awashlogs | [OPEN] NOVEMBER CATCHALL.

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[OPEN] NOVEMBER CATCHALL.

WHO: Momo and you!
WHERE: All around.
WHEN: Throughout the month of November!
WHAT: Quests, mirrors, miscellanies.
WARNINGS: None atm— I'll update if there's anything notable!

QUEST 32 : THE PLAGUE.

a.

[ He's sick.

He knows what this is, because he's pushed through it before: nausea, headaches, aching joints, pressure behind his ears. When he breathes through his mouth, he tastes that tar-thick illness sitting at the back of his throat. When he talks, he can feel how his voice wants to break between each syllable.

It's bad. But it's not unbearable.

It is, however, enough of a physical burden that someone who meets up with him on the regular might realize that he hasn't rang in a while— that, or someone who talks to him routinely might notice that he cuts conversations a bit faster than usual. He's missing from the streets in the same way that someone who pays enough attention might notice that their local grocery store's changed their looping smooth jazz soundtrack to elevator music; his absence is subtle, and largely insignificant.

Still, he's around. At home, he's in his room with a book he'd pilfered from the library, lying on his side on the bed. If anyone comes knocking, he won't realize until they're standing next to him, bedside— he'll blink and sit up, eyes slightly unfocused before he laughs and looks embarrassed. ]

Sorry, sorry— ahh, you can't sneak up on idols when they're not camera-ready...!

[ If he's out and about, he'll be curiously devoid of emotion until he spots someone he knows. The transition from neutral to cheerful takes a second, but he gets there. A little rusty, a little creaky. ]

...Hey! Look at all this snow! It feels super nice, huh...!

[ Maybe because he's burning up??? Jesus, Momo. ]

b.

[ Or maybe your character's the one that's sick, and Momo's the one that's plodding over for a gift delivery or some soup delivery. Either way, he's here and at your doorstep, hands full and brows downturned. ]

Go lie down, okay? Let Momo-chan take care of things today, no sweat.

MIRROR, MIRROR.

[ Here's what Mirror Momo is: he's an asshole. But here's what Mirror Momo isn't: he's not a liar.

Maybe you're over for a house visit, or maybe you've caught Momo doing his laundry outside, or maybe you've caught Momo looking for food to eat. Either way, at some point, that stupid mirror finds its way into the conversation in an intrusive way: whether it be through its sudden appearance, or because Momo's stuffed it into the front pocket of his sweatshirt in an effort to keep it from spooking him.

Mirror Momo talks a lot of shit. Throughout, he's terminally upbeat. Always, always smiling.

Listen closely, and you'll probably hear a lot of unflattering truths about 'Momose Sunohara'. Oops. ]

(( catchall for November! ♥ feel free to PM me or to shoot me a PP via Plurk (

deuil) for anything more specific. if you're hitting up the mirror portion of the log, i'll write up whatever Mirror Momo is saying at that point in time— feel free to leave a blank toplevel and i can hit you up with an insecurity that Momo's nursing! ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Momo's tossing the last of his trash aside, catches the tail end of his mirror self's speech as he trots down the porch. His brows are turned down and his smile is apologetic, hands a little shaky as he picks up the rude-ass object in question. ]

—Haha, it's been saying stuff like that all day...! Pretty mean, huh...!

[ Mirror Momo, hands at his cheeks and knees bent, laughs. ]

Only because you're a coward, 'Re:vale's Momo-chan'!

That's all of them. You should hear what mine's been saying.

[ and muffled, from her hoodie: ]

I'm only saying what you refuse to admit. There's no one in the world who can keep up a happy smile and a positive attitude and act that that's how they REALLY are, all the time. Maybe if you'd actually say something about how lonely you are, you wouldn't keep losing people in the first place!

[ Maya's sigh is a tired one, even as she smiles wryly. ]

See?

[ Momo's reply is near-immediate, as if he's trying to speak over the voice coming from Maya's mirror: ]

—You don't need to let me hear that, if you don't want me to.

[ If she's letting him hear as recompense, he doesn't want to; he feels sick already, like someone's peeled off a layer of self-defense that he didn't know he'd been wearing. ]

...Ah, I mean... [ One hand sifts over his bangs, uncharacteristically nervous for someone who's usually so open. ] ...Sorry.

—Wanna come inside and sit down?

... It's fine. [ still so wry. ] I've been able to ignore it, for the most part. But sure-- I brought something for you.

