No Posting

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

zinan✯aryes
❝ the radical bestfriend ❞

● occasionally known as z
● twenty-two
● male
● #eee188 & #202533



☁ was actually named zinan by his parents. and people wonder why he turned out the way he did...
☁ highly intelligent. unfortunately that left him lacking in the social department
☁ has always been intensely interested in technology; built his first computer at age sixteen
☁ doesn't go out often, but when he does, he's never far from free wi-fi
☁ although already a social disaster to begin with, he became more so after the fight with his best friend (who had been the only one to really accept him). if people didn't accept him then, they sure as hell don't accept him now



x-tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

❝xx ｕｎｔｉｌ　ｍｉｄｄｌｅ　ｓｃｈｏｏｌ　
Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｒｅｓｐｅｃｔａｂｌｅ　
Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｒｅｓｐｅｃｔａｂｌｅーーーー


Ｉ　ｄｉｄ　ｕｎｒｅａｓｏｎａｂｌｅ　ｔｈｉｎｇｓ　
ａｎｄ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ａｎ　ｉｄｉｏｔ　
Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ａｎ　ｉｄｉｏｔーーーーxx❞



➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤





Not even noon and the day was hot, eased only by a light breeze that blew from the east. The streets of Narita were crowded with the lunch rush, and the air was thick and sticky so that even those dressed in light clothes had faces glistening with sweat.

“Ah, it’s hot!” a young man sitting in the shade of one of the tall buildings exclaimed. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, brushing away his straw-colored hair, which was wet with perspiration, and closed his dark, almond-shaped eyes. He fell back against the cool stone wall, grew still, and inhaled deeply. The heat and the sun always had a way of zapping his energy and making him feel useless. He tried to squeeze himself as much as he could into the tiny bit of shade, but that lent little relief. Sighing, he cracked an eyelid and watched a pair of men pass by in suits. One appeared to be anxious to take his coat off, but the other walked too quickly to give him a break. A group of young girls walked by next, all four giggling at something on one’s phone. None of them looked bothered by the heat, as they were dressed in tanks and shorts with their long hair pulled into fashionable up-dos. Zo’s gaze lingered on the one holding the phone and a small smile flickered across his lips. Suddenly he sat straight up, removed his old, dirty T-shirt, and shoved it into the duffel bag by his side. Under the shirt, he wore a loose-fitting black tank that was more suitable for the weather, and when he leaned back against the wall again, he could actually feel the coolness against his bare shoulders. A lazy smile found its way onto his lips and he tilted his head back to look up at the bright blue sky. Only two or three wispy clouds drifted overhead – unfortunately not enough to cover the sun. Zo usually didn’t mind being outside – that’s where he lived, after all – but sometimes the weather got to him. He could do little about excessive heat or cold, or if it rained so much that he fell ill, but to simply roll with it. He removed and put on clothes as necessary, but that was the extent of his abilities to cope with the weather. He had caught a cold before one year during the rainy season, and his clothes got wet and stayed wet for three days. Had it not been for one particularly kind young couple, he might have died. Perhaps not, but Zo had the tendency to overreact when it came to illnesses of any sort.

Zo reached over and picked up his guitar, moving it to his lap and adjusting himself until his fingers comfortably held the fretboard and his right arm rested nicely on the instrument’s body. He began to hum as he strummed out a melody to accompany it. Music was one of the main things that helped him get his mind off of whatever happened to be ailing him at the time – whether it be the weather, an illness, or hunger. Whenever he played his guitar, he was in absolute bliss. It took him to another place, another world even. He loved the way his fingers danced over the frets and the beautiful sounds they produced. It made him feel like he wasn't such a failure after all, and it always reminded him of Kohei, for which he had named his guitar. He closed his eyes again and upon his face was a look of total happiness. If only he could have been able to make a living out of it.

“Zugunashi,” Zo heard a woman scoff as she passed him. He opened one eye to see the couple of coins that she had tossed at him. Two or three hundred yen, he guessed, which he thought was particularly generous from such a woman. He grinned and called out a thank you over his song. It didn’t surprise him, however, when she pretended not to hear and continued walking. He knew how people saw him and he didn’t let it bother him. All he cared about was getting enough money to stay alive. That meant paying for his medications and his meals, but most of the time he went hungry.

The song came to an end and Zo brushed his fingers through his hair, moving his shaggy, wet bangs from in front of his eyes. He idly lifted and twisted a few strands as he thought of a song passersby would recognize and (hopefully) pay to hear, but he couldn’t think of any that he had learned. Most songs that he played were simply melodies that he made up on the spot, and most people didn’t particularly care to hear them. Zo strummed a few chords and then stopped again to think. He wondered if he should take the few coins he had earned so far and go find something to eat. His stomach was already beginning to make sounds.

He stretched his arms over his head and then moved his guitar to his side. ”Food it is,” he said decidedly. He was the type who often talked to himself, despite strange looks. It was the best way to alleviate loneliness, which Zo had the misfortunate of feeling on a regular basis. He quickly packed away his guitar in its case and stood up, hoisting it onto his back. After bending down again to pick up his duffel bag and place it on his back atop the case, he started across the square. Where he wanted to find food, he wasn’t entirely sure. He hadn’t lived in Narita long enough to know the restaurants and food stalls, so he was simply going to wander around until he found something that smelled good.

Zo shoved his hands into his pockets, idly jingling the meagre coins he had stored in the one on the left. He glanced around at the shop fronts and their wax displays in the windows. Everything looked delicious. He came to a stop in front of one and gazed longingly inside. There were soups and custards, and various types of tempura and noodle dishes. Even a frothy mug of beer. Mashed potatoes, kelp salad, and a slice of lemon placed delicately upon a filet of fish. Not a detail missed. The display was so realistic that Zo would have eaten a wax dish without a second thought had it been offered to him. He hadn’t realized how long he had been standing there, simply gazing into the window, until an employee accosted him with a question about making an order (or something along those lines; he wasn’t paying too much attention). Zo shook his head sadly and apologized before being forced to continue onward.

Some of the lunch crowd had dispersed by now and so the streets were not as crowded. Crowd or no crowd, Zo didn’t really mind it, but it was a lot cooler when he could walk and feel the breeze instead of the heat of another body. Absentmindedly, he turned down a narrow side street where there was a produce stall set up in the shade of a canvas awning. However, seeing no seller, Zo went past it. He eyed the tarp that had been temporarily thrown over the fruits and vegetables, but didn’t give in to the temptation. He would never sink as low as to pilfer food from unattended stalls, no matter how easy. Some would think it was a dumb choice, especially when he was on the brink of starvation, but Zo wanted to keep an honest reputation if nothing else. At least then maybe Karma would decide to throw him a bone every now and then.

Zo came out onto a wider street lined with various other food stalls and a few more people. The sharp smells from the sizzling grills and fryers had his stomach growling again, but the lines were too long and he didn’t want to wait. He even passed up takoyaki, which was a cheap food he had grown used to eating simply to curb his hunger for a few hours. As he walked by the stall, gazing off at the unusually long line, he nearly stumbled over a young girl zipping past his feet with a paper bill in her hand. A woman standing off to the side – who must have been the girl’s mother – loudly chastised her for her bad manners, which startled Zo -- who rarely heard mothers scolding their children in public -- more than it did the child.

He tried an assuring smile so that the little girl wouldn’t be punished for it later, but the woman had looked away and didn’t see it. Zo let the smile fade and kept walking. There were a few other children around, he noticed, and a couple of teenagers hanging out in the shade of a tree. Seeing them, the familiar pang of loneliness returned and Zo looked up at the sky to stop thinking about it. The clouds had grown even sparser and his eyes stung a little from the brightness of the blue. But suddenly something solid collided with his body and he recoiled with surprise. Apparently everyone was trying to run over him today.

”Ah, suimasen!” he apologized quickly, only vaguely aware of the other man saying nearly the same thing. He extended his hand as if to steady the other person in case he had lost his balance, but he froze suddenly. When he and the other man made eye contact, Zo felt time stop. He stared and then blinked. Something about this person…




➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤




❝xx Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｐｕｔ　ｉｎｔｏ　
ａ　ｐｒｏｐｅｒ　ｈｉｇｈ　ｓｃｈｏｏｌ　
ｓｏ　ｉｔ　ｗａｓ　ｐｒｏｐｅｒーーーー


ｉｔ　ｗａｓ　ｔｅｒｒｉｂｌｅ；　
Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ｓｔｕｐｉｄ
ｓｏ　Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ｓｔｕｐｉｄーーーーxx❞

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

My name is...

