Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
Nodosaurus
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
As the sun rose over the horizon, sharing it’s eternal blaze with Aldermoore, an unappreciative demonic entity blinked rays from his eyes in a vexed huff. Crimson hues glared down at the worn grain of the table he sat at, backlit by the sun to circumvent its troublesome gaze. Marred hands traced lines carved by blackened claws. He was careful not to let the wood harm him as he did it. For every scratch etched, Iscariot recalled a memory. The smallest of imperfections he favored. They were nothing but reminders of a time where he had felt the least choleric. The biggest carving the infernal entity avoided, remembering the fury that had consumed him and the remorse that followed after. Guilt. That was a new emotion. He had never felt that during his time in the burning inferno, and he never wanted to feel it again.
The starlit witch, bound to him by unknown means, had been gone but a moment to prepare themselves before boredom found Iscariot. The prince of darkness' patience was as thin and fragile as parchment. One tear was all it took to compromise its integrity. As the witch and familiar resided in a crowded cottage alone, Hiraeth was his only company. In their absence, the scarlet demon was indolent and lonely—though he would never admit it. An ivory, scarred hand rose to flatten unkempt locks. He supposed he should prepare himself for the arduous journey ahead like his counterpart. A low grumble sounded in his chest at the thought. He looked fine, Iscariot reassured himself. He always did.
Another few agonizing moments passed before Iscariot heard light footsteps approach followed by a gentle query. “Finally.” A loud sigh left his chest as the demon stood and locked eyes with lilac hues. Immediately Iscariot froze. Scarlet eyes found Hiraeth’s pitiful attire and he fought back the urge to ridicule them on the spot. Blackened claws brushed through his disheveled hair that baked in the sunlight. The starlit witch looked just as the heathens in town had described. A dirty orphan. How was he, the heir to the infernal throne, supposed to be associated with that? No. That wouldn’t do.
“You’ve got to be ******** kidding me right now,” Iscariot huffed in disbelief, the obvious undercurrent of frustration ever present in his demonic tone. “No. No I’m not letting you look like that, not when you’re with me kid.” The prince of darkness approached the sad excuse for a witch, marred hands pulling at the fabric that felt like razors. “What even is this?!”
“It is the most adequate attire I possess. We did not spare expenses on the material, focusing more on the essential… Or at the very least… We were not in a position to.”
A frustrated scoff left pale lips in the demon’s signature frown at the witch’s response. They were a former child of the streets, Iscariot has come to learn. It should've served as a surprise that they had more than one pair of rags. “Don’t know what else I was expecting…” He breathed, not intending to reach alabaster ears but not caring to be heard. Iscariot released the worn material enveloping the human and took a large step back. Even being near such fabric and it’s disheartening origins was unbearable.
Scrupulous scarlet hues considered Hiraeth for a moment as his foot tapped on the stone floor in pensive thought. There was no way the demon could accompany the witch in their clashing attire. That would be unbecoming of a prince, and there was no recovering from an ego that bruised. However, what was the alternative? It’s not as if he could allow himself to give up his own luxuries—to lend the orphan exquisite silks as if he were some saint.
Mulling over their current dilemma, crimson hues once again found the table worn and part-way ruined by his own inference. There it was again—guilt.
“Ugh… I suppose I could just do that.” Ivory hands found Iscariot's temples and attempted to soothe the vexation drawing lines in his expression. The scarlet demon would have to surrender ownership of his attire to the starlit witch if they were to stand any chance in Antares. Perhaps performing such a generous act could alleviate his new and unwanted guilt. As much as that pained him to do, it was his only hope in eliminating such a foreign emotion. “Alright, take all that s**t off, we’re gonna try something.”
Black lashes fluttered closed as Iscariot allowed himself to feel innate magic coursing through sulfuric veins. Aether gathered and coalesced at his fingertips, beckoning that which was beyond to come forth at his command.
During the demon’s time trapped in eternal torment, the only privilege he knew were that of the most luxurious garments. Even if that privilege merely existed to keep up appearances, it was one he clung desperately to. The forsaken demon only hoped that idiotic fiend hadn’t done away with his wardrobe after he departed.
In a flash of familiar crimson smoke, a bejeweled mahogany chest apperated in the soon to be abandoned cottage. A familiar sulfuric scent followed and suffocated whatever pleasant aroma previously resided in Hiraeth’s home. Iscariot cared not for the unwelcomed reminder of a place he could never call home as he had just succeeded in reclaiming that which he held dear.
“Haha! Beat that you unholy p***k,” An elated notion took the demon’s expression for a moment before remembering his present company who sang his praises.
“It always stirs my heart to observe your magick, it is quite different from what I have grown up with.”
The back of Iscariot’s neck and ears burned at the witch’s words. He was unfamiliar with flattery and bewildered in the presence of it. Just like the other compliments given to him by Hiraeth, they would go unacknowledged and ignored, but never forgotten.
“I, uh… I mean… I can give you some of my silks or whatever.” Reassuming his apathetic demeanor, the prince of darkness snapped, opening the chest for the witch to rummage through. However, the witch did not move nor so much as flinch.
A long pause held the room as Iscariot’s patience continued to be tested. Hiraeth was a strange witch and an even stranger entity, that much the scarlet demon was sure of. They required direction, and where there was none the starlit witch would stand frozen until told otherwise. It infuriated him in a way he thought impossible.
“...Right. I forgot how annoying you were,” The demon growled, advancing upon the chest. Extravagant garments lay scattered, tangled and chaotic as if he had tossed them in without care. Sharp claws found the bottom of the chest adorned in scratches before Iscariot found some articles of clothing to suit the witch, along with a few select pieces of jewelry. Garments in hand, the infernal prince shoved them into starlit hands.
“There, you oversized infant. You can have these or whatever. Just don’t ******** tear it or I swear I’ll kill-” Nope. "I’ll murd-” Tried that. “Ugh! I’LL DO SOMETHING.”
WHEREABOUTS the cottage tab COMPANY hiraeth
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
The starlit witch, bound to him by unknown means, had been gone but a moment to prepare themselves before boredom found Iscariot. The prince of darkness' patience was as thin and fragile as parchment. One tear was all it took to compromise its integrity. As the witch and familiar resided in a crowded cottage alone, Hiraeth was his only company. In their absence, the scarlet demon was indolent and lonely—though he would never admit it. An ivory, scarred hand rose to flatten unkempt locks. He supposed he should prepare himself for the arduous journey ahead like his counterpart. A low grumble sounded in his chest at the thought. He looked fine, Iscariot reassured himself. He always did.
Another few agonizing moments passed before Iscariot heard light footsteps approach followed by a gentle query. “Finally.” A loud sigh left his chest as the demon stood and locked eyes with lilac hues. Immediately Iscariot froze. Scarlet eyes found Hiraeth’s pitiful attire and he fought back the urge to ridicule them on the spot. Blackened claws brushed through his disheveled hair that baked in the sunlight. The starlit witch looked just as the heathens in town had described. A dirty orphan. How was he, the heir to the infernal throne, supposed to be associated with that? No. That wouldn’t do.
“You’ve got to be ******** kidding me right now,” Iscariot huffed in disbelief, the obvious undercurrent of frustration ever present in his demonic tone. “No. No I’m not letting you look like that, not when you’re with me kid.” The prince of darkness approached the sad excuse for a witch, marred hands pulling at the fabric that felt like razors. “What even is this?!”
“It is the most adequate attire I possess. We did not spare expenses on the material, focusing more on the essential… Or at the very least… We were not in a position to.”
A frustrated scoff left pale lips in the demon’s signature frown at the witch’s response. They were a former child of the streets, Iscariot has come to learn. It should've served as a surprise that they had more than one pair of rags. “Don’t know what else I was expecting…” He breathed, not intending to reach alabaster ears but not caring to be heard. Iscariot released the worn material enveloping the human and took a large step back. Even being near such fabric and it’s disheartening origins was unbearable.
Scrupulous scarlet hues considered Hiraeth for a moment as his foot tapped on the stone floor in pensive thought. There was no way the demon could accompany the witch in their clashing attire. That would be unbecoming of a prince, and there was no recovering from an ego that bruised. However, what was the alternative? It’s not as if he could allow himself to give up his own luxuries—to lend the orphan exquisite silks as if he were some saint.
Mulling over their current dilemma, crimson hues once again found the table worn and part-way ruined by his own inference. There it was again—guilt.
“Ugh… I suppose I could just do that.” Ivory hands found Iscariot's temples and attempted to soothe the vexation drawing lines in his expression. The scarlet demon would have to surrender ownership of his attire to the starlit witch if they were to stand any chance in Antares. Perhaps performing such a generous act could alleviate his new and unwanted guilt. As much as that pained him to do, it was his only hope in eliminating such a foreign emotion. “Alright, take all that s**t off, we’re gonna try something.”
Black lashes fluttered closed as Iscariot allowed himself to feel innate magic coursing through sulfuric veins. Aether gathered and coalesced at his fingertips, beckoning that which was beyond to come forth at his command.
During the demon’s time trapped in eternal torment, the only privilege he knew were that of the most luxurious garments. Even if that privilege merely existed to keep up appearances, it was one he clung desperately to. The forsaken demon only hoped that idiotic fiend hadn’t done away with his wardrobe after he departed.
In a flash of familiar crimson smoke, a bejeweled mahogany chest apperated in the soon to be abandoned cottage. A familiar sulfuric scent followed and suffocated whatever pleasant aroma previously resided in Hiraeth’s home. Iscariot cared not for the unwelcomed reminder of a place he could never call home as he had just succeeded in reclaiming that which he held dear.
“Haha! Beat that you unholy p***k,” An elated notion took the demon’s expression for a moment before remembering his present company who sang his praises.
“It always stirs my heart to observe your magick, it is quite different from what I have grown up with.”
The back of Iscariot’s neck and ears burned at the witch’s words. He was unfamiliar with flattery and bewildered in the presence of it. Just like the other compliments given to him by Hiraeth, they would go unacknowledged and ignored, but never forgotten.
“I, uh… I mean… I can give you some of my silks or whatever.” Reassuming his apathetic demeanor, the prince of darkness snapped, opening the chest for the witch to rummage through. However, the witch did not move nor so much as flinch.
A long pause held the room as Iscariot’s patience continued to be tested. Hiraeth was a strange witch and an even stranger entity, that much the scarlet demon was sure of. They required direction, and where there was none the starlit witch would stand frozen until told otherwise. It infuriated him in a way he thought impossible.
“...Right. I forgot how annoying you were,” The demon growled, advancing upon the chest. Extravagant garments lay scattered, tangled and chaotic as if he had tossed them in without care. Sharp claws found the bottom of the chest adorned in scratches before Iscariot found some articles of clothing to suit the witch, along with a few select pieces of jewelry. Garments in hand, the infernal prince shoved them into starlit hands.
“There, you oversized infant. You can have these or whatever. Just don’t ******** tear it or I swear I’ll kill-” Nope. "I’ll murd-” Tried that. “Ugh! I’LL DO SOMETHING.”
WHEREABOUTS the cottage tab COMPANY hiraeth
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
As soon as the demon’s starlit companion accepted the offering, crimson hues quickly averted their gaze as if they had been burned. The sun that had graced the once dark abode with it’s luminosity was nothing compared to Hiraeth’s lustrous light. His stare—those gentle pools of lilac—was blinding and knowing. Whatever semblance of emotion that managed to slip past his stoic exterior carried his words with a weight the demon found insurmountable. Even just his presence was piercing. Especially when the idiot praised him. The tender and mild tone, free of mockery or of judgement. The way compliments fell from pale lips with angelic grace. Iscariot hated it. Hated the way Hiraeth found ease in expressing praise but not pain; hated the way it made him feel. Yet the arrogant prince never attempted to halt any compliments thrown his way. That indulgence he also despised.
Ivory cheeks burned slowly, kindled by the witch’s demeanor that Iscariot could not unravel. Allowing himself to process emotions complicated in resentful sulfur only lead to unwanted outward reactions that betrayed the demon’s standoffish nature. Hiraeth was a curious and scrupulous human, they were bound to notice his idiosyncrasies and poke at them. To prevent such a scenario, the scarlet demon took a moment to repress the way he felt. It was better that way, or at least that’s what he told himself.
After ivory cheeks no longer fought back a flushed emotion, Iscariot couldn’t resist glancing back at the star greater than the damned sun. Scarlet pools found delicate alabaster skin, a color the demon knew existed under worn rags but had still managed to surprise him. However what he hadn’t predicted to discover astonished him the most. Amongst smooth, pale skin were unmistakable and distinct scars, littered all throughout. The demon's eyes focused, as if Hiraeth’s imperfections were inscriptions that detailed their origins. How had they gotten there? Images of stone and bruised skin flashed in his mind. A memory of claws, blood and magic following closely behind. Iscariot learned of such occurrences that day the two took the town as a pair, however the extent of the injuries they sustained Iscariot remained ignorant to until today.
Pools of scarlet, unaware of their invasion, continued to discover more scars that disturbed the demon the more he found. Grander imperfections, the largest of which made the demon’s guarded heart seize painfully in his chest. Much like the worn grain of the table left in the witch’s care, only one of the thousands of imperfections he feared stemmed from his own interference.
“It can’t be…” Iscariot muttered with his mouth left agape, fangs glinting in the wake of the sun. He knew that mark, intimately so. Knew how it traced along the sternum in a line; knew how it ended in a mangled knot where either end decorated the ribs and shoulders. He knew it because the brand was his own. He had been born with it already burned into the skin as it was Hell’s will.
Instinctively a monstrous claw rose and gripped at the same place his brand existed. Guilt and a shame that did not belong to him once more invaded Iscariot’s conscience. Why did the witch inherit such a curse? More importantly, why had remorse been his first reaction to it?
“That isn’t my fault,” The infernal prince whispered through gritted teeth. It cannot be, he reassured himself. He did not brand it into Hiraeth’s chest nor did he wish it to exist elsewhere. It was his curse, his burden to bear. Over and over Iscariot repeated and consoled himself until Hiraeth was no longer a million miles away, but right in front of him.
Panicked crimson hues found tranquil lilac pools with an expression the Infernal Prince could only read as innocence. Iscariot’s brow furrowed at that. There it was again. Emotion on an expression that remained impassive most of the time as he had known them. Vexation returned to the demon like powerful currents returning to the harsh sea. Glancing down at the rehomed attire, the demon’s aforementioned frustration left in a breath. He had expected the poor witch to clash in the demon’s attire, to seem as if they were garments merely stolen from royalty to be sold. Rather, he wore the prince’s wardrobe well. If Iscariot had any inkling towards the starlit witch’s elegant beauty, perhaps he would’ve lent him his attire sooner.
“...That’ll have to do for now. You look fine,” The demon responded curtly to Hiraeth’s wordless query. Although hesitant to express himself outwardly, his traitorous eyes were eager windows to his troubled soul. In crimson hues, it was obvious that he perceived the witch as much more than simply ‘fine’—they were radiant.
“I… I am lacking in the proficiencies of the nobility, namely my ability to secure a perfected knot, would you be as kind to assist me in tying the relic upon my neck?”
However, another request from the blindingly bright witch returned the demon’s usual ill temper once more. He found comfort in cowering behind his outraged demeanor during times of uncertainty. Being angry was better than maneuvering through sentimental emotions he did not understand nor wish to. “Whatever, hand over the stupid thing,” Iscariot grumbled, gripping the relic with a claw and moving to loom behind them.
Much like the rest of his attitude, the demon’s coarse temperament could also be found in his movements—in his touch. Ivory hands met porcelain skin without much care for preservation. Iscariot’s claws secured the witch’s relic around him and tied it in a few swift motions. However, as the demon reached the end of Hiraeth’s request he slowed, ribbon attached yet still in hand. The symbol of a demonic signature had been burned into his mind. How the scar and other smaller imperfections had stained innocent skin. The prince was not a curious creature, but this he had to know.
“I… I saw a scar. The big nasty looking ********. Where… Where did you get that? It was white. Why?” The demon asked, though his solemn tone made it sound as if he were quietly demanding answers. In the back of his mind, racing with foreign thoughts and notions, he already knew. He knew the answer, yet he feared it. Perhaps that’s why Iscariot filled his shadow, because crimson eyes riddled with guilt could not keep a lilac gaze. Not with the way they also knew.
WHEREABOUTS the cottage tab COMPANY hiraeth
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
Ivory cheeks burned slowly, kindled by the witch’s demeanor that Iscariot could not unravel. Allowing himself to process emotions complicated in resentful sulfur only lead to unwanted outward reactions that betrayed the demon’s standoffish nature. Hiraeth was a curious and scrupulous human, they were bound to notice his idiosyncrasies and poke at them. To prevent such a scenario, the scarlet demon took a moment to repress the way he felt. It was better that way, or at least that’s what he told himself.
After ivory cheeks no longer fought back a flushed emotion, Iscariot couldn’t resist glancing back at the star greater than the damned sun. Scarlet pools found delicate alabaster skin, a color the demon knew existed under worn rags but had still managed to surprise him. However what he hadn’t predicted to discover astonished him the most. Amongst smooth, pale skin were unmistakable and distinct scars, littered all throughout. The demon's eyes focused, as if Hiraeth’s imperfections were inscriptions that detailed their origins. How had they gotten there? Images of stone and bruised skin flashed in his mind. A memory of claws, blood and magic following closely behind. Iscariot learned of such occurrences that day the two took the town as a pair, however the extent of the injuries they sustained Iscariot remained ignorant to until today.
Pools of scarlet, unaware of their invasion, continued to discover more scars that disturbed the demon the more he found. Grander imperfections, the largest of which made the demon’s guarded heart seize painfully in his chest. Much like the worn grain of the table left in the witch’s care, only one of the thousands of imperfections he feared stemmed from his own interference.
“It can’t be…” Iscariot muttered with his mouth left agape, fangs glinting in the wake of the sun. He knew that mark, intimately so. Knew how it traced along the sternum in a line; knew how it ended in a mangled knot where either end decorated the ribs and shoulders. He knew it because the brand was his own. He had been born with it already burned into the skin as it was Hell’s will.
Instinctively a monstrous claw rose and gripped at the same place his brand existed. Guilt and a shame that did not belong to him once more invaded Iscariot’s conscience. Why did the witch inherit such a curse? More importantly, why had remorse been his first reaction to it?
“That isn’t my fault,” The infernal prince whispered through gritted teeth. It cannot be, he reassured himself. He did not brand it into Hiraeth’s chest nor did he wish it to exist elsewhere. It was his curse, his burden to bear. Over and over Iscariot repeated and consoled himself until Hiraeth was no longer a million miles away, but right in front of him.
Panicked crimson hues found tranquil lilac pools with an expression the Infernal Prince could only read as innocence. Iscariot’s brow furrowed at that. There it was again. Emotion on an expression that remained impassive most of the time as he had known them. Vexation returned to the demon like powerful currents returning to the harsh sea. Glancing down at the rehomed attire, the demon’s aforementioned frustration left in a breath. He had expected the poor witch to clash in the demon’s attire, to seem as if they were garments merely stolen from royalty to be sold. Rather, he wore the prince’s wardrobe well. If Iscariot had any inkling towards the starlit witch’s elegant beauty, perhaps he would’ve lent him his attire sooner.
“...That’ll have to do for now. You look fine,” The demon responded curtly to Hiraeth’s wordless query. Although hesitant to express himself outwardly, his traitorous eyes were eager windows to his troubled soul. In crimson hues, it was obvious that he perceived the witch as much more than simply ‘fine’—they were radiant.
“I… I am lacking in the proficiencies of the nobility, namely my ability to secure a perfected knot, would you be as kind to assist me in tying the relic upon my neck?”
However, another request from the blindingly bright witch returned the demon’s usual ill temper once more. He found comfort in cowering behind his outraged demeanor during times of uncertainty. Being angry was better than maneuvering through sentimental emotions he did not understand nor wish to. “Whatever, hand over the stupid thing,” Iscariot grumbled, gripping the relic with a claw and moving to loom behind them.
Much like the rest of his attitude, the demon’s coarse temperament could also be found in his movements—in his touch. Ivory hands met porcelain skin without much care for preservation. Iscariot’s claws secured the witch’s relic around him and tied it in a few swift motions. However, as the demon reached the end of Hiraeth’s request he slowed, ribbon attached yet still in hand. The symbol of a demonic signature had been burned into his mind. How the scar and other smaller imperfections had stained innocent skin. The prince was not a curious creature, but this he had to know.
