Posts by konohana

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

Fantasy was her escape.

A distraction from reality, the ability to lose herself inside a fictional world and concern herself with the imaginary problems of others that disappeared the moment she switched the power off. It had been her coping mechanism since she was a child, grinding through boss battles on her gameboy while war was waged outside her bedroom walls. Hana knew fear: oh, she'd battled it every day as she fought for her lives and the lives of her family from the snapping jaws of beasts that wished to devour them. Hana knew how to swallow that fear, to channel it inward to spew fire into the faces of those she once knew as acquaintances, watch them writhe in agony as flames consumed their emaciated bodies. Hana was intimate with fear, regret, the churning of her stomach at the scent of seared flesh and the anguished cries of those that had not been given the mercy of death before being ripped apart and consumed. Hana was so far away from that horrible imagery, but it seared itself into her dreams every night, a neverending recording of the mistakes she had made and the lives she had costed. Because she hesitated. Took just a second too long to move, a second too late to capture their paws in the soil beneath them, a second too late slash their throats open with well-polished claws. Her aunt died because Hana was too scared to save her. It was not just reality but an everyday occurrence: victories against savages overshadowed by the loss of her neighbors, friends, family. Hana had learned how to swallow that misery, how to smile through her grief, how to see through eyes clogged with tears and smoke, how to strike swift and true even when her heart thundered so heavily in her chest it might burst from her ribs and fall before her eyes.

Gods, she could not hide from her fear this time.

This was not a fear Hana was familiar with: Hana knew war, battles, loss, conquest. The struggle of the present, to forge a future for oneself. Never before did Hana have to peer into such a future. A future she wouldn't be alone in. Hana had been responsible for lives before: she'd taken lives away, saved lives, watched them grow and blossom just as she had watched them wither and decay. But Hana had never been in charge of the lives of others outside of a battlefield setting, where she was ready to lay down her own for them. To create new ones. Delicate and fragile, so easy to corrupt and hurt. Hana's stomach flips at the very idea. So much could go wrong. War was easy. You win or you lose, you live or you die. Children were not. They required a gentle but firm hand, an understanding mind and consistent rules. Hana had none of those things: and if something, anything, went wrong for them it would be her fault. She'd be labeled a bad mother, and it would surprise no one. Hana was fearful. She had run every option through her head countless times, from raising them with their father happily to cutting herself open and removing them while her Clanmates were none the wiser. Hana's stomach rolls again, nausea closing her throat. How could she even consider such a horrible thing? She did not want them, and they would not want her once they got to know her, just like everyone else she had come in contact with. But at least they would be alive to hate her. Oh, Gods, she couldn't bare to think if they weren't alive at birth. If one of them was hurt, if she'd done something wrong carrying to term and it left a permanent mark on their bodies. Stillborn, deformed, suffering because Hana couldn't take care of them, she didn't know how, she'd never know, lifeless at the side of her body they'd never know how much she loved them she never wanted this to happen to them she didn't want them she didn't want she didn't want she didn't want-

Her stomach tossed violently, small ivory paw slamming down on the controller to pause her game as she lurched from her bedding and retched. The violent action was met with only air passing through her throat, eyes pressed tightly shut as she recovered from her dry heave.

The games weren't distracting her anymore.

The soft knock on her door was close to unnoticed through the blood rushing through her ears, rounded ears swiveling back to hug the top of her head. Hana's nerves finally caught up with her, breaths evening out as the trembling she acquired in her panic attack came to a slow end. The visitor's voice was easily detectable across the soft menu theme of Kingdom Hearts and the dulling throb in her ears, even easier to identify as one of the few friends- if only- she had in BlizzardClan. Without picking up the specifics of his speech she was able to grasp that there were two syllables he called, which Hana quickly pieced together as either "hello" or her name. Untangling herself from the mass of blankets she had wove herself into, the Oriental feline pushed the controller toward the television while remaining cautious to not accidentally resume the game with her shaky movements. Her legs felt as though they were about to give out as she rose onto them, walking on threads ready to collapse in themselves rather than limbs. Despite all the noise in her small home the creek of the aged wooden dear felt deafening as she pulled it open, an immediate gust of chilled winter air causing her fur to rise. A familiar yet strange face greeted her, backlit by the dipping sun lazily drifting down beneath the horizon. It was by no means unrecognizable. "Pierce," she greeted in a voice close to a whisper, ears slowly pulling forward from her head. The games weren't working, but Pierce's presence sure was. More problems bury her nose in, conflicts to fret over that had no relation to her. Gods, it wasn't good to begin to blur the lines between fiction and reality- especially when it came to her friend. The milk chocolate feline took a slow step back, just as time-consuming as her previous actions had been, allowing room for the unmarred serval comfortable access through the door.

