[ The spirits dance, flashes of color sparking against the drawing night. The sky opens, a lift of dreary fog and smeared cloud to reveal a peppering of light, dotting along black—stars. A familiar sight that the daemon hadn't even realized he missed until seeing them again, breathing in the crisp night air and looking up. The part is fun, the drinks are good, but a wayward spark draws his attention and guides him.
For no particular reason, he follows it. Maybe because following things before has lead him to good things; his zori dust the earth as he trails after it, drawn farther away from the festivities, lead to a grassy knoll. Quiet, peaceful, with a view of the stars that's even better than the one around the party. Grass ruffles and Rokurou smiles to himself, resting his hands on his hips and looking up, attention drawn away from the sight above when he hears a step.
Glancing over, his eyebrow arches. ]
... Six?
[ The little light had lead him to Six? He almost gives it a quizzical look, but it's gone now. ]
[ tonight should have been a night best spent with others' companies, but six isn't in the mood to mingle right now. if anything, he'd rather be far away from everyone else, safe from curious eyes and wayward laughs. he doesn't know why it is that he isn't in the best of moods—then again, after giving up the memory of someone precious, he wonders if this is as close as he'll get to mourning.
not that the peace he just found lasts all that long. he senses someone is closing in on him way before rokurou even says anything, ears flickering as they swivel towards the source of his voice. the rest of his body follows, expression softening. ]
Shouldn't you be celebrating?
[ they all should be, but six doesn't count himself. he never has.
Hmmm, well. I had a drink, spoke to a few people. I don't feel the need to celebrate hard after every battle.
[ As a swordsman, it's just part of the job ... and as a lover of battle, the fight itself had been reward enough. He shrugs, stepping closer to the erune, until they're only an arm's width away from one another. Close enough to touch if he reached out ... and while the strange urge remains, the daemon refrains, trying to content himself with close proximity. ]
What about you? Not one for parties?
[ It's almost comical a question; he's long since figured out that Six is something of a recluse, mostly keeping away from others. The why is foggier, of course, only small bits floating in the ether from the memory of little Xing. ]
[ the scoff escapes him before he could stop himself. ]
... Do I look like the type to party?
[ shaking his head, he can only imagine the answer rokurou will give him. something close to a joke or a tease as is typical of the daemon's behaviour. he wouldn't mind it on a normal day, but right now he barely has the energy to deal with it. they're so close too, close enough that it wouldn't take much for rokurou to reach out and pull him even closer—
he takes a step back before finding someplace he can sit down. the area they're in is quiet enough with the perfect view of the stars above. looking at them makes his heart hurt for reasons unknown.
don't you know? your name means— ]
You'll be better off spending your time with the rest of them.
You should really stop deciding things like that for me.
[ Another habit of Six's that Rokurou hasn't missed. The suggestion doesn't spur him to return to the party; instead, the daemon drops down to the earth beside the other man, making himself nice and comfortable in the grass before reclining back on his hands to admire the view. ]
Stars ... they're nice, huh? One of the little things you don't think you'll miss until it's gone.
[ Sky. Though the fog hadn't weighed heavily on his mood, there's something uplifting about how clear and bright the night sky is now. With the cool breeze that ruffles the grass and their hair? It's nothing short of lovely. ]
Whenever I look at them, the stars, I want to reach up and steal one. [ he pretends to do just that, reaching up with a hand and pinching his fingers while squinting, trying to pluck a little light from the expanse of dark, ] Like that.
[ He barricades himself inside. Not to keeping anything else out, but to keep the wolf in.
He can handle being alone with the wolf but the endless war inside his own head wears him down, even armed with Emily's tea to soothe their connection. He wanders in and out of reality, wakes to find himself pushing against the door, in wolf shape, clawing at the walls. Sometimes, thankfully, it's more mundane: he'll wake up on the floor, he'll be cooking and not know how he got there, or realize he's in the tub in his clothing.
The isolation devours him.
He hasn't really used the passage between their apartments; Rokurou is more often his guest than the other way around. Yuri cooks, they play cards, drink. It's an easy friendship even if they don't see each other much.