“I… I saw a scar. The big nasty looking ********. Where… Where did you get that? It was white. Why?” The demon asked, though his solemn tone made it sound as if he were quietly demanding answers. In the back of his mind, racing with foreign thoughts and notions, he already knew. He knew the answer, yet he feared it. Perhaps that’s why Iscariot filled his shadow, because crimson eyes riddled with guilt could not keep a lilac gaze. Not with the way they also knew.
WHEREABOUTS the cottage tab COMPANY hiraeth
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
Past the towering buildings and beyond the city streets beginning their bustle, a celestial body met with the horizon and climbed higher into the sky. It greeted the denizens of the world it looked over, granting light and warmth after a long night.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains of a quiet room, ushering in a golden glow. The morning gently kissed the sleeping body slowly stirring in tangled sheets. Pale and lanky limbs stretched beyond the blanket's comfort, the biting cold enough to shake off their ache. Long lashes wasted no time fluttering open as a familiar sound filled the air, incessantly signaling the dawn of a new day.
As the tall figure rose, a dull and heavy ache found his chest. Tender muscles and stiff bones creaked from the movement, a sensation the figure knew intimately. Another unfulfilling slumber. It seemed as if the previous work day still vexed him, still wrestled with his desire to remain diligent despite circumstances.
A heavy sigh tumbled from cracked lips as Shouta Hatayama, tired college student and oblivious pawn to a grand battle, returned the Sun’s greeting.
Slender fingers ceased the alarm’s discordant reminder as he shrugged off the warm blankets that beckoned him to return. Mind still plagued with static, the diligent male began preparations for the long day ahead.
He followed the same methodical routine as he had every other morning, finishing preparations in exactly fifty-four minutes. Not a moment too soon, nor moment too late.
Once complete with daily rituals and chores, it was time to get some work done. In a fatigued grip, the male’s cellphone gently vibrated. Another reminder. There was no need for purple hues to scan over the text, his keen memory was well aware of what needed to be done.
Without sparring another second, Shouta made for his office, crossing the threshold at a quickened pace. Sedulous hands hovered above the mechanical keyboard, prepared to burn through lines of code at a moment's notice. As he patiently waited for the sleek monitors to power on, he considered the work for today.
While being an employed and committed game developer, the lanky male was easily persuaded into taking up similar work in the form of commissions. However, lately he has found himself working in new territory, completely free of charge to an unexpected and rather unlikely client.
Nanase Hirabayashi, fashion model, spitfire character, and protector of all girls in her industry.
Over the past few months, Shouta has found companionship in the caring and resolute female. The happenstance of their meeting thanks to a trivial accident caused by one Harumi Amari. Radiant, amiable and charismatic, the white-haired male was another companion. Friendship wasn’t a new concept to the diligent male. However, the kinship he shared with the two was something special. It was enveloped in warmth, in comfort and it was genuine, at least as best as he could ascertain. Although a fairly recent development, their closeness rivaled his relationship to his other half.
Reflecting back on his companions, a soft smile crested upon pale lips. The grin remained as the dark-haired male collected the necessary resources for the task assigned to him. For nearly as long as Shouta has known the duo, he’s acted as Hirabayashi’s intermediary when it involves certain seedy types she stumbles upon. When the male was made aware of such illegal atrocities, it took no convincing at all to aid her for the betterment of society.
Diligent hands worked to compile gigabytes worth of information, photos, evidence, and documents containing private and detailed accounts of harassment and other illegal activities. While the male’s features remained expressionless, the data perturbed him to scan over. At the very least he could rest easy knowing the work he put in would put an end to such sordid crimes.
After encrypting and protecting the data from non-intending recipients, Shouta moved the evidence and testimonies onto a physical hard drive. He removed every trace of sensitive information from his desktop computer. There wasn’t a single precaution left uncheck, he couldn’t afford to be lackadaisical with such a heavy task.
Shutting off the computer, the tall figure made preparations for an early morning trip. The cold weather beyond his studio apartment called for winter attire. Atop his simple white T-shirt, he adorned an off-white cashmere sweater along with a long, purple tartan coat. Beneath that, winter appropriate black pants and boots.
As he passed the threshold through the office, a discordant yell sounded from the kitchen. The jarring sound brought another smile to his features.
Takeo, the seven-year old salmon crested cockatoo, ran laps on the marble countertops. Setting his bag aside, the lanky male reunited with his bird. With haste, the rambunctious cockatoo ran to his owner, raising his crest and bouncing with excitement.
“What is it, dear Takeo-san?” Shouta asked, lowering his arm for the needy avian. Ever boisterous, the bird climbed onto his owner’s dark tartan coat sleeve.
“Shou-chan, Shou-chan!” The avian squawked, continuing his dance. “Feed! Feed your bird,” He screeched in a familiar voice, mimicking the absent twin.
“You have already eaten this morning, Takeo-san,” The lanky male attempted to reason with his pet. However, the cockatoo was a stubborn one. “Perhaps a snack might settle your strident spirit.”
Carefully ambling to the refrigerator, Shouta plucked a fairly large white strawberry from the bottom compartment. “Here you are, your favorite.” With that, Takeo’s animated nature settled somewhat.
Setting the avian back down on his wooden and weathered perch, the sedulous male gathered his things and set foot into the biting cold.
tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab
After an hour’s journey, Shouta found himself a patron at a local and less trafficked café. A piping hot black coffee sat nearby as the dark-haired male typed away on his laptop. The time to disclose the irrefutable proof of a detestable crime drew near. Diligent hands worked tirelessly to ensure his connection was hidden from those who would seek to prevent this task. As a rather forthright individual, anonymity felt foreign in his veins. However, it was entirely necessary, as Hirabayashi had explained it to him.
The sands of the perpetrator's figurative hourglass steadily trickled near its end as the sedulous male’s hands hovered over the final key. This moment for any other individual would feel climactic, intense and ardent. However, for Shouta, it was just another job. The notion of a climactic end was too alien to understand.
Hitting send, the dark-haired male leaned back in the mahogany chair as he raised the bitter coffee to his lips. Purple hues stayed trained on the dimly lit monitor as he tracked the file’s progress. As he waited, a faint notification sounded off from inside his purple, tartan coat. Pulling the device from it’s pocket, the male was surprised to find a message from his online friend so early.
From: Skyline Waves
Time: 9:20am
How are you doing today Shou? I finally managed to gain enough courage. I'm going to go see Hisato today. I.. I told you about him, right? I hope I don't chicken out. But maybe by sending this I will gain more courage. -Sky
A slight smile tugged on the corners of his lips. This sky individual was a warming presence to speak with, despite remaining anonymous online. Peeling his eyes from the task at hand, the two exchanged a few messages.
From: Shoubruh
Time: 9:22am
Good morning, Sky. I am doing well today, although I did find sleep difficult last night. Anyway, it is good news to hear that you have found your courage to speak with this individual. You have indeed told me a bit about this Hisato. I believe I commented on how common that name must be, as I also know a Hisato. Although I know I am not the best when it comes to advice, I do wish you the best of luck. I hope you can maintain your courage. Sincerely, Shou.
After a few moments of waiting for both a response and the upload to complete, his phone pinged once more. Along with the heat from his hot drink, a secondary warmth enveloped his chest. With haste, sedulous fingers sent a slower reply.
From: Shoubruh
Time: 9:30am
Ah, yes. I am no stranger to a troubled half night's rest. I drink tea regularly during the day, but I will admit I have not tried chamomile tea before bed. I would very much appreciate hearing about this special blend for restlessness. As for your inability to feel connected with classmates, this is very much something I can relate to. I believe I told you about my introverted nature during my time in school. I could never judge you — or anyone for that matter — on their attraction to others. It delights me to know you find comfort in my online presence, despite my nature to be monotonous. There is great bravery in admitting a sense of fear when it comes to things such as confessions, if that helps your confidence. You seem determined to let your feelings be known, and for this I commend you. Sincerely, Shou.
The sight of such a novel length message appearing on his device a short few moments later was a common occurrence between the two. It was very easy for a simple question to flourish into several more. Of course, never once has Shouta not responded eagerly to his online compatriot. Halfway during his read of Sky’s response, the files successfully migrated their way to the appropriate servers.
A calming sense of accomplishment and equity settled in his chest, slightly easing the dull ache that nestled inside. Finishing his hot drink, the diligent male made time to respond to his friend before paying, tipping, and packing up to head for a new location.
From: Shoubruh
Time: 9:45am
I can fully understand the difficulty in shutting off a busy mind. It is quite impossible, in my case. However, things are a bit different on my end. Even during moments of rest, my mind races during dreams. It is a strange problem to have. Perhaps this blend of tea your friend Hisato helped your curate can still help. It does not hurt to try, I suppose. Romance is not something I particularly understand, despite being well into adulthood. However, 'falling' for this individual does not sound like something that can be helped. My inability to lie is not something I think should spark envy, but I can see where you are coming from, Sky. I do not wish to pry where I am unwanted, but your school life does indeed sound difficult. I am sorry you find yourself in such a precarious circumstance where you cannot live life honestly amongst your peers. I am sure if you had someone to confide in at school, you would have an easier time. I do not think that, were we the same age, that we could not get along. Of course, perhaps you would not feel comfortable being honest around another peer. Anyway, you asked me if I had ever liked anyone. Am I safe to assume you are referring to the romantic context from earlier? It may surprise you, but I was in a relationship sometime during my second and third year of High School. My partner was a very kind and selfless person who appreciated my honesty and found humor in my lack of social skills. I treasure his memory dearly, and we ended things very amicably. Again, romance is not something I have much knowledge or confidence in, but I do hope my reassurances help you feel at ease somewhat. Your words bring a smile to my otherwise impassive features by your compliment. I believe it is bravery. My brother is very valorous and went through a similar confession and rejection as you. Though he appeared to take it in stride, I had some notion that it was a difficult time in his life. Perhaps he would have some wise words to speak were we not an ocean apart. Either way, I do believe your determination to see this Hisato individual is not something to be ashamed of. I do hope you find your way there safely, be sure to search for directions on your mobile if you are unsure. If you are still messaging me, I assume your connection can handle directions. I am wishing you the best of luck in your endeavors. Sincerely, Shou.
Pocketing his device, the male did not wait for a reply as he navigated his way to the tea house. Whether or not his companions would join him there, it was still his favorite place Harumi introduced him to. Despite being an impassive figure, he was delighted to hear that his friend also enjoyed all things traditional.
Thirty minutes passed in total before the diligent male was able to spot the tea house hidden past the growing crowds and amongst other cafes. Entering the warm interior, Shouta greeted the workers with a polite bow, reserving a room for himself and arriving companions.
Purple hues found the time on his mobile. The male nodded, satisfied with his time of arrival.
He was thirty minutes early, which meant he was right on time. While he waited for his friends to arrive, the diligent male spent his free time studying and writing up a paper that wasn’t due until the far future.
A little later, it took no time at all for Shouta to hear a familiar voice enter the building. Slender fingers expeditiously wrapped up his studious activities. Had it not been considered rude to work with company nearby, the ambitious male would have likely continued through idle conversation.
Shouta shut his laptop just in time to catch Harumi’s arrival. Long, starlit locks framed his handsome features as a gentle smile pulled on his lips. Peering behind him, it seemed as if the shorter male appeared alone. Perhaps the crimson female was busy today.
“Morning Shou,” The heir greeted warmly.
“Good morning to you as well, Amari — oh, excuse me — Harumi-san,” Shouta returned, correcting his formality.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Ms. Mori handled clean up a bit longer than I expected. I definitely heard the sound of a bone snapping… “
“Ah, that is quite alright, you are only a few minutes late,” He began, reassuring his companion with honesty. “You mentioned a broken bone, correct? That certainly sounds aggressive,” The male commented. Violence wasn’t necessarily something he found incumbent or desirable. However, considering the gravity of the situation, their crimson friend deemed it appropriate.
“I will admit, however,” The dark-haired male continued. “Briefly looking over the compiled accounts, I am not one to judge by which methods justice is delivered.”
“The Hirabayashi family is... rather violent. Even if Nanase believes she’s unlike her brother, they’re more similar than she believes.”
At the mention of a brother, a single dark brow raised in a curious manner. The two have only spoken of Nanase’s brother in the context of violence. While he wasn’t one keen on passing judgements, this character seemed like the temperamental type. Perhaps it was unwise to touch on a subject he was ignorant on.
“This isn’t the first guy she’s beaten up either, but I do suppose everyone she does go after rather deserves it.”
“Knowing Nanase-san’s lionhearted temperament, I do not doubt the accuracy in your words. Though, I do worry a bit. However, I suppose she can handle herself in a dangerous moment.”
As the two companions settled in and ordered drinks, the diligent male shed his coat and tucked away his laptop back into its carrying case. At the sight of it, the shorter male spoke up.
“How was the upload onto the servers?” The starlit male asked.
Purple hues scanned his features for his intention behind the question. Did he simply request to know if there were any errors? Or perhaps he would prefer an in-depth explanation. Ungraceful in the face of such social endeavors, his intention eluded the dark-haired male. A simplistic answer would suffice, he decided.
“Oh, well with the amount of data I was given, it took a considerable amount of time, but that is to be expected,” Shouta responded after a moment. “The upload itself was not problematic in any way, and the information is where it needs to be. I am positive that with all the evidence and documentation, there is enough to convict this individual.”
A female server entered the room and delivered the requested drinks, glossing over Shouta’s thank you in favor of staring at the shorter male across from him. She exited in a flushed hurry.
His gaze met amber hues as he considered the interaction for a second. He had assumed Harumi was something of a celebrity, just as his spitfire counterpart was. Could that be the reason for the server's enamored reaction? Or perhaps it was something as foreign to the male as attraction.
Either way, Shouta had Harumi’s attention at the moment. What to say? What to do? Quiet contemplation was a common occurrence during interactions with the socially awkward male. He had been told many times before that sometimes, this could be perturbing. It was difficult to gauge discomfort in others as all he had to go on were their words.
This silence has gone on for too long.
“Ah… Harumi-san,” He finally spoke, cutting through the quiet. “How have you been lately? Nanase-san as well, aside from dealing with contemptible individuals,” Shouta genuinely inquired.
His starlit friend was not one to so honestly express himself, as the crimson female had put it once. Perhaps he would answer with elusive honesty today? Although, it hardly mattered. Deceit was a foreign concept to the male with honesty pulsing through his veins. Even if Harumi were to lie, it’s not as if Shouta could pick up on it.
WHEREABOUTS home > café > tea house tab COMPANY nobody > harumi tab MUSIC tab
spacefiller
Sunlight filtered through the curtains of a quiet room, ushering in a golden glow. The morning gently kissed the sleeping body slowly stirring in tangled sheets. Pale and lanky limbs stretched beyond the blanket's comfort, the biting cold enough to shake off their ache. Long lashes wasted no time fluttering open as a familiar sound filled the air, incessantly signaling the dawn of a new day.
As the tall figure rose, a dull and heavy ache found his chest. Tender muscles and stiff bones creaked from the movement, a sensation the figure knew intimately. Another unfulfilling slumber. It seemed as if the previous work day still vexed him, still wrestled with his desire to remain diligent despite circumstances.
A heavy sigh tumbled from cracked lips as Shouta Hatayama, tired college student and oblivious pawn to a grand battle, returned the Sun’s greeting.
Slender fingers ceased the alarm’s discordant reminder as he shrugged off the warm blankets that beckoned him to return. Mind still plagued with static, the diligent male began preparations for the long day ahead.
He followed the same methodical routine as he had every other morning, finishing preparations in exactly fifty-four minutes. Not a moment too soon, nor moment too late.
Once complete with daily rituals and chores, it was time to get some work done. In a fatigued grip, the male’s cellphone gently vibrated. Another reminder. There was no need for purple hues to scan over the text, his keen memory was well aware of what needed to be done.
Without sparring another second, Shouta made for his office, crossing the threshold at a quickened pace. Sedulous hands hovered above the mechanical keyboard, prepared to burn through lines of code at a moment's notice. As he patiently waited for the sleek monitors to power on, he considered the work for today.
While being an employed and committed game developer, the lanky male was easily persuaded into taking up similar work in the form of commissions. However, lately he has found himself working in new territory, completely free of charge to an unexpected and rather unlikely client.
Nanase Hirabayashi, fashion model, spitfire character, and protector of all girls in her industry.
Over the past few months, Shouta has found companionship in the caring and resolute female. The happenstance of their meeting thanks to a trivial accident caused by one Harumi Amari. Radiant, amiable and charismatic, the white-haired male was another companion. Friendship wasn’t a new concept to the diligent male. However, the kinship he shared with the two was something special. It was enveloped in warmth, in comfort and it was genuine, at least as best as he could ascertain. Although a fairly recent development, their closeness rivaled his relationship to his other half.
Reflecting back on his companions, a soft smile crested upon pale lips. The grin remained as the dark-haired male collected the necessary resources for the task assigned to him. For nearly as long as Shouta has known the duo, he’s acted as Hirabayashi’s intermediary when it involves certain seedy types she stumbles upon. When the male was made aware of such illegal atrocities, it took no convincing at all to aid her for the betterment of society.
Diligent hands worked to compile gigabytes worth of information, photos, evidence, and documents containing private and detailed accounts of harassment and other illegal activities. While the male’s features remained expressionless, the data perturbed him to scan over. At the very least he could rest easy knowing the work he put in would put an end to such sordid crimes.
After encrypting and protecting the data from non-intending recipients, Shouta moved the evidence and testimonies onto a physical hard drive. He removed every trace of sensitive information from his desktop computer. There wasn’t a single precaution left uncheck, he couldn’t afford to be lackadaisical with such a heavy task.
Shutting off the computer, the tall figure made preparations for an early morning trip. The cold weather beyond his studio apartment called for winter attire. Atop his simple white T-shirt, he adorned an off-white cashmere sweater along with a long, purple tartan coat. Beneath that, winter appropriate black pants and boots.
As he passed the threshold through the office, a discordant yell sounded from the kitchen. The jarring sound brought another smile to his features.
Takeo, the seven-year old salmon crested cockatoo, ran laps on the marble countertops. Setting his bag aside, the lanky male reunited with his bird. With haste, the rambunctious cockatoo ran to his owner, raising his crest and bouncing with excitement.
“What is it, dear Takeo-san?” Shouta asked, lowering his arm for the needy avian. Ever boisterous, the bird climbed onto his owner’s dark tartan coat sleeve.
“Shou-chan, Shou-chan!” The avian squawked, continuing his dance. “Feed! Feed your bird,” He screeched in a familiar voice, mimicking the absent twin.
“You have already eaten this morning, Takeo-san,” The lanky male attempted to reason with his pet. However, the cockatoo was a stubborn one. “Perhaps a snack might settle your strident spirit.”
Carefully ambling to the refrigerator, Shouta plucked a fairly large white strawberry from the bottom compartment. “Here you are, your favorite.” With that, Takeo’s animated nature settled somewhat.
Setting the avian back down on his wooden and weathered perch, the sedulous male gathered his things and set foot into the biting cold.
tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab
After an hour’s journey, Shouta found himself a patron at a local and less trafficked café. A piping hot black coffee sat nearby as the dark-haired male typed away on his laptop. The time to disclose the irrefutable proof of a detestable crime drew near. Diligent hands worked tirelessly to ensure his connection was hidden from those who would seek to prevent this task. As a rather forthright individual, anonymity felt foreign in his veins. However, it was entirely necessary, as Hirabayashi had explained it to him.
The sands of the perpetrator's figurative hourglass steadily trickled near its end as the sedulous male’s hands hovered over the final key. This moment for any other individual would feel climactic, intense and ardent. However, for Shouta, it was just another job. The notion of a climactic end was too alien to understand.
Hitting send, the dark-haired male leaned back in the mahogany chair as he raised the bitter coffee to his lips. Purple hues stayed trained on the dimly lit monitor as he tracked the file’s progress. As he waited, a faint notification sounded off from inside his purple, tartan coat. Pulling the device from it’s pocket, the male was surprised to find a message from his online friend so early.
From: Skyline Waves
Time: 9:20am
How are you doing today Shou? I finally managed to gain enough courage. I'm going to go see Hisato today. I.. I told you about him, right? I hope I don't chicken out. But maybe by sending this I will gain more courage. -Sky
A slight smile tugged on the corners of his lips. This sky individual was a warming presence to speak with, despite remaining anonymous online. Peeling his eyes from the task at hand, the two exchanged a few messages.
