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 Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2013 8:29 pm
When he re-entered the Shrine, Ikait first noticed the apparently lack of a particular statue. He didn’t know which one it was. All he knew was that during his visit he had counted three statues, but now he only counted two. The curiosity and paranoia getting the better of him, the skinny shadow walked closer to examine the plaque in hopes that it would provide him with clues. It was cruel irony that the important keywords were cut out, but at least he had gained a better idea of what may be going on.
He nearly jumped when he heard the goddess’ voice. “Oh! Is that so?” he murmured beneath his breath, bony fingers covering his mouth while he directed his gaze to the side. Obediently, Ikait took the bag from her. He glanced at the shining key before he opened the bag, which revealed nothing. “…” He looked up with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Ikait forced his mouth to close, forming a blockade against the air and questions ready to barrel out. Eyes narrowed suspiciously at the wry suspicion. Them? But he took the scissors anyway. Fear prevented him from asking any questions. He couldn’t dare to go against a goddess, so he obliged and followed her orders. Ikait squeezed through the opening.
The shadow found himself standing in front of a set of doors. Each of them revealed a different symbol; each of them evoked a different aura. He eyed each one carefully, but for him the decision was easy. Paranoia and caution filled his being. If he sensed danger or dread from something, he would likely prefer to avoid it if he could.
He took the first door.
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Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2013 8:50 pm
It was only a plain hallway, but for some reason he felt a strange sense of nostalgia stirring within him. He couldn’t explain the sensation, especially considering he couldn’t recall any memories before he had gained a whole body, a body that was his and his alone. He could almost feel happy as he pictured pumpkins lining the hallway, pumpkins that were bright orange and large and filled with glowing smiles. But in a flash the image disappeared, ebbing away into oblivion by the voices. Ikait strained his ears to listen, but they were so far. They were so far away, yet just listening to their garbled murmurs brought a smile to his face. He couldn’t understand why.
The door slid shut behind him as the light shined brightly. Just as he had imagined, Ikait found himself in a field of glowing pumpkins. He held back amused laughter in favor of following the path the pumpkins carved out for him. At the very end, he found a tombstone. A curious Ikait knelt down to read the words engraved on the stone. HERE LIES – Who? Thin fingers reached for the dried yellow flowers placed by the marker’s side.
Thump-thump.
He thought he imagined it at first.
Thump-thump.
No, the beating came from beneath the grave.
He reached out automatically, pressing away the flowers and clinically snipping with his scissors to reveal the Heart. Ikait felt nothing as he reached in to take the Heart and slide it into his bag.
The bathhouse is noisy as ever, but the sound of running water and hissing steam and yelling workers was all the scareling knew. All he knew was how to be polite; how to converse with those above him and how to serve the customers. He knew only how to serve.
“Shiraishi-kun, this is the owner’s son, Makoto-sama.”
Said-son appeared just like how he had imagined: decked in layered clothes that were embroidered with delicate, detailed designs. He stood tall, his chin held high while his lips were twisted into a playful grin. But what really unsettled him were the child’s eyes. The way they glimmered, searching for something interesting to play with until he could toss it away.
But none of his fear came across as he nodded politely. “Bocchama.”
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Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2013 9:02 pm
Bag in hand, he walked. While Ikait was well aware of how he had come here, he wondered if the entrance was also the exit. If the entrance was also the exit, then where was the entrance? No matter where he looked, he couldn’t seem to find a way out. He kept walking, without aim and with inquiries. Yet each step became heavier to take. It was almost like he was stepping through mud.
Someone was behind him. He looked back. No one.
He kept walking through the water. More and more the unease began to crack his stoic expression while he walked deeper into the water.
“Please give it back.”
When Ikait looked back, it was quicker than the previous. No one. He kept walking.
“Please give me back my—“
He gulped water as a pair of cold hands pushed him down. Everything inside his head became a jumbled mess as he struggled to right himself, but whatever the force was, it was strong. It only stubbornly dragged him deeper and deeper. His body, was it disappearing? Was he disappearing? When he opened his eyes, he saw only glassy grey and white teeth.
“Give me back my heart.”
”—Bocchama.”
“Please don’t call me that. It makes me feel old.”
Lips twisted into a polite smile tinged with amusement, leaving gentle words unspoken. But to me, you will always be my lord and master.
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Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2013 9:08 pm
He would continue to exist.
Eyes narrowed; brows furrowed. Ikait grabbed his scissors and lunged. They shrieked, but disappeared mid-scream.
The shadow wheezed as he fell against the ground rather than water. Both hands grabbed his throat as he choked up water.
This time, when he found light he found it with a door. He trudged forward.
There is no doubt when he saw his scissors glinting and wrapped around grey hands. Ikait looked away.
Always his lord and master.
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Syusaki rolled 1 4-sided dice:
3
Total: 3 (1-4)
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 8:19 pm
He woke up cold. Ikait stared at his hands, wondering when exactly had he fallen asleep. When he failed to reach an answer, he felt empty, maybe even a bit uneasy. Some things were not meant to be known, but simple things like this should have an easy answer. So why couldn’t he remember? He sat up, his hands grasping the edges of the table. Ikait stared at the faded image of himself reflected in the metal before he flinched away from the bright lights.