"Is everything okay?"

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

Gods, had Hana even seen the sun since the last meeting? She left her home to eat, to see Pierce, occasionally to weave her way mindlessly through the forest and listen to the few remaining birds surviving the winter. It had already been a week. Time was moving too fast. The Oriental mixbreed moved slowly from her home, paws like lead as she padded over to join the congregation of BlizzardClanners that had gathered. Hazel eyes were fixed on the ivory snow beneath once pristine paws, careful to avoid eye contact as the girl found Pierce at the very outskirts of the crowd. Of course he was here before her: he was so good at his job, so loyal, so true to BlizzardClan even when everything else was failing him. She strived to have that strength. But the least Hana could do was put on a facade, lifting her gaze to flash the serval a smile to give him strength when he could not give her any in return. Her gaze turned toward Aleksei, soft smile falling from her features as she listened to the announcements. The news of Jaelynn stirred her stomach, blinking slowly as she decided not to cast a glance toward Jerseyboy. He would only worsen her foul stomach. The events were standard enough, a distraction from the daily monotony of Clan life. Hana found them tedious, and while the prospect still didn't seem particularly thrilling, it was better than sitting at home and brooding. Leaning her small frame into Pierce, Hana hummed in acknowledgement of Aleksei's announcements but otherwise remained silent as she waited for the BlizzardClan Leader to finish speaking.

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

It'd been a minute since Hana had seen such formal training, although she wasn't sure Fadingmoon was the ideal instructor given how soft she was. It was by far the most interesting thing Hana had happened across however, drawn toward the slowly forming crowd with perked ears. Spars with Shadow Veil- sparring wasn't exactly one of Hana's interests, given she was more of an "all or nothing" fighter and didn't particularly like having to hold back as she batted softly at an ally. And given her, ah, "predicament", wouldn't rough housing be particularly bad? Such a reason should have stopped Hana from approaching, but intsead it drove the earthen feline toward Fadingmoon's call. "Teams would be fun," Hana added, attention drifting off of Fadingmoon instead to the moving forms of Quasar and Aleksei. Jogging? Hana could jog. Hell, she could run, sprint, jump some hurdles if she had to. Setting of a brisk pace after Aleksei, the Oriental feline sucked in a deep breath. With her added weight came breathlessness at an intensity Hana was not familiar with so early into an exercise routine.

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

Unlike the other two, Hana was not particularly fond of reading, which was odd for someone so obsessed with losing herself in fictional stories. Instead her attention remained rooted in video games, having never branched out to books: she found them too tedious for their pay off, whereas games had an immediate reward of their interactivity. Gods, the only book she had now was one given to her by Aleksei when he was drunk out of his mind enough to actually give her something. Padding over on light paws behind Sugarpop, hazel eyes curiously scanned the text Sophie was engrossed in before flicking up to the canine herself. Lips curled upward in a half-smile, the bi-coloured feline gave a nod of greeting toward Sugarpop before plopping herself gracelessly into a seated position not too far from the duo. If Sophie didn't feel like engaging in conversation Hana might grab her DS from home and play some pokemon next to her: it'd be nice to have silent company to enjoy, previously an odd concept for Hana.

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

A thin smile found its way onto her features, borderline instinctual as Pierce's state came fully to her attention as the door came to a creaking stop. Fake but not hollow, a cruel reversal of roles the first time they had found themselves in this situation with each other. The irony was not lost on Hana: rather it was a weight on her shoulders, a burden to support Pierce as he had done for her. Her throat closed at the notion, gaze briefly flicking off of the serval. Pierce was not a burden. His presence, his problems, she would support him just as fiercely as she would fight for him. She wondered now, in hindsight, if Pierce had any demons he was fighting when she stumbled to his home in the late hours of the night just as Hana did now. She wondered now if she had ever caused Pierce any distress, if his heart was just as heavy that night as hers was now. Pierce was not the image of strength, of masculinity: he was soft, understanding, kind. He was a shoulder to lean on. As naive as it now sounded, Hana had never considered her friend might be just as adept at hiding his problems as she was. His The silence that stretched between them was the most resounding answer Pierce could give to her questions, smile fading and eyebrows drawn into a concerned frown as the quiet stretched on between the duo, taking a moment to simply study each other. Hana was not used to being the responsible one. To being the firm hand, the intellectual, to take a cool look at the circumstances and calmly determine the best course of action. That was supposed to be Pierce. But Gods, he was a leaf in late fall, brittle and hanging on by a few threads of sinew ready to give way beneath the pressure of a soft breeze.