From: Shoubruh
Time: 9:22am
Good morning, Sky. I am doing well today, although I did find sleep difficult last night. Anyway, it is good news to hear that you have found your courage to speak with this individual. You have indeed told me a bit about this Hisato. I believe I commented on how common that name must be, as I also know a Hisato. Although I know I am not the best when it comes to advice, I do wish you the best of luck. I hope you can maintain your courage. Sincerely, Shou.
After a few moments of waiting for both a response and the upload to complete, his phone pinged once more. Along with the heat from his hot drink, a secondary warmth enveloped his chest. With haste, sedulous fingers sent a slower reply.
From: Shoubruh
Time: 9:30am
Ah, yes. I am no stranger to a troubled half night's rest. I drink tea regularly during the day, but I will admit I have not tried chamomile tea before bed. I would very much appreciate hearing about this special blend for restlessness. As for your inability to feel connected with classmates, this is very much something I can relate to. I believe I told you about my introverted nature during my time in school. I could never judge you — or anyone for that matter — on their attraction to others. It delights me to know you find comfort in my online presence, despite my nature to be monotonous. There is great bravery in admitting a sense of fear when it comes to things such as confessions, if that helps your confidence. You seem determined to let your feelings be known, and for this I commend you. Sincerely, Shou.
The sight of such a novel length message appearing on his device a short few moments later was a common occurrence between the two. It was very easy for a simple question to flourish into several more. Of course, never once has Shouta not responded eagerly to his online compatriot. Halfway during his read of Sky’s response, the files successfully migrated their way to the appropriate servers.
A calming sense of accomplishment and equity settled in his chest, slightly easing the dull ache that nestled inside. Finishing his hot drink, the diligent male made time to respond to his friend before paying, tipping, and packing up to head for a new location.
From: Shoubruh
Time: 9:45am
I can fully understand the difficulty in shutting off a busy mind. It is quite impossible, in my case. However, things are a bit different on my end. Even during moments of rest, my mind races during dreams. It is a strange problem to have. Perhaps this blend of tea your friend Hisato helped your curate can still help. It does not hurt to try, I suppose. Romance is not something I particularly understand, despite being well into adulthood. However, 'falling' for this individual does not sound like something that can be helped. My inability to lie is not something I think should spark envy, but I can see where you are coming from, Sky. I do not wish to pry where I am unwanted, but your school life does indeed sound difficult. I am sorry you find yourself in such a precarious circumstance where you cannot live life honestly amongst your peers. I am sure if you had someone to confide in at school, you would have an easier time. I do not think that, were we the same age, that we could not get along. Of course, perhaps you would not feel comfortable being honest around another peer. Anyway, you asked me if I had ever liked anyone. Am I safe to assume you are referring to the romantic context from earlier? It may surprise you, but I was in a relationship sometime during my second and third year of High School. My partner was a very kind and selfless person who appreciated my honesty and found humor in my lack of social skills. I treasure his memory dearly, and we ended things very amicably. Again, romance is not something I have much knowledge or confidence in, but I do hope my reassurances help you feel at ease somewhat. Your words bring a smile to my otherwise impassive features by your compliment. I believe it is bravery. My brother is very valorous and went through a similar confession and rejection as you. Though he appeared to take it in stride, I had some notion that it was a difficult time in his life. Perhaps he would have some wise words to speak were we not an ocean apart. Either way, I do believe your determination to see this Hisato individual is not something to be ashamed of. I do hope you find your way there safely, be sure to search for directions on your mobile if you are unsure. If you are still messaging me, I assume your connection can handle directions. I am wishing you the best of luck in your endeavors. Sincerely, Shou.
Pocketing his device, the male did not wait for a reply as he navigated his way to the tea house. Whether or not his companions would join him there, it was still his favorite place Harumi introduced him to. Despite being an impassive figure, he was delighted to hear that his friend also enjoyed all things traditional.
Thirty minutes passed in total before the diligent male was able to spot the tea house hidden past the growing crowds and amongst other cafes. Entering the warm interior, Shouta greeted the workers with a polite bow, reserving a room for himself and arriving companions.
Purple hues found the time on his mobile. The male nodded, satisfied with his time of arrival.
He was thirty minutes early, which meant he was right on time. While he waited for his friends to arrive, the diligent male spent his free time studying and writing up a paper that wasn’t due until the far future.
A little later, it took no time at all for Shouta to hear a familiar voice enter the building. Slender fingers expeditiously wrapped up his studious activities. Had it not been considered rude to work with company nearby, the ambitious male would have likely continued through idle conversation.
Shouta shut his laptop just in time to catch Harumi’s arrival. Long, starlit locks framed his handsome features as a gentle smile pulled on his lips. Peering behind him, it seemed as if the shorter male appeared alone. Perhaps the crimson female was busy today.
“Morning Shou,” The heir greeted warmly.
“Good morning to you as well, Amari — oh, excuse me — Harumi-san,” Shouta returned, correcting his formality.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Ms. Mori handled clean up a bit longer than I expected. I definitely heard the sound of a bone snapping… “
“Ah, that is quite alright, you are only a few minutes late,” He began, reassuring his companion with honesty. “You mentioned a broken bone, correct? That certainly sounds aggressive,” The male commented. Violence wasn’t necessarily something he found incumbent or desirable. However, considering the gravity of the situation, their crimson friend deemed it appropriate.
“I will admit, however,” The dark-haired male continued. “Briefly looking over the compiled accounts, I am not one to judge by which methods justice is delivered.”
“The Hirabayashi family is... rather violent. Even if Nanase believes she’s unlike her brother, they’re more similar than she believes.”
At the mention of a brother, a single dark brow raised in a curious manner. The two have only spoken of Nanase’s brother in the context of violence. While he wasn’t one keen on passing judgements, this character seemed like the temperamental type. Perhaps it was unwise to touch on a subject he was ignorant on.
“This isn’t the first guy she’s beaten up either, but I do suppose everyone she does go after rather deserves it.”
“Knowing Nanase-san’s lionhearted temperament, I do not doubt the accuracy in your words. Though, I do worry a bit. However, I suppose she can handle herself in a dangerous moment.”
As the two companions settled in and ordered drinks, the diligent male shed his coat and tucked away his laptop back into its carrying case. At the sight of it, the shorter male spoke up.
“How was the upload onto the servers?” The starlit male asked.
Purple hues scanned his features for his intention behind the question. Did he simply request to know if there were any errors? Or perhaps he would prefer an in-depth explanation. Ungraceful in the face of such social endeavors, his intention eluded the dark-haired male. A simplistic answer would suffice, he decided.
“Oh, well with the amount of data I was given, it took a considerable amount of time, but that is to be expected,” Shouta responded after a moment. “The upload itself was not problematic in any way, and the information is where it needs to be. I am positive that with all the evidence and documentation, there is enough to convict this individual.”
A female server entered the room and delivered the requested drinks, glossing over Shouta’s thank you in favor of staring at the shorter male across from him. She exited in a flushed hurry.
His gaze met amber hues as he considered the interaction for a second. He had assumed Harumi was something of a celebrity, just as his spitfire counterpart was. Could that be the reason for the server's enamored reaction? Or perhaps it was something as foreign to the male as attraction.
Either way, Shouta had Harumi’s attention at the moment. What to say? What to do? Quiet contemplation was a common occurrence during interactions with the socially awkward male. He had been told many times before that sometimes, this could be perturbing. It was difficult to gauge discomfort in others as all he had to go on were their words.
This silence has gone on for too long.
“Ah… Harumi-san,” He finally spoke, cutting through the quiet. “How have you been lately? Nanase-san as well, aside from dealing with contemptible individuals,” Shouta genuinely inquired.
His starlit friend was not one to so honestly express himself, as the crimson female had put it once. Perhaps he would answer with elusive honesty today? Although, it hardly mattered. Deceit was a foreign concept to the male with honesty pulsing through his veins. Even if Harumi were to lie, it’s not as if Shouta could pick up on it.
WHEREABOUTS home > café > tea house tab COMPANY nobody > harumi tab MUSIC tab
spacefiller
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
Sun’ya Kunchai, debonair character and lackadaisical head of security, is a man known for many things. For one, his signature confidence. Arrogant and hubristic in his self-assurance, it’s a disposition so characteristically Sun’ya, that the two are nearly indiscernible separated.
Another defining idiosyncrasy of his, more subtle than his dramatic flair, would be his non-committal nature. This nature is not just simply limited by his romantic interests and pursuits, no, this particular behavior is also found where any sort of commitment is required. Be it friends, conversations, employment, objectives or other actions, they are all greeted with an indolence and sliver of carelessness.
It’s all dependent on what he gets out of it. If anything fails to immediately benefit the male in some way, whether gratification or satisfaction, it’s never important—never paramount enough to care.
There are, however, a few exceptions.
Chocolate hues, unable to withhold their excitement for the day’s upcoming event, shot open to greet the early morning air. Though they were met with a cold darkness, Sun’ya awoke and stirred feverishly under his sheets, almost desperate to escape their warm comfort. A wide grin spread across his lips, hyperactive and brimming with unmistakable exhilerence.
This animated exuberance burning deep within his chest, although familiar, was a rare and infrequent ardor. It was an uncharacteristic intoxication to have for the day's assignment of information seeking.
While under normal circumstances, when the Shadow Insurgence undertook intel-gathering operations, it was a lot more boring than the ostentatious male first considered it to be. There was nothing exciting about being inconspicuous while undercover, not the way his squadron performed. See, Sun’ya tended to romanticize the work their cause shouldered. He was a thrill seeker after all, it was in his blood to expect action packed exploits and high-risk adventure.
For this escapade, the immoral syndicate otherwise known as M.A.G.I., were the rebellion’s target. According to their very own Harumi Amari, head of… intelligence—or something like that, Sun’ya never bothered to ask—some much needed information was up for grabs at an outpost not too far off.
This particular expedition, however, was rather unique in a way that stood out to the thrill seeker. The insurgence as a collective decided to approach the situation differently this time. Rather than gather intel from a far, or adorn themselves in cunning disguise, Sun’ya was delighted to know they’d be dropping in. Literally. An infiltration from above, intel-gathering of the highest caliber.
Prepping for the early morning’s venture, there was a liveliness to the dramatic male’s movements; a distinct and palpable vigor. Slender fingers danced upon thighs and along surfaces while his feet rhythmically carried him to and fro. Maintaining a mirthful smirk, a hum lacking any coherent melody sounded from his throat. A haphazard performance, one executed without need for an audience.
While the thought of free-falling from a tremendous height was thrilling enough, there was something else setting Sun’ya’s heart alight, something even more tantalizing.
The Director, Nanase Hirabayashi.
Her petite frame, short, jet-black hair with a crimson accent, and her signature staggering red eyes, oftentime hidden behind thin spectacles.
Beneath his ribcage, the debonair male’s heart seized for a moment. Just the thought of her alone was enough to elicit a strange response from him. It wasn’t a new feeling, not by any means. It was an exciting attraction, one that typically by now would have faded with time. However, with Nanase it felt different. His attraction to her had yet to be spoiled by his fickle nature. It was... bizarre.
The hour it took for Sun’ya to make ready his appearance seemed to advance rather rapidly than usual, too engrossed by his own jubilation to take note of the passage of time. While swift, the male still took care to properly pamper his image. After all, he had to look his best today. The fierce token of his affections needed impressing.
“Good early mornin’ to you, Director,” Sun’ya greeted with his signature elegant charm, a hand held gently to his chest. His words, spoken formally and laced in opulence, contrasted sharply against the roguish smirk that filled his expression. It was a manner the taller male was accustomed to sharing with the crimson beauty. Feigning formality while maintaining a coquettish glamour. It was playful yet distastefully childish fashion, really.
“Did I give you permission to talk to me this early? I didn’t expect to be greeted with a headache this early on. If I had an option to choose someone else to accompany me...”
The hand held atop his heart felt it's zealous beat as vexation spilled from the crimson beauty, a look of dismay painting her expression. A very typical response. A dull sound of intrigue chimed in the playful male's chest partnered with an ever present smirk in response. No dice? Perhaps a compliment.
“We’re both looking lovely, as per usual,” The debonair male grinned, unperturbed by the director’s loathful reaction. Unlike the nameless crowd of others he pursued, Nanase never appeared to take his charisma in good spirits. However, he was always the troublesome type who fancied a challenge.
“Maybe I ought to blind you so you don’t get distracted on this mission, though considering you’re without a brain, sight might be a necessary function for you.”
"Blind me? If you wanted my eyes all to yourself you could have just said so." She ignored him.
“I suppose I can allow you to keep your eyes for now..”
“How sweet of you.”
The irritated scowl on her face deepened. Self-assured and willfully ignorant, he continued a beat later. “Say, Nanase... This is one of our first heists, just you and me, in a long while,” Sun’ya coyly saddled up next to the crimson beauty, matching her pace as the two made for the briefing room.
“Hmm…” He hummed in pretend deliberation. “How does the saying go again? Distance makes the heart grow fonder?” Chocolate hues lowered to catch her gaze, a single brow raising in an obvious display of smugness. She responded with a cold and silent glare, an obvious warning the zealous male did not heed.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you fell in love with me this time ‘round.” A purposive, self-satisfied chuckle left the guileful male’s lungs in a quick huff of air. It was a teasing pursuit, their romance an exchange of playful (and irritating) banter. Although he made advances, he never expected any of them to land. His attempts were met mostly with vexation, resistance or even a scolding.
“This mission is not a joke, Mister Sun’ya Agent Amari-”
The chilled morning air around the two figures grew icy and frozen as the director's demeanor shifted. She became indifferent, and rather impersonal in the blink of an eye. It was strange... What had set it off?
"Agent Amari...?" The astounded male parroted.
“-received a tip that security at M.A.G.I’s Beta Base A. will be at an all time low due to subject transfers. Still the threat is still too large to risk any other agents and since I consider you…” She paused in thought.
"Oh, oh! consider me what?" A heartbeat skipped returned an unfortunate sliver of Sun'ya's difficult nature, too thrilled by the notion that Nanase felt some way about him.
"Incredibly attractive? Or maybe magnificent? Oh! I got it, I'm-"
"Disposable."
"One of a—Oh..."
“You shall be accompanying me. Regardless, I am in charge and however plans change I expect you to remember that I am the director so you will behave and abide by my orders. The tip has not yet been confirmed but we cannot waste time waiting- I should mention the other two are unaware of this adventure and I would intend to keep it that way until we return with success.”
"A secret mission, hmm Miss Nanase? I can't be too far off then, seeing as you hand chose me," The dark-skinned male added, the coltish tone ever present despite the formal scolding.
“Now, let’s go over the plan.”
"Why, yes of course, Madam Director," Sun'ya finished with a bow, intending to sound impish but landing in condescending territory. Brushed off again, the male felt dejection. The spit-fire female hastily darted past the threshold and into the briefing room ahead, leaving the pouting and sheepish figure in the hall.
“Mister Sun’ya...” He recalled quietly. A fond sigh betrayed his bashful smirk, his mind trekking through imaginary reciprocation. Even through rejection, he dreamed.
The briefing, led by the crimson beauty, was kept rather short. They were under a time restraint, Nanase explained. The exhilaration that held the dramatic male awake nearly all night springed into high gear once again, despite the earlier conversation. Beneath his exterior, his heart raced as adrenaline pumped through his veins and lit aflame his hyperactive fingers. The thrill seeker tapped, nudged, and grazed everything within arms reach. His legs, the table, spare pens — a sporadic rhythm found them.
Paying attention to details was impossible, and expecting him to remain attentive was an absurd daydream. There were only two things on the Head of Security’s mind now. The descent of his figure, and his heart.
As the two rounded the corner, Sun’ya’s aura was noticeably outlandish. A palpable excitement filled the air around him, with energy consuming his spirit. This was a different Sun’ya, one that only thrived in dangerous environments.
His exuberance only continued to climb as the two conspirators boarded their stealth aircraft. The thrill seeker was unable to sit still as he was safely confined to his seat. Engines whirred as lights overhead flashed, and the shift from landlocked to airborne was nothing short of euphoria to the zealous male. The child-like wonder in chocolate hues shone tenfold as the plane took flight and made way for its destination.
This was going to be beyond exceptional, he thought.
Things however, did not go according to plan. For when the two former subjects advanced upon their desired location, security had not been lax—it had been strengthened tenfold. A brief look of disquiet painted the thrill seeker’s expression from on high, but only for a moment. It appeared as if their “Agent Amari” had been incorrect. An elated smirk replaced the apprehensive frown without delay.
The reckless male’s chocolate hues quickly darted to meet crimson ones, unveiling his heightened exaltation to his partner. He stood after unlatching himself to the seat, stretching out limbs that were rearing to go.
“Now this… This is much more like it!” Sun’ya exclaimed, fresh adrenaline filling his veins.
“And what better duo for a job like this, hm Nana?”
The next few seconds were that of bliss, and betrayal. Much too engrossed in his euphoria, the thrill seeker missed the obvious signs and cues that things were about to take a turn.
The crimson beauty approached him, much closer than she ever had in the past. His complexion tinted red as she closed the distance and embraced the male. Slightly flustered at the contact, he failed to notice her careful sleight of hand, misheard her words. However, most urgently, he missed the heat of her embrace the moment it became absent.
Cast aside and forsaken, Sun’ya sat dejected and aggravated in the aircraft alone with the pilot, missing only one passenger. White hot fists were held taut, clenched in ill temper. How could he have been so foolish? The spit-fire director managed to bypass his insight and render his parachute useless. and because of what?
A fleeting feeling, a passing fantasy.
Idiot.
The pilot, having stolen a glance at the vexxed male, sought to lighten the mood with a few affirming words. Unfortunately however, their sour attempt to soothe the male’s disposition was met with strong language. Cowering, the pilot returned to their objective.
Gritting his teeth, the indignant male’s fingernails dug deeper into the skin of his palm. Seething and irate, he imagined Nanase alone on the surface. Cornered. Trapped. Helpless. Gone.
Ultimately, Sun’ya was crestfallen.
“You’d better be okay.”
As the second ticked on, evolving into minutes—into hours, Sun’ya’s vexation slowly unfurled, giving way to anxiety. While he remained snappy and choleric, at heart the male was overwrought. Impatient. Fists no longer clenched, his palms firmly held down edgy legs, careful not to reveal his jittery state for fear of conversation.
He did not need consoling right now. He needed his partner.
An hour into their wait after the aircraft had landed a ways away offsite, the head of security could no longer sit idly by. He couldn’t sulk on antsy nerves anymore.
Standing abruptly, the zealous male made way for the door, gaze stalwart and determined. A clammy hand met with cold steel, and as he forced it open a flurry of red caught his eye.
Chocolate hues went wide, surprised by their findings. An instant relief washed over his form in a quick breath, thankful that Nanase was living, Briefly looking over her figure in a panic, she appeared… Fine? He searched her for blood, for cuts and bruises—and found nothing but her pale complexion. The only crimson to be found on her person was where it was expected.
“Oh. You’re… Okay,” he spoke simply, dumbfounded by her state. But… his mind wandered. That doesn’t make any sense.
“As to be expected of the Director,” Nanase responded in that way she always did. Annoyed, matter-of-factly. As if he was stupid.
Immediately, Sun’ya remembered his outrage, his expression shifting to mirror it. While typically he would reply in turn with an impish tone to rival her characteristic apathy, he only scowled in response now. He felt vapid, felt doltish for having worried. She was just fine, and here he was fretful over nothing. Like it was no big deal.
“Whatever,” The bitter male muttered under his breath, complete with a quick roll of the eyes.
Resentful, he returned to his seat and glared daggers into the floor below his feet. White-hot anger deafened his senses, unable to pay mind to any exchange of words.As the plane picked up, his vexation only deepend.
Over the course of the journey back to base, Sun’ya sat in quiet, ill contemplation. In his mind the petty male began constructing his confrontation. Wrathful and held firmly in his fury, it was difficult to imagine anything other than curses. No amount of ******** or ******** could properly portray the temper burning wildly in his chest. No, the director needed something more thorough, more personal and concise if she was going to learn something.
Finally landing, the zealous male stood, and without a second to spare, took Nanase’s arm in a stalwart grip. His expression still read a similar anger he maintained during their journey, but now with an iron resolve. Determined, he maneuvered his way through the base with the director in tow. Moving through the maze-like hallways, he glared at the concerned and ignored the curious glances they received.