But what bothered him more than the brightness were the sounds. He heard a low hum, a buzzing ring that set him on edge. The only comfort he had was that he was alone in a pure white room with four blank walls. Ikait swung his legs over the table’s edge and walked toward the door. His hand wrapped around the handle. With a gentle twist and flick, it opened silently. He continued to walk, entering the hallway. The sound of the door snapping shut sounded behind him, but when he turned he found it still hanging open.
Inside, the room is empty. The table had disappeared.
All he could do was keep walking, steps quiet and steady. The white emptiness made the hallway endless, stretching into infinity. But he could see an exit in the distance, a way out. He walked.
Thud.
He twisted his neck to look behind him, but there was nothing. Just the open door. He looked away.
Thud.
Another turn of the neck.
Ikait shrank back at the figure. His gaze lowered toward the scissors in its hand, and for some reason he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Thud. Screech. Thud. Screech.
They walked toward him.
He ran.
“How sad,” the figure began calmly. “Master, you say? Just how many times have you made little bocchama angry? Spilling tea. Offering him the wrong answer. Leaving him. My, my. The failures just pile up, doesn’t it?”
Distance: 45
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Syusaki rolled 1 4-sided dice:
1
Total: 1 (1-4)
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 8:22 pm
Run. He has to run. Keep running. Find the exit. Please. Ikait blinks once, twice. Suddenly he’s no longer in the white hallway.
He is in the old library. It’s small, nothing compared to the other libraries he’s seen in faded photos and pictures, but it’s still his favorite place to go while he is stuck inside the bathhouse. Above he can hear cacophony—hissing steam, shouting workers, yelling customers, splashing water, clattering plates. But none of it bothers him as he calmly flips to the next page in his book.
“What’re you doing?” Someone leans forward, their hair tickling his neck and their breath warming his cold cheeks.
“Reading.” He answers simply, turns another page.
A dissatisfied huff. The chair next to him scrapes against the floor as the newcomer seats himself. “Is that so?”
“Indeed.” A smile tugs at his lips and the other person hums. He presses his elbow against the tabletop and cups his cheek with one hand, long nails tapping. Said-person’s tail tickles his feet. “Do you need something?”
“I’m bored.” The master’s son answers simply, indignantly. “Play with me.”
He pauses, but eventually the book closes shut. “Very well. What would bocchama like to do today?”
Distance: 40
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Syusaki rolled 1 4-sided dice:
3
Total: 3 (1-4)
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 8:32 pm
Ikait wanted to press his hands to his ears. Bocchama this. Bocchama that. What was that even supposed to mean?
Distance: 35
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Syusaki rolled 1 4-sided dice:
1
Total: 1 (1-4)
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 8:33 pm
He blinks again and finds himself in another memory, but he forces himself to keep running.
Pure white snow. Laughter.
Distance: 30
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Syusaki rolled 1 4-sided dice:
2
Total: 2 (1-4)
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 8:35 pm
When he looked to his left he spotted a paper stained red. A C E G? That made no sense whatsoever! Ikait kept running.
Distance: 25
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Syusaki rolled 1 4-sided dice:
4
Total: 4 (1-4)
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 8:36 pm
He spotted another piece of paper with the cipher. His face lit up as he raced for the door and inputted the passcode.
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Syusaki rolled 1 4-sided dice:
1
Total: 1 (1-4)
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 8:41 pm
He had managed to escape the hallway, but when he turned around he could still see the figure. His heart nearly stopped before Ikait continued to run.
There was no time to take in the figure’s taunts about hearts. Him taking their heart. Them taking his heart. He paid attention only to his steady breathing and his footsteps.
Bit by bit the trees filtered out until he approached a bridge. While Ikait noticed how it swayed dangerously to and fro, there was no other choice. He ran. The wood creaked beneath his weight, but still he tried to keep moving forward. He could feel the distance between him and the figure growing closer. His feet sunk down as a plank disappeared.
He looked down.
Chills ran down his back as he heard the cold sound of scissors snipping. His lips are pressed together when he turned around, looking straight into the empty eyes of the figure. It reached out suddenly, one hand tightly clutching his head. “…!” Ikait reached up to pry the hand away, but found the grip too strong for him to loosen.
Thud. Thud.
…
Thud. Thud.
His Heart.
Soft laughter. “Don’t worry. It only hurts once.”
Oh does it no—
Snip-snip.
He flinched once. It was all he had time for before the figure pulled out his Heart and walked away, the core still beating rhythmically while his body fell like a rag doll.
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Posted: Wed Aug 14, 2013 10:40 pm
Little? The comment bothers him for reason he can’t completely explain. He stands tall, tall enough at least, so it shouldn’t have mattered to him, but it did. Bony hands are folded together when he takes in the Goddess of Longing. Of the three, he can see she is likely the most amiable and kindest. This isn’t necessarily bad. It’s a pleasant change; one he doesn’t mind. “Unfortunately, I do not think I could make myself quite at Home,” he mutters, mostly to himself. He leans back at her offer, lifts up a hand in a declining gesture. “No thank you. I am not in the mood for the cookie, I am afraid.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “Love is a bit…” Ikait begins, but never finishes. He stands awkwardly in place. “A tea party?” There are no qualms about experiencing emotions—the idea is a good one, and he agrees with the sentiment. Unfortunately, he isn’t too sure how a tea party fits into the task at hand.