Mio Miura.

My birthday is...

March third.

That makes me...

Seventeen.

What role I play....

Aiden's best friend.

About me...

I was born here in America (although a lot of people think otherwise; I guess I'll let them continue to think what they want) as my parents' only child. Although many of my friends would love not having siblings, I don't like it very much. I've always loved the idea of sharing my life with someone who would know me the best for as long as I lived -- a relationship even closer than a best friend because they live with you and see you every hour of the day. But my parents only wanted one child, so I was left longing for my friends' families. Not to say that I wasn't happy with my own, of course! I've always been close to my parents and I couldn't ask for a better home life, but sometimes I got lonely... Both of my parents worked and left me to myself most of the time. I had to create my own entertainment, which is perhaps why I have such an imagination now. But when I started school, I still looked for that person who I could be as close to as a sibling. Luckily, when my parents decided to move to a new house before I started elementary school, I met that friend -- my new neighbor, Aiden. We grew up constantly hanging out with one another; it was almost like having a brother of my own. Sure, it was a little difficult learning to communicate with him since he's deaf, but once I mastered some basic sign language, I looked out for him. Even when he was sent to a private school and I continued my public education, we were practically inseparable.

My family has always been fairly wealthy. Certainly not like Aiden's family, but we're able to live in the same neighborhood. Both of my parents came to the U.S. as doctors, and they both seem to enjoy their jobs. As a way to make up to me for not always being around, they've given me pretty much anything I could ask for. But in all honesty, I don't ask for much. All I need is my iPod. Really, that's all. Music is a huge part of my life, but unfortunately I only know how to play the piano because my parents made me learn. I like to sing though. In fact, I sometimes make videos and upload them to YouTube. I don't really make my own songs, but I love doing covers. And I can do just about anything. Pop, hard rock, children's songs, you name it! My voice is pretty versatile. I can go just as high as I can go low. People seem to like it, but I've been mistook for a woman on YouTube before. In my videos, I like to do strange things or whatever will make people laugh. In that way, I seem like an extrovert, but in reality, I'm actually kind of shy. I won't hesitate to talk to a person if they look lonely, but I'm less likely to talk in a group setting.

I have a secret though. Aiden and my parents are the only ones who know about it, and that secret is that I like women's clothes. Not just looking at them, but wearing them. Gowns, skirts, heels, even makeup. I don't really know why. Perhaps it started when I would always get into my mom's things, but all kids do that. I just continued doing it, and then eventually started buying my own. My parents don't care either way about it because they're from Japan and they say that the habit is "healthy" over there, but I know everyone else would care. So I don't tell anyone. I only dress up in private, or when I go out in public and know that no one will recognize me. I may not be as masculine as the typical American boy, but I'm still obviously a boy. I do boy things, have boy habits, etc. But sometimes I think that when I act like that, I'm just lying to myself. I don't actually enjoy all of those things that I do and I sometimes wish that I could just be myself without being judged. At least Aiden understands.

What I like...

• Milk
• Music
• Beautiful dresses
• Making videos
• Smiling

What I dislike...

• Being judged for liking women's clothes
• The cold
• Awkard moments
• Rain
• People who don't know how to take a joke

Miscellaneous Tidbits

Although I sing, I've never done anything to promote that outside of YouTube. I've never had lessons and I'd be a little too embarrassed to sing with my classmates watching me. Perhaps I'm a little insecure... Also, my eyes are heterochromic. My right eye is two shades lighter than my left.

My scars...?

I have both of my ears pierced, but that's only for when I dress up. I don't let anyone else see the holes. When I get sad, I actually sing more than usual, and generally very happy songs. I guess that's my way of cheering my mind up.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤

Mio sat with arms folded atop the cool granite counter, half of a once-hot tilapia filet and the remnants of a mango on a plate in front of him as he watched the fuzzy cable television broadcasting NHK. His parents had left him an hour prior to do as he wished after informing him that the school was closed for the day due to a blown transformer. Without power, and with such heavy reliance on technology nowadays, teachers couldn’t exactly teach. Although Mio enjoyed going to school, the news this morning was quite a pleasant surprise. But now he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do. He wanted to sleep more, but he was already up and dressed. The television in the kitchen wasn’t particularly entertaining either, but it only broadcasted the news in different languages, and one or two other channels. Of course his parents always kept it on NHK. Yawning, Mio propped his chin up in the palm of one hand and watched for a few more minutes. The anchors were always so monotone and their English too precise. It sometimes bothered him a little.

Mio pushed himself away from the bar and slid off the stool by the time the weather forecast appeared. He gathered up his breakfast leftovers, put the fish into the fridge for later, and tossed the mango skin into the garbage, still with no idea how he would spend the day. Perhaps a walk. That sounded nice, even though his parents often scolded him for doing such things on his own. It was broad daylight though and so he doubted anything horrible would happen. With his mind made up, Mio left the kitchen and headed up the stairs to his room to grab his cell phone and a pair of shoes.

His bedroom was cozy and just like any other guy’s room. He had a full bed with a rather plain comforter, a few posters scattered about the periwinkle walls, a laptop, camera, various electronics, etcetera. Perhaps it was a little more neat and organized than average, but that was hardly worth mentioning. On the other hand, there was a guest room – at least, it posed as a guest room – across the hall from his that held the feminine items he kept hidden from everyone else save a few very select people. He wouldn’t be going in that room this morning.

After lacing up his shoes, Mio started back down the stairs while fiddling with the contact list on his phone. He had many friends who went to other schools, like Aiden, and so he knew he couldn’t go hang out with them. So he searched for his own classmates, looking away from the screen just long enough to open the front door and then close and lock it behind him. He cast a glance toward Aiden’s house, noticing that it looked somewhat empty, and continued down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. The earbuds to his iPod dangled on either side of his neck – a rare sight not to see them in his ears, but he was too preoccupied with his phone at the moment to bother with them. He found one person, a boy named Kasi, that he could text and opened up a new message. Of course, the boy was a little… off, so whether or not he would answer his phone – or even agree to go somewhere – was up in the air. It wasn’t that he would be busy, as he didn’t have many friends due to a minor mental defect that set him apart from his classmates, but sometimes he forgot to answer his phone. Or simply didn’t have it with him. Mio decided to text him a quick “Hey, what’s up?” just in case. And even if he didn’t answer right away, Mio could at least expect some sort of conversation later on.

And then he pulled up a new message to Aiden, but stopped himself, remembering again that he, unfortunately, attended another school. So he canceled the message and dropped the phone into the pocket of his black sarouel pants. The day was truly lovely for a walk. Not too sunny, not too hot. Mio could still comfortably wear his lighter winter clothes without the typical April warmth bothering him. He slipped his hands into his pockets, enjoying the cool breeze that ruffled his hair and the serenity around him. He hadn’t taken a morning walk before. It was quite a different scene, and as he realized that, he also realized that he was nearing the school. The road, which was typically packed by cars of students and parents alike, was practically empty. The sidewalk, too… except for a figure up ahead. Mio squinted as he neared what appeared to be a girl, and a girl that he recognized, no less. A smile lit up his face. Although he didn’t know her all that well, he at least knew her name and had listened to her talk in the art class that they happened to share.

”Hey, Ellie,” he greeted pleasantly as he came to walk by her side. ”Are you headed to the school? It’s closed, you know.” He hoped that he hadn’t just made a fool of himself by giving her information that she already knew. Perhaps she was just taking a walk as well. But something inside compelled him to continue talking anyway.

”My parents got a message about it this morning. Something was wrong with one of the transformers and so the school has no power. Pretty lucky, huh? It’s like an extended weekend without the homework to worry about.” Mio tended to be chatty in the mornings, and even more so if he was only talking to one person. He stopped as they came near the school and looked down at the parking lot that was empty except for two maintenance trucks. It really was strange to see the place without people roaming around.

"Weird, isn't it?" he said to no one in particular.

➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤

❝xx ｇｏｉｎｇ　ｔｏ　ｓｏａｐ　ｌａｎｄ　
ａｎｄ　ｄｒｅｓｓｉｎｇ　ｌｉｋｅ　ａ　ｗｏｍａｎ　ｉｓ　
ｐａｒａｄｉｓｅーーーー


ａｓ　ｆｏｒ　ｔｈｅ　ｒｅｓｔ、　
ｉｔ’ｓ　ａｌｌ　
ｗｒｏｎｇーーーーxx❞

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

Fingers, as pale as if they had never seen true light in years, tapped impatiently upon the silver keyboard of a MacBook Pro, and another idly danced over the track pad. An installation window, only 63 percent full, reflected in the frustrated brown eyes of the young man who owned the computer. He glanced up at the toolbar for the wi-fi icon, which happened to be empty, in the right corner and growled. His eyes darted back to the installation window whose bar had still not moved. And then an exclamation point appeared over the wi-fi icon. With an even louder sound of frustration, he shot to his feet, knocking the chair over, and stormed to his front door. Some people had warned him of his growing anger issues – that radiation from all of the technology that he surrounded himself with was messing with his health – but he scoffed and told them that they lacked the thinking portion of their brains. Or simply hadn’t the intelligence to know how to use it properly. Long-time neighbors were astounded by the often-caustic remarks the once timid young man shot them, and even more were startled by his drastic change in appearance. As some would say, Zinan looked like he had stepped right out of a time machine from the future, and that tended to freak some people out. It was as if he had lost part of his humanity and replaced it with his obsession of technology. Hearing such comments rarely bothered him – or if they did, he never said a word – but what truly grated his nerves was when he lost connection to the Internet while downloading new software.

Zinan wasted no time making his way down the stairs to the main office in the apartment building, having not even bothered to slip on a pair of shoes. He pushed open the door, without knocking, and took a moment to catch his breath. His dark eyes were fierce as they locked with the portly, curly-haired woman behind the desk, and he kept his arm outstretched and firmly holding open the door. The woman raised a plucked eyebrow and her pursed pink lips opened a little. And then she closed her mouth and leaned toward the startled old man standing by her desk with a long blue cord wrapped around his arm.

”It’s nothing. Just keep working,” she soothed in a low voice, but Zinan could hear perfectly.

”Nothing?” he repeated, straightening and stepping forward to let the door fall closed behind him. Zinan could be intimidating when he needed to be, especially lately. He stood at a height nearing six feet and had a substantially stronger build than one would expect from someone like him, but his monotone voice and robotic movements was what really unnerved people. The portly woman even shrunk a little in her chair, if that was at all possible.

”I require an explanation.” Zinan pointed an accusing finger at the old man.

”We’re changing Internet service providers,” the woman defended, speaking as if attempting to placate a huffy child. Her Southern accent contrasted sharply with Zinan’s complete lack of one. He leaned forward a little.

”And did it not traverse your brainless skull to request the sentiments of the tenants first?” He glanced angrily at the old man who appeared just as dumbfounded by his words as the woman appeared insulted.

”Have you verified the credentials of this provider?”

”I assure you, sir, that—“ But the old man was quickly cut off.

”I am unacquainted with your company, therefore your assurance signifies nothing.”

”It’s for a much needed improvement,” the woman tried to explain, her face flushed. Zinan turned toward her again.

”I was satisfied with the speed and reliability of the preceding. But that is irrelevant. As a result of your failure to notify your tenants of this alteration, a critical software installation for my laptop has been paused indefinitely. I require the problem to be rectified immediately.”

The woman looked silently at him for a moment, whether to comprehend what he was telling her or to simply think of her own response. The old man was at a loss for words, and despite his instructions to continue working, could not. At last, the woman exhaled sharply.

”Surely you can get by without Internet for a couple of hours,” she answered testily, but before Zinan had a chance to counter with another argument, she stopped him. ”I’m not asking you, Zinan. You will have to get by for a few hours. And if you say another word, so help me God I’ll call the cops again.” Zinan stared for a moment, doing everything in his power not to make another catty remark. One could easily tell by the way his nostrils flared that he wasn’t happy in the slightest, but knowing that the woman kept to her word, he turned silently and left the office to head back to his own room.

Once inside, Zinan grabbed his bag and packed up his laptop and various other electronics. He hated having to leave his room for mere Internet access, but he depended on the new software to download to get anything done. Before he left for the second time, he remembered to slip on a pair of shoes.

Zinan wasn’t particularly used to natural light, and so as he walked down the sidewalk with his bag bumping at his side, he squinted to read the signs on the buildings that lined the streets. At last he found one advertising free wi-fi – a quaint shop by the name of Della’s Bakery – and pushed his way inside, just barely brushing the blonde who had also come in. But he didn’t even bother to apologize, much less look up. He had his mind set on Internet, and so he immediately claimed a table in the back, unpacked his laptop, and set to work again.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

blahblahOUT OF THE WOMB DINAH KESTREL SNOW
blahblahOUT ON THE TOWN JUST DINAH
blahblahTOO OLD FOR THIS TWENTY-FIVE
blahblahBETWEEN THE LEGS MALE
blahblahBEHIND THE SCENES X-TARIRARITARARA-X

Dinah is an animal whisperer of sorts. More specifically, a bird whisperer. Wherever he goes, birds seem to follow. He isn’t much of a talker, but he’s always available to listen to a person’s problems. Aside from that, he tends to spend most of his time on his own, mainly because the flock of birds seems to deter others from coming too close. Because he’s less involved, he’s like an outsider observing the actions that go on inside. He’s calm, and in many ways, wise for being so young.
!




blahblahOUT OF THE WOMB JORI ADRIEN MOREAU
blahblahOUT ON THE TOWN JORI OR ADRIEN
blahblahTOO OLD FOR THIS TWENTY
blahblahBETWEEN THE LEGS MALE
blahblahBEHIND THE SCENES X-TARIRARITARARA-X

After the death of his beloved twin sister, Jori looked to black magic hoping to learn a way that he could resurrect the dead. He’s essentially like the black sheep of the village. He doesn’t cause problems directly, but because he acts so shady all the time, most jump to the conclusion that he has his hand in whatever horrible things happen in the village. Jori isn’t evil, or anything close to that, however. He’s simply heartbroken over the death of the only person in the world that he was close to, and in fact prefers to be away from the other villagers. But it doesn’t help that he has a sickly nature and must often seek medicinal help.




blahblahOUT OF THE WOMB INE “MERIT” SAWAHATA
blahblahOUT ON THE TOWN MERIT
blahblahTOO OLD FOR THIS TWENTY-FIVE
blahblahBETWEEN THE LEGS MALE
blahblahBEHIND THE SCENES X-TARIRARITARARA-X

Merit’s name is rather misleading, as he isn’t exactly the most respectable person around. He’s a kleptomaniac without a family or origin to speak of. No one has quite been able to pinpoint that he’s the one snatching their small valuables and things, as he’s quite good at what he does, but they have noticed. He doesn’t steal for any sort of gain though. If something looks available, then he takes it without any reason. He doesn’t have much of a home, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He can easily be described as a laid-back and pleasant person to be around. He can hold his liquor well and is rather fond of the nightlife.




blahblahOUT OF THE WOMB MIO MIURA
blahblahOUT ON THE TOWN JUST MIO
blahblahTOO OLD FOR THIS NINETEEN
blahblahBETWEEN THE LEGS MALE
blahblahBEHIND THE SCENES X-TARIRARITARARA-X

Mio has always been a little sheltered by his family, as he was an only child. This has caused him to grow up to be a rather optimistic and happy young man. He’s friendly and sweet, but can be shy in large groups. What he really longs for though is true companionship like one would have with a sibling, and so while he has plenty of acquaintances, he’s still searching for that one person he can look up to as a best friend… and someone who won’t judge him his secret passion for women’s clothes.




blahblahOUT OF THE WOMB NIKITA INECATUL MUKESH
blahblahOUT ON THE TOWN NIKITA, NIKI, OR MUKA
blahblahTOO OLD FOR THIS TWENTY-FOUR
blahblahBETWEEN THE LEGS MALE
blahblahBEHIND THE SCENES X-TARIRARITARARA-X

Nikita was raised by a troupe of gypsies, not knowing anything about his true parents. He was taught to appreciate nature and the earth, and so he’s quite the tree-hugger. He loves collecting little exotic trinkets and stories from travelers, and he can often be found meditating somewhere in the forest. He’s a happy, free spirit and loves learning about the world around him. It’s a bit difficult to get on his bad side, but a sure-fire way to do so is by unnecessarily destroying anything blessed by Mother Nature.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

---------------

【xxƙ ı ɛ ɾ ɑ nxxɛ t ı ɛ n n ɛxx】
the illusionist • fortune-teller

A portly fellow scratched the top of his sandy head and examined the seven cards spread out before him. “One more time,” he insisted, lifting grey eyes to meet with the two-toned pair across the table.