Walking through the threshold of Nanase’s personal office, the irate male all but slammed the door behind him, releasing his hold on her. Alone, he could finally share the shambles of an argument he prepared.
“Do you wanna explain yourself,” He began in a low tone, a cold and uncharacteristic anger lacing his words. “Or should I just start.”
He gave her no time for an interjection.
“Because what you just did back there-” Sun’ya pointed behind him, trying his best to control the fury building in his expression. A hopeless effort.
“-was THE most asinine, most RECKLESS stunt I have ever seen you pull in our ENTIRE time together,” He breathed, manifesting the fire kept bundled for this moment. It was obvious he was pissed, it could be read in everything. His brows furrowed, eyes squinting and posture tending, filling with an unmistakable rage.
“I have no idea what the [********] you were thinking when you decided I was worth absolute s**t when YOU were the one who called me there!” Gesturing towards the crimson female, the thrill-seeker’s wrath approached its pinnacle. His anger coursed through seething veins, warming and eventually boiling his figure completely.
“You are out of your [******** mind, Nanase! T-tell me-”
Pissed off and embarrassed, he needed to know something.
“Why bring me along at all, huh?!” He gritted his teeth, his glare breaking and finding the floor. “So I could sit there COMPLETELY USELESS while YOU run in? Do you have- have any…” The irate male’s words began to falter. He knew what he wanted to say—knew what he needed to tell her. However, his pride choked the air from his lungs.
Unable to meet her gaze, the prideful male glared daggers into the ground below his feet. He hadn’t given her the chance to speak, yet. Perhaps his silence was intentional, like an invitation. Being the argumentative man Sun’ya was, he wanted—he needed to know her defense so he could pick it apart.
This will not end well, he mused.
WHEREABOUTS base > secret > base tab COMPANY nanase tab APPAREL
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
Another defining idiosyncrasy of his, more subtle than his dramatic flair, would be his non-committal nature. This nature is not just simply limited by his romantic interests and pursuits, no, this particular behavior is also found where any sort of commitment is required. Be it friends, conversations, employment, objectives or other actions, they are all greeted with an indolence and sliver of carelessness.
It’s all dependent on what he gets out of it. If anything fails to immediately benefit the male in some way, whether gratification or satisfaction, it’s never important—never paramount enough to care.
There are, however, a few exceptions.
Chocolate hues, unable to withhold their excitement for the day’s upcoming event, shot open to greet the early morning air. Though they were met with a cold darkness, Sun’ya awoke and stirred feverishly under his sheets, almost desperate to escape their warm comfort. A wide grin spread across his lips, hyperactive and brimming with unmistakable exhilerence.
This animated exuberance burning deep within his chest, although familiar, was a rare and infrequent ardor. It was an uncharacteristic intoxication to have for the day's assignment of information seeking.
While under normal circumstances, when the Shadow Insurgence undertook intel-gathering operations, it was a lot more boring than the ostentatious male first considered it to be. There was nothing exciting about being inconspicuous while undercover, not the way his squadron performed. See, Sun’ya tended to romanticize the work their cause shouldered. He was a thrill seeker after all, it was in his blood to expect action packed exploits and high-risk adventure.
For this escapade, the immoral syndicate otherwise known as M.A.G.I., were the rebellion’s target. According to their very own Harumi Amari, head of… intelligence—or something like that, Sun’ya never bothered to ask—some much needed information was up for grabs at an outpost not too far off.
This particular expedition, however, was rather unique in a way that stood out to the thrill seeker. The insurgence as a collective decided to approach the situation differently this time. Rather than gather intel from a far, or adorn themselves in cunning disguise, Sun’ya was delighted to know they’d be dropping in. Literally. An infiltration from above, intel-gathering of the highest caliber.
Prepping for the early morning’s venture, there was a liveliness to the dramatic male’s movements; a distinct and palpable vigor. Slender fingers danced upon thighs and along surfaces while his feet rhythmically carried him to and fro. Maintaining a mirthful smirk, a hum lacking any coherent melody sounded from his throat. A haphazard performance, one executed without need for an audience.
While the thought of free-falling from a tremendous height was thrilling enough, there was something else setting Sun’ya’s heart alight, something even more tantalizing.
The Director, Nanase Hirabayashi.
Her petite frame, short, jet-black hair with a crimson accent, and her signature staggering red eyes, oftentime hidden behind thin spectacles.
Beneath his ribcage, the debonair male’s heart seized for a moment. Just the thought of her alone was enough to elicit a strange response from him. It wasn’t a new feeling, not by any means. It was an exciting attraction, one that typically by now would have faded with time. However, with Nanase it felt different. His attraction to her had yet to be spoiled by his fickle nature. It was... bizarre.
The hour it took for Sun’ya to make ready his appearance seemed to advance rather rapidly than usual, too engrossed by his own jubilation to take note of the passage of time. While swift, the male still took care to properly pamper his image. After all, he had to look his best today. The fierce token of his affections needed impressing.
“Good early mornin’ to you, Director,” Sun’ya greeted with his signature elegant charm, a hand held gently to his chest. His words, spoken formally and laced in opulence, contrasted sharply against the roguish smirk that filled his expression. It was a manner the taller male was accustomed to sharing with the crimson beauty. Feigning formality while maintaining a coquettish glamour. It was playful yet distastefully childish fashion, really.
“Did I give you permission to talk to me this early? I didn’t expect to be greeted with a headache this early on. If I had an option to choose someone else to accompany me...”
The hand held atop his heart felt it's zealous beat as vexation spilled from the crimson beauty, a look of dismay painting her expression. A very typical response. A dull sound of intrigue chimed in the playful male's chest partnered with an ever present smirk in response. No dice? Perhaps a compliment.
“We’re both looking lovely, as per usual,” The debonair male grinned, unperturbed by the director’s loathful reaction. Unlike the nameless crowd of others he pursued, Nanase never appeared to take his charisma in good spirits. However, he was always the troublesome type who fancied a challenge.
“Maybe I ought to blind you so you don’t get distracted on this mission, though considering you’re without a brain, sight might be a necessary function for you.”
"Blind me? If you wanted my eyes all to yourself you could have just said so." She ignored him.
“I suppose I can allow you to keep your eyes for now..”
“How sweet of you.”
The irritated scowl on her face deepened. Self-assured and willfully ignorant, he continued a beat later. “Say, Nanase... This is one of our first heists, just you and me, in a long while,” Sun’ya coyly saddled up next to the crimson beauty, matching her pace as the two made for the briefing room.
“Hmm…” He hummed in pretend deliberation. “How does the saying go again? Distance makes the heart grow fonder?” Chocolate hues lowered to catch her gaze, a single brow raising in an obvious display of smugness. She responded with a cold and silent glare, an obvious warning the zealous male did not heed.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you fell in love with me this time ‘round.” A purposive, self-satisfied chuckle left the guileful male’s lungs in a quick huff of air. It was a teasing pursuit, their romance an exchange of playful (and irritating) banter. Although he made advances, he never expected any of them to land. His attempts were met mostly with vexation, resistance or even a scolding.
“This mission is not a joke, Mister Sun’ya Agent Amari-”
The chilled morning air around the two figures grew icy and frozen as the director's demeanor shifted. She became indifferent, and rather impersonal in the blink of an eye. It was strange... What had set it off?
"Agent Amari...?" The astounded male parroted.
“-received a tip that security at M.A.G.I’s Beta Base A. will be at an all time low due to subject transfers. Still the threat is still too large to risk any other agents and since I consider you…” She paused in thought.
"Oh, oh! consider me what?" A heartbeat skipped returned an unfortunate sliver of Sun'ya's difficult nature, too thrilled by the notion that Nanase felt some way about him.
"Incredibly attractive? Or maybe magnificent? Oh! I got it, I'm-"
"Disposable."
"One of a—Oh..."
“You shall be accompanying me. Regardless, I am in charge and however plans change I expect you to remember that I am the director so you will behave and abide by my orders. The tip has not yet been confirmed but we cannot waste time waiting- I should mention the other two are unaware of this adventure and I would intend to keep it that way until we return with success.”
"A secret mission, hmm Miss Nanase? I can't be too far off then, seeing as you hand chose me," The dark-skinned male added, the coltish tone ever present despite the formal scolding.
“Now, let’s go over the plan.”
"Why, yes of course, Madam Director," Sun'ya finished with a bow, intending to sound impish but landing in condescending territory. Brushed off again, the male felt dejection. The spit-fire female hastily darted past the threshold and into the briefing room ahead, leaving the pouting and sheepish figure in the hall.
“Mister Sun’ya...” He recalled quietly. A fond sigh betrayed his bashful smirk, his mind trekking through imaginary reciprocation. Even through rejection, he dreamed.
The briefing, led by the crimson beauty, was kept rather short. They were under a time restraint, Nanase explained. The exhilaration that held the dramatic male awake nearly all night springed into high gear once again, despite the earlier conversation. Beneath his exterior, his heart raced as adrenaline pumped through his veins and lit aflame his hyperactive fingers. The thrill seeker tapped, nudged, and grazed everything within arms reach. His legs, the table, spare pens — a sporadic rhythm found them.
Paying attention to details was impossible, and expecting him to remain attentive was an absurd daydream. There were only two things on the Head of Security’s mind now. The descent of his figure, and his heart.
As the two rounded the corner, Sun’ya’s aura was noticeably outlandish. A palpable excitement filled the air around him, with energy consuming his spirit. This was a different Sun’ya, one that only thrived in dangerous environments.
His exuberance only continued to climb as the two conspirators boarded their stealth aircraft. The thrill seeker was unable to sit still as he was safely confined to his seat. Engines whirred as lights overhead flashed, and the shift from landlocked to airborne was nothing short of euphoria to the zealous male. The child-like wonder in chocolate hues shone tenfold as the plane took flight and made way for its destination.
This was going to be beyond exceptional, he thought.
Things however, did not go according to plan. For when the two former subjects advanced upon their desired location, security had not been lax—it had been strengthened tenfold. A brief look of disquiet painted the thrill seeker’s expression from on high, but only for a moment. It appeared as if their “Agent Amari” had been incorrect. An elated smirk replaced the apprehensive frown without delay.
The reckless male’s chocolate hues quickly darted to meet crimson ones, unveiling his heightened exaltation to his partner. He stood after unlatching himself to the seat, stretching out limbs that were rearing to go.
“Now this… This is much more like it!” Sun’ya exclaimed, fresh adrenaline filling his veins.
“And what better duo for a job like this, hm Nana?”
The next few seconds were that of bliss, and betrayal. Much too engrossed in his euphoria, the thrill seeker missed the obvious signs and cues that things were about to take a turn.
The crimson beauty approached him, much closer than she ever had in the past. His complexion tinted red as she closed the distance and embraced the male. Slightly flustered at the contact, he failed to notice her careful sleight of hand, misheard her words. However, most urgently, he missed the heat of her embrace the moment it became absent.
Cast aside and forsaken, Sun’ya sat dejected and aggravated in the aircraft alone with the pilot, missing only one passenger. White hot fists were held taut, clenched in ill temper. How could he have been so foolish? The spit-fire director managed to bypass his insight and render his parachute useless. and because of what?
A fleeting feeling, a passing fantasy.
Idiot.
The pilot, having stolen a glance at the vexxed male, sought to lighten the mood with a few affirming words. Unfortunately however, their sour attempt to soothe the male’s disposition was met with strong language. Cowering, the pilot returned to their objective.
Gritting his teeth, the indignant male’s fingernails dug deeper into the skin of his palm. Seething and irate, he imagined Nanase alone on the surface. Cornered. Trapped. Helpless. Gone.
Ultimately, Sun’ya was crestfallen.
“You’d better be okay.”
As the second ticked on, evolving into minutes—into hours, Sun’ya’s vexation slowly unfurled, giving way to anxiety. While he remained snappy and choleric, at heart the male was overwrought. Impatient. Fists no longer clenched, his palms firmly held down edgy legs, careful not to reveal his jittery state for fear of conversation.
He did not need consoling right now. He needed his partner.
An hour into their wait after the aircraft had landed a ways away offsite, the head of security could no longer sit idly by. He couldn’t sulk on antsy nerves anymore.
Standing abruptly, the zealous male made way for the door, gaze stalwart and determined. A clammy hand met with cold steel, and as he forced it open a flurry of red caught his eye.
Chocolate hues went wide, surprised by their findings. An instant relief washed over his form in a quick breath, thankful that Nanase was living, Briefly looking over her figure in a panic, she appeared… Fine? He searched her for blood, for cuts and bruises—and found nothing but her pale complexion. The only crimson to be found on her person was where it was expected.
“Oh. You’re… Okay,” he spoke simply, dumbfounded by her state. But… his mind wandered. That doesn’t make any sense.
“As to be expected of the Director,” Nanase responded in that way she always did. Annoyed, matter-of-factly. As if he was stupid.
Immediately, Sun’ya remembered his outrage, his expression shifting to mirror it. While typically he would reply in turn with an impish tone to rival her characteristic apathy, he only scowled in response now. He felt vapid, felt doltish for having worried. She was just fine, and here he was fretful over nothing. Like it was no big deal.
“Whatever,” The bitter male muttered under his breath, complete with a quick roll of the eyes.
Resentful, he returned to his seat and glared daggers into the floor below his feet. White-hot anger deafened his senses, unable to pay mind to any exchange of words.As the plane picked up, his vexation only deepend.
Over the course of the journey back to base, Sun’ya sat in quiet, ill contemplation. In his mind the petty male began constructing his confrontation. Wrathful and held firmly in his fury, it was difficult to imagine anything other than curses. No amount of ******** or ******** could properly portray the temper burning wildly in his chest. No, the director needed something more thorough, more personal and concise if she was going to learn something.
Finally landing, the zealous male stood, and without a second to spare, took Nanase’s arm in a stalwart grip. His expression still read a similar anger he maintained during their journey, but now with an iron resolve. Determined, he maneuvered his way through the base with the director in tow. Moving through the maze-like hallways, he glared at the concerned and ignored the curious glances they received.
Walking through the threshold of Nanase’s personal office, the irate male all but slammed the door behind him, releasing his hold on her. Alone, he could finally share the shambles of an argument he prepared.
“Do you wanna explain yourself,” He began in a low tone, a cold and uncharacteristic anger lacing his words. “Or should I just start.”
He gave her no time for an interjection.
“Because what you just did back there-” Sun’ya pointed behind him, trying his best to control the fury building in his expression. A hopeless effort.
“-was THE most asinine, most RECKLESS stunt I have ever seen you pull in our ENTIRE time together,” He breathed, manifesting the fire kept bundled for this moment. It was obvious he was pissed, it could be read in everything. His brows furrowed, eyes squinting and posture tending, filling with an unmistakable rage.
“I have no idea what the [********] you were thinking when you decided I was worth absolute s**t when YOU were the one who called me there!” Gesturing towards the crimson female, the thrill-seeker’s wrath approached its pinnacle. His anger coursed through seething veins, warming and eventually boiling his figure completely.
“You are out of your [******** mind, Nanase! T-tell me-”
Pissed off and embarrassed, he needed to know something.
“Why bring me along at all, huh?!” He gritted his teeth, his glare breaking and finding the floor. “So I could sit there COMPLETELY USELESS while YOU run in? Do you have- have any…” The irate male’s words began to falter. He knew what he wanted to say—knew what he needed to tell her. However, his pride choked the air from his lungs.
Unable to meet her gaze, the prideful male glared daggers into the ground below his feet. He hadn’t given her the chance to speak, yet. Perhaps his silence was intentional, like an invitation. Being the argumentative man Sun’ya was, he wanted—he needed to know her defense so he could pick it apart.
This will not end well, he mused.
WHEREABOUTS base > secret > base tab COMPANY nanase tab APPAREL
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
NODOSAURUS
As the words tumbled past timorous lips, rambling and admitting truths he once vowed to keep hidden under lock and key, the standoffish male had yet to perceive the true nature of his starlit friend’s features. Although the outline of a smile remained throughout his rant, he failed to notice the vacancy behind her honey hues. At the very least, Lucien could read the subtle traces of a demure expression upon her appearance. Near the end of his words, blue hues found her demeanor change as her lips were pulled into a tender smile. Beyond that warmth however, he knew her true nature now.
Gazing into her eyes, the male found only his reflection staring back. It was disheartening for Lucien to see himself in her. Where his facade was made from standoffish auras and glares, her front was sculpted through warm smiles and a complete disregard for her emotions.
"Of course, Lucien. Let's talk to Florence together.”
Finally, after a moment of silence, her gentle voice graced the second year’s ears. He felt the tense muscles in his shoulders relax, but only to a certain extent. Knowing that she’d be alongside him for the reunion helped the male breathe easier. However, the standoffish male wasn't known to rest easy.
On his own, he was sure the relationship he had been building with the gentle giant would collapse within a split second after sharing a single glance. The thought of their bond fragmenting was enough to physically pain the male as he attempted to hide a wince through avoiding her gaze. His restless mind raced for an answer to this odd reaction. Why did it matter? Why did it hurt?
Before the shorter subject could lie to or ignore his uneasy subconscious, Lilith continued.
“I'm sure everything will be okay, After all... Florence is our dear friend.”
A sigh escaped Lucien’s lips at his childhood best friend’s delicate reassurance. Although he never took to consolations well, something about her confidence, as flimsy as it truthfully was, he felt inclined to believe his friend. Without desperately clinging onto hope, he was unsure how he’d recover.
The blonde male smiled back at Lilith, although unlike hers, he was not too skilled in covering up his inner turmoil through warm gestures. Rather, his smile was lopsided, flimsy and frail. The corners of his mouth were unable to keep the expression, dropping the smile after only a moment.
Without an answer to his previous inquiry, concern laced the second year’s features. A part of him urged pedantry, but the other half blinded his mechanical mind. She harbored the same anxieties he did. Were he to cause her unnecessary stress, there would be no penance cruel enough for such a crime. Instead, he would tread with a patience the starlit female had gifted him.
Turning his back to her, scarred hands made quick work of the books stacked along the floor, placed there in his desperate and tedious search for their missing items. He hoped to locate the familiar weathered cover of his book among Lilith’s sea of flora encyclopedias and novels, however his labor appeared to be in vain. With every novel he glossed over, he placed another sliver of hope upon the shelf where it laid to rest.
While continuing his search for both items, the silence he abandoned Lilith in after her comforting words ate away at the back of his conscientious mind. Lucien was unsure what moments called for profound confessions of honest appreciation or for small affections. Hadn’t he already said enough previously? He expressed vulnerability and reaffirmed their relationship as close friends, yet it still did not feel enough.
Unable to find his prized possession, a palpable uncertainty crept across Lucien’s demeanor. He swallowed hard as he considered a few phrases he could utter to repair the stillness of her dorm. Placing the final written word back upon the shelf, blue hues found his starlit friend once more.
“Um... I wanted to th-”
However, before he could thank her for her reassurances, he discovered Lilith once again in tears. The standoffish figure’s expression quickly faltered, a nervous determination crumbling into sympathetic concern. Without a second thought, he delicately approached the female and dropped to his knees to match her far off gaze.
“Lilith…” In the softest tone he could muster, her name fell from his lips in a whisper. A marred hand moved slowly to meet the fragile hand that gripped the wooden frame in her lap. Blonde locks settled as he did, a single blue hue searching for his dear friend in her deep honey eyes.
Unsure what to say or do, he clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. As much as the second year wished to offer consolation as his friend had done moments before, it was difficult to even breathe. Seeing her in such a broken state was a worrying sight, one he wasn’t sure he could remedy. It’s going to be okay, he wanted to say. We’ll find your missing treasure.
He couldn't. To give her a hope he couldn’t promise was to forsake their bond. To lie to her after everything they've gone through together was not something the male could do. Instead, he considered what the starlit beauty would say to him in a moment of crisis and despair.
“We’ll... I will keep searching for your photograph, Lilith. I-it’s okay.” Though thoughtful and selective in his words, the blonde male was unable to reach her. His fragile smile, mimicking her own in times of sorrow in hopes to infect others with it, could not break her dissociation. The warmth in his features faltered, fading away as a deep disquiet enveloped his heart.
Before the uncertain subject could carry on in his reassurances, the sound of loud footsteps reverberated through the floor, alerting him of a quickly approaching presence. Within seconds the entity drew near, giving the blonde male no time to react as the door, sealing the two behind privacy, was forcibly slammed open.
