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ℌumor me?

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Well! I can't say I've done much since the following. I will also be the shamelessly immature twit and say typing 'T-I-T-T-Y' is making me snicker like an impish seven year old reciting some major no-no's under the slide to her friends.
Good times.
Good slides.

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toss six times these coins three
lines conclude your code

◘ 天 ◘ 澤 ◘ 火 ◘ 雷 ◘ 風 ◘ 水 ◘ 山 ◘ 地 ◘
it's not chance when you feel it down to the ancient oracle bones
but an antique philosophy

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ⓙ ⓞ ⓣ ⓐ ⓘ ⓡ ⓔ ⓝ ⓩ ⓗ ⓞ ⓝ ⓖ
————— ϒour elcoming Ħand to ellness —————
bu cuo, ah~ ;D

ne last swiveling coin finally retired to the floor. The young man sitting on his ankles before triplets of brass coins moved his hand from resting on his knee to take the dripping ink brush next to him. He drew the final line on the strip of parchment and placed the brush back into its porcelain well with a small clink. Carefully, manila hands collected his deep indigo tresses over his bare shoulder and he knelt his trunk onto his knees and blew a gentle breath. The lurid line quivered not, and submitted seeped itself into the paper. His lips lifted into a gradual smile as he straightened his back.
With his divination done, he closed his eyes and expressed a quiet 'thank you' before analyzing the results.
The six lines horizontally laying on one another were either solid or broken. He collected the quarter sized brass coins into his hand and took in the information with a chattering of mandarin in his mind. He laughed at his final thoughts, smiling coyly to himself as his hand released the coins up onto the end table beside him.
"Bu cuo,ah~ " he murmured and rose.
Today was going to be a good day.

Jotai made sure every action, that he could pay mind to, appeared to be ritualistic and fluid no matter the audience. There was always an audience. It was an arbitrary fact ever since he was five, and everyday he collected new and old members alike as if they were knick-knacks to place on a mahogany shelf. However, he worked equally hard to reverse who was doing the admiring of the real prize. Jotai excused himself of being painfully effeminate and haughty; he thought it was a duty to himself and he deserved it.
Within the domestic waterfall, Jotai felt the joys of eye contact. His shoulders fell, turning to look over his shoulder. He settled a pair of lapis eyes out of the glass panes of his clients shower and to his current company.
The young man smirked, nodding to the scroll tied with a crimson ribbon on the table.
"And what did the coins tell you this morning?" he called across the bedroom and into the bathroom.
Jotai's glare narrowed with a smile and he shrugged. He turned away and wrung out the water in his hair, before patting his hand around on the shelf behind him to locate the conditioner.
" I think you do. This is the fourth morning I've seen you make chicken scratch after playing heads and tails with yourself. It's gotta be a Chinese thing, right?"
" You're far too presumptuous." Jotai slowly gave him a pout before shaking the bottle a little," You're presumptuous and racist and cruel. If you can read, I suggest you indulge yourself a little into the world of the I Ching, bai chi."
"I'm good."
"I am very sure you are. You're enjoying quite the view, aren't you?."
" Do I get the privilege of getting you out of the guest bedroom tonight?" He asked, leaning in the doorway and watched Jotai comb his fingers through his hair with his back to him," Four months here and you won't even step into mine."
" It's just ...," he tipped his head and lied," my bedroom is comparable to Mecca. If you don't understand that than I feel slightly even more embarrassed of the span of your secular horizons."
He fidgeted a little, only comprehended four of the words Jotai sighed," I ... uh ... sure?"
Jotai looked back to him over his shoulder. A snort escaped with a smile before he shook his head. Turning back around, he laid his hand on the hot water knob,"You said you watched anime here and there as a child. Than a mundane cliche like 'meditating under the waterfall' mustn't surprise you."
" That," he folded his arms and nodded, childishly proud of the thing he did know" is one thing of whatever you're babbling about that makes sense."
His fingers coiled over the knob"I see ... well, how long do you think any ol' human can last under unforgiving pounds of water eroding away the torso?"
" I dunno ... you Asians don't look like it bothers you too much."He blinked and tilted his head a little.
Jotai managed to keep himself from flinching at the stupid comment and widened his smile. He looked back over his shoulder, letting his hair curl and coil freely to the small of his shoulders.
" It doesn't matter the ethnicity...," he nodded simply and rolled the knob all the way off. The steam began to immediately slow and evaporate, letting the view of his skin become clearer and clearer to the dolt behind the shower glass.
His smile remained simple while his ego was laughing its little imp behind off at how much this eager beaver behind him was getting excited.
Jotai waited for the steam to disappear enough to show everything up from his belly button from the front, turning around to face him with a serene expression. He continued lullingly," ... but perception. One can say the water is either cold or clarifying. Endurance isn't how long you can stand the frigid temperature or the battery of water ... tell me what is it then?"
The man swallowed and let his eyes fall to Jotai's chest. Jotai felt his laughter double as he knew the man was just looking for a few specific things rather than enjoy a conversation.
" You tell me, Sensei." He shrugged.
" Endurance is the way to pervade your curiosity to gain a higher understanding of anything." Jotai finished his sentence and snapped the rest of the water off behind him . He raised his head to look to him with a blank face.
The man rose his eyebrow at the sudden lack of smile.
" You want to understand the wrong thing about me, I'm afraid." Jotai bore no tone to his voice other than contempt. He scowled and wrapped his towel around his waist and stepped out to look to him. He drummed his fingers along under the man's chin and tilted his head,"Is that plain English enough for you? Please tell me that makes sense."
He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Jotai's gradually angry glare.
"Wonderful, than you can graduate a little to a Mandarin vocabulary lesson. I trust you. Bai chi means idiot."
His fingers rapped a pressure point with a hard jab. Before the man knew it, he was a lump on top of Jotai's ankles on the floor, landing hard. Jotai smiled again and lightly stepped out from under him, pitter-pattering his way out of the bathroom.
"When you leave," he chimed and b-lined for a brush, waving it around to gesticulate his point" you best re-schedule your future appointments with a different masuese. Working on patients outside of the office is an offense I'm clear of and don't intend soiling. My hands also intend on not soiling themselves over the backs and limbs of another half-brained drooling lust-machine as yourself. Thank you for keeping me company though~"