Questions are swirling in his head when he follows the goddess through the gate. “Very well.”
When she had said tea party, she had actually meant it. “Um…”
Curiosity persuades him to reach for the blue jar. Unresolved tension. What tension? How would you resolve…?
Licks pucker after he downs the contents. Something doesn’t quite feel right. Something is knocking at the door to his brain. He’s forgetting something; he knows it, but what? Fingers tap against the table. The table spins, so he draws his hand back. “Snacks…?” he wonders quietly, but his hand hovers above the food anyways. He isn’t ready for something extremely sweet like a cupcake, nor does he seem in the mood for chocolate. Reluctantly, he takes the candies, but feels a twinge of guilt. Oh dear. He reaches for a cup.
The bathhouse is busy as ever. As he steps through the back entrance with his mother’s hand laced in his, he can see the youkai marching across the bridge happily like a hyakki yakou,the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons. He nearly trips over his sandals, but she pulls him up just in time. “Taiki, you have to be careful,” she murmurs gently as they pass under an archway. She seats him by the hallway. “Stay here and read your book, okay? Mother has to work now.”
He nods obediently, gangly legs hugged close to his chest. He props his book on his knees, tries to read, but a voice yells at him from above.
“Hey!”
Suddenly he is only the floor, the book strewn across the ground. He tries to pick it up—the pages haven’t creased, have they?—but a strong hand grabs his wrist and forcibly stands him up. “What are you doing lazing around like that? Change into your uniform and start working!”
He is small for his kind, but compared to everyone else he appears to be a lanky youth. Lips part to correct them, but they are already throwing a yukata at him. “Help Mizuki serve the customers in their rooms!”
“Y-Yessir!” he answers in a squeaky voice, but it’s soft and gentle like his mother’s. Blind obedience forces him into the worker’s uniform and he wanders around aimlessly. “Mizuki-san…?” He tries to call out, but it’s lost amidst the cacophony of clattering plates and shouting demons. He has never been this deep inside the bathhouse before.
Someone shouts at him to move out of the way. Another squeaky “yes!” before he scurries into an empty room.
At least, he had thought it was empty.
He freezes when he notices the yuki-onna calmly seated at her table. Pale blue lips curl into a bemused smile, but amusement lights up her icy eyes. “Oh my, has the young worker lost his way?”
His white face flushes red as he tries to scramble back into the hallway. “O-Oh. Um. I am so s-sorry to intrude…!” He should’ve looked behind him first. His undead heart sinks when his elbow crashes into someone. Everything falls apart. He is falling, and his limbs slam against polished wood while the someone trips forward and lets go of the bentou in her hands. The contents spill across the embroidered clothes of an inugami.
The demon howls. “Who did this?”
He struggles to feet. He catches sight of the devastation on the female worker’s face as he manages to escape the customer’s wrath. He leaves the other worker behind, but the realization feels him with shame. It was only right to face up to his mistakes. A hand clutches his chest, but he keeps running. The regret fills him up with pain, but the fear of punishment spurs him on.
If only he had been brave enough to tell the man he wasn’t a worker. If only he hadn’t walked so carelessly out of that room. If only he had more confidence in himself. If only…but he was just still a child learning his way around the world.
Tasted Teas
Sonja
Viola'i
Raedala
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Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 12:04 am
Tea Guest Log Colour of Tea Tasted: A dull grey Description: Young and foolish, filled with a bit of fear and uncertainty, and shame over a choice and its consequences. Your commentary on its flavour: Owl felt... awkward and yet, as if she'd been through something of this nature before. Something shameful. A regret in a poor choice, perhaps? She agreed with the child's thoughts towards the end. He should have said he wasn't a worker. But... would she have said such? Or found herself in a similar situation? Something to think about later. But for the moment, she was so done with this tea!
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Posted: Fri Aug 16, 2013 11:45 am
Tea Guest Log Colour of Tea Tasted: Pale Grey Description: Confusion, mistakes, and disaster Your commentary on its flavour: Why did she keep finding all these teas? Couldn't she find something with a happier memory? Palem stared at this cup like she had with the others, with nothing but a frown. She couldn't doubt that she would fall into the exact same dilemma he had; not speaking up and ending up in a progression of disaster. Something so simple could have been said to clear this all up, but he felt as she was beginning to more and more. No confidence, doubt and that shame would carry on with him as it would now with her.
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Posted: Fri Aug 16, 2013 11:55 am
Tea Guest Log Colour of Tea Tasted: Pale Grey Description: Confusion, little but of Fear, Regret, Shame. Your commentary on its flavour: This was a strange kind of memory. He did kind of do all this to himself but she still felt sorry for him. It was full of bad decisions. She could feel his shame in the end. She hoped to react differently if she ever ended up in such an event. The tea tasted odd and she hoped for a "happier" tastier tea next.
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