”That’s another quarter, Monsieur.” He motioned gracefully toward the tiny bucket at his left and hid his lack of interest in the man’s perseverance behind a trickster’s smile. Of course the man had no intentions of backing down quite yet, and so he retrieved another silver coin from his pocket and dropped it into the bucket where it fell upon the rest of the day’s revenue with a light, metallic clatter.

”It is not a jackpot so much as it is a… safekeeping, so to speak, Monsieur,” he warned. ”You win only what you give.” But the man simply grinned.

“I jus’ wan t’know your secret.”

With an inward sigh and a shake of his head – although he kept the gesture to himself knowing very well that dropping his pleasant façade would jeopardize the amount of money he took in – Kieran gathered up the cards. His moon-pale fingers worked the deck nimbly and beautifully, becoming a little show within itself. He shot a glance toward one of the children in the crowd who had been dancing impatiently for his turn but now stood in awe. The large, impressionable eyes followed his every movement as he manipulated the cards just as effortlessly, if not more than a Vegas dealer, and twice as spectacularly before ending the display with a bridge and taking seven off the top. The portly fellow anxiously accepted the cards and turned them over on the table himself.

”Are the faces memorized, Monsieur?”

“Got ‘em.”

Kieran looked down at the table without tilting his head, which emphasized his black eyelashes and thin, dark eyebrows against his glowing skin. ”Are you positive, Monsieur?” He began turning the cards face down again just as elegantly as his other maneuvering.

“They were easier this time ‘round.”

”If you say so, Monsieur.” Kieran clasped his hands and sat back. ”Now turn over the three of spades, if you will.” The man’s smile grew even wider with confidence and he wasted no time picking up the card on the far right, only for that same expression to disappear in a split second. He set the card down and a murmuring arose among the crowd.

”Your memory is not so steady, I’m afraid. But I will give you one more try, Monsieur.” The monotony was beginning to wear on Kieran, but as he lifted his strange eyes, he was relieved to see most of the guests making their way toward the main tent for the big performances. ”Show me the ace of clubs.” Instead of jumping immediately to choose a card, he stared at them for a long while until the rest of the crowd had dispersed for other, more entertaining attractions. At last, he flipped one over and sighed heavily. Kieran checked the face and then gathered them all up again.

”That’s too bad, Monsieur. Perhaps you will find an entertainment gentler on your wallet in the main tent.” Kieran couldn’t have been happier to see the man leave, even though that meant he would be on an early break. He packed up his cards and other magic tricks, carefully put them away beneath the draped table, and set to wandering the grounds. As he passed the main tent, he could hear the screams and cheers from within and longed to have that attention, but he knew that it was a far-off dream. His magic only went so far as the table – certainly not impressive enough to awe an audience of hundreds. But the bright red and white stripes always called to him.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤

--------------------------------------------------ｗｉｓｅ

She had a place high enough to overlook the village; her own grassy – now snowy – knoll from which to observe the goings-on below without getting involved. She enjoyed the peace that came with the outskirts, but also was near enough to the center not to worry about the danger within the forest. Not that Magda van Rosendael cared so much about the tales surrounding what the human eye could not see. She could gaze out at the shadows, the dark leaves, and the old trunks and see it for a work of nature rather than evil’s abode. And she did so frequently, though it was the mystery that now hid deep within that tugged her curiosity. The stars and her cards kept silent, not relinquishing so much as a hint about the murder that now stained the village red. But she would continue to look and to search, knowing very well that soon the villagers would be coming to her in pursuit of advice. She could not entirely avoid the village, as isolated as she tried to be, as more often than not, it came to her. The feral cat that prowled her yard, however, did prove to be deterrence enough for the pesky children who liked to use her home as a test of courage.


“Crazy Magda” she was often called, bringing to mind the image of a wild-eyed old lady who swatted youngsters with a wooden staff. And perhaps from behind, an entanglement of wild white tresses cascading down her back, such an assumption could be made, but her moon-pale features lacked any noticeable wrinkles and her body was still flexible. Rumors circulated that she had some immortal power tucked away somewhere that kept her forever twenty-five, betrayed only by the early death of her hair’s melanocytes. Yet she possessed the knowledge of a woman who had seen one hundred years. Occasionally, an arrogant teenager would question her words, but the rest of the village held her in high regards. If one could push through the metaphors and abstractions that riddled her speech, he could strike a gold mine of information. For that reason, Magda was like the village’s elder, despite her youth. How she had become so knowledgeable about the world remained a mystery.

Her long fingernails drummed her chair’s wooden armrest as she watched the quiet little houses in the snow. She could tell when households were waking by the lights that illuminated the windows and the sudden strengthening of the smoke from the chimneys. Like most mornings, she had watched the sunrise and now waited for the town to slowly wake as well. A meeting was called for that morning to discuss the happenings of the past few days and, given her position, Magda’s presence was requested. Ordinarily, she didn’t like to attend village gatherings – they were often about laws, or festivals, or petty crimes – but a murder stirred within her an obligation to lend herself to those who sought help. If they would truly heed her advice, that is. Magda never spoke unless first spoken to, knowing very well that words were wasted on those who had no desire to hear them. And wasted knowledge was even worse. So she simply listened and waited, absorbing and analyzing everything around so that she could make sense of it all. But lately, the villagers had turned to choosing their own paths – and often their own demise – so she spent many evenings in her home alone, observing the results of those decisions from above.

As the first few villagers emerged, snow began to fall. Magda lifted her eyes to the sky to watch the crystalline flakes. To most, it was simply snow, but she saw more to it. Snow was the purest form of precipitation. While it did not cleanse as effectively as rain, it had no impurities. Innocence. And yet it could make a mess of things twice as well as rain could. When the sun came out and heated the earth, snow melted and mixed with mud, becoming dirty and unpleasant. The village had a blanket of snow’s innocence over it, but as soon as the light began to shine on new information, it would bring out the worst in everyone. Magda saw that the meeting would only be the beginning to a rather messy few months.

Magda rose and adjusted the various layers she wore to keep out the cold. The multitude of beads and other trinkets rattled together as she moved and stepped into her quaint home. A wave of warmth melted the snow that had collected on her clothes and turned the ice to tiny rivulets of water that ran down folds and creases to the floor. She brushed out the remaining flakes from her hair and carefully put out the fire that burned in her fireplace. It meant returning to a cold house after the meeting, but at least it was better than returning to no house at all. The old floorboards creaked slightly beneath her boots as she went about to blow out the incense and candles that she also had burning. It left her cottage smelling even wintrier than it had to begin with, as the warm smoky smell now mingled with the other fragrances.

With her home safe from fire, she exited and enjoyed the crispness of the morning air compared to the warmth she had just experienced. A gathering had formed outside of the courthouse, she noticed, but she thought nothing of it. Perhaps throwing their ideas about the murder and the suspect around. Magda knew that that would be the gossip around town for quite some time, and so she chose not to get involved. Gossip could be just as detrimental as lies. She gracefully descended the slope which led to her home and passed through the more densely populated area to the village’s center. She spoke to no one, as no one spoke to her, and even passed the small gathering wordlessly.

The courthouse was already packed with people, and loud compared to the muffled snow-covered outside. She couldn’t say that she particularly liked that, but she had no place to complain. Eyes followed her as she passed, as did whisperings and other things. It was always important when she showed up to the meetings, and the villagers knew that. Magda nodded and her red lips twitched into a polite smile as one woman addressed her as “Miss van Rosendael.” But she still said nothing. She resumed her spot at the front and made herself comfortable in time to see Tobias charge in shortly behind her. He looked desperate to get the others to listen to him. A tiny smile pulled at her lips, hoping for something more… profound from the young man. But perhaps the information was not entirely wasted. Her icy eyes swept over the crowd to see a few gasp or their expressions contort upon realizing that the murderer could be among them. While she wasn’t fond of Tobias – or many of the villagers – she would listen politely to what they had to say. For now, that would be her only job.

➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

MIO MIURA ★

twenty-one || male || the tourist
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

☇ having grown up an only-child, he has always wanted a sibling
☇ makes internet videos generally of himself and his friend, hayate
☇ eyes are heterochromatic with his right eye being two shades lighter than his left
☇ gets surprisingly nervous in front of large groups
☇ likes women's clothes

xxxxxx★ x-tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤

”Mimi. Hey. Mimi, wake up. … Hey, it’s time to go. Mio. Come on.”