When Pierce broke the silence asking for invitation into her home, Hana's eyes widened slightly as her attention was torn from her thoughts to focus directly on the Pierce standing before her, rather than the image Hana had come to admire of him. She had stepped back for him, opened her door for him- was it not enough? Hana's expression relaxed into a neutral state as she took another small step back, silently chiding herself for such a selfish thought. It wasn't that odd of Pierce to want an actual confirmation, let alone when his eyes were glassy and lips pulled down into a frown. "Of course," the bicoloured feline affirmed in a hoarse voice, reminiscent to the rough sound of gravel beneath boots. Hana had no roommates, no direct neighbours she feared of disturbing: Hana could not outwardly wallow when Pierce needed- wanted her. Selfish, Hana reminded herself, grazing her bottom lip between sharp teeth as she finally moved away from the door to advance to the back wall of her home. "Always." There would never be a time she would turn him away. He might not call her the same, but Hana considered him a friend: a close one. One of few, if the only. The soft theme music of the game she had left paused hurt her ears as she neared her television set up, remaining rotated back on her head to listen for the heavier steps of the serval to assure he was following her. While not dirty her home was not exactly clean either, and Hana became very aware of such as she lifted a paw to step into her nest of blankets: stacks of cased games, assorted tangles of cords, her bed- a wad of bedding far from appealing. It was... homely, lived in. Pierce wasn't here to be her interior designer, Hana knew, but his judgement scared her now more than ever.

... When did she reach such a low she feared her friend's judgement? Pierce's disapproval? When had she grown to doubt everything around her so severely it had turned inward on those she held close?

Hana settled herself in her bed as far right toward the wall as she could, leaving enough room for Pierce if he chose to join her. It would be a bit of a tight fit, not that Hana minded the personal contact but she figured Pierce would like the option of either directly next to her in her "nest" or alongside the mess of blankets and pillows where he could pull out something small for himself. An ivory paw reached out to tap at the volume control, music becoming little more than a distant hum even as Hana sat less than a foot away from the screen. Her lip had found itself between her teeth once more, chewing nervously on the sore flesh. Just looking at the pause screen caused her anxiety to rise, a disturbing reminder of the panic attack she was still coming down from. Her paw darted forward toward the power button, screen responding immediately as the room went silent and put into darkness. The room was now illuminated solely by the natural light of the clouded moon shining through the few windows she had. Drawing in a long breath, Oriental mixbreed slowly turned her head toward Pierce, her worried scowl much more prominent on her features despite being shrouded in darkness.

"Pierce, is everything okay?"

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

Regardless of their type, Hana was an animal person. Raised with two dogs and a handful of backyard animals, her fondness for even the oddest of animals even as she aged and eventually left home. But her dogs, chickens, and ducks she had grown up with were back in South Korea with her family, as Hana had moved to America in search of broadening her horizons. Renting a house of her own with a roommate reopened the possibility of owning pets once more, and both were quick to snag the opportunity. Hana herself got a Samoyed puppy she had given the English name of Cloud (although don't be fooled, she was quite influenced by the Final Fantasy character she had a childhood crush on), followed shortly by her roommate buying a Shiba Inu puppy with his native tongue title of Rei. And while Hana could claim to love animals all she wanted, raising two highly independent dogs at the same time was one Hell of a mistake. Against the advice of their friends they decided to get one more dog, a more mature shelter dog that might instill a level of calm into the pups. On her first visit to the first shelter, however, Hana immediately fell in love with an older Pit Bull mix and despite her roommate's protest, the elder dog was their newest family member. Hana gave him a Korean pet name fitting of his famous breed characteristic: Miso, or "smile".