The sound of the steel door knob making contact with the wall behind it resulted in deft legs finding their ground and holding it. Novels and encyclopedias fell once more from the wooden shelf propped up against the wall. Marred palms turned skyward, the light overhead flickered as the wielder of radiance borrowed a few streaks of light, considerably dimming the room.
Standing battle ready, it baffled Lucien to not be met with an enemy, but a familiar face. (Although, one could argue for the use of the term ‘enemy’ in this circumstance) Tobias Gowen, otherwise known as Berserker. Or in the shorter male's case, the victim of a recent invasion of privacy. The perpetrator? The wielder of light.
Well, ********]
The three subjects stood in a tense silence after the taller male’s abrupt arrival, one unaware of the intrusion and the other clenching white hot fists. Light filtered through scarred knuckles, slowly shifting into a crimson hue the longer the room remained suspended stiffly in time.
Through the continued silence, the tension in the air thickened around the wielder of light as blue hues glared at the giant before him. His restless mind kicked into gear once more, questioning Tobias’ actions and intent. As the second ticked away, the shorter male grew more weary. Before he could open his mouth and bark demands, the giant finally spoke.
“Ah s**t… My bad I thought…” Awkwardly stumbled the eldest subject. Puzzlement infected the shorter male’s features. A curious blond brow lifted in confusion as his stalwart stance faltered somewhat. As a result, the scarlet light clenched in scarred fists faded and filtered back into the lamp overhead, brightening the room once more.
“I thought I heard someone in your room.”
“Tch,” Was the youngest subject’s only response as he dropped his battle-ready stance, though he did not allow himself to relax. ‘Someone’ Tobias had said. He knew exactly what he meant by that.
You mean me.
Although guilt shadowed the male for previous actions, he had hoped the victim of an attack by Queen would have understood the intent, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
After the suspenseful quiet settled, the black-haired giant made his way past the threshold properly. However, rather than approach Lilith, he made the shorter male a target. For every heavy step the larger male advanced, he inched backwards on his heels. Although the movement was small and unnoticeable, he uselessly hoped the giant would pick up on the intent. Foolish of him to think a beast would abide by the hidden message, much less even be able to perceive it.
Unable to subtly indicate to Tobias that his presence was not welcome, the beast closed the distance. A marred hand, much worse than his own, clasped upon his shoulder. The glare the shorter male held strengthened at this seemingly amicable gesture.
“What’s with the feather?” The giant asked, and blue hues dared not deviate. “She have a pet bird or something?”
A hostile huff of air exited Lucien’s lungs and through his nostrils as his brow furrowed. The shorter male did not owe the taller subject any answers, especially those that concerned his best friend. In lieu of a proper response, he only steeled his gaze. Behind blue hues lied a reply he was sure the other male would not be pleased with. None of your business, his glare read.
Again, the upperclassmen was unable to translate the second year’s form of silent communication, and instead pressed on with a different notion. The monster finally bared his fangs and sunk his claws in after being displeased with Lucien’s lack of response.
With a bone-chilling tone, the male leaned in close and whispered a-not-so-gentle reminder.
“Don’t think I forgot about the other night.”
While a chord of fear trickled down the second year’s spine, another notion entirely surfaced through the sea of restless thought. This idea was not welcomed, yet it appeared without consent. The threatening coldness of the subject’s voice was familiar. For a brief moment, an intrusive vision of muted hues and shattering glass invaded his memory. Violent and poisonous, the menacing reminder numbed his fingertips.
Rather, this time, the blonde male did not falter, he did not give into such barbaric warnings. Instead, he gritted his teeth, his glare remaining stalwart. Although numb, Lucien could feel a distant tingling sensation upon his fingertips as light threatened to gather in his marred fists.
As if vexed by the second year’s defiance, the beast pushed further, determined to further instil dread in his underclassmen. When that failed to produce the desired response, he dug his claws in deeper. The dull pain rippled through his chest, but even then he refused to falter. He couldn’t afford to display an ounce of weakness towards his superior. He would not simply hand him leverage on a silver platter.
In this standoff, neither subject faltered nor showed any sign of cooperation. Blue hues stared into hazel eyes as he searched for further intent. What exactly did this guy want? A part of the beast appeared genuinely concerned for the female shaking off her dissociation, but that was before he assumed a hostile demeanor. Now, the starlit subject’s best friend was unsure of his true intentions. Maybe he-
A deep crimson hue caught the light wielder’s periphery, tearing him away from the restless ideas that plagued his mind. His gaze struggled to dart away from his aggressor's eyes to this new vision, but in the end his curiosity emerged victorious.
Light blue hues found their opposite in a scarlet liquid that pooled in Tobias’ free hand. Seeing blood, it did not take long for the standoffish features on Lucien’s expression to crumble. Almost instantly, the hostility burning in the shorter male’s lung evaporated into the open air as he exhaled. As his expression retired his muscles instinctively slackened, causing the once dull torture to sharpen.
The blonde male attempted once more to hide a wince, but it seemed as if the beast’s senses heightened at the visage of violence, however dull the contact. Even so, the discomfort was tossed aside.
Where did he get that cut? More importantly; Was Tobias okay?
“Are-” Lucien hesitated, biting his tongue. The third year’s hostile aura was yet to falter, and such a concerning question from someone whose ambiance matched only second before would be strange. It’d be too odd of a shift to excuse, he decided.
The concern lacing the shorter male returned behind a thinly veiled standoffish facade once more as the taller student relented, turning his attention elsewhere. Lucien shot him one last vexing glare before turning to pick up a few novels from the floor due to the other subject’s forceful entrance.
From the corner of blue hues, he witnessed the upperclassman approach the shorter female and directly offer his aid. The wielder of light rolled his eyes, placing a rather light novel neatly back upon the shelf. If he, her best friend, was unable to intervene her severance from reality, there was no way her colleague could.
Turning away from the two, the shortest of the three picked up the remaining written words scattering the floor before rearranging the bookshelf back in order.
“Ah… Sorry I’m…”
The male expected only a reply in silence, so when he heard a fragile voice echo through the air, a novel hit the floor. Standing frozen, he was unable to see his best friend’s features behind the giant. However, her faint tone was enough to shatter his heart further.
Tobias, The Berserker — a man so connected to violence the two were indiscernible from the other — was able to break the spell that kept Lilith detached from the world in just a few words.
Lucien's jaw hung open as a whirlwind of emotions flooded his chest. Shock and puzzlement mingled while offense and contempt danced. However, most prevalent of all; He was hurt by the interaction. How was a brute able to pull the female from her gloomy abyss? Were they closer than he previously believed?
“You look good!”
A vision of linoleum floors and a sterilized atmosphere with distant apprehensive whispers briefly flashed in his mind. They were… Friends, then. An odd duo. Watching his starlit friend’s cold and delicate hands wrap around the brute’s injury, there was no denying it now. Her healing ability never surfaced much, so for her to use it on Tobias...
The two were close. Too close for comfort, perhaps.
In the end, the blonde male felt as if he failed in his duty to protect and aid his best friend. The confusing gloom that snared his heart enveloped his chest. He felt surrounded by heavy fog in these emotions. No matter what he did, his thoughts always found themselves wrapped in guilt and dejection.
Slowly, the second year peeled his gaze from the two upperclassmen, retrieving the fallen book and setting it back in place. His mind, restless and uneasy, continued its torrent of questions and assumptions. The onslaught only slowed as the white-haired female approached the edge of his shrouded aura, somewhat clearing the mist.
Blue hues found pools of honey and a much clearer smile, settling only a handful of concerns in his mind. He turned his full attention to her, mentally swatting at the fog that threatened to shroud him once more.
“I didn’t know that you guys got along so well,” Lilith mentioned through rosy ignorance. It took a lot of effort for the blonde male not to interrupt and correct such a naive mistake. “I’m okay now. Should we look outside?”
Marred hands found each other once more as Lucien lightly clasped them. Honesty assaulted the corners of his mind, begging him to speak. Unable to stop himself, he opened his mouth.
“Lilith, That’s… not true,” The male uttered, trailing off and quickly glossing over her falsehood.
“But- um,” He started again quickly, hesitating before continuing in a more hushed tone and leaning in slightly. “Are- Are you truly alright? Because… I hope you realize that… It’s okay if you’re not.”
“It’s just... weird being back here. I didn’t expect to... I mean! I’m very happy to be back. Things are just so different now. It’s complicated but I’m fine, really.”
He bit his tongue in his search for dishonesty beyond pools of honey, While she seemed to be genuine, she also appeared to be holding back. His eyes briefly found Tobias’ looming form. Perhaps she was uncomfortable speaking openly around the giant. Assuming this, the shorter male’s shoulders relaxed, slightly more confident in the tight bond the two shared compared to the other subject.
Things were different, she said, and he agreed. For a dangerous interaction lasting only mere moments, it changed many things. It altered Lucien’s perception of his former ally and furthered his relationship with his childhood friend.
Despite the blonde male being told his best friend was fine, there was nothing the female could say that would calm his worries for long. “Okay. Okay, If you say so, Lilith. However, you… You can talk to me anytime, okay? I understand the complication but… Y-you always listen to me so… I want to return that kindness,” He spoke nervously, hesitating in the presence of the third year shadowing them. Offering an ear and reassurances was the least he could offer.
In response to the blonde male’s act of a returned altruism, his childhood friend wasted no time closing the distance between the two. A hushed startled noise sounded off in his throat at the sudden contact, completely caught off guard. A flimsy smile graced Lucien’s expression as delicate arms wrapped around him. Marred hands reacted awkwardly, lightly returning the embrace. It was a wordless thanks, a large display of affection that melted his standoffish exterior.
The male’s fragile smile warmed, blue hues focused only on her. Briefly locked, suspended warmly in time, he felt an overwhelming appreciation for the tender female.
A moment passed, and the gentle embrace faltered after noticing the giant’s gaze in the distance. He cleared his throat as he leaned away from his starlit best friend, ending their brief moment of heartfelt exchanges.
“W-well, shall-” The wielder of light opened his mouth to awkwardly stumble around the tension. However before he could say more, an indistinct noise caught his attention. He immediately paused and tensed up, holding out a hand to quiet the room.
“Do you hear that?” Soft and distant, the thumping sound became inexcusable as idle ambiance once it was made obvious to Lucien’s company. Blue hues stole a glance from the starlit female as the shortest subject made for the door and crossed the threshold.
Out in the hallway, the male could better pinpoint the source of the quiet tapping, discerning that the noise originated from further down the hall. Deftly and stealthily, the subject closed in on the source, tracking it directly behind the closed door to the guest bathroom.
The absence of light from beneath the door indicated the room was unoccupied. However, as Lucien advanced on the origin, the blunt thumping shifted. A new sound found his ears; A muffled ruffling — someone shuffling — along with a shadow being cast beyond the threshold.
An odd connection briefly clicked in his mind. If there were two precious items missing, unable to be located in their respective rooms, then it was likely the belongings were stolen.
More importantly, the culprit could not have gone far.
Without another moment's hesitation, marred palms darted for the handle and forced open the door. Blue hues quickly scanned the room in hopes of quickly identifying the perpetrator, however it appeared as if whatever figure was there swiftly made their escape.
A frustrated growl echoed in the standoffish male’s chest, dropping his battle-ready stance. “Damn it,” He hissed, vexed by this development.
He bitterly huffed as his perceptive eyes examined the restroom in search of any clues. After a few seconds of quiet studying, Lucien took notice of the open window, where a light breeze entered from. Deft legs carried him further into the room, where a few scratches were now visible on the glass pane. Scarred fingers traced the lines cut into the glass as he gazed beyond the window.
Outside, a passing cloud shaded the driveway below as the breeze stilled. Sticking his head out further, the calm air starkly contrasted the restlessness of the male’s mind. After a moment, the cloud overhead passed, allowing sunlight to filter through. The warmth settled on blonde locks as a glint in the distance drew his attention.
Curious, impatient and agitated, Lucien pulled himself through the window in a deft maneuver. Sneakers met the pavement with a considerable thud as he advanced on the newly discovered curiosity. The breeze came to a slow recrawl, pushing blonde locks aside as blue hues came to settle on a strange item.
With a quirked eyebrow, the standoffish figure knelt down to closer inspect the object. A dull, golden sheen reflected in blue hues before a heavy cloud shrouded it’s glint. A marred hand lifted the ball from the pavement, holding it up to his face.
Confusion crawled onto the second year’s expression. What was this strange object, and who was its previous owner? Perhaps it belonged to the intruder, he thought. Standing from his kneeling position, the male made his way back into the dormitory through the proper entrance without expediency. On the walk back, he was unable to discern the origins of the object nor its purpose.
After a minute or so, Lucien returned to the familiar faces of his best friend and… Peer. Scarred fingers held up the sphere of gold for the others to examine. As aloof as the standoffish male appeared, he wasn’t unfamiliar with asking for help from his trusted friend. However, it remained painful to request anything from her. That, and the brute was a part of this investigation now apparently.
“I- uh- apologize for vanishing without warning but…” The blonde male paused, blue hues darting around in an effort to avoid eye contact. “I heard someone or something in that room,” Explaining himself, his free hand gestured to the guest bathroom as he continued. “And I found this just outside. Do… Do um, either of you know what this is for? Perhaps...It would lead us to this bizarre feather thief.”
His eyes found Lilith’s gaze after speculating, a small wave of uneasiness crashing upon the shores of his restless mind. Why was it so embarrassing to ask for help?
WHEREABOUTS dormitory tab COMPANY lilith, tobias tab APPAREL tab MUSIC
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
//
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
NODOSAURUS
Standing in the center of a cold and colorless room, Lucien’s feet were permanently fixed in place, glued to the floor by an indiscernible biting cold. His best friend of nearly a decade, once believed to be scattered to the winds of oblivion, tightly held the standoffish male in his frozen state. Tearful exchanges between the two left him feeling raw and vulnerable. After experiencing the trauma of nearly losing her, the wall, carefully constructed around his heart, crumbled to dust under her gaze. His inner, deepest secrets were on full display for Lilith Yukimura, and he could never take it back.
Long, frayed, white locks settled as the female turned away and made for the door. A haunting and intrusive memory shrouded Lucien’s vision for but a second. In that moment, the scenery violently flashed, showing the skittish male the muted hues of the local flora, contrasted by a deep, vibrant red. His shoulders stiffened as he flinched, one marred hand quickly reaching forward to meet hers.
Although swift, his quivering palm only made contact with cold steel as the door behind his dear friend shut. Unmoving, the blonde male clenched his jaw as he balled his fist.
Lilith was back. Lilith Yukimura was alive. With that knowledge, why did the standoffish figure still feel so broken, so fragmented? Why did his surroundings remain distant from his consciousness?
A few more moments of quiet contemplation and the nagging questions relented. Relaxing slightly, Lucien retreated back to the bed in the corner of the room.
Shortly after, the door opened on its own, and the supervisor who oversees the subjects only received mild acknowledgement from the male. He paid no mind to the bickering beyond the threshold, grimacing only when he heard the foul voice of Mika cut through the tense air. Venomous words stirred in his restless mind, though they were unable to slip past his tight-lipped scowl. After another string of toxic insults and snide remarks, he couldn’t take it anymore.
Sitting up from the mattress, the blonde male silently stood and closed the door once the questions were through. The remainder of the evening was spent in quiet meditation, reflecting back on the events that transpired but a few hours ago. A whirlwind of emotions found him once more, but in his solitude they were easy to cast aside, fated to be dealt with at a later, more inopportune time.
Light filtered in beneath the door as a shadow approached, threatening to end his self-isolation. Careful eyes watched the shadow linger, before moving to pass by. He felt relief brush against his core, along with the aftertaste of disappointment. Although solitude was his solace of choice, it was also a prison. A prison whose gates exploded as the passing shadow resurfaced, before slamming open the door.
Quickly passing through the threshold, Lilith ran in, brandishing a ringing cell phone. Panic laced her whimpers, resulting in a sudden rush of adrenaline for the second year. He stood from his bed as racing worries bubbled up in his throat. His eyes focused on the screen she held forth, and rapidly the color drained from his face.
Gentle pink waves caught his attention and a familiar name drew his gaze. A phone call from none other than the poetic Florence made Lucien’s blood run cold.
“Uhh- s**t, s**t!” He began, matching his childhood best friend’s frantic tone.
“D-do I ignore it?!” She stammered, seeking an answer from her friend. A voice looming in the back of his mind begged for reconsideration, though its opinion was quickly silenced.
“Do you-?” He parroted, biting his tongue for it’s sour attempt at mocking her words. “Y-YES! Absolutely ignore that, ignore that call!” Lucien hissed back at her, words devoid of their usual malice and replaced instead with panic.
“I-I don’t even think we’re allowed to- to talk to him,” The male continued, taking a step forward. “So… So H-hang up! Just hang up, Lilith!”
After urging her next action, he watched as her eyes darted between himself and her device. A pained grimace crept over his expression as he grew more tense at her indecision. With balled fists, his gaze begged her to end the ringing.
In her frenzied state, Lilith’s shaky grip on her phone faltered, and the device plummeted. He could only watch in horror as in her attempts to catch it, her thumb slipped and slid across the glowing green button. The two shared a silent gaze before incoherently yelling.
A distorted and familiar voice on the other line began hounding them with questions, all of which neither of the two caught.
“Uhh...”
“Why did it pick up?!”
“Hold on-”
“I meant to hang up!”
“Hold on!”
“Lucien, what do I do?!”
Both hands found and dug their way into soft blonde locks as the male momentarily went over their options. Unfortunately, the unnaturally anxious voice of his fellow club member made thinking damn near impossible.
“Just- just hang up on him!” He blurted out, uncaring if the voice on the other side could hear him.
“Here! G-give it here,” He started again, holding out marred palms. “I’ll- Lilith! Don’t drop it again! Give it to me b-before we get in trouble or... Or something!!”
Too jittery, logic wasn’t something the taller female had in her wheelhouse as she quickly discarded her phone in Lucien’s general direction with a yell.
“What are you d- DON’T THROW IT AT ME!” The standoffish male ducked his head down as her device flew over him. “Oh- Oh s**t! ********] Quickly turning, he made an attempt to catch the device before it hit the ground. Although naturally dexterous, it wasn’t enough to save the cell phone from sure destruction.
The ground directly below where the device was fated to shatter shimmered and glistened in a familiar show. A sudden burst of frost, too quick to follow with blue hues, encapsulated the cellular device in a matter of seconds. In an effort to avoid being caught up in the ice, Lucien flinched hard, outstretched palms retreating back to his side. Taking a few steps back from the sight, he watched as the screen flickered and died, drowning out the student on the other end. Behind him, he could practically hear Lilith’s features drop as the two stood in momentary silence.
Finally, after a few more seconds in disbelief, a grand sigh escaped past the standoffish male’s lips. He turned on his heel to face his friend just in time to watch a brief and meek statement echo through the quiet.
“I’m…” He began. “Pretty sure it’s broken now,” Lucien spoke, matching her shameful grimace. He matched her gaze before she crouched down to hack away at the ice. “I can just- just ask for another… for you,” He offered to no avail. She seemed to believe their fellow subject, Reiko, would repair the frosted device for her.
“Y-yeah uh- she probably could,” The standoffish figure responded, kneeling down alongside his friend. Flicking his wrist skyward, he called forth the light from overhead and urged it to take shape into something of use. A small chisel found his grip as he helped chip away the ice. “She can-” He started under his breath. “-but it’s not as if she would.” An eye roll at the mention of her was the final remaining evidence that her presence briefly crossed his mind.
The two reunited childhood best friends spent the remainder of the evening retrieving the cellular device from its icy tomb and haphazardly mentioning their colleagues from school. Lucien remarked how strange it was that they were able to keep their sanity and general wellbeing, what with how shifty the E.R.A. could be. Most worryingly, he wondered what his two friends must think of him now. Do they assume him to be a pet? That he had an active role in the facilities ploys? He scoffed at the thought, however, he couldn’t shake it from his consciousness.
After departing ways with Lilith for the night, the standoffish figure found sleep elusive. In the moments blue hues were momentarily shrouded by darkness, and where rest almost lulled him away, he would violently awaken. Intrusive thoughts danced in his mind, shaking his core when his defenses were down and disturbing his very essence.
Deep underground in the facility that imprisoned him, Lucien Desrosiers did not find rest. At one point late during the night, he gave up trying to quell his restless mind and instead indulged in the disturbing imagery.