Mio blinked open his eyes and lifted up his hand to cover his face. ”So early…” he mumbled into his palm.

”It’s nine.” The young man leaning over the futon grinned. He had his weight on his hands, which were pressed flat in the downy blankets, but then shifted and sat back on his knees. ”Come on, Mimi.” He prodded his sleeping friend. ”You’ll miss your flight.”

For a moment, Mio didn’t answer or move, but another prod to the side forced a smile onto his lips and he uncovered his face. His two-toned eyes lifted to meet Hayate’s plain chocolate-colored ones. ”I guess that’s important, isn’t it?” He pushed back the blankets and sat up, rubbing his eyes and brushing down his slightly messy hair.

Hayate laughed and poked Mio again just for the hell of it. ”Just a little. I mean, it’s not like you haven’t been planning this for a few months.” He fell silent and his features relaxed to a content smile. But then he shook his head and added, ”Where on earth would you be without me?”

”Getting adequate sleep,” Mio returned playfully. He stood up and stretched and yawned, spreading his arms out wide at his sides. Hayate also stood.

”Oh, who needs that?” he shot back just as quickly, brushing past Mio to the kitchen space in the tiny apartment. He ran his fingers through his dyed auburn hair as he searched the cabinets for something to eat. Mio yawned once more before bending down to fold the blankets and roll up the futons.

”There’s some rice from last night still in the rice maker,” Hayate pointed out, gazing into the white machine and letting the steam that billowed out warm his face. Mio slid open the closet in the wall and shoved the sleeping materials inside. He looked over his shoulder.

”Whatever is good,” he answered, smiling. Hayate closed the rice maker and pulled open the refrigerator door.

”There are a few leftover vegetables, too. And… um… I bought some mangos the other day. Maguro, too, but I’ve been saving that for dinner.”

”That’s fine.” Mio slid the closet door shut and went to take the low mahogany table from where it leaned against the wall. He dragged it a short ways across the tatami and then set it down.

”Don’t worry about the cushions,” Hayate called, collecting the breakfast haphazardly into two bowls.

”I wasn’t.” Mio smiled and sat down on one side of the small table, folding his legs and resting his elbows on the cool surface. His gaze lifted as Hayate carried the bowls to the table and set them down, as well as two bottles of water and chopsticks. He took his own place on the other side and grabbed two chopsticks that seemed to match one another the best. His chocolate colored eyes flashed as he grinned and put his hands together.

”Itadakimasu.”

Mio mimicked the gesture. ”Itadakimasu.” He held up his bowl and began to scoop rice into his mouth. But then he stopped and set the bowl down. His gaze became distant as he stared at the wall off to the side. Noticing this, Hayate stopped as well.

”What?”

”What do they say in China?” Mio mused, turning to his friend again who simply blinked. ”Instead of ‘itadakimasu,’ they must say something else, right?”

Hayate chuckled and resumed eating. ”I don’t know. Geez, Mio. Aren’t you supposed to be the expert here?”

”I didn’t study very hard,” Mio admitted with a laugh and picked up his bowl again.

”I can tell. Try not to accidentally do anything stupid while you’re there because you can’t speak the language.”

”I can speak it,” Mio defended. ”… somewhat. I’ll learn while I’m there, too.” He reached for one of the mango pieces and began eating the soft meat from the skin. ”It will be scary by myself though. I wish you could come.” A frown crossed his features briefly as he looked down at the fruit, his angled eyebrows knitting and his dark eyelashes against his cheeks. Hayate tried a reassuring smile.

”I have that cram school to go to this summer, remember?”

”I know.”

”Besides, you found a guide, didn't you?”

”Yeah.” Mio didn’t look up though. He stared at the tabletop and nervously rubbed the skin of the half-eaten mango.

”Then don’t worry.” Hayate smiled and reached across the table to give Mio’s hand a comforting pat. ”The guide will help you get around. Come on, Mimi. Cheer up. You’ve been looking forward to this for so long.”

Mio’s eyebrows remained knitted and his lips pursed momentarily. He lifted his eyes and smiled unsteadily. ”I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

”I understand. Going to another country is scary like that, isn’t it? But as soon as you get on the plane, you’ll be fine. I know it,” Hayate assured, his smile just as gentle and warm as his touch. ”Remember, you’ve already promised that you’ll bring me back souvenirs, so I’m not going to let you back down.”

Mio laughed and nodded. ”I remember. I’ll bring you back something good.”

”Make it something amazing.”

”Oh, okay.” Mio grinned and stood up. ”I’m going to change.”


In only a few minutes, Mio emerged from the tiny bathroom in an oversized white shirt, long, black and white cardigan, glittering black scarf, and black sarouel pants. He had brushed his hair and washed his face, looking much refreshed. Hayate was in the process of changing his own clothes and stood shirtless in the middle of the room. He laughed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark-wash jeans upon seeing his friend.

”Are you going to the mountains?” he asked jokingly.

Mio looked down at his layers of clothing and laughed as well. ”I always get cold in airports.” He glanced up and pointed at Hayate. ”I think shirts are required though.”

Hayate grinned and flexed. He had a nice, lean build. ”What?” He stepped closer to Mio and his eyes narrowed seductively as he stroked the other’s cheek. ”You don’t like this, hun?”

Mio tried to keep a straight face, but he soon burst into laughter and pushed Hayate away. ”Jet!” he exclaimed, his voice surprisingly shrill. ”You know I’m not like that!”

”Oh, right.” Hayate could keep a straight face better. He nodded his head toward the bathroom. ”Why don’t you go put on one of your skirts, hun?”

Mio forced himself to frown and he stomped his foot. ”Enough!”

Hayate broke his stone-face with a laugh and bent down to pull on a shirt. ”Okay, okay.” He straightened and returned to his ordinary self. ”Are you ready?”

”As ready as I’ll ever be.”


The pair arrived at the airport and Hayate stayed as long as he was able, but before long, Mio found himself alone. He busied himself with a magazine for some time and soon enough his flight was taking off. Mio settled himself in his chair, lucky enough to be by the window, and gazed outside until the plane was in the air. A young woman and her child had taken the seats beside him, but the child was well-behaved and so Mio soon drifted to sleep. The intercom woke him up several hours later, and then the jostling of the landing completely jolted him awake. He gathered up his carry-on and followed the rest of the crowd out into the terminal. Now to find his guide…

Mio walked a little ways in a daze, glancing around at all of the symbols – a few he recognized, but not together – and the airport products. Then he stopped and pulled out a slip of paper with directions on how to find the tour guide.

➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤

❝xx ｇｏｉｎｇ　ｔｏ　ｓｏａｐ　ｌａｎｄ　
ａｎｄ　ｄｒｅｓｓｉｎｇ　ｌｉｋｅ　ａ　ｗｏｍａｎ　ｉｓ　
ｐａｒａｄｉｓｅーーーー


ａｓ　ｆｏｒ　ｔｈｅ　ｒｅｓｔ、　
ｉｔ’ｓ　ａｌｌ　
ｗｒｏｎｇーーーーxx❞

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

❝xx ｕｎｔｉｌ　ｍｉｄｄｌｅ　ｓｃｈｏｏｌ　
Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｒｅｓｐｅｃｔａｂｌｅ　
Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｒｅｓｐｅｃｔａｂｌｅーーーー


Ｉ　ｄｉｄ　ｕｎｒｅａｓｏｎａｂｌｅ　ｔｈｉｎｇｓ　
ａｎｄ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ａｎ　ｉｄｉｏｔ　
Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ａｎ　ｉｄｉｏｔーーーーxx❞



➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤





“Kohei…?” The name slipped through his lips like a whisper that not even Zo was completely aware of. He blinked again, his mouth slowly falling open before he realized it. His lips drew back into a grin and his eyes, though dulled, lit up behind his mop of hair. For that one moment, everything else around him went unnoticed. Even the passing Jacob, who Zo would have stopped to chat with at any other time. Kohei had captured his focus and held it firmly. He never would have believed that he would see his friend again so soon. It had been eight years and he had already begun to lose hope of ever seeing him. The thought that perhaps Kohei hated him continued to bite at the back of his subconscious and brought him down whenever his mind had the chance to dwell on it. But now he was here, although the expression on the other man’s face still did not relieve his worries.

