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WHO: Jon and Kiryu, Jon OTA
WHAT: Conversation, life in Libertas, Horizon
WHEN: October catch-all
WHERE: Libertas and the Horizon
NOTES: I'm happy to add prompts for anyone who'd like Jon for something more specific.
WARNINGS: TBD.

Respite – Kiryu

A good amount of business is done in the bathhouses of Libertas, which is why they're everywhere throughout the colorful city. They're the counterpart to the street-side cafes – cafes are for intellectual, political, and philosophical discourse, and the baths are for business matters.

Jon did not think he'd be a fan.

Perhaps it was the privation of the dungeons, or just the oasis of humidity in the desert city, but he's in danger of becoming a regular at a bathhouse near the shared rooms. It's a small place, just a door off an alley with the telltale blue glass panes in the transom window above it. The owners, a pair of women who chatter endlessly as they work but are happy to leave their customers alone, already recognize him. He only has to lift a hand in polite greeting before they've handed him two rolled towels, with two more for his companion.

“The white room is free, friends,” says Safiya, including them both with her dazzling grin. “You two get settled, and Miri will bring you some fresh fruit.”

About Town – Libertas

Jon took a while to come out of his shell, even though he knows Thorne has no intention – yet – of following him here. But he's out and about more and more often as he acclimates. There's a cafe with passable tea across the street from where he and his friends are staying. He regularly visits the central square, staying if there's a debate happening, listening intently. When he has money, he scours the bookstores, too many eyes wide open as he lets his hand be guided towards books that have something to offer him.

There's no hiding that he's not of this place – no one here covers their face, and the extra eyes open almost anywhere they please. But when he gets cornered over it, it's nearly always someone who wants to ask questions, not object to his presence. Nearly always.

Horizon – Anyone

In the Horizon, Jon's Panopticon still stands, though its walls look more ragged by the day. The half-fallen ceiling continues to look like a massive eye, but it no longer has the oppressive feeling of watching. The fog is gone from the open cells – instead, sunlight from no sun shines in. There is frequently a grey fluff of a cat sleeping in whatever spot is particularly sunny, and the air inside is warm and still. Except when it's disturbed by more falling masonry. At least it's considerate enough to never hit anyone.

He's cleaned up the rubble of timber from the gallows, but it's still present. He's banished it a few times, but it returns when his mood sinks. So he gave up on that, and the shattered timbers lean against the brick wall near the main entrance, along with the dismantled doors.

The only door at all left in the place, it seems, is the reinforced door to the bottom of the central tower, which is now locked when Jon isn't present. When he is, he usually leaves it open.

The stairs inside are still painted to resemble a bookshelf, the books all title-less. But the room at the top is no longer the austere cement guardhouse it was, with its wooden throne and file cabinets. It's a cabin now, sparse but unmistakably comfortable. The furniture is well-worn and utilitarian; a sofa, a hard-scrubbed table with burn marks and two chairs, a kitchenette, an electric kettle. A wood-stove and woodpile, the bed close by but at a safe distance. The throne is here sometimes – Jon keeps it pushed against the wall when it is, usually with something piled on it. The files are not. He's taken those to Martin's domain. Looking out any window stands an equal chance of showing you the craggy green hills of the Scottish lowlands or the cement amphitheater of the Panopticon. In either case, there are sometimes cows to be seen, but only through the windows.

They're good cows.

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Kiryu had thought that the pleasure of a bathhouse were behind him before he'd even come here. It was one thing when you could go to establishments owned and operated by one's clan (though the deference shown when anyone figured out who he was could be uncomfortable and he seldom went to the same one twice), but given his new status, he'd been avoiding them. And then he'd come here. And while he could never stop being what he was, never stop giving off the aura of a gangster, he was just glad that a glance at his back did not automatically involve being asked to leave in a tremulous voice.

Jon's become a regular? And so has Kiryu. Especially now that they're starting to get rolling.

"I didn't realize you were coming here as well," he says fondly as he settles into the water. The fruit is a new addition since coming here and he can't say he has any complaints. These old bones enjoy the soak.

Jon keeps his towel over his shoulders until he's in the water himself, doing a decent job of keeping his eyes to himself.

"A few times now. I don't think I should be wasting the money, but it's been- it's helpful."

"I don't think it's a waste," he says firmly, and while Kiryu has kept his eyes to himself, you can't really miss all of the scars. A man who's been through a lot needs to take care of himself to be in proper trim.

"Did you have something like this, in your world?"

Jon's just glad the eyes in the scars almost always close when he submerges them. Except for that stubborn one on his throat, sleepily blinking at nothing.

