doku | VISIONS I HAD BURIED UNDERGROUND / RETURNING TO ABUSE US

Thanks.

[She probably could have found some more polite way of going about it but just sitting there while all those assholes took picture was just - she didn't do such a good job of blocking out the noise, then. But he's not upset with her so she doesn't really care!

In relative silence she drives them back to the trailer so they can put everything away, hitch it up, and leave.]

I hated that they were always in our lives. I don't mind talking to fans, hanging out with them is great but I ... [How does she even say it, so that it can make sense?] I always hated that reporters got to know everything from my cup size to where I had lunch. And I could never be angry about it or even complain, drove me nuts.

[Repression isn't good for anyone, kids.]

It'll die down eventually.

[Admittedly, he spends a lot of time playing tetris with the fridge. Maybe they overestimated how much they could bring...]

They're still feeling the gaping wound left behind by the industry fallout. We'll suffer the disease for a while yet, but people will adapt. Or forget.

Hopefully, like this...we'll be able to get closer to our fans. There's no corporation standing between us and them anymore.

[Better to be over prepared than under, right? Or something along those lines. While he plays with the fridge she tries to figure out what to do with all the pillows.]

I've never been so eager to be forgotten, to be honest.

[She fluffs her pillow and sets it off in the far corner of the very small bed.]

Keigo. [The way she blinks over at him does nothing to explain what the hell she just said or why she said it.]

I still can't believe people would want popularity just for popularity's sake.

[His head pops out from the side of the door (as he's currently sitting on the floor to figure this out, he's too tall to pack the fridge standing up.]

Come again?

I used to when I was a kid, but now that I've actually had it ...

[Definitely no. Not anymore. But as far as his very reasonable question:]

It's kind of like smashing our names together, and I think it sounds cool. And ambiguous enough for anything we might end up doing.

[In other words, it's a name suggestion.]

Isn't...isn't that a Japanese word? Keigo?

[He's not complaining, by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary, there might be something here they can use.]

Mmhm. It's a specific way of speaking to people, if I remember correctly.

[Specifically an incredibly polite form of honorifics.]

A way of speaking to people...

[He repeats it thoughtfully as he finishes packing the fridge and he closes it, stands up, and sets the temperature on it.]

Speaking to people.

[He likes the sound of that.]

[There's nothing to add to that when it seems like he's still thinking it all over. She nods, kind of to herself, and finishes up with the bed. She finds her notebook and pen. She doesn't want to be stuck in the trailer while they're driving but she's going to need something to do when she isn't driving! And there's already enough wandering around in her head that she can let her brain move a bit. If something worthwhile comes out, great. But it never hurts to just kind of work it out.]

[He quietly takes note of what she's dug out for herself.]

So we're ready then. [Hoo boy. He rolls his shoulders--it's nice to finally be done.] You want me to start the drive? [You know, so she has some time to her thoughts.]

Ahh.

[She should at least offer to go first, right? Except she really wants to write.]

If you don't mind, we can switch off when you're tired, though. [It's probably not a drive they can make in one long go.]

I don't know how much I have in me, but we'll see how far we get.

[It's already afternoon, but if they want to drive well into the night...it's gonna have to be Noriko that does it, while Krieg snoozes in the back seat.]

Don't try to tough it out, it's been a long day. [She snorts, begins to head out of the trailer. They've probably already hooked up everything that's needed to properly tow it.] Hell, it's been a long month.

[So a little bit of change and the start of something far more positive could really do them a whole hell of a lot of good.

Into Desdemona, and off they can go!]

I won't.

[He'll just feel a lot better when they get over state lines.

It's about ten p.m. when he decides he's run out of steam.]

Ugh, I'm throwing in the towel. Do you want to take over or find a place to park for tonight? Break in the bed.

[She's writing the whole time, both feet kicked up so that her knees are pressed in towards her body, and her notebook rested in the small space between them and her chest. She gets about six pages, both sides, in. There's a lot to kind of mess with the next time she's on her guitar and that's enough.]

I can put in a few hours.

[It's only ten! She can make it until four at the very least, and that's got to put them out of the city, right? That's the idea, anyway.]

[It's true. He pulls over at the soonest truck stop to make the switch, and it's not until he's in the copilot seat that he gets a good look at her notebook.]

You've been busy!

[He's not gonna read it unless she gives him express permission though.]

[While she's outside she stretches her arms and back before pulling up into the driver's seat! She takes a moment to hook in her phone to charge and connects it to the car. He's going to have to deal with some pop while she drives, because it helps keep her up, but it's not turned up horribly loud anyway.]