“This is unbelievable…” He pounced on the other man, nearly knocking them both over again. It was a bit of a nasty hug, considering the heat, but Zo didn’t care. He was too happy to care – even too happy to care about his previous fears or to worry that he had run into the wrong person. It had happened before, and without a pleasant outcome. The drugs were beginning to mess with his perception. Of course, he would never mention that. Especially not to Kohei after he had worked so hard to help him come off of his anxiety medication when they were in school together. No, he wouldn't mention anything like that. Not yet, at least.

“I can’t believe it’s you! You’re here!” he exclaimed, and then released the other man. At first, he was too excited and amazed to say anything else. He couldn’t stand still and appeared as if he wanted to grab Kohei up in another tight hug. But he restrained himself with some difficulty. Zo was, in fact, a bit of a touchy person, but usually not in such excess. However, it was the best way he could think of to release all of his pent up emotions.

“I never thought I’d find you again! When did you move to Narita? I can’t believe my luck…” Zo trailed off, grinning to himself. “I’ve been almost all over the country, and finally I found you here. Have you been living here this entire time? Are your parents here, too?” Question-after-question. Zo said whatever came to his mind first, hardly taking time to breathe, much less allowing Kohei a moment to answer. But that was an aspect about himself that hadn’t changed over the years. He was an easily excitable sort and tended to go off under such circumstances. Some people couldn’t handle his energy, but the ones who were patient enough with him, like Kohei, generally found him quite entertaining.

Suddenly, as if the thought struck him like a rock being thrown at his head, Zo grabbed the silver elephant-shaped necklace that hung around his neck and showed it to the other man.

“I still have it, see? I haven’t taken it off since you gave it to me. Oh! And—“ He pulled on the little blue elephant keychain that hung on his guitar case. “I still have this one, too. By the way, do you still play your guitar?” Zo looked positively ecstatic, wanting to know everything about Kohei in a split second. Catching up with another person had never been his strong point. But as if realizing that he was dominating the conversation, he took a moment to relax. His grin fell to a simple, content smile, and he slipped his hands into his pockets. His dark eyes scanned over his friend, taking him in for the first time and comparing what he saw to the image he had of him from eight years ago.

“You’ve changed a little. I can’t believe you let the red grow out of your hair! I never thought you would.” He paused momentarily to examine the new hairstyle and then nodded approvingly. “You know, I like it like that. Blond. Red was cool and all, but… Oh, I can’t believe this!” His grin shot back to his features. So much to say in so little time. His mind was still churning out questions, but the more sensible part of his brain had put a firm lock on his mouth. No more for now, it said. As his eyes drifted down again, he noticed the discarded nikuman and bent down to pick it up.

”Is this yours?” he asked upon straightening. He held it out to Kohei, knowing that it most likely was his, but his eyes looked hungrily at the pastry. He was hungry – there was no doubt about that – but he was Japanese and knew better than to straight up ask someone, even a friend, for their food.




➤ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ✯ ███▐│██████ ║ ➤




❝xx Ｉ　ｗａｓ　ｐｕｔ　ｉｎｔｏ　
ａ　ｐｒｏｐｅｒ　ｈｉｇｈ　ｓｃｈｏｏｌ　
ｓｏ　ｉｔ　ｗａｓ　ｐｒｏｐｅｒーーーー


ｉｔ　ｗａｓ　ｔｅｒｒｉｂｌｅ；　
Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ｓｔｕｐｉｄ
ｓｏ　Ｉ　ｂｅｃａｍｅ　ｓｔｕｐｉｄーーーーxx❞

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

___________________________________________

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx❝xxｗｈａｔ　ｄｏｅｓ　ｔｈｅ　ｃａｎａｒｙ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxｔｈｉｎｋ　ｉｎｓｉｄｅ　ｉｔｓ　ｃａｇｅ？xx❞

Books littered the old house, all covered in a fine layer of dust except for the few that bore larger-than-average fingerprints on their covers. Some were open, others were not. Some were stacked together, others were not. Yellowed notebooks were among the piles, filled with variations of the word “skylark” – Lark, Sky, Alauda, Ali – and little sketches and photographs accompanied them, appearing as if they had once belonged to a professor – or a biologist, had the images been of birds. Some were, but many were smudgy, human-form drawings or diagrams of body parts. Had it not been for the lack of electricity, the spiders that had begun spinning homes in the rafters, and the stench of disuse, the place stood as if patiently awaiting the return of its inhabitant. Remnants of a retired surgeon were scattered about – medical books, notes, odd tools and equipment – left in mid-use, but several rooms remained closed off, preserving the memory of an old woman who had once also lived there decades before the house’s abandonment. In the very back of the dilapidated house where most of the books had been gathered into a sort of library, a little shaded candle flickered and cast long shadows across the walls, speckled by points of light in the shape of birds and the faint silhouettes of the books. Unlike the literature throughout the rest of the house, many of these were photo albums, or picture books, or magazines. Several heavily loved, as indicated by the ratty covers and thrice-repaired bindings.

A strange creature sat among the piles in a bed specially crafted to be eight feet long. He had the appearance of a man, but was hunched over like a sulky, oversized child. In one large hand, he gingerly held a picture frame with the photo of a smiling old man wearing glasses, one hand hidden inside the pocket of a clean white lab coat and the other around the broad shoulders of a rather clumsy-looking boy whose heavy features mimicked his unskillfully. Eerie eyes, so pale a blue that they appeared nearly white, gazed stonily out from beneath a low brow, having yet to fully master the expression, and variously shaped scars across his face stood out even in the faded photograph. The colors were not as bright as they had once been, looking as if it had been set out in the sun for long hours. Not to mention it had been taken nearly fifteen years prior. The older version of the boy passed his thumb over both faces and heaved a sigh.

A sound echoed from somewhere in the house and his head shot up. He set the picture frame aside to listen carefully. The old wood creaked on a regular basis, and the overgrown trees rapped on the windows that had not been broken by mischievous rock-throwing teenagers, but such noises hardly startled him. This had been something different. He squinted, the candlelight paining his sensitive eyes, and searched the darkness. Another sound and he quickly blew out the flame. Footsteps through the house, going up the stairs, and then… He tilted his head back as the footsteps passed over and stopped. There was shuffling and other soft sounds before silence pervading the house once more. But that didn’t mean that everything was the way it had been. It had been some time since he had heard the boards creaking beneath the feet of someone else beside himself and he became almost excited. But when the reasoning part of his mind concluded that it wasn’t his Poppa’s footsteps, and never would be, he deflated. Yet his curiosity did not die with that.

He rose to his full towering seven-and-a-half-foot height and stopped again to listen. Nothing. But someone else was certainly in the house. He could tell by the strange scent that suddenly reached him. And so he pursued it. He navigated the dark house as easily as one would in broad daylight and moved surprisingly silently for his size. Not even the old floorboards creaked as he ascended the spiral staircase to the top floor. Upon reaching the top step, he could tell immediately that an intruder had disrupted one of the framed photos on the wall. He himself would never touch those, but there was a clear, fresh handprint smeared across the nearest one. It didn’t take him long to find the culprit, but it did surprise him, as he had nearly stepped right into the library where a young man had made a bed of sorts in the middle of the floor. He hid himself behind the doorframe, but peeked out enough to watch. This new being made him nervous and piqued his curiosity simultaneously. What was he doing, he wondered? And why? He pulled back and snagged a button from the front of his shirt on the wood, breaking the already weak thread and sending it rolling across the floor.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

____________________________________________

Grey asphalt. Grey sky. Grey grass. Grey houses. Grey. Grey. Grey. Grey. Everything was grey and dismal in this monochromatic world of mine that doctors liked to call “depression.” Colors didn’t exist. Happiness didn’t exist. “Bright sides” didn’t exist. But I had grown used to the scenery, however bleak. I gazed out of the passenger window, my eyes barely moving with the passing foliage and power lines. I didn’t care what was out there, yet when my breath fogged the window, I shifted to see around the haze. Another house surrounded by a generous plot of land zipped by, and then another forest. We were traveling into one of the few parts of New York that had remained undeveloped as urban sprawl took over the rest. It reminded me of Georgia, but with more trees suited for the cooler climate. The glass clouded and obscured my vision, but rather than moving again, I stared at it blindly. Outside no longer held my interest. The gloomy oaks and birches and the lonely stretch of road all seemed to mock me. Our car rolled to a stop and I saw a bird in the nearest tree, its song resembling harsh, jeering laughter.