It only took Jotai ten minutes to return all of his belongings to his beloved chest. His hands were at its corners after he closed it, smiling nostalgically to himself before turning around to unhook a just as precious lantern and hook it to the sash of his robes.
It remained lit, even.
With his hair pinned loosely to the side of his head within an emerald and sapphire comb, he pulled the shoulders of his robes up a little and glanced to the door, pampered and prepared to grace yet another temporary presence.
His next compatible 'lover' would be on the other side, unbraced for the self proclaimed typhoon that was Jotai Ren Zhong.
He slid his hands under the mahogany chest and held it to his abdomen, setting his chin after a kiss to its crown and said facing the door.
" Oh what wonders await, la?" he sighed with a sarcasm undertone as he rubbed his cheek along the top of the chest," Oh, wo ai ni~"
His hand moved to open the door and he stood straight, entering a sandled foot within its frame and found it resting on linoleum.
He was in a kitchen.
What luck, he felt like making nettles and sprigs.
His smile snapped well off his face as a snivel spread its way along his lips. With heightened eyebrows, he inspected the mess with a sweep of his eyes and narrowed them.
What a wreck he walked into. There was nowhere suitable to place his chest and it wasn't exactly lighter than a feather.

[d i s c l a i m e r (1,2&3) ] -Hi-ho everyone~
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx- I apologize for the good chunk of screen my character is eating. ; u ; Introductions are always a good time, r-right?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx- I'm excited to rp with all of you!~ > u < I love your characters thus far!

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◘ Tiān ◘ Zé ◘ Huǒ ◘ Léi ◘ Fēng ◘ Shuǐ ◘ Shān ◘ Dì ◘

ƒor ʈoday: Of all that is good, sublimity is supreme.
Succeeding is the coming together of all that is beautiful.
Furtherance is the agreement of all that is just.
Perseverance is the foundation of all actions.