The morning after the previous traumatic afternoon was merciful to the blonde male as sleep deprivation finally took him. It was always easier to sleep when he knew the sun overhead was there to keep him company, however veiled and far.
When he wasn’t asleep, dreaming of a world devoid of color, he spent his time sulking, reflecting on past events and how he would perform differently. How, rather than let fear swallow him whole, he would flee, abscond with his friends and safely hide them away. He thought of Madison- no, of Queen. She was no longer a part of their family, no longer viewed as an innocent girl taken by grief. Queen was their enemy, no matter how hard it pained him to dub her as such.
Once again, a stark, white ray of sunlight cut through the darkness, dragging the wielder of light from the twilight and through the gloom. Lilith, a treasured member of his family, invaded his solitude and sat with him, determined to quiet the discordance in his mind.
They talked into the afternoon before she convinced the standoffish figure to cross the threshold and journey to the kitchen he earned the rights to many years ago.
They prepared the kitchen for a new recipe the two were set on perfecting. Macarons, they decided, with a pistachio filling. However, they were to be infused with a fragment of Lilith’s pride: a cup of her aromatic rose water. The thought never crossed his mind, to imbue his passions together. It brought a small spark of joy to his gloomy features, however, too small for even a discernible eye to notice.
As Lilith began on the icing, Lucien sifted the dry ingredients until they were nothing more than a light powder. Without an electric stand mixer, the egg whites took the longest to beat. By hand, he whisked in the powdered sugar and whipped the whites until the peaks remained stiff on their own.
While baking and preparing, the blonde male would find his mind blank under any other circumstances. However, the open wound in his psyche continued to infect his unoccupied headspace. Thoughts resurfaced from the night before, intrusive and unwanted. To combat the assault, Lucien only urged his hands to work harder. A scowl slowly crept across his expression as his brow furrowed, determined to push the invasive notions from his core.
Without realizing it, the batter inside the clear, glass bowl began to deflate. By the time his vision focused, it was already far too late. The air he worked diligently into the egg whites disappeared under his aggression.
A frustrated sigh followed by an angry growl echoed into the tranquil air, souring the room around them. The male’s shoulders slumped as he let the spatula clang against the bowl. Marred fingers quickly found their way to his forehead as a bead of sweat was whisked away.
This was… too much. The male wondered if it was a mistake, leaving his solitude to chase a moment of fleeting happiness.
His companion seemed to notice this change in demeanor, as she stopped at her station and rushed to his side. Before Lucien could remove his apron and call it a day, she moved in from behind. Cold and fragile fingers advanced over blue hues, blocking his vision.
“Lilith,” He reached for her hands, tugging them down while taking care to avoid force. “Come on, I’m not-” But before he could protest, her delicate voice cut through his vexation.
“Give me a second, I’ll summon some help,” She insisted and the male quieted his objections. There wasn’t a world in the sea of oblivion where he could refuse her. So, with a patience she taught him, he waited for her surprise.
The sound of a familiar magic caught his ear, unable to escape his naturally perceptive nature. His mind raced to guess the surprise before it could grace his eyes, and the male made an effort to silence his psyche.
After a few seconds, Lilith removed her icy touch and he blinked rapidly to refocus his eyes.
Blue hues, blocked partially by blonde locks, caught sight of her gift as he observed several snowmen surrounding them where there were none before. A warmness graces over his expression, slow and soft in its approach.
“They’re cute, right?” She asks as he steals glance, a stalwart determination in her honey hues. He takes notice of their new friend’s silly aprons and tall hats, made to look like a chef, and it’s difficult to fight the growing smile. “They’re cheering you on.”
Scarred knuckles reach forward and trace the outline of intricate details. The corner of his mouth relents its battle and turns up in a soft smirk.
A moment later, Lilith briefly retreats to the industrial sized refrigerator and recovers a small container.. “I was going to surprise you later, but… The snow pals and I made you your favorite gelato!” She elates, holding out a second gift with a determination that fills his heart with an indescribable tender feeling.
The fight to keep a stoic expression becomes futile as a rare grin spreads across his features. A weak, yet audible breath of air escapes through his smile, surprised that someone as marvelous as his best friend would treat him as kindly as she had.
Wordlessly, marred hands accept the treat from her delicate fingers. The gelato, a rich chocolate, reinvigorated the tender feeling in his core as he took a moment to gather himself.
“You- Lilith… You didn’t have to,” Lucien starts, swiftly blinking away the moisture in his eyes as not to let them fall. “Tha- thank you,” He says quietly, retrieving a spoon from the utensil drawer from underneath his abandoned worktop. Taking a small scoop, he lifts it to his mouth and the warmth in his soul contrasts the frozen snack.
Blue hues drift back to his childhood best friend. “I am glad…” He begins, fighting hard as to not become choked up. “...that you- you are still with me.”
After embracing her, the two continued on with the recipe, baking the flat batter for them to snack on while they mended Lucien’s mistake. An hour and a half passes quickly and without acknowledgement or recognition. Once the cookies were out of the oven and iced, the batch was placed into a tupperware container and delicately placed on a high shelf in the fridge.
The childhood best friends decided the macarons would end up in Florence’s possession as a consolation present. The blonde male doubted it would be enough to mend the strain that was sure to appear in their relationship, but nevertheless, it would go into his hands.
During cleanup, Lilith struggles to ask her dear friend a question. The male doesn’t notice her pausing or hesitance as he considers the outcome of their creation. It wasn't until the question came tumbling from her mouth did he take notice of her shift in demeanor.
“Do… Do you think I would look good with my hair tied back? Or should I braid it…”
This line of questioning and consideration confused him. Her appearance was causing her insecurity for some reason.
“But I always have my hair down, it’ll probably look strange,” She commented, furthering his confusion. Delicate pale hands veiled her face from view, but it wasn’t enough to hide her flustered cheeks from his perceptive hues.
“Your… hair? What are you talking about?”
Although lost in her intentions to consider her appearance, he still took care to abide by her. Leaning back, he glanced over her, trying his best to imagine her starlit hair in a different style. No matter the manner in which her hair could be done, Lucien was unable to locate the source of her sudden diffidence.
“Um- I don’t think…I’m sure it won’t look strange if you style it differently,” The standoffish male answered honestly, although uncertainty laced his words. “Why- why are you asking?”
This query prompted a rather nervous and frantic reaction from his best friend. “N-No reason! Just thought I was due for a change,” Lilith yelped and stammered. Blue hues squinted under a furrowing brow, suspicious of her response. He opened his mouth to voice his concerns, however, the female had other plans it seemed.
“Ah!!! I’m late, I have to go!!” Without a second to spare, she was off, rushing down the corridor without her usual proper farewell.
For a moment, Lucien only stared at the quickly departing figure before she turned a corner where his gaze could not follow.
“That… That was odd,” He spoke aloud, allowing his restless mind to question her rapid withdrawal. She was late… For what? Was it connected to her previous line of questions? His foot softly tapped against the counter as he pondered his next move. There was no way his starlit best friend would allow his company on whatever trek she embarked on, she seemed too frazzled for that. Surely he couldn’t just follow her without her awareness.
He bit his tongue. I mean… I could technically do that. He contemplated this action and his consciousness wrestled with him, determined that this deed could not stand against his morals.
Still, a cold worry crept past his ribs and invaded his chest. He wouldn’t be able to rest easy without knowing she was at least safe. So, after a few minutes of waiting, Lucien tailed his best friend, lagging thirty feet behind her at every turn.
Guilt nipped at his heels as he peeked around a sharp curve, trying his best to quell the moral conflict in his psyche. Just one look, he told himself. Just find out where she’s going and what she’s doing.
After a few close calls, he found himself sneaking through the halls of the medical wing. Passing the threshold, a loud worry echoed through his consciousness. He was concerned that perhaps her health did suffer after their fateful encounter with Queen. That fear was quickly quieted as he watched his dear friend enter an already occupied room. He breathed relief at this, nearly content to end his espionage before another realization dawned upon him.
The standoffish male pressed his body against the wall and away from the large window as he caught sight of spiked black hair. His heart dropped leagues to the core of the Earth as he made the connection.
The patient in the bed was none other than the remains of Tobias Gowen, though he did appear to be recovering well, and alongside him a flustered Lilith.
The air between them seemed strange, awkward, and tense. Why… Why was his best friend visiting him? Of all people? Tobias was single handedly the most dangerous subject he put serious effort into avoiding.
Taking a cautious peek through the window, he managed to steal a few words from their uneasy exchange.
“Ah- I- I thought I should try something different!” She muttered through a flustered expression. While he missed the older male’s response, he could tell from his friend’s features that the reply was well-liked. Ducking back down, he ignored the idle chatter in favor of staring at the floor. A million questions circled his mind as he incoherently whispered words under his breath.
This interaction didn’t make any sense. The fact that Berserker could feel anything other than rage absolutely baffled the younger male. He never imagined that in a hundred years he could stumble over his words searching for an acceptable phrase to utter.
The mention of the blonde male’s name urged him once again to peek in. He watched as her demeanor shifted into downtrodden manner as guilt surfaced upon her features. The sight was an ache to see. She needed comfort, and there was no way-
“What about your friends? Uhh… Old mate uhh… You know? Dude with the pink hair?”
Becoming further astounded, the conflicted male slumped to the floor, careful to make sure he was out of eyesight from the other two. Tobias seemed to notice her discomfort and switch topics, one that from the sound of it, changed his best friend’s mood slightly.
The larger male wasn’t all red flags, it seemed. He was just like any other person, albeit strange among the company of Yukimura. Unsatisfied with this discovery, he continued to eavesdrop. The nagging conflict in his mind, over whether or not to spy on the two, went quiet as he kept listening. There would be time to feel guilty later.
Unaware of the passage of time, an hour quickly passed by the two and their uninvited guest. Lilith talked herself to the point of exhaustion, rambling on about various different flowers and their healing properties. Tobias seemed to listen intently, of which the standoffish male was relieved that he didn’t lash out in boredom.
Lifting his head up for the last time, Lucien found his childhood best friend drifting off to sleep in the arms of the somehow-less-terrifying beast. He observed a familiar softness in his eyes past the embarrassed expression. Satisfied that his starlit friend was safe for now, he stood to make his exit before glancing back through the window once more.
Unfortunately for the standoffish male, the eldest finally spotted the mole he was unaware was invading his privacy. Fear struck his core as the two shared a glance for the first time in a long while. Still put-off by their awkward chatter, Lucien could only shoot a very strange look Tobias’ way before slowly backing away. He was thankful for his best friend’s defense through her unconscious form as he managed to escape without the beast hot on his heels.
The blonde male retreated to his assigned bedroom in the facility where he did not retire to slumber until late in the night. Questions, unable to find their answers, swirled around his restless mind. Without any knowledge in the romantic aspect of life, he was left dumbfounded and dreamed of rosy pink hues.
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That night was his only night of espionage as he was too afraid of the older male to even approach the medical wing. He never mentioned what he saw to the victim of his eavesdropping either. The only evidence of that incident lived in his guilty conscious, as well as inside of Tobias’ memories. It didn’t appear as if he made Lilith aware of it either, as his name never came up in conversation.
The days passed on slowly, day and night blending together to the occupants of the underground facility. Three days in total passed the world above before the subjects captors lifted their ban on the outside world and released them. A conflicted notion whirled behind the blonde male’s chest at this. While he was glad they were not being chained back to their old prison, he also knew he wasn’t ready to face the repercussions of his actions. It meant he had to face the friends he pulled into roaring fire. He had to look them in the eye, and they would see past his aloof nature and into his cowardice, his shame. Although they weren’t aware of the extent to which his life was ruled, they would surely come to see him as nothing more than a monster. Or worse, a victim. Someone to be pitied.
These thoughts plagued him all throughout the ride back to Ohira. The blonde male knew not of what was to come, and that scared him. Uncertainty was his enemy in that regard, but the unknown was too terrifying to vilify.
As they neared the dorms, his grip tightened around the clear tupperware container where eight macarons lay nestled safely on top a few napkins. The cookies would hopefully break the ice with Florence, as Lilith put it a few nights ago. As for Sora… He wasn’t quite sure what to do about that one. Through their final shared glance, he could sense something foul in that gaze. He would have to contemplate that later as cowardice forced him to think of something else.
After being dropped off and departing ways from his childhood best friend, Lucien made for his dorm. Once the door behind him was shut, he finally relaxed, his shoulders devoid of the weight that usually pulled them tight.
Inside, the standoffish male’s room was quite simple. There were no posters lining the walls, nor framed photographs of distant memories. Rather, his walls were barren save for a few paintings crafted by locals of the flora and scenery native to Ohira.
His shelves, however, were littered with various different books. Cook books and information booklets on flora and fauna lined the simple wooden shelf, along with a few novels of different genres. While he wasn’t a huge reader, he found himself with far too much alone time since their original departure from the underground facility. Solitude only made room for intrusive thoughts, but with text he could momentarily silence his restless mind.
Setting the macarons on a nearby dresser, Lucien took a seat on an off-white arm chair under the vacant area below his singular bunk bed. Removing his uniform coat, he tossed it onto an identical chair across from him and sighed, taking a few moments to quietly relax in the comfort of solitude.
It wasn’t long until the thoughts that often haunted his psyche returned and he could no longer sit idly. Forcing himself up from his relaxed position, the blonde male swept his bangs to the side before searching for his bag.
During the fight, the male lost sight of his belongings. When he first realized this, it resulted in a very frantic scene. Begrudgingly, the subject questioned a supervisor on whether or not his school bag was recovered. Thankfully, they reported that his belongings were safely returned to the dorms, calming his worries.
Glancing around the room, the standoffish figure managed to spot the navy blue backpack sitting adjacent to the door, the keeper of his solitude.
Leisurely, yet tense, legs quickly stood and retrieved the bag. Making his way back, the figure dug through its contents in search of a thick textbook. Removing marred knuckles from the backpack, he only managed to pull forth a single white feather in its stead.
Wide blue hues stared intently in disbelief at the stark white quill. Rushing back over to his seat, the male tossed the bag in the center and began digging through it. He carelessly did away with notes from last week, chucking pencils and pens behind him in his violent search for his most prized possession.
He dug and pulled out every last note before being faced with navy blue fabric and an empty bag. A fearful dread took hold of his heart at the visage as he frantically flipped the bag upside down. He prayed for a rose petal to fall from grace, no matter how small and fragmented, he would accept it. When nothing came, scarred fingers anxiously ran through blonde locks.
“But I…” He began in an anxiety-ridden whisper. “I was sure- It was in here… Where- Where did it go?! Wh-” He continued to ask the tense air as over the next few minutes the standoffish figure tore apart his room.
He pilfered through his dresser, haphazardly tossing out various articles of clothing in search of the encyclopedia. It wasn’t even the book itself that he held dear to his heart. It was the contents. All those flowers from his best friend and bearer of his affection… Lost. It couldn't be, he told himself on repeat as he searched.
The only thing that managed to break him from his frenzied state was the return of his childhood best friend who crossed the threshold without politely asking, as she always had. Taken by this change, he dropped the wooden drawer he was holding full of socks onto the floor as he rushed to her side. She appeared dazed, her honey colored eyes glossed over and demeanor devoid of it’s usual warm joy.
“Lilith? Wh-what’s wrong are you alright?”
His best friend didn’t seem to register his words, so rather than hounding her with a sea of queries, he listened.
“L-Lucien it’s gone. The photo of my mother and father… there’s…. There’s only a feather in the frame.”
A hard lump formed in his throat as he clenched his jaw, ever aware of what that photograph meant to the starlit female. Balled fists unfurled and found her delicate shoulder. Comforting others was never his forte, but he would do anything for his best friend.
“Oh- oh Lilith… I’m sorry,” He began, finding himself at a loss for better words. Although uncertain, sympathy was not lost in his tone. Pausing for a moment, his mind finally made a connection as he spotted the white feather he discovered in lieu of his book.
“S-something is also missing from my belongings,” He admitted, releasing his gentle hold on her as her senses seemed to be returning. “It’s that- the book, the book with Flor-” The male stopped mid-sentence, a light blush gracing his features before he willed it away. “Flowers. All the flowers. But- ah- Have you searched your room yet? I’ll help.”
With great haste, the two best friends though childhood searched Lilith’s room, leaving the messy room to deal with later. The standoffish figure took great care to see that her belongings did not meet the same fate as his. He searched under her bed and shelves for the missing photo, placing each box or book gently back in it’s rightful place.
Nearly half an hour was spent hunting for both Lucien and Lilith’s missing beloved items to no avail. It seemed to be as if the identical feather they found was the only remaining evidence that the items in question ever existed.
Frustrated and frazzled, the blonde male sat down on the floor in a heap, battling the foreign feeling of defeat. Blue hues re-scanned the perimeter of his search in a futile attempt to find a clue he possibly overlooked. His eyes managed to catch his starlit friend’s gaze before her phone lit up from three days of inactivity due to their last incident.
Chime after chime, the messages kept coming without any signs that it would falter. The wielder of light stood from his fading misery as a new worry invaded past his exterior. He moved closer to his friend, reading the guilty expression upon her delicate features. Blue hues softened as he clasped marred, nervous palms together.
“Is…” Lucien hesitated. “Is it Florence?” He asked, his tone hurting from uttering the gentle giant’s name. Her lack of response was enough to confirm his suspicions as she began writing up a response.
The male bit his tongue as he peeked over her device to catch a glimpse of the message sent. Dread surrounded his being from the brief look. It seemed as if Lilith wanted to speak with her dear friend, something the blonde male was hoping they could put off for later. After he exposed his vulnerabilities like that, and the secret was out, there wasn’t a world in which their relationship would remain unstained. He swallowed hard as he hesitated to speak after the message was sent.
“I- ah… Suppose speaking to our friend a-and explaining.. things… would be a good idea.” He stated through a stammer, averting his best friend’s gaze.
The growing worry in his core battered against his ribs at the prospect of meeting up with Florence. While he was familiar with anxiety around the taller student, the apprehension that plagued him now was different. It didn’t come with an aftertaste of warmth or of flushed cheeks, rather he felt shame and sorrow. It was unfamiliar terrain, and he was required to tread it in order to reach approval he didn't know he seeked from the other male.
With his consternation reaching a crescendo, Lucien couldn’t halt the words building in his throat as they escaped past his lips.
“T-to be honest with you, Lilith… I am concerned about… No, that isn’t the right word. I am- I’m uh- a little scared,” He hesitated, a nervous chuckle lacing his admittance. His scarred hands clasped tighter, his fingernails digging into his skin. Being open, raw and honest was difficult. It was as if he was tasked with pushing a boulder five times his size up a mountain and into the sky. It was impossible labor to do alone, but perhaps… With others…
“I’m afraid of what he might think of me — er i mean of us — now that he…” The standoffish male trailed off, shrugging his shoulders as his head shook. “A-And I know… I know that he must be- ah… Eager. To reunite with you after you — well, you know,” He quickly added, swift to make light of his inner conflict.
“Don’t mind me and my emotions, my- my triviality…” The wielder of light paused, eyes scanning the floor beneath his feet as if it had the answers he seeked. While he considered avoiding the gentle giant for a long time in his solitude, he knew it was a futile effort. His guilty concious would only hound him while his self-hating nature would belittle him. It was a fight neither side was going to win so… To hell with his cowardly hesitancy.
“What I’m trying to say Lilith, my dear friend… Is that- I hope you do not mind if I- ah… Accompany you to this belated reunion. Despite my anxieties, I think it best we — No, I — face them head on t-to, at the very least… Avoid unnecessary conflict,” Lucien finally finished, peeling his gaze from the floor to his starlit friend with a tentative determination. It sounded as if the male were battling with the logical side of himself, treating the situation as simply rational rather than in its true, more complex nature.
“Besides we… We owe it to our friend to explain the situation in further detail as I’m sure they ah- kept things rather vague. At least to a point where he understands it better, as I’m not sure how much information we’re allowed to share,” The wielder of light noted with an undertone of uncertainty. It seemed as if when the male’s nerves got the better of him, he tended to ramble.
“So… Where- where should we meet him?”