I couldn’t take it. As the car eased forward again, I heaved a sigh and faced forward, slumping down into my seat, old boots making smudges on the dashboard, and the seatbelt all but strangling me. I looked out at the tree-lined interstate and then up at the sky. I hoped for rain, as I had an insatiable urge to stand in a downpour and get soaked to the skin; to let the cold droplets fall on my face in a way that was both calming and revitalizing. But the sky displayed no signs that it would be willing to comply with my desires, so I huffed again, this time sounding a little like I was begging for attention. Perhaps I was, because when I saw from the corner of my eye Kim glance my way, I actually felt a hint of satisfaction.

I didn’t resemble Kim in the slightest, so there was no doubt that we were unrelated. She had thick, curly auburn hair and bright green eyes, fair skin, and a figure fit for a woman twenty years younger. She enjoyed deceiving those who tried to guess her age, but by looking carefully, one could easily find traits that belonged to a fifty-three-year-old. Below her eyes, for instance, she attempted to hide hereditary bags and fine crows’ feet, and her lips lacked the fullness of her former years. But she no longer strove to impress, as she had settled down some years before with a loving husband and, even more recently, took in a child. What she had lost in youth, she made up for in her tender and understanding nature. Before I had even come to live with her, I found myself baring all of the feelings I had kept pent up for so long to her, and in return, she made those problems disappear. I knew I owed her much in only seven years, but I could never find the words to properly thank her.

”It’s not going to be as bad as you think.” Her reassuring words broke through my thoughts. I shot her a quick look in time to notice the smile on her lips as she returned her attention to the road. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I wasn’t convinced, and doubted I ever would be until an actual experience changed my mind. The entire prospect didn’t look particularly promising, as any place that guaranteed to “fix” stubborn mental cases had little standing in my book. But it was the school’s waste of time and resources, not mine. I folded my arms over my chest and shook the hair into my eyes.

”Won’t you smile a little?” she urged. ”You’ll make friends easier.”

I scowled and answered without hesitating, ”I don’t care,” but that was a lie. I would never admit my loneliness or my yearning for companionship and acceptance, and yet I didn’t have to. Kim seemed to know exactly what I was thinking at any given time. She was a psychiatric nurse after all, and a rather impressive one at that. I wondered why she didn’t simply keep me at home for therapies; I was certain that I would respond better. She had even managed to keep me on medications until doctors allowed me to stop when I turned fourteen. It had been a mistake, of course. No sooner had I said goodbye to the antidepressants did I attempt to kill myself again after enduring several weeks of derisive comments from my classmates, but somehow life never looked so dark while I was at home.

My thoughts wandered to the tiny bits of information I had managed to gather about the retreat. It would be my new home for a while, and unfortunately shared with seven others – all students at Arcadia. I tried to recall names and faces, but had little success. I tended to keep to myself, refuse eye contact, and overall ignore my classmates. Perhaps it was an innate fear that they would reject me the moment I spoke, but even as I kept quiet, I could feel those hard, judgmental stares boring holes into my body. On some days, I wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and hide there. Humans could be so horribly cruel.

Kim asked if remembered an article she had read to me about smiling and I returned a curt affirmative. I remembered, but I had no intention of discussing it with her. I closed my eyes. Smiling was an evolutionary method to display submission and disarm a possible threat, but humans refined it into an expression of friendliness; however, scientists had conducted experiments that discovered many behaviors still rooted in our ancient past, such as smiling when nervous. It was a contagious gesture that put others at ease, dissipated tension, and helped build relationships. I’m sure Kim had read me that article to encourage me to smile more often, but it had yet to make an impact. The information remained in the very back of my mind though, prodding me when making friendships looked like a hopeless endeavor.

The car rocked and shook and I opened my eyes to see the paved asphalt replaced by dirt and gravel. Curiosity had me sitting up a little straighter. I leaned against the window and looked out at the wide-open lawn that stretched out on either side of the beautiful wrought-iron gate. Kim stopped the car, rolled down her window, and spoke to a little box. A machine whirred to life and we were allowed to enter. Kim touched my hand comfortingly and smiled, but I withdrew.

’Isn’t it beautiful?”

I didn’t say anything. I stared straight ahead. It was a monster of a house, yet it possessed a warm, inviting appearance. I saw another building and what looked like a body of water in the distance, as well as a gorgeous tree-covered mountain range. Suddenly a rock dropped in my stomach and I leaned forward with my hands over my head. I heard Kim put the car in Park and felt her gentle hand on my back.

”What’s wrong?” Her voice allowed no doubt that she worked with psychiatric cases on a regular basis – so calm and pleasant. I didn’t answer at first. My mind was too preoccupied with the idea that I was being abandoned yet again. The house – this retreat – reminded me too much of the Georgia orphanage. I would be sharing the space with other “sick” boys, who I was convinced would treat me no differently than the orphans, and I would be left there indefinitely. Kim was essentially disowning me. The thought brought tears to my eyes, which surprised me just as much as it must have surprised her when I finally sat up and wiped them away with the back of my hand. I knew how pathetic that must have looked, but she somehow understood.

”It’s only for a little while. You’ll be home again before you know it.” I frowned and looked out at the house that now stood immediately to my right. Her words reassured me to some extent, but that didn’t make me willing to get out of the car. I would have to eventually though, as we had already had a month-long fight about it and she wasn’t budging.

”Whenever you’re ready.” One thing I liked about Kim was that she never pushed me. I could do things on my own time without risking some sort of punishment later on. She had successfully deciphered my personality in a way no one else had. I inhaled and placed my hand on the handle, and after a moment more, I pushed open the door and stepped out into the warm August air. Although it was already summertime in New York, it was cooler than what I had grown accustomed to in the South. I could comfortably wear a light sweater. Kim called to me from the inside of the car as I went to the back to retrieve my luggage.

”Try smiling when you get inside and see if that helps. Have fun.”

I sighed and hauled my suitcase out to set it down on the pavement. I flashed her an unsteady smile, knowing it was the least I could do to show my gratitude, and shut the trunk. She waved and then drove away, leaving me standing alone in the driveway before I had a chance to change my mind. Eyes downcast, I pulled on the handle on my bag and dragged it to the front door. I noticed a pair of boys sitting together on a nearby bench, but I was long overdue for glasses and so I couldn’t make out any identifying details.

I stopped in front of the door and clenched my left hand into a fist. I should have fought harder. This “retreat” wasn’t going to do a thing for me. But I couldn't leave now, so I sucked it up and entered the beautiful house. The first thing I saw – all of the polished wood – reminded me even more of the orphanage and I dug my fingernails further into the palm of my hand. I glanced around, searching for some form of life, but saw no one else. Alone. The feeling was simultaneously enjoyable and depressing. Not even nurses or orderlies came to greet me. Was I too early? I walked into the nearest room, which happened to be the living room, and couldn’t find anyone there either. I sighed, abandoned my bag by the entrance, and approached one of the large windows. I didn’t mind being by myself on other occasions, but I was growing more and more uncomfortable here. I wanted to go home.

I could see the lake and what appeared to be the stables from the window. I hadn’t any intention of coming near either of those places. For one, I couldn’t swim. But seeing such a huge body of water, I wondered why it wasn’t protected by a gate of some sort to prevent anyone from trying to drown themselves. Or maybe that was just me. I sighed miserably and pressed my forehead against the glass.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

CODE(DELETE IF NOT SUBJECT) -- Moreau, Jori -- Doubtxxxxx

Nineteen | Male | Asexual | February 3rd, 1992 | Nice, France

History....

Jori and his brother, Jinn, had a peculiar upbringing. Rather than having a mother and a father, they had several mothers and no known father. Their birth mother, Mira, had been married for several years to a husband who loved her. They lived together for years before even thinking of letting a child come between them, but at last they both decided that a child would be a good thing in their lives. Of course, they both got a surprise when the child turned out to be children, but it only made them happier. Unfortunately, shortly after Mira learned that she would be having twins, her husband received news that many of his friends and coworkers had died in their office building after a bomb had taken out the first two floors. He mourned for months, saying over and over to himself that he should have been there with them. Mira tried to cheer him up, but he only distanced himself further. His grip on reality was slipping until at last he did the unexpected – set their home on fire and swore to kill Mira. He was thrown in jail and she took refuge in a home for battered women where she gave birth to her twin boys.