"They exist. But- no, I'd never been to one until I came here. I had them stuck in my mind as being, well, less comfortable."

"Sometimes, when you're forced to try something new, you end up liking it," he admits with a nod and a small curl of his lips. He leans back into the water and closes his eyes.

"It was that way for me when I tried spearfishing for the first time."

He laughs, a soft huff that turns into a chuckle. "Spearfishing. Really. Well, no, not actually a surprise."

"I've done a lot of jobs." He can't help a soft huff of amusement himself, though it stays there as he thinks back, "Homelander thought I was in real estate. That hasn't been true since the 80s."

Jon blinks at that name, expression drawing shut. He hides the moment, rubbing his hand down his face.

"He thought my power was summoning the tape recorders. I- ah, may have encouraged that."

Whether Kiryu noticed it or not is anyone's guess. He doesn't act as if he has. He certainly doesn't comment on the eyes in those scars when he sees them, even though it definitely has connotations he can't entirely avoid. But he does nod.

"I may have encouraged that too." He stares up at the ceiling mostly to look somewhere. "Though to be fair, I never thought you needed to know everything like that about someone to know who they are."

He makes a noncommittal sound. "Everything, no. But I might be- no, I am biased, very biased, but I'd rather know more than less."

"You haven't asked very much of me," he points out, though his voice is very very mild. It's gratefulness but it's also an offer. He knows he is much more comfortable in this world, in this kind of place, in this transient existence, than most people would be.

Jon glances at him, the corner of his mouth turned up. A tiny eye on his cheekbone opens, another on the side of his neck, both fixed on Kiryu.

"I try not to. Where I know it might... dig deeper than intended."

An easy enough nod, and a good way to go about things, if he's honest. But all the same.

"I wouldn't mind answering your questions. If you ever needed it."

Jon sighs, shaking the water from his hands before pushing his hair back. In the warm humidity, the rough curls are becoming outright frizz. And just that neutral offer is stoking up the hunger - it's been only wisps and tastes since- well.

"I'm not there yet. But thank you."

A quick nod.

"I know some people have misgivings about men like me. And I want you to feel..." he frowns a little stronger, "as safe as you can, considering."

You were on death row. He's talked to Saejima-san about this kind of thing. It never entirely leaves you.

He looks at him with some surprise for a moment, and then nods, sinking a little lower in the water.

"Safe isn't- I don't think that's in the cards for me. But I feel- out of immediate harm's way, here. Safer than I felt in Cadens."

"I do as well."

While this isn't his world, this is his kind of city. And cities like this are the best at taking in strays and outcasts. It was built for it, had places for them, welcomed them even if that welcome came with concerns to be managed. Much better than Thorne for him, though. Even before Jon'd been on the chopping block.

"Safer than I feel in... the Horizon."

Someone might be avoiding it a little bit.

He rests his head back on the edge, breathing deeply for a moment.

"I feel like answers are in the Horizon. But there's a lot about it I can't see. It's too- fluid. Too many people shaping it."

"I'm not good at figuring things out like that," he says honestly, earnestly in this case. Because it's been something that's been eating at him a little, if quietly. "But I know it's shaped by perception. And I know there are perceptions I have about myself I'd be worried about there, given the current situation. The first time, we didn't remember who we were."

Now, though.

"I'll go if there's a good reason or if you need back up, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea otherwise."

"- Oh." He looks to meet his eyes again, without lifting his head. "You haven't been back since the first time."

He shakes his head. No, no he hasn't.

"Is that a problem?"

There's nothing defensive. He's just not sure where Jon's going with this.

A little shake of his head. "Of course not. It might be smart." But nothing, nothing could stop Jon from going nightly. "My domain keeps... trying to put up unpleasant reminders."

"Is that a problem?" because if Jon needs his help, needs back up, he'll overcome his misgivings, the same way he would if Majima needed him there.

"Reminders?"

He waves that off, hand making ripples just below the surface. "The first few- maybe seven or eight- times I visited after the escape, the gallows were there. They wouldn't stop reappearing until I dismantled them with my hands. Now it's just the wood- the beams."

For the first time since they’d settled into the warm water, Jon might catch Kiryu’s fingers clenching tight and pointedly, pointedly unclenching. But there is something else he’s caught.

“You go so often?”

Maybe he’s over-reacting. It’d seemed such a momentous thing that one time.

"Every night." His eyes longer on that motion a moment. "Martin and I try to meet. He can't always make it, but I do."

"Ah."

There's no real need to discuss that. Kiryu can respect it. He nods.