[ Maybe it'll help. But poor Momo is starting to look a little strained, so she grasps his shoulders to turn him back around. ]

Lead the way!

[ More than anything else, he's embarrassed— not that he's been exposed for playing the show business game (everyone does, really), but because he wants to explain himself. As if context would make his actions a little less ugly.

It feels a little pathetic, so he laughs. ]

Something for me? Haha, I love surprises...!

[ He opens the door for Maya, gesturing grandly for her to come inside. ]

Come in, come in! We need a little break, huh?

We might as well gather our stamina while we can! Stuff like this usually builds.

[ Maya be used to annoying shenanigans becoming Actual Problems in the long run. For now? She simply laughs and steps inside, waiting for Momo to join her before she slips a familiar-looking plush bunny out of her hoodie pocket. He's had a few touch-ups, but the nail polish is still as bright as ever. ]

Here you are! One complete Pyonkichi, just for you!

[ He's about to say something about how it's maybe better to just vent it all out while they can and while they have an excuse to, but he's interrupted by the completed version of his bunny friend.

Seeing Pyonkichi is a genuine salve to his rocky mood— he holds his hands out for the little toy, and eases into a sincere smile when he feels its weight on his palm. ]

—Pyonkichi! My cute, trusty pal! ♪ [ Turning the rabbit over, Momo wiggles its long ears. ] Ooh, now that I have him, I'm never gonna let him go...! He's coming with me to bed, to dinner, to baths...! [ momo... ]

Maaaaybe not to baths, he's not exactly waterproof.

[ Don't drown your new friend so soon, Momo! But he does look genuinely happy about it. Mission accomplished-- though Maya hadn't really figured she'd be embarking on a Cheer-Up mission until she'd seen his mirror. Ah, well. ]

[ He still feels badly about the mirror incident, of course: his mirror won't stop reminding him, from the space between his oversized sweatshirt pocket. That familiar two-toned head peeks out from the corner, still trying to jockey for attention.

You always change the subject!, it says, and it's true. Momo laughs, sheepish. ]

—But your love is in every stitch! Love is invincible.☆

Yes, well, since my love isn't at the heart-fluttery stage yet, it hasn't gained that water-resistant edge.

[ Ah, Momo. She does pause to look him over, expression gaining just a tinge of solemnity. ]

Are you doing okay, though? You're not pushing yourself too much?

[ Mm. He breathes through his nose, because even he thought his comeback was lackluster and forced. It's pointless to keep up the empty cheerfulness when there's no gas in the tank.

So he calms down, gesturing towards one of their salvaged armchairs before he takes his own seat. He sits backwards on a rickety wooden chair, using the backrest as a chinrest. ]

—I'm okay! The mirror isn't saying stuff that I don't already know. It's just that hearing it all the time is kind of a bummer; especially when there are other people around.

[ Maya shifts herself onto the armchair, drawing her legs up after politely removing her boots-- this seems like a good time to settle in for a Talk. Maybe because she isn't trying to happily deny that there's anything wrong with him... well, regardless, her own mirror is silent for now. ]

Are you worried they'd think any less of you for hearing it?

[ On a better day, he would've sat on the floor next to Maya— or, well. Maybe it's better that he's like this, face-to-face with her without relying on proximity to muddle his intentions.

He rests his cheek against his forearm, and takes a moment to think. ]

Ahh, yes and no? No one ever wants someone to hate them, right? [ Momo's not a saint, and god knows he doesn't want people to think that about him. ] ...I guess it just reminds me of a time when I wasn't the me that I wanted to be, and that's not the Momo-chan I want people to know.

[ The Momo he'd wanted to be, huh...

If Maya dwells on it, sometimes it breaks her heart a little-- that there are so many people unsatisfied with who they were, or are. Appearance. Personality. Companions. Wealth.

Momo had seemed to understand her in a way she hadn't expected back when she'd painted his nails, but she hadn't thought what lay past his cheerful smiles was something like this. Even though she was the same. Even though she'd shoved so much down to the point where it feels like she'd have to struggle to pull it to the surface. ]

... Momo, you know... [ Maya speaks carefully this time, thoughtful. ]

Why did you become an idol? Why are you an idol now?

[ Momo is still dwelling on the things he'd heard about Maya, too— that she has fears of loneliness that she doesn't articulate, as if putting words to uncertainties might make them become real. He can sympathize, and he'd say something about it if she weren't asking him pertinent questions in the here and now.