Mira spent the rest of her life in fear, but made sure not to let her boys know it. They grew up happily in the shelter and had many doting pseudo-mothers to care for them. Jori, being the oldest, took it upon himself to look out for Jinn and to “protect” the other women. Even at such a young age, he displayed the beginnings of a chivalrous gentleman and a watchful brother. He and Jinn were never separated and served as entertainment for the battered women who truly needed laughter in their lives. While Jori did enjoy joking around alongside his brother, he was happiest when he could help others, and would even hide his own problems – such as when he became sick. But Jinn always knew and it concerned him that his brother always seemed sick more often than he was well, so he brought it to the attention of their mother. Several trips to the doctor had Jori diagnosed with an immunodeficiency and a life predicted to be filled with illnesses. But that didn’t stop Jori. At least, not at first.

By the time the boys had turned four, Mira had finally gotten into her head that she wanted to live in her own home. Her husband had been taken to jail and the divorce was nearly complete. They lived a happy life together for many months, although Mira could provide little more than the necessities with her meager job. But with Jori’s constant visits to the hospital and no insurance, she soon found herself struggling below the poverty line. Jori began to notice that his mother didn’t smile as often and soon associated it with the expressions she made when he got sick. Jinn assured him that everything would be okay and never left his bedside, but Jori still worried that it was his fault that their family was falling apart.

On one visit to the hospital, one of the nurses approached Mira and explained to her Dr. Dwindle’s project. They were in need of a pair of twins, she said, and were willing to pay Mira a hefty sum to have her boys. The nurse promised that she could see them when she wanted and that it wouldn’t last long, so Mira reluctantly agreed. Jori and Jinn were taken to Dr. Dwindle’s lab, where the doctor began to wish that he had never accepted them to begin with.

The boys were a mischievous pair. They rebelled against staying inside all day and soon piqued the curiosity of the other subjects of this outside world that they spoke so much about. But the doctors could take only two years of their behavior before they were separated for the first time in their short lives. Needless to say, they went kicking and screaming.

For thirteen years, Jori endured the horrible tests that instilled permanent doubt in his mind. The doctors manipulated him – pushing him in one direction and then suddenly telling him that it was the wrong way. He no longer knew who to trust. When someone told him anything, he took the information warily, afraid that he would be tricked once again. As a side effect, he became angry and fought even harder to escape his box. He didn’t want to continue with his tests or to be trapped away from his brother. When the door opened, he made breaks for it, only to be captured and dragged back inside. He became uncooperative and hateful, refusing to do anything that he was told because he could no longer tell the truth from the lies. On more than one occasion, he would have been successful in his escapes, but luckily for the nurses, years of illness had made him a physically weak boy.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to simply make him distrusting. He had to doubt himself as well. The doctors decided to attack his perception and so they slipped mild hallucinogens into his food. He began seeing things – birds in his room, nurses in the corner when no one had entered, leaks in the ceiling. He even heard voices on occasion, or thought he saw his brother coming to visit him. Soon the doctors tested his hallucinations, asking him whether or not he thought was he saw was real. Sporadically, they would put real birds in his room, or have real nurses watch him at night. Before long, he no longer could tell reality from fantasy. He became reserved when it came to screaming his hatred at the nurses, too afraid that the “nurse” would simply be the wall of his room. But that still didn’t stop him from trying to escape and constantly demanding to see his brother.

At last, the doctors had learned the key to breaking Jori’s spirit – Jinn. With their manipulation, just as they had in the beginning, they swayed him back and forth between believing that his brother was alive and believing that he was dead. At last, by his seventeenth birthday, the doctors had managed to tame him. He no longer tried to escape. He would simply sit on his bed, let the nurses test him on whatever they felt like, and ignore the world that he no longer could tell was real or fake. A depressing sight until the time had come when he could be let out into the world again. But even such promises he doubts.

Personality....

Jori used to be selfless and caring, but years of testing have changed him into a bitter, distrusting young man. He doesn’t trust the guidance of others, but he doesn’t trust his own decisions either, which leaves him frustrated and confused the majority of the time. He sees lies in everything and would prefer simply to remain in social isolation for the rest of his life. And yet he’s now forced to leave his room and interact with the real world in such a ruined state. Needless to say, he’s frightened by the prospect.

Jori’s state of mind can easily be described as “blind.” When problems arise, he knows that he must choose a direction and go with it, but such decisions are made without much insight, as he tends to overanalyze the cons of every option. One side might be a trick… but so could the other… such thoughts send his mind spiraling. It would be of no surprise to anyone if Jori found himself in a psychiatric hospital within the first week of his release into the real world.

Due to his distrust toward everyone, Jori tends to be a prickly person to get to know. Not only does he doubt the words of others (and in some cases, their existence), but he fears getting close to anyone, too afraid that they’ll be taken from him like Jinn had.

Extra....

Although the doctors no longer slip hallucinogens into his food, Jori still hallucinates on occasion. Regardless, he doesn't usually trust what he sees. A person might be real, but they also might not be.

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

CODE(DELETE IF NOT SUBJECT) -- Moreau, Jinn -- Calmnessxxxxx

Nineteen | Male | Heterosexual | February 3rd, 1992 | Nice, France

History....

Being the younger of the two, Jinn tended to be more reckless and outgoing than his brother, Jori. At the shelter, he was the entertainment, as he loved to make others laugh. But as his mother liked to say, he was a firecracker. He spent many days making up games for he and Jori to play, or running around outside. It was like his energy never ran out. As a result, Jori watched out for him, keeping him out of trouble and from getting hurt. Jinn adored his brother and never left his side if only for a moment to go sprinting across the garden. Even the many times Jori wound up in the hospital, Jinn sat patiently by his bedside. In most cases, their mother slept as Jinn read (or tried to read) stories for Jori, or make him laugh to take his mind off of everything. He knew that his brother worried a lot, but he tried to ease those worries as best he could. “It’s not your fault,” Jinn always assured him.

When the boys were handed over to Dr. Dwindle’s project, it was mainly Jinn’s idea to turn the place upside down. He hated being stuck inside all the time even more than Jori did, and so he would race around the facility, shouting about rain or skyscrapers or other things one could find outside. The staff wasn’t particularly fond of such an energetic child; especially one who tried to make the others realize that the world he had come from was the best thing anyone could experience.

But then the doctors separated him from his brother. Jinn couldn’t stand it. He threatened to hurt himself, or he’d run the moment the door to his room opened. Luckily, he was agile and sent the nurses on a run for their money, but in the end he was always captured and taken back. They had decided that calmness would be the best emotion for him, and so every day consisted of some sort of relaxation exercises. He had yoga and hypnosis and tranquilizers. Anything that would calm his racing thoughts. Although Jinn cooperated when the tests were administered, he couldn’t sit still for long and was soon just as energetic as before. Having him listen wasn’t the problem; having it stick was.

For thirteen years, Jinn underwent therapies, Zen training, and rounds of drugs. For the most part, the methods weren’t bad. But he was punished severely for acting up. He retained his vitality for years, but soon enough that wore down and was replaced by an internal tranquility. His emotions were tested and driven out. He had to react to everything without disrupting his inner peace. At nineteen, he was as placid as the finest Zen monk, and yet he was still driven by a well of never-ending energy. Although he rarely became excited, angry, or even sad, he didn’t tire easily. Soon he was presented with the promise to step out into the outside world, but having once been the time of person to be thrilled to death by such an idea, he didn't react. What happens, happens.

Personality....

Jinn has the ability to go for what seems like days without sleep or rest, but he lacks the emotional range that he once had. The best expressions you can find on his face are brief glimpses of tiny smiles or frowns. He doesn’t get riled easily and can take any sort of news with a straight face. He can still feel happiness and sadness, but it doesn’t overwhelm him as it once had. Having once been fond of running and playing games, Jinn now prefers to partake in meditation and yoga.

Jinn doesn't like to see others who are too angry, too sad, or any extreme emotion, and so the outgoing part of his personality insists that he try to instruct everyone in the ways that the doctors had instructed him to obtain such an inner peace. Although not as entertaining as he had once been, he would make a fine therapist.

The adoration for his brother has not diminished in the slightest, so he looks forward to the day that they can be reunited. But the idea no longer excites him. Nor does the idea that they might never see each other again frighten him. In the back of his mind, he longs for Jori, but the “trained” part of his brain has yet to loosen enough to let those emotions flood out again.

Extra....

Jinn loves tea primarily for its relaxing properties. Of all of the subjects, he might be the one most likely to snap out of his "trance" first.