"The only other person from my world is Majima-san. And he... has his own reasons not to go there."

Jon's curious, wants to know if it's something they made that they're avoiding, but he doesn't let himself ask. Because it wouldn't be only asking. He exhales, and looks away with a quiet sigh.

But he can provide a little, what he feels is fair to say without violating Majima-san's privacy.

"He gets more than just a reminder," he says gently, "and his reminder is from the world he came from, what I know of as the past."

"I saw his domain, the first visit." He frowns slightly. "I think I was rude to him. I should apologize for that."

"He might not accept your apology out loud," Kiryu says fondly, "but it will mean a great deal to him."

Gideon picks her way through the precarious-looking structure with some trepidation. She's still accustoming herself to this strange, shifting place, feeling out the shape and depth of it. That means wandering about through places that don't belong to her, those that have sprung up from the depths of other people's minds, and whilst there's definitely something just a biiit too fucking intimate about that, she is pushing past her discomfort and doing it anyway. There's only one way to learn about a thing, and that's to fully experience it.

So her wanderings have led her here, to this part-crumbled building that feels caught somewhere between oppressive and on the cusp of change. Light streams in from somewhere unseen, and it makes the open cells she passes seem more hopeful than ominous, somehow. Or maybe that's just her.

She pauses abruptly when she sees the small, grey creature stretched out in a yellow pool of light. Goes quiet and still. She's seen these things before, she thinks, slinking around the alleyways in Cadens, mooching about in some of the taverns she's frequented. Still has no idea what it is though. Slowly, she drops down to her haunches. Extends a tentative hand.

"Heeeey, little uh, little dude. Over here," maybe it'll let her touch it. She's so absorbed in her observation of the cat that she's oblivious to any other presence that might be around.

The round little cat rolls onto its back, looking at her upside down with mismatched eyes - one green, one yellow - before it gets to its feet with a soft "Mrrp." Tail high, just the tip flicking back and forth, it trots to meet her. There's no hesitation at all in the way it rubs its cheek against her fingers.

"His name is Commodore."

Jon's voice echos a bit in the broad space - he's still a few yards away, coming down from one of the upper tiers of cells, careful in how he picks his way down a crumbling staircase.

Her eyes widen as the little creature trots right on over to her, mouth slipping into an unconscious grin as it rubs its cheek against her outstretched hand. This is the closest she's managed to get to one of these little guys, and it feels so soft, though fuck if she knows what she's meant to do now. So she just holds her hand still, lets the animal rub up against her fingers as much as it likes.

Until she hears the voice. Perhaps she ought to have expected it, should have known that someone would be around here somewhere. It surprises her all the same though, and she jerks up abruptly, almost falling back onto her ass as she glances around, seeking out the source of the voice.

"Fuck, you startled me," she announces, gaze falling on Jon as he descends the dilapidated stairs. She recognises him from back in Thorne; the supposed murderer, the guy who'd very narrowly avoided his date with the gallows. In a more a casual voice, attempting to cover her mild embarrassment, she adds, "Commodore, huh?"

"I like cats with titles for names." He smiles, not embarrassed about it at all. "I had Major and Sir in college, and a friend let me name hers The Admiral."

For his part, Commodore only pulls away from those fingers long enough to give Jon a look. But skritching is obviously the priority. A low, meditative purr comes from somewhere inside all that fluff.

"Sorry for the startling," he adds, a little belatedly. "It gets very quiet in here."

So the creature is a cat. It's a piece of information she quietly files away along with the million and one other new things she's learnt since being ripped from her own place and time. Says nothing of it-- there's no need to bring too much attention to the fact that half the things people take for granted as commonplace are strange and unusual to her.

"I guess it's as good a name as any," because what does one name an animal in one's care? Fuck if she knows. The cat - Commodore - makes that odd little rumbling sound, draws Gideon's attention back again and this time she does move her fingers, scritching oh so gently at the back of the animal's neck. Tentative. "And hey, it was kinda my own fault. I should have been paying more attention. I just got distracted by this little dude."

"You can pick him up. He's only aloof when I'm not in the Horizon." Because he'd rather the cat not run off or be erased by anyone else when he isn't here.

"Ah- care for tea? I've finished what I came here to do today, and was going to make a cup before I wake myself up."

"Yeah?" she asks, eyeing the cat now with evident uncertainty, like if she tries to pick him up she'll accidentally break him, or like he might go berserk and start clawing at her the moment she tries.

"And sure, I won't say no if you're offering," she says, and finally makes her decision. Carefully reaches out to scoop up the little grey cat in both hands.

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