◘ ☰ ◘ ☱ ◘ ☲ ◘ ☳ ◘ ☴ ◘ ☵ ◘ ☶ ◘ ☷ ◘
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How manifold it is, what thou hast made!
They are hidden from the face of man

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Like whom there is no other!
Thou didst create the world according to thy desire

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The Sed festival that night would have honored Ahmon's reign, although, a substitution would call for the next of kin to take the escorted journey through the halls of the palace instead. Ibrenre, first born and Pharaoh by right watched the pillars pass by with half lids and pursed lips. The ebb and flow like sway of the throne left indigo tresses trying to tumble through the slips of his crown, sitting as straight and skyward as his spine.
However, the pillars had more of a foundation that that of Ibrenre as far as he was concerned. The tons of stone above and oceans of sand below made the pillars personified to him, and he admired them for their unspoken strength. They stood without giving way to the weight above. They stood without slipping through the ever sifting sand below. They stood in a line on both sides of him, erect reminders that those of stone are less feasible to this world than those of flesh and bone. They stand without authority, Ibrenre concluded as he looked away, and that was perhaps why they were still standing.
He was the rare flake that bumbled down their side every so often.
Both Ibrenre’s reign and age didn’t match the number that would have correctly made this festival occur. Pharaoh’s with thirty years under their muslin’s would be honored with the Festival of the Tail, the Sed Festival. It would occur then after every three to four years, but this night was a cooling drop of aloe to the sun scorched kingdom he tried with every synapse of his skull to keep together.
Exhaust showed under his eyes; hammocks nestled with slit ropes dragging under his amber pupils. It clutched his voice when he spoke, making it quiet and nearly recoiling. It wove through his hands as he gesticulated; no longer being the animate and lively Ibrenre that had taken the news of his father’s death with a relieved heart and the crown of Egypt onto his idea-swelling head.
All ideas were waning along their last wick.
Ibenre was nearing being completely drained.
This festival would send a gilded needle to stitch wounds in the thick tapestry of the evening sky.
Hope was the last thing anyone had thought to wish on when Ahmon was pillaging and plundering with his flail rose within the walls of his own kingdom. Ibenre, along with the kingdom, closed their aghast jaws when the bloody tirade ended with his death. In all efforts to patch the corners of this kingdom again, he realized this was all out of his hands.
They remained risen; but still empty.
They always were held outstretched; but taken by suspicious hands. Beside him at that moment moved his brother and his wife; the priest and priestess. With no words between them, Ibenre never could quite understand what was on either of their minds.
He was almost too afraid to even ask.
Ibenre’s thoughts broke when the hissing of tambourines swiveled against the floors of his ears. His eyes focused from the blur of the caramel lights from the torches and sharpened into a vision of aesthetic glory. Within the perameter’s of the courtyard before his throne were dancers, letting their bodies succumb to the strings of instruments. Twirling, leaping, teetering and littered about were they! All of them were decorated in their finest splendors, and the faces of his court bore the one thing that had become arcane; a smile.
Forming on his own lips was a small smile himself.
However, it soon fell away. As he was more carefully sweeping his eyes along the synchronized sways of the dancers, there was one in particular missing. His stomach and heart sank alike. The true flame of the evening would have been extinguished without Sharifa.
The particular belly dancer had Ibenre's rarely spared attentions wrapped around her sultry frame just as the many threads of her wraps. He found solistice in the rythmic clattering of her coins, the whispers of her toes scuffling along the sand and her lit lapis eyes calling Ibenre into the lurid pools of her pupils.
He sighed and fidgeted a little. Looking slowly down to his prized soldier, the Pharaoh asked barely above a whisper.

"Enna ... locate Sharifa for me, if you will."

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According as thou madest them for thyself,
The lord of all of them, wearying with them

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The lord of every land, rising for them
The Aton of the day, great of majesty


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E X H A U S T E Dxx F I G U R E H E A D

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