away from him the way Orpheus says this place is apt to do. after all, it's what he's learned in the SDF that makes him as capable as he can be, and without it? well...he's going to be a helluva lot of dead weight around here.
more than currently.
absolutely no death-related puns intended. not allowed.
he moves toward the kitchen to set things on the table and lay them out bit by bit, giving Mako room to finish taking his shoes off and take his own time. if they're lucky, Michael's freaky warg-dog-thing, Eleanor, won't wind up roaming back into the yard and spook them, and things can be at least calm for a spell.
when Mako's arrived:] What did you want to know about? [a beat, and then his eyebrows lift, remembering something.] Uoh...the ghost-train, right? That you asked about at the college. Was that it?
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He feels a little guilty every time he notices something like that, expensive and easily-pocketed, hasn't acted on those impulses in a long time, but they're there. Mako shoves them away with the ease of long practice, lines his boots up neatly by the door, and pads after Manabu, trying not to notice anything else. ]
I mean, all of it.
[ He slips into the kitchen and sort of hovers there, watching, trying to figure out where to fit himself in. ]
But especially the ghost-train. Is that... normal? Did you know it was full of ghosts before you got on it? What's Sirius Platoon, exactly?
[ Maybe pull back on the questions to the recently-dead guy, bud. Mako doesn't notice exactly how rapid-fire they're coming out. ]
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the kitchen isn't much, though it shows signs of life and intense use, thanks to the latest grease fire Amara had to stamp out. there's a deck of cards on one of the counters, the usual suspects of appliances and things, and sign that this won't be the first round of soup Manabu's had since returning to the house.
before he can think about what he needs to do with this stuff first, Manabu shivers and winds up slumping into one of the chairs. once he's rode out that wave of weariness, he rubs at his face and lifts his head back up.]
Sirius Platoon is...we're the ones assigned to Big One. Of all the SDF trains, it's one of the strongest, most balanced between combat and recon. Vega Platoon's more combat-oriented, Spica's more intel...and Sirius is a fair mix of both.
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I'll put this in the freezer— [ He hefts the miso up, showing it off for a second ] —unless you want some now.
[ There's some tea, too, but that's much easier. Mako doesn't even really need a kettle for that.
Or thinking. Which is good, because Manabu has just brought up the idea of what sounds like a battle train, and that is... kind of wild. ]
What does the combat? The train, or the platoon? Is it like an armored train?
[ Kuvira, he thinks, had something similar. They all thought it was her whole strategy, using the rails, until they'd pulled out that massive awful mech. ]
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Both. The train cars are...designed to house offensive and defensive equipment. And platoon members man them remotely from their stations at the engine. Or...well, if it's got a few fighter birds, then they climb onto those.
Iron Berger's able to lug around the really heavy cannons...but usually only for big emergencies. Like asteroid sweeps. Stuff like that. Big One's got a nice artillery array, too... [that's where his bias is. as much as he admired Captain Murase's team and rig, Sirius Platoon is where his heart still is.]
All the trains on the railway have...armor plating. Just in case. Asteroids, magnetic storms, pirates...
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Asteroid sweeps, too, could be anything at all, and magnetic storms. Pirates, at least, make sense.
He notes the goosebumps, absently, and leans on the counter across from Manabu and starts pushing heat into the air around them. It's not an easy thing to do by any means, but he can do it with enough concentration, and it's something else to focus on. ]
You're gonna have to explain a few of those things. Asteroid sweeps. The trains are how people get around your universe, right? Are they all that dangerous? How many are there?
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...or. y'know. fever stuff. he doesn't know how diseases work here, so who's to say?
that aside, another flood of questions comes. it's nice to be able to talk about things he knows, though Manabu's a little worried he won't be able to keep up with the pace at which these questions are getting shot his way.]
Well, um. I... [he grimaces.] Okay. How...much do you know about how space works? [does he know?]
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