The first question isn't hard to answer. It's the reason why he's who he is. ]

...I became an idol because I didn't want the person who saved me to stop doing what he loves.

[ That's the short version. Momo's expression softens, because Yuki is, in fact, his everything. ] I wanted everyone to hear him! I wanted everyone to love his music.

[ That puts a little context to his insecurities, maybe; he didn't become an idol for himself, after all. ] Now, I do it because I want to keep making people happy by being a member of Re:vale.

[ Ah. Yeah, that makes more sense. Momo not originally becoming an idol because of a dream or an intense desire, but for someone else's sake...

Maya's smile returns, if a lot softer than her normal one. ]

People make decisions, become someone else, try new things-- for all sorts of reasons. And maybe they're not always pure or the result of a long-held dream, but...

[ She pauses, rueful. She'd insisted she'd wanted to be like her father and spread dreams to people, but she can also admit her choice to be a journalist had been partly out of spite. To show her father that she could balance a job and a family and not put one over the other.

So stupid. ]

What's important isn't necessarily why you chose to do something. What's important is how you handle what comes next. Obviously I don't know how Re:vale is as a group, but I do know that idols make people happy. They give them something to smile about and look forward to, so that even when their fans are discouraged, they're people to look up to.

So if you smile to make people happy, and you sing for them, I think there's absolutely nothing wrong for that. Just... remember that you've got friends who know and accept that you're just as human as everyone else. And for them, you don't have to always hold up that smile when you get tired.

...Yeah. I totally get it.

[ He does, he really does. People can't get better if they don't trip, first— perfect people don't exist, and if they do, they'll never know what it's like to wish for something. To work for something.

He knows, and he also knows that only someone who knows how to struggle can say those things to him with that kind of gentle conviction. Even if he sobers, even if his smile gets a little tired (Mirror Momo stays quiet for once), he relaxes from where his chin is still resting against the back of his chair. ]

I know that the things I've done until now weren't a waste. [ Even if he can't be proud of all of it, even if he had to grin and bear some things that he didn't necessarily want to. ] And I know that not everything's fun or easy, and that it's okay to say so.

—Do you tell yourself the same thing?

I try.

[ That much she can admit, with a little laugh. ]

But I'm kind of known as the optimistic one, and back home, it was super important to hang on to that kind of personality with all of my might.

[ She's the one that needs to be supportive. She needs to smile. For everyone else's sake. ]

There isn't... well, everyone else needed it a lot more.

Ah... well. I'm probably the last person you wanna hear this from, but you don't have to think about who needs what more.

[ Pot, kettle, etc. He softens, though, and fiddles with the little rabbit he's still holding in one hand. ]

It's nice to be needed like that, but I'd want you to treat yourself kindly, too. You're not just 'the optimistic one', you know? There are lots of Mayas— they should all get pats on the head.

I'm okay.

[ This, though, she says a little more quietly. ]

And the other "me"s are hanging in there, too! So you don't have to worry.

[ Hm.

He hears that dip, and he thinks about it.

After a beat or two, he extends his arms towards Maya, still leaning against the back of his chair. ]

I won't not worry, but—

—Wanna come in for a hug? [ Not "do you need a hug", not "can I give you a hug". ]

... [ Slowly, she lifts her eyebrows. ]

You, or the chair?

[ Momo's at least kinder than Maya, She Who Unleashes Hugs Without Warning. ]

[ That question just makes him break into a soft laugh. ]

Well, if you don't want my Momo germs, the chair can protect you. ☆

[ Maya snorts softly, lowering her legs back to the floor-- and without her boots, the floor is Cold, so she's very quickly moving over to Momo and shifting her weight from foot to foot. Good job, Maya. ]

I think I can probably ward off Momo germs with my own immune system, thanks.

[ Poor Maya... time to get cooties.

Momo sits up from his perch when Maya gets within range, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck as if he's going to be running a full marathon after this. Once he settles, he's relaxed and leonine; rounded edges, open posture. ]

You sure? 'Cause here I come...!

[ And here he goes. No hesitation, no holding back. None of that weak one-armed chestbump nonsense— it's a full-on, bona-fide hug, complete with his chin resting against Maya's hair and his shoulders rounded inwards to keep the both of them locked.

What a nerd. ]

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