Two years later, Cloud and Rei were finally done growing, with Rei sitting about a foot shorter than his Samoyed counterpart. Miso was at a comfortable (and estimated) eleven, age showing in his graying red features. Why Hana had decided to bring the problem children alongside Miso today was all but lost on her, and Hana found herself immediately regretting the decision as the dogs pulled in two radically different directions as soon as the sliding doors parted for them. Cloud announced herself with a deep bark that resonated off the wall, quickly followed by yaps from Rei as he pulled at the very end of his leash. Miso remained silent as he followed closely at her hip, occasionally casting a glance to the side to observe his surroundings but otherwise remaining focused on not getting ran over by the two younger dogs. The first order of business was setting up a grooming appointment for Cloud, who had eliminated Hana's need for a blanket. Brushing her did so much, and given that Hana was too scared of fucking up cutting Cloud's hair on her own, it was best to just schedule a trim at the cheapest place she could. Hana knew she shouldn't expect no other dog to be present, but a small Chihuahua in a parka wasn't exactly what she expected as she headed for the front counters. Hey, the guy holding the leash wasn't half-bad looking, either. Cloud seemed indifferent at the smaller dog's presence, but Rei was quick to react, releasing a series of barks and tugging at the end of the leash to urge Hana to give way. "Hey," Hana scolded, giving a soft tug on the sesame shiba's leash that caused the small dog to go silent, dipping his front half into a play bow at Scissors. Miso huffed, shifting his weight back to slide into a discontent sit.

"Cute dog," Hana finally addressed Miles, offering a smile but keeping her distance from him until Rei settled down a bit. The Chihuahua looked like, for lack of any other metaphor, a rat on meth: although even rats were cute, she supposed. His little outfit made him even more endearing. "What's his name?"

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

Although it was going to be an absolute pain in the ass to clean, the whole situation was ludicrously funny. What were the chances that servers were standing in a line waiting to go through the door as others filtered back in, and some idiot knocked them all over like some twisted version of a domino line? Like Miles, Hana had been one of the unlucky servers that had been caught in the line- unfortunately Hana hadn't exactly fallen with grace, and had thrown a plate of spaghetti into the chef's working area. The pasta went in every clean dish in a 3 foot radius, the plate shattered against the counter, and she'd nearly caused a fire when the chef reacted with a start as he simmered a marsala drizzle and it splashed out of the pan. And her mistakes were relatively light compared to some. For once Hana was glad she had to wear a work uniform, the front smattered with pasta sauce and miniscule pieces of glass as she pushed herself up off the floor, eyes wide with disbelief. Once she had stabled herself on her feet, Hana burst into a laugh as she viewed the scene. God, she thought she had fucked up when the person behind her stumbled: it was pretty clear that nearly every single person in the kitchen had partook the biggest mistake of the fiscal year.

"Time to reset the betting pools for "days until an accident" and "days until a catastrophic failure", looks like." Hana joked, taking advantage of the fact the manager had locked themselves into their office out of frustration rather than engage with their employees. It wasn't exactly the highest of class places, but for its size and name, it had a reputation to uphold: yet the behind the scenes were little more than children on a playground, really. Hana loved her jobs, and watching Miles swish a half-cooked onion into the garbage across the room was a strong reminder of why she'd yet to look for a job elsewhere. Sure, it didn't pay as well here, but there was never a dull day here, either. Reaching down into her pocket, Hana pulled out a small notepad and pen now splattered with sauce as she flipped to the last page in the book. On it was a loose record of work-related incidents, clicking her pen and quickly scrawling down the date with the title "restaurant chernobyl". When the day came she moved on from her job as a server, she wanted a record of all her memorable moments she could pass on to another server for them to carry on. A cheesy idea, but one Hana found endearing nonetheless.

After running her hands under a sink to clean them of pasta sauce and shrapnel, Hana followed behind Miles toward the supply closet while sweeping her hair up into a bun from the braid it had been in previously. Having grabbed a squeegee and dustpan, Hana lifted a hand to press it over her eyes. The novelty of the situation was wearing off as she realized she'd be here another hour (if they worked quickly). Hana enjoyed her coworkers perhaps more than most, but she wanted to get home just as much as the others regardless. "Anybody got some music they could put on?" Hana inquired, returning to her personal ground zero and squatting down to begin pulling the glass into the dustpan with the squeegee. "Something with some kick. I'm ready to make a bed out of pasta and glass to catch some z's."

eighty pounds of wreckage in a mason jar *:･ﾟ✧*

( you're a bit combustible, don't break my heart )

Hana knew Mija. Or, at least, knew of Mija. They had encountered each other on a few occasions, although Hana couldn't recall if they'd ever actually spoken directly to each other before. Socializing was becoming increasingly difficult as days ticked by, steps growing heavier with additional weight Hana did not want under any circumstances. Frankly, if it were not for Pierce, chances were high that Hana would never leave her house at all. Her doubts and fears would not stop Hana from being curteous as she approached, the milk chocolate feline flashing the crowd a tailored grin as she sat off to the side of the crowd. "Mija, right?" The Oriental mixbreed clarified, despite her name having been repeated a handful of times by others. "I'm Hana. Don't think we've formally met, have we?"