Kind of, it's a lot of scribbles and feelings so far ...

[She motions towards it while pulling out of the rest stop.] You'll see it doesn't make a lot of sense right now.

[It really doesn't. There are sizable paragraphs jammed in her inherently feminine loops, sloppily drawn staffs with notes, and even a doodle of a peacock, and on one page there's one that's supposed to be of her and Krieg, pushing through the earlier crowd. Some of it can be read benignly enough ("I'll never go home again / I don't remember where I left it / but I've got a burnt out taste in my mouth / so maybe it's with you / a hollow place with you") but farther in towards the end of those six pages is a little angrier, violent, less focused. Even her handwriting begins to change, becoming incredibly frantic when, in the moment, she had appeared perfectly calm ("And it turns out that the day you die is the same day you come alive / oh god and nothing / I'm gonna die alone").]

I never was very good at writing lyrics, to be honest. [It all sounds like the angry whining of a teenager when she reads it back to herself, so it's probably a miracle she hasn't thrown the whole thing out the window.]

Hmm.

[He goes through it pretty thoroughly with the implied permission. Krieg is a little too tired to really do anything that meaningful with it, but maybe she's not quite ready for someone to put their own touch on it. She started out pretty strong, but the evidence of working for too long on the same thing is pretty obvious.]

This is pretty good for a first swipe, though.

[And pretty good pictures for just doodles, too.]

I like your peacock.

[Her girly touches are honestly really endearing.]

[Well, it's more like her thoughts eventually drifted into a series of things that she just didn't have the emotional energy to deal with - maybe that's about the same as working for too long.] I'm sure it'd benefit for a little refining from you, once it's not all just ramblings.

[It's a level response that almost hides her relief.]

I named him Marcello.

[Why does anyone let her name any singular thing.] Weren't you gonna sleep?

[Not that she's complaining.]

Figured I'd be your copilot for as long as possible, return the favor...you know.

[He actually just wants to hang out with his friend some more, even though they're not really having consistent, lively conversation.]

Does Marcello have a mate?

Nope, he's all on his own, poor guy! Maybe he's destined to unending loneliness.

[That is not the case, she just didn't think to draw another peacock.] But you can give him one! [She doesn't care if he uses her notebook or anything.]

Just don't push yourself, okay? [Because he seems the type and he did sort of imply that uneven sleep patterns had an effect on his health sooo.]

[Yes, she's right. But she might also have to help keep him on track in that regard.

But to be perfectly honest, he might genuinely conk out in the back and if that happens, he might not be able to help her with anything that comes up with the trailer once she's decided to clock out.]

We'll see about that.

[He picks up the pencil and idly doodles next to Marcello. He doesn't have anything in mind, but he ends up drawing an elegant little peahen to make Marcello's companion.

After a while, he adds a dozen little peachicks.]

[For as chatty as she can be at any other given time of the day Nariko's a quiet driver. She sings very softly for someone who was used to being on stage, and doesn't patronize either of them with questions for the sake of it. Krieg has always ... Been very easy to be around. The part of her that is still incredibly angry and near violent about a great number of things just seems to calm it's heels when he's nearby. Somewhere around two a.m. she considers saying as much, but Nariko only gets her mouth open before her bravery falters.

That's really the first sign of unbeatable exhaustion, but she doesn't throw in the towel until about three-thirty, when it suddenly seems like an awesome idea to tell him her whole life's story whether he's awake or not.

The next rest stop they park in is well outside of Vista City, and it's empty aside from them. If she doesn't get some sleep she'll probably accidentally drive them off a bridge.]

Hey. [... The peachicks are super cute. But if he's not up, he's gonna have to be. He'll wake up achey if he sleeps in the passenger seat.]

Mm.

[He's spent the last two hours drifting, honestly. Resting, but not very productively, and enough for him to take a look around when they come to a full stop. Drowsily, he pulls out his phone to check the time.]

How you holdin' up?

[Question of the hour for both of them.]

I don't think my skin is real and I want to yank my eyes out. [Because they burn, but when she closes them they just hurt even more.] It's bedtime.

[When she yawns it's loud and unbridled, and very not-pretty.] C'mon.

[She rubs her eyes while taking the keys out of the ignition and opening her door, all but stumbling out of her side. If nothing else she's way too tired to be a mess, but this blunt honesty will get her in trouble so the sooner she hits the mattress the better. And he's apparently got to follow along.]

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