WHEREABOUTS site 38 > dorms tab COMPANY sometimes lilith tab APPAREL tab MUSIC
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
NODOSAURUS
The slow footfalls of the mentally absent second year made little noise as he continued his gait, never stopping to analyze his surroundings as he always had. The muted hues of the parks flora did little to wake him from his dissociative episode, nor did they spark imagery of his latest affection. Rather, objects in his periphery were nothing more than abstract shapes. The clashing sounds of a battle raging on were drowned out by a cacophony of muddled thoughts. In his state, Lucien Desrosiers — a boy infamously known for his standoffish and brooding aura — could easily be mistaken as a ghost. An aimless and wandering spirit, searching for an unattainable answer to a listless question.
Marred knuckles wiped away at his tear-stained cheeks; scrubbing away in an effort to hide his obvious display of weakness. The rough sensation only stirred his senses, reminding him of the insurmountable weight sitting upon weathered shoulders. His heart, made whole by his companion through hardship, was once more split and fractured as he had always viewed it to be. The notion simmered in his core, calling forth another silent and pathetic sob.
However, an unexpected sensation quelled the ache, if only for a moment. Empty blue hues cast their glance to its source, finding a petite figure gently embracing him. Standing six inches above her, he could only stare as his brow raised in surprise.
“Eris…?” Dry lips parted, his voice unable to find any ground. Too caught up in his grief, he failed to realize how his childhood best friend’s disappearance could damage the emotional wellbeing of others. Although meek and timid, here the female was, offering a gesture in solidarity.
“It’s… okay. It’s going to be… okay,” She muttered quietly in an attempt to console the taller student. An apprehensive hand reached out, finding her soft, white hair and lightly thumbing at the loose strands. Of course she was sorrowful as well. Lilith was one of two subjects who dared to make an effort into her wellbeing.
Tears pooled and weighed heavy on blonde lashes as he struggled to keep them contained. Seeing Eris so torn up, however, made that effort difficult. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for and failing to find his words. As much as he wanted to reassure her as she did for him, he wasn’t a liar. He could not attempt to foresee the future. There was no knowing of Lilith’s health or… or if she was even still living.
Unaware of the approaching upperclassmen, the sound of Florence’s voice startled the vulnerable wielder of light. He made no effort to meet his gaze, too ashamed in his failure to protect their mutual friend. Despite the nature of the gentle giant, Lucien prepared himself to be reprimanded. To be estranged, outcast for his inability to hold a promise made only in his mind.
Daring to find mahogany hues, the second year was only caught up in another embrace. His heart did not pound in his chest as it had always done before when in proximity to his latest curiosity. Instead, it only continued it’s somber rhythm, too dull to generate that familiar warmth.
“Florence… She’s- Lilith is,” The second year attempted to explain, but his throat seized and the words died on his tongue.
Tightening the embrace, Florence fought off the growing numbness threatening to overtake Lucien’s core. Previously held back tears flowed with little resistance as the dreary colorless world found their respective hues once more, reaffirming the fact that… That Lilith was gone.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything for her- I’m so sorry,” He cried, trembling arms of his own finding their way around his friend’s lean form. Scarred fingers dug into his uniform as he tightly held the taller male closer, as if he could disappear at any moment, too.
A soft kiss pressed to his forehead, and his apologetic mumbles were drowned out by assurances as Eris had moments before his arrival. However, what struck him was the final sentence in his promise.
“We will be okay,” He said, and Lucien found this to be problematic. How would he ever be okay? The second year had never imagined life without his icy friend. In whatever future he dreamed, she always stood beside him. She was always there for him. Now… now he didn’t know how to function without her.
The three continued their shared, somber embrace for a few moments before a haughty, fourth figure arrived to break them up. This new development remained ignored for another beat before the figure drew an irritated sigh. A thinly veiled threat escaped the enforcer’s lips, to which the subject protested by holding the other two tighter.
Fed up, the soldier raised his weapon and repeated his warning, again to no avail. Before a greater threat could be uttered, however, a fifth figure hastily made their presence known.
A forceful pull delivered by bruised and bloodied arms removed the second year’s companions before he could protest. Upon seeing her beaten visage, a familiar guilt panged his chest.
“Mika, are you o-”
Without a moment to spare, a calloused fist connected with his tear-stained face before he had time to say another word. Held by his collar, his vision danced and struggled to align her furious expression correctly. He was too dazed to properly hear her first statement, but the venom in her tone failed to boil his blood as it always had.
“Lilith sacrificed herself before that maniac destroyed Ohira like she did Site 01,” She hissed, stirring the guilt he felt until it reached his now bruised features.
Lucien found himself unable to meet her gaze as she debated their former colleague’s fate. He didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to consider the violent intrusive thoughts already plaguing him. He couldn’t. Rather, blue hues found the laceration on her side, blood still pouring from the wound delivered to her by the brute Tobias. He bit his tongue. He knew Mika would blame him, and she had every right to.
He deserved that punch. If anything, it was too soft of a blow.
“I hold you responsible for what Lilith had to do,” She spit, venom pouring from her words and expression. A stalwart and scarred hand grabbed her wrist as he steeled his gaze, casting it upon her. Without words, his expression dawned what he wanted to say.
I’m sorry.
A notion that would likely go unnoticed, as she was forcefully peeled from his sight by an invisible force. Blue hues quickly turned to Eris, who found her violent bravery after witnessing what she perceived as unfair treatment.
He took a cowardly step back, finding her breaking point foreign in her frail figure. It was imagery he had seen not a few moments before while being pulled into a hug under false pretenses.
He ignored the victim of her assault as she was cast the girl away with little effort. Instead, he fought his instincts telling him to flee and rushed over to Eris before her head could fall onto the pavement. Lucien tightly gripped her hand as he held up her head, placing her upon his lap to check her vitals.
Looking up from the unconscious female, he managed to catch Sora’s gaze before he could call for a medic. He could only look on helplessly, caught up in assessing his companion’s health and too fearful to act defiantly.
Their nonverbal way of communicating came into effect, although it was not a look of solidarity, as it always had been. Rather, his expression told the opposite story. Blame. His friend was casting blame upon his shoulders, as did the discarded Mika.
His heart fell miles through the pavement, unable to maintain eye contact as a hot wave of shame washed over him. The discordant voiced trapped in his mind, once silenced by a gentle giant, found new poison to infect him with.
He deserved to be outcast.
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During the journey back towards Site 38 — the name alone enough to strike fear into the heart of the standoffish male — Lucien remained tight-lipped. He sat, back hunched in a pitiful posture, as blue hues stared deeply at clasped hands. He made no attempt to fight off the venomous intrusive thoughts that plagued, believing that he deserved the treatment.
This is your fault, his traumatized mind spat at him on repeat like a discordant record. This is all your fault. He bit crusted lips until the taste of iron pooled on his tongue. If it weren't for you, Lilith would still be here. The final thought was enough to cause the second year to snap, albeit only mentally. However, before those feelings could manifest in an embarrassing display of rage, the vehicle halted. Lucien was the first to exit, paying no mind to those closest to the rear as he shoved past them.
He dared not lift his gaze from the ground, content to stare daggers at his shoes. He was too ashamed to even glance in the direction of familiar faces, too guilty to see their pained expressions. He did not have the strength to see Mika, did not have the guts to follow Tobias to the medical wing. He certainly was ill equipped to even think of Sora ever again. After all, it was his fault the humans were now caught up in this game of torture.
After being unnecessarily guided to his previous residence, Lucien made a beeline for his room, slamming the door behind him. No longer under the watchful gaze of his peers, tears freely rolled down his cheeks without a sound.
He spent the next few minutes sitting at the edge of his bed, wiping away at soaked cheeks.
From beyond his self-isolation, the perceptive second year could make out the sound of footfalls quickly approaching. A frustrated groan built up in his throat as he thumbed away the final tear, unaware that the red corners of his eyes revealed the previous state he tried so desperately to hide. The standoffish male parted dry lips to hiss an insult at who he assumed was Mika, coming to pester him or continue her beatdown now that Eris was out of commission.
His mouth only hung open at the figure who entered.
Stark white hair, and pale skin to match, albeit tattered now.
The one assumed to be cast out from this reality and into oblivion.
Lilith Yukimura.
Not dead.
Alive.
Startled, Lucien struggled to his feet as he stared at his best friend agape. His brow folded, a painful expression overtaking his features. His lower lip trembled, convinced that the Lilith standing before him was nothing more than a mishap of his abilities — a figment of the imagination. A pitiful attempt at coping with his new loss.
That was, until she spoke.
“Lucien…” She cried, breaking the silence as tears welled up in her eyes.
The shorter male’s body moved of its own accord, unable to stop himself from swiftly staggering to her side and pulling her into a tight embrace. Where he expected his hold to phase through her, he found ice cold skin. A much needed reassurance that she was indeed real. A resurgence of waterworks spilled forth from blue hues and onto the shoulder of his friend, reunited at last.
A moment passed before Lucien found his voice, and he cared not for the way it cracked like a broken record.
“A-Are you.. okay? Are y-you hurt?!” He began frantically, prying his body back to look her over. He found cuts scattered all along her features. His heart strained at the sight. “Lilith, what… What happened to you?” He asked, a foreign desperation in his eyes.
“I tried to protect everyone but I couldn't... I thought if I....” She paused, the ache in his chest twisting selfishly. “I thought I could help... I didn't think she would still…”
The second year could feel her hesitation, and decided not to pry for the time being. Instead, trembling arms only held her tighter, fingers careful not to bruise her flesh. The girl in his arms took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“...I… I’m… going to stay at site 38…” Lucien hastily pulled back at her shaky confession, steeling his gaze upon her. Doubting his ears, he asked her to repeat herself. “I… If I… I don’t want to get anyone else hurt…”
His expression dropped, his features now dawning dread as he took a step back from her. Surely… She wasn’t serious about this. Looking over her pained expression, he could find no deceit in her eyes. Another shard of his broken heart split, his marred palm finding his chest as he physically felt this change.
“L-Lilith! You cannot do that.” He harshly cried out, raising his voice for the first time at his dear friend. “Y-you… I thought- We thought you had di- died…” He continued, his voice faltering near the end. “And now.. And now you just want to give yourself up? Why- Lilith why would you do that to… to us? To me?!”
“Lucien… You don’t understand… I… I couldn’t protect everyone, Tobias… “
“Th-that’s…” He attempted to retort, losing his words as Lilith continued in her false justification.
“He… I… If I can’t protect everyone then it’s pointless!” She yelled back through her hesitance. “I’m worthless unless I… I need to become stronger so it doesn’t happen again,” The taller subject admitted. It was enough to bring more tears dripping from her chin along with his.
“Lilith...“
“I didn’t… want to go but I thought she would’ve…”
“S-stop it…”
“I couldn’t let you fight her, you would’ve gotten hurt.”
“Please- Lilith, stop.”
“I want to stay but I can’t!”
“You’re not listening to me...”
“I’m not strong enough to protect you yet, I’m worthless right now…”
“I SAID STOP IT!” He snapped at her, white hot fists clenched tight. For a moment, the two simply stood in silence, giving the second year enough time to gather his thoughts. This was too much information. He was clueless in how to react to her foolish plan — how to convince her to stay or how to make her believe in her own worth.
“You can’t stay here, in this place,” He began, voice ripped of fury and desperation, as if Lilith prescribed herself to the same ideals as the standoffish male. Reasons, facts — devoid of any emotion.
“It’s… That’s not- Y-you shouldn’t,” His tact began to fall apart before it even began. He bit his tongue. Damn facts, damn selflessness. To hell with his stupid façade.
“You don’t know what they’ll do to you, Lilith... F-For our whole lives we existed as nothing more than puppets to these mongrels! I… The way they treat us- The way they treat you, is unacceptable, i-it’s deplorable and revolting! They make us think we are nothing, and at the same time what — humanity’s last hope?! You have got to be [********] kidding me, Lilith!”
All throughout his tirade as he aired his grievances with the E.R.A. for the first time in front of anybody, Lilith would find his marred hands shaking by his side alongside his voice. Following any mention of his best friend during the rant, a few tears would roll down his check and hit the floor beneath their feet.
“That is textbook manipulation, undeniable abuse and- and you just accept it? Like It’s normal?! We were innocent children, Lilith. Stolen and kept under lock and key until they whipped obedience into us before we could even see the light of day. I- I want nothing m-more than to-”
He stopped, staring into his palms that glowed faintly red, unaware that he had been siphoning light from the now flickering iridescent lamp overhead. Dismissing the photon particles, Lucien’s stiff hands slowly inched together, gritting his teeth while making a choking gesture and letting an irritated grunt escape past chapped lips.
“And to think,” He started again, his tone changing from murderous to a rather somber tone. “That you would willingly….” He blinked away the tears lingering in the corners, trailing off. Blue hues found her gaze after previously avoiding it.
“Out of everyone here y-you.. You don’t deserve that. I-If anything I'm....” He could feel a confession sitting on the tip of his tongue. His discarded mind screamed at him from beyond the veil. Don’t say it. You cannot say it to her — can’t let her know.
But he couldn’t give less of a s**t right now.
“I-It was all my fault, Lilith, not yours. E-Even if you… had truly- left me behind back there… I would have deserved that. Don’t- do not consider the way I feel, even if I-I had to be the…. The one who was- Ha. Tossed into the fire. I deserve that the most. Not you — never you.”
When she opened her mouth to protest, the standoffish figure took a step back.
“WHY DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND-” Lucien snapped once more. “I hate myself, Lilith. I don’t- I don’t deserve anything. I’m the worthless one here, I couldn’t even [********] protect you like I am supposed to do,” He cried, unable to read her expression past his blurry vision.
He gasped softly, the realization dawning upon him. She knew, now. How disgusting, how vile and putrid he truly was, and how he, too, hated who he was. He covered his mouth, unable to hide his quivering jaw and dismal expression. Tears only continued to fall from bloodshot eyes and over marred knuckles, unable to speak any further.
In that moment, he wished he knew how to shut up.
WHEREABOUTS park > site 38 tab COMPANY flor, sora, eris, mika > subjects > lilith tab APPAREL tab MUSIC 01 tab MUSIC 02
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
/size]
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
Heavy, grayscale clouds loomed high above, veiling the southern provinces of Japan in dreary shadow. Dense and thick, the sun’s radiance was unable to pierce through the gathering storm clouds, forswearing the land below to the steadfast whims of nature.
For some denizens, creation withheld it’s turbulent and fated downpour. However, for others, thunderous storms had already begun to batter down upon the land. In one of these locations, a duplicitous facility continued their unethical work despite the hazardous rainfall outside. Inside the company known to the public as Cypher, one Project in particular braved a storm of a different caliber.
Staring distantly beyond the cold steel walls were red hues, intently watching the heavy downpour. Further behind the synthetic eyes and tense expression, the short figure appeared to be faraway in troublesome contemplation. Beside the introspective figure, a weary individual, dressed in a stark white coat, was hard at work on the Project. A jet-black palm, partially shedded of it’s synthetic skin, laid open for the scientist to correct.
Too deeply fixated on internal qualms, Project: Ignite, or more casually known as Junichiro Ochida, hardly acknowledged the scientist as he prodded at his exposed, sleek machinery. Unbeknownst to him, the low pensive hum reverberating in his chest was beginning to irk his current caregiver. The scientist's expression pulled into a frown at this growing vexation before a lethargic voice finally broke the Project’s spell.
“You have got to stop that, Ochida. That isn’t helping.”
Red hues refocused and adjusted their attention back towards the voice and current reality.
“Hmm,” The humming continued as melancholic words formed on the project’s tongue. “Of course you’re correct as always, Scientist-san…”
“Not my name-”
Without even registering the mumble, Junichiro continued in his outspoken introspection. “Musing over the emotions swirling behind my exterior only serves to heighten my heart’s desperate need to reach out,” He passionately spoke, an undertone of despondence weaving its way into his inflection. With his free hand, the demiboy reached out and grasped at the humid air, as if fervently reciting a sonnet with added theatrics.
This display earned an eye roll from the white coat. A sigh escaped the worker’s frown. “Why are you like this…? So annoying.”
Junichiro overlooked the vexation in the scientist’s tone, along with the short mutter. His mind was too occupied by torrent storms to pay mind to social cues. Instead, the project paused, intently picking apart the question. “Why,” He parroted quietly, free hand moving to rest upon his chin in another moment of contemplation.
Indeed, what drove the shorter demiboy to act in such a manner? Shy touches, averting gazes, and being tangled by moments of introspection was something new, but how new? Reflecting upon the past, the Project was able to identify a moment in time that wrought such desirous notions. Five months ago, as best as he could recall, was when Junichiro found himself yearning for the delicate touch of a fellow Project.
Mitsue Kobayashi, or more fondly known as Mittens to the awe-stricken Junichiro, was his latest curiosity. The moment dawned upon the young demiboy when the gentle giant had gently teased and giggled airily in his direction. From then on, his mind, heart and body danced alongside the older male’s gentle melody.
The difficulty now, however, was the fiery demiboy’s inaction at making his romantic affection known to his chosen soulmate. This was due in part to the preparations for a long overdue grand gesture his dear MIttens deserved. How was the hopeless romantic supposed to know composing a total of eight poems for his beloved would take so long?!
A belated sigh erupted from the pensive demiboy’s mechanical lungs, breaking the silence once more. The scientist recoiled, preparing himself for the onslaught of unnecessary poetic exposition that was sure to come.
“It pains every fiber of my being to admit my dithering, and truth be told, my hesitancy to let my affections be known! My written words lay complete, yet I stall?” The fervorous male spoke forth on deaf ears, still unaware of the continuously growing exasperation. “How does one know if one is ready to divulge the depths of one’s heart and soul? To finally confess to my dear Mittens?”
Another ardent spiel, another dejected exhale. The bags under the scientist’s eyes seemed to darken as he resumed maintenance. Without a response, the fiery demiboy showed no signs of ending his monologue.
“Inside, my heart pines for a deeper connection with the bearer of my affections, yet my inaction betrays my internal vehemence. Oh, wise Scientist-san… What am I to do?” Junichiro inquired, finally meeting his current caregiver’s apathetic gaze. “I search my surroundings for signs that the time is nigh for my overdue confession, however my gaze fails to locate the strings of fate! Does destiny truly reject this path?!”
Finally, the white coat seemed to crack as his expression twitched in annoyance.
“Oh god there you go again with destiny and signs from the universe or whatever the ********] He began, holding down the Project’s hand and pulling out malfunctioning wires without care for what pain it could cause. “Stop looking for s**t that isn’t there, alright? You’re either gonna do it or not, I don’t care either way. Just stop telling me about it and sit still for a minute.” The venomous words poured from the white coat's agitated frown, clearly done listening to the endless droning of the project under his care.
The harshness of the Cypher worker’s tone seemed to finally silence the aggressively-human cyborg. For the next sixty seconds, Junichiro remained entirely motionless, not even so much so as breathing. As the instructed time of quiet neared its end, the demiboy inhaled sharply from both the twinge of pain that shot up his augmented forearm and an abrupt realization.
“Scientist-san… You’re right!! Perhaps fate is waiting upon ME in this instance! Oh how foolish I’ve been…” Junichiro trailed off in a huff, grinning brightly from ear to ear. How did he not consider this before?! “There is no time to waste then! With haste, I must declare the true nature of my heart’s opera and how it sings for my beloved!”
Without missing a beat, the project with a fervor to rival the sun made a beeline for the exit, snatching back his flawed augmentation despite the worker’s protests.
“N-No that’s not what I- And I’m n-not d-! Ugh, whatever, I’m taking a nap…”
Outfitted with newborn determination and enthusiasm, the scorched blonde scampered through the maze like hallways. Peers and higher-ups swiftly sidestepped to avoid the Project’s resolute path, ever familiar with his proclivity to tear through the facilities when coupled with a mission.
In no time at all, the fiery demiboy approached his first of two destinations; his stark-white, humbly decorated dorm. Coming upon his individually marked room, Junichiro slammed open the door and continued his scurry further in. Clammy hands dove beneath the weathered bed frame and retrieved a dark, wooden box. Hastily unlatching the closed container, a bright grin pulled on the corners of his mouth as crimson hues found the item of importance.
Several neatly folded poems, written upon stained parchment within wax sealed envelopes sat alone inside the box. Discarding the beautifully engraved mahogany, the tender-hearted cyborg clutched the letters against his chest.
These compassionately composed sonnets and odes — each depicting various different features and idiosyncrasies the fiery demiboy cherished — were sure to enrapture his beloved’s heart. Steeling himself, there was only one thing left to do.
Without bothering to dawn formal attire or correct his disheveled appearance, the Project took off once more. Only this time, there was no set path for the ardent demiboy to follow, nor clues to discover. There was no telling where his true love could be found. However, the call towards fated romance was too strong for rational thought to penetrate. The male’s stalwart determination would have to rely solely on instinct, as it always had.
For nearly an hour and a half, the zealous cyborg wandered the halls in a flurry without much luck. Queries were met with apathy, annoyance, or all together silence. Those who gave directions or last sightings turned up devoid of his beloved’s sunny presence. However, the elusive search failed to put a damper on the Project’s upbeat disposition.
Upon reaching the facility's third floor, the scorched blonde finally took a moment of respite to lessen his laboured breathing. Synthetic palms rested on god-given knees, posture doubled over as Junichiro paused his search. It appeared as if the bearer of his heart’s affection was nowhere to be seen, or at the very least somewhere the awe-stricken male could not access.
“Ahh…” He sighed, relaxing his stance against the walls barren of detail. “Another obstacle destiny has set before me, demanding that I test my worth. How problematic…” Jun mused, once again discarding the concept of inner thought.
A low, pensive hum, filled the cold air as the fiery demiboy considered his next approach. He was sure if he sprinted around the facility long enough he would eventually run into the gentle giant. Perhaps he was simply intangible!
“Oh if only my eyes could see through walls!” Junichiro dramatically lamented, throwing his head back with a trailing palm to rest upon his brow. “No, Ochida-san! That would be far too simple! I must remain self-assured. I ought to brave this difficulty as I have every other!!”
Having given himself another rush of adrenaline, the keeper of mana-induced flame shot up from his slack position and steeled himself for the ongoing search.
“Destiny is beckoning m-” Inhaling sharply, the demiboy attempted to declare himself ready before red hues found their target. Just beyond the large glass window, across from his current location on the first floor, was a familiar figure.
The sight of a tall silhouette coupled with pale skin, and stark white hair was enough to quell the cyborg’s ardor for a fraction of a second. In that moment, it felt as if the strings of destiny that kept time flowing halted. A flutter in the male’s chest swirled and brought a warm sensation to his fingertips. The gentle smile across his features slowly evolved as time caught up to him, morphing into a beaming, toothy grin.
A loud gasp echoed throughout the empty hallway, filling every quiet corner with the demiboy’s ardor. It was Mitsue, in all his sweet and tender glory! Without any consideration, Junichiro slammed himself into the thick glass, banging on the surface in order to catch the giant’s attention.
“Mitsue-chan!! My sweet Mittens! Up here!! Look!” The boisterous male exclaimed, powerful augmented limbs putting a crack in the glass. His crush hardly so much as flinched as he continued his leisurely stroll, unaware of the shorter male’s presence above.
Peeling himself from the glass, Junichiro was suddenly hit with a rare moment of intellect. His phone! Why hadn’t the eager male simply called his other half?! Exhilarated hands darted into the pockets of his fitted denim jeans, fishing out his cellular device. In a whirl, the demiboy dialed his crush’s number as he made for the stairwell.
“Oh, please pick-up my swe-” Pale lips swiftly closed as he heard the other end pick-up. Without giving the other male a chance to speak, the fiery demiboy continued. “Mitsue-kun, hello!! Did you see me? I was above you! I have something to admit to you, my treasured friend!! Please rema-” Once again, the enthusiastic male cut himself off as he briefly fumbled down the first flight of stairs.
“Oh dear, almost fell.. Oh! Oh! But M-Mitsue, stay! Halt your amble and stay where you are! I am coming to meet you,” The boisterous cyborg requested, tone thick in a dramatic urgency. Heavy footfalls reverberated throughout the empty stairwell, echoing into the device gripped tightly in a synthetic fist.
“I know this may come as a - oops - surprise, but I must confess something very - oh dear - important to you! This has - whoops - been on my mind since…” As he spoke without thought, the occasional misstep could be heard from the other end, a cause for concern the male wouldn’t let be spoken through his incoherent and messy rambling.
Eventually, his train of thought was lost as his attention was briefly taken by his perilous descent. “My word, there are so many stEPS-” One fateful lapse in perception was enough to send the hopeless demiboy tumbling. Luckily, augmented limbs reacted fast enough to grasp at the railing. “I’M OKAY!” However, without warning the remaining exposed machinery in his palm finally malfunctioned as his grasp slackened and the cellular device plummeted.
“NOO!! MY PHONE! MITTENS JUST STAY WHE-” As the phone dived, the panic voiced Project became more and more distant, before the line finally went dead. Righting himself, Junichiro rushed past his destroyed device in favor of seeing his true love.
Concerning notions circled the scorched blonde’s head as he exited onto the halls of the first floor. He didn’t want his dearly beloved to worry over his cloddish behavior and lack of self-awareness! With great haste, the demiboy finally came upon his mission’s end.
The heat in flushed cheeks only skyrocketed as crimson hues met his soulmate’s gaze. Soft hazel-brown eyes stared down at the shorter male, and the flutter in his chest reignited tenfold. Short locks of starlit hair beautifully framed Mitsue’s gentle expression, bringing a bright grin to tug on the demiboy’s pale lips.. Everything about the gentle giant — his demeanor, his eyes, his laugh, the imperfect beauty spot — caused the awe-stricken male’s breath to hitch.
After spending a moment admiring his soulmate, Junichiro quickly composed himself, taking on an oddly formal stance that greatly contrasted his disheveled appearance. Messy, spiky hair, paired with unnecessarily thick-framed glasses, alongside a black logo tank and slim, green denim jeans made up the cyborg. It was clear to any onlookers how haphazardly this meeting was arranged.
“Before you say anything Mitsue-chan, I am alright! The only casualty from the fall was my assigned phone, which as you know, appears to be a common occurrence with me! How clumsy I can be…”
A bashful hand reached up to scratch at an itch that nary existed at the base of the demiboy’s skull. A strange feeling accompanied the fluttering behind his mechanical exterior. Was this… Anxiety? Oh lord, why was he feeling nervous all of a sudden?!
“B-But um,” The now timid cyborg began, attempting to push past trepidation. If the two were not fated to brave the world together, then the lovely Mitsue would not have been placed in his path. At this notion, the fiery demiboy’s token radiant grin returned.
“Oh, yes! The reason I have need for your angelic presence,” The passionate Project resumed after his unnatural moment of hesitance. “There is something dire I’ve been meaning to confess to you, Mittens! Ah, but… Perhaps you’d like to sit? This might take a while…” The demiboy trailed off, finally taking a moment for crimson hues to scan his surroundings.
Aside from the thundering storm’s torrent downpour, the facility was unusually quiet today. Though only a handful dotted the first floor, Cypher’s lobby hardly seemed the place to profess his undying love. The only place the demiboy can remember being bare of peers or curious onlookers was…
“The stairwell!” Junichiro abruptly shouted apropos of nothing. Without a second thought, the male’s freehand reached for his beloved’s, pulling him along as he had done countless times before. As he guided the gentle giant, the demiboy could not help but fill in the silence with more blathering.
“I am aware it is not the most comfortable area one would prefer to rest, but this is urgent! My heart, be it folly, can delay this moment no further!”
After leading and allowing the starlit bearer of the scorched blonde’s affection, the demiboy prepared his theatrical confession. He began by prefacing when this overwhelming ardor for the tallest male began, recalling the moment of shared laughter and of playful teasing. After the fond memory, Junichiro finally broke the wax seal of the first sonnet. Clearing his throat, he took on a dramatic inflection and began reciting.
The very first poem touched on destiny and the intertwining threads of fate, and how the impassioned cyborg felt as though their souls — transcendent of this lifetime — were being thrust together by the stalwart whims of kismet. After which, the beautifully calligraphed poem was handed off to its tenderhearted recipient.
The second, third, and forth lovingly crafted poems detailed, what to others, were overlooked idiosyncrasies the male cherished. From his sickly sweet and infectious smile, to the various degrees of a carefree nature the taller male adopted. Mitsue’s unseen quirks fell from the shorter male’s tongue with a fervent passion, ending in a rare moment of gentle softness not often found in the ardent cyborg.
As for the following fifth, sixth, and seventh poems, the fiery demiboy endowed himself with far greater passion than the other odes for their recital. He evoked imagery of irradiate celestial bodies speeding through the cosmos, tossing caution to the winds of oblivion. The ardent demiboy compared the whirlwind of giddy sentiment behind his destiny-bestowed exterior to a building supernova. Only, in lieu of tempestuous destruction, there was only vehement, unyielding love.
As the final sonnet neared its debut, a noticeable disquietude crept its way into the boisterous project’s inflection. A faint whirring noise could be heard quietly echoing behind the male, alerting those aware of his biology of the abnormal spike in temperature.
Face growing red, Junichiro handed off the final letter, scorching hand briefly brushing over wintry digits. The male resumed the grandiose posture he dawned for the previous odes, only for it to falter into something more humble and timorous. Drawing an apprehensive breath, the words left pale lips in a soft tone, greatly contrasting the ardor within.
“Though I be not grand, nay opulent, I offer what is mine,” The scorched blonde began, crimson hues tracing lines in the ground below. Rising from his side, one open palm met with the demiboy’s burning chest. For but a fraction of a moment, the next words danced on his tongue and struggled to push past timorous lips.
“Beyond kismet a-augme… Augmentation…” The cyborg hesitated, blinking hard until the wetness outlining synthetic hues evaporated under the heat of flushed cheeks. Those close to the demiboy were, within limits, aware of the difficulty that came with mentioning his mechanical side. Being considered anything aside from human was not something the Project could make peace with.
Crimson hues met with hazel-brown eyes, the contact resulting in a half-cocked smile unfolding upon the demiboy’s expression. “Heart of flesh, of unapologetic avidity… Be it mutual or untoward…” With a growing, heartfelt smile, Junichiro spoke his final poem to completion.
“I offer what is mine — nay, yours.”
A breath, no longer adorned with dramatic sentiment, escaped the cyborg’s lips in relief. Five months of yearning, of pining for affectionate touches and deeper connections, finally released into the stifling, humid air. The sound of faroff thunder and torrent downpour no longer held the land hostage, reassuring the demiboy of kismet’s satisfaction.
“Fortnight after fortnight spent composing these sonnets and odes… Yet they still do the ardent emotions inside no justice,” The project spoke on a whisper, synthetic hands timidly coming to meet. No amount of written words or outspoken introspection could ever stand to match the fervor behind his exterior, this the demiboy knew. Now, he only hoped his true love returned his feelings.
“I do hope my message comes across clearly, Mitsue-kun,” Junichiro gently spoke, a lighter grin gracing his disheveled appearance.
“You, my darling Mittens, are my missing half, and I do hope you feel the same for me.”
//
credit to nodosaurus, that's me
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
1248 total words, 24 paragraphs
- Chaisai smiled from the support, his smile creases finally showing themselves after hibernating for a long while. The gaze from the other male and warm smile made his ears burn. He felt so unbelievably at home with Ban, he always radiated with kindness. A real gentle giant. Chai honestly didn't think he deserved that kind of unconditional support from someone who use to be a stranger. He wasn't allowed to feel the way he did, at least not this soon.
The tanned male finished his snack and pulled his mask back over his nose. Chai's eyes shifted from Ban to the windshield and the figures passing by. Outside was a white tundra, even just the sight of snow made the tanned male shiver. He'd have to sprint (carefully, otherwise he'd trip and fall) inside the building to avoid the cold.
Ban spoke up after a minute, pulling Chai away his thoughts. He asked for a refill and the male was happy to help. "Sure bud," He answered, reaching for the thermos filled with hot chocolate. He lifted the top from his best friend's cup and slowly poured in the liquid, careful not to spill any on him, not that it would even burn under all his layers. Honestly, the male wondered how he was even supposed to walk.
Once finished, he sealed the lid and handed the cup back over. There wasn't that much left in the thermos afterwards, so Chai took it as an okay to drink the rest. Pulling his mask down, the tanned male took a sip. It instantly warmed him and he hummed quietly.
The taller male announced their drive nearing an end as Chaisai set down the thermos. He bit his lip. He wasn't quite ready to go back, but he had to do it, to honor Wallace. He pulled the mask back over his mouth and sighed again. He removed his gaze from the windows and instead opted to look down at his hands, his eyes half-lidded. He squeezed his gloved hands together and fidgeted.
Once again, his friend's voice broke his depressing thoughts as he placed his own coat over the dark-skinned male. He hugged it over his shoulders and a half-smile pulled on his mouth. He was definitely warm now. "Thank you," He spoke, muffled behind the black mask. "I know I get cold too easily," Chai added, eyes wandering to Ban.
The tanned male leaned back in his seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. He pulled the extra jacket and blanket closer. A soft song began to play on the radio, one that Chai recognized. Under his mask, he mouthed along to the lyrics and stared past the window to the snow.
About five minutes later, Chai could see the lodge coming up. He felt his stomach turn and nervously bit his lip. Everything is going to be ok, he told himself. Ban is going to be right besides me, and I will be okay. He breathed in slowly and let it out even slower. From the pocket of his pants, the dark-skinned male fetched his phone and typed out a text to those he was going to be meeting there.
to: muri, lukas, vincent
from: chaisai
hey everyone, im just outside the lodge
about to head inside now
The male hit send, tucking the device back into his pocket. "Okay," he spoke aloud, breathing deeply once more as the car pulled into a parking space. "I'm fine-" He assured his friend, who was bound to be worried. "At least, I will be," Chai silently added.
"I'll take the two bags we got in here and shuffle inside. I woould help with the bags in the trunk, but I think I'd freeze," He joked, laughing a bit. He was still pretty anxious. Chai handed the jacket lent to him back over to Ban and collected his blanket, shoving it back into his beige backpack that sat between his feet. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and reached in the backseat for the open messenger bag that had the leftover snacks in it.
"I'll meet you inside," Chai spoke warmly as he reached for the door handle. "Be careful."
As soon as chaisai opened the car door, the cold atmosphere hit him like a brick. He shivered, stepping out and listening to the crunch of snow under his feet. Snow was pretty and something the tanned male really loved, but it came at the cost of freezing. He hugged the messenger back against his chest and took careful steps to the front doors. Hopefully they had the heater on full blast inside.
The tanned male reached for the door handle and shuffled inside, wiping his feet off on the welcoming mat. It would be pretty embarrassing if he slipped and fell after making it inside. Thankfully, it was a lot warmer inside. Chai stood off to the side of the front door and removed a few layers from his awfully thick outfit. He shrugged off the backpack over his shoulder, folding and tucking in his outer jackets. He even peeled off the scarf and removed his black mask. He sighed nervously after packing away the clothing, leaving him in his black button down and christmas sweater. His sweater wasn't anywhere near as flashy as Ban's, but he sure as hell did pack some more ridiculous jumpers to one-up his best friend. The thought had him silently chuckling.
Brown hues scanned the room. He spotted Vincent and.. wait- wait what the hell? His brows folded suspiciously, mouth slightly ajar. Just there, in the distance, he spotted the face that haunted him for an entire year. Napping on a chair without a scowl, was his dead ex-boyfriend. Wallace.
Chai's heart dropped and his hands grew clammy inside their respective gloves. A delusion, he thought. But he stopped having those just last month! He went to therapy, got medication and everything! He bit his cheek as his bottom lip quivered. This wasn't fair. Chai clenched his fists and willed himself to take a step forward. It wasn't real. He wasn't really sitting there.
The tanned male gulped hard and took another step. He had dealt with these false images of his beloved before. He could will it away. He just had to.. reach out and try to touch the delusion. It would disappear and he could move on.
Chaisai all but forced himself to continue, leaving behind the two bags. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple and he bit his cheek harder. He stood over Wally and a newfound worry began to set in. The rise and fall of his chest, the peacefulness on his face. This hallucination is realistic. At least, more real than the first fifty or so. The tanned male didn't give himself time to stare or think, he didn't want to indulge in his own twisted mind tricks. He just wanted to get it over with.
The male shakily pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pant pocket. His heart hammered and cold fingers reached out. He expected it to disappear. It was suppose to disappear. His hand wasn't supposed to make contact, to feel the warmth he had so dearly missed. Chai's eyes widened, breath hitched and stomach upside down. He took a long step back and his face paled. What the ********.
Something was very, very wrong. Either he had to visit the therapist again or.. Or.. He wasn't sure.
Nodosaurus
Anxious Friend
0909 total words, 19 paragraphs
- The sensation of being wrapped in Wally's arms was different somehow. It was probably because he had been dead for a year now. In the past, when he was alive, Chai remembers being held by the shorter male fondly. It was unexpectedly warm for such a cold and grumpy man. But now, as he stood and sobbed, his touch felt foreign. It was still warm, but not in the same way. He felt as if he was being touched by negative space and it stung. Still, the tanned male hugged back as if he were going to disappear in the next second.
Wallace spoke, in that familiar snappy tone as he walked with the taller male. Chai was dizzy and his steps faltered, but with Wally's help he was able to walk. He felt bad for leaving Ban behind like that. It was usually the gentle giant who comforted the tanned male when he was emotionally unstable. He must be so worried.
As the two sat, the shorter male's shaky hands wiped at Chaisai's soaking cheeks. He leaned into the touch as a weak smile pulled on his lips. For a moment, the tanned male looked to Wally with a broken expression. He wasn't met with a comforting and worried look he had grown use to. He had to remind himself that it was Wallace. It was actually Wallace. The only thing that repeated in his mind was how much he loved the male sitting with him.
As he was pulled in to rest his head on the other's shoulder, he exhaled a shaky sigh. Chai blinked away tears and sniffled silently, the roof of his mouth having gone completely numb and dry.
"Stroke his hair," Spoke Ban as he approached, but only for a moment. Wally seemed to ignore him, but Chai noticed and clenched his jaw. He felt bad for pushing Ban into a third wheel situation, but there wasn't much he could do to help it. After the gentle giant walked off, the two sat in a silence. The tanned male kept his arms around Wallace, afraid to let go. He let his eyes wander from the previously dead male to the rest of the lobby. They sat somewhat separated from the other's, but Chai noticed a strange pattern. He swore he saw the other's who had lost their lives, but he was too caught up in his own predicament to care.
They stayed like that for a moment before Wally decided to speak up. It was slow, and he could tell the male was trying his hardest to stay calm. He knew the shorter male was confused and uncomfortable, and now seemed to be the time to explain what was going on.
"I don't want you to stop crying. I mean.."
It's just Wally.
"I just-...I'm trying very hard to understand but," Wallace spoke. He was going to ask. He was going to ask and Chai didn't know if he had the strength to answer.
"Please, just tell me what I did wrong." There it was. Chaisai held back a stream of tears as he searched for how to answer. What the hell was he supposed to say? Hey, you died! There was a funeral and everything! You broke my heart into a million pieces and I still haven't recovered!
Chaisai swallowed harshly. He didn't know how the man in his arms would react, and that scared him a little. This was Wally he was dealing with. The guy who had ignored him for weeks and only came around when he found out Chai was admitted into a hospital. Then again, it's not like he could lie. He deserved to know. As if to gain strength, his hand found Wally's and squeezed.
"Y-You," Chai began in a weak voice. "It w-was.. nothing- nothing that you did." He bit his lip. "It's just... It's been an entire year Wally- a very difficult year." That was too vague, the shorter male was bound to be confused by this. Does he.. not remember? What even happened?
"Do... D-do you not r-remember? At all? No memory of w-what.. of what happened... to you?" He paused for Wally's answer and exhaled in disbelief.
"I don't think I want to remember but-"
"You're n-not going to believe me."
Chaisai sighed again, he evidently wanted to avoid talking about it in fear of reliving the moment for the fiftieth time. He took a moment to gain composure before speaking up again.
"Wallace, I'm twenty-four now. T-there was an.. a-accident.. last year- a very traumatic accident and I-" He cut himself off briefly to will some tears away. "I lost you. I lost you," Chai repeated, putting emphasis on himself. "T-there's no b-bus waiting for us. We already drove up t-that, that mountain and I lost you there." A few tears escaped his control, but he willed himself to breathe.
"A-and now," He spoke in the same lowered voice, but it was clear the subject upset him greatly. "I suddenly come back and you're here w-with that same scarf and same look on your face and I- I just-" Chai choked out quickly, but his words were understandable. He cut himself off to slow down. "I missed you, I missed you so ******** much," He ended, broken. It was unlike him to curse, even saying 'damn' was scandalous to him. He just couldn't stress enough just how much his heart longed for Wallace.