He shambles into Rokurou's apartment in the late evening, looking haggard. He hasn't slept right in days, hasn't showered properly, hasn't had the brain power to do anything more than force the ancient spirit inside himself to submit. He emerges from Rokurou's closet, clutching the crooked door. In the low light, his silver eyes shine like coins. ]
[ The rains had brought with them more than any of them could have expected. For some, a wild edge. For others, a loss of control. Brutality, blood, and death are all things that Rokurou Rangetsu is unbothered by. Raised a Rangetsu and turned daemon years ago, their presence has always been something intimate and known.
The loss of self, however, is something keenly uncomfortable. It comes with a sense of vulnerability and a lack of strength, both things that weigh upon a man who's lost most of his cares and concerns. Both earn quiet reflection in his room as he cleans his swords—the moments of black where his oni had manage to wrest complete agency are a weight on his chest he hasn't felt in a long time. Even after becoming a daemon and tossing scruples aside, his own agency had been always been his staunch line.
It's quiet, aside from the constant patter of rain that's become their new baseline. Yet, when Yuri comes shambling through their closet-tunnel, the daemon doesn't even look surprised; their eyes meet before Rokurou nods his head shortly, as though he had been expecting Yuri's arrival despite the fact that their connected closets have mostly been a one-way street.
[ Rokurou seems to recognize what he's looking at. Must've heard the noise the wolf made, or maybe he can just read it in Yuri's hollow gaze. Yuri has a hard time focusing on what's right in front of him, the details of Rokurou's face and clothing hazy at best. Everything seems to slide. ]
I need. [ He takes a rattling breath. Focus! ] I need you to promise—
[ For a moment his eyes flash amber-gold. In his mind's eye he can see Rokurou's blight light up like a horrific lantern, a cacophony of murmurs exploding in his head.
Murderer. Fratricide. Arrogant wretch!
No. No. Ozen, he calls harshly, and the wolf's name seems to give them both a shred of clarity. Yuri wrestles it back down, but not before his clenching fist has punctured right through the closet door. His eyes are gray again.
But he really doesn't have the time to be dawdling.
Surging forward, he grabs Rokurou's haori. His hands are encrusted with blood, and now splinters, but it gives him something to anchor himself to, something to keep him in reality. ]
Damn wolf's making a fool outta me...! [ He turns that half-feral gaze on Rokurou's, like raising a hammer. ] I need you to promise that if I get out of here you're going to kill me, got it?!
[ The heavy lines creasing around Yuri's eyes, the clench of his teeth, the hoarse exhaustion of his voice—it's so easy to understand. Though his oni's gone quiet for now, it's been a pushpull fight of control ever since the damn youkai managed to wrest total control from him and attacked Six. Whatever's going on beneath the surface must be no less chaotic; Rokurou remains resolute as his friend's expression changes without a word spoken between them, understanding that it's the wolf that he's been hearing, and not the man.
Red-stained fingers clutch at his kimono and his own snap up on instinct, curling around Yuri's wrists while keeping his ground. Anchor to an anchor, pinning them together twiceover. ]
That's an easy promise. [ his grip tightens, gaze darkening as he studies the other man's face. ] Ask me for something more difficult.
[ Before Yuri can do so, he makes it clear— ]
I won't let you out of here.
[ Killing is easy. Something that he enjoys (even feral, Ozen is absolutely right about him). His attraction to Yuri has had him thinking about it before—what it would be like to claim his life, how good of a battle it would be, how exciting thrilling satisfying it could all be. But right now—no. Rokurou can't lose him. Homicide, for once, doesn't seem like an acceptable answer. ]
[ It's just now he notices, he and Rokurou are exactly the same height. Their eyes are level, so he can see the steady, steely confidence in Rokurou's gaze as he swears to keep Yuri in line.
It's—a huge relief.
Just knowing he has that buffer, that he can focus on staying in his own head, lets him breathe.
Tethered by their joined hands, the only way he has to go is forward, until his forehead bumps against the other man's. ]
Good. [ His eyes shut and he sags a bit, feeling the weight come off. ] Good.
[ Truth is, who else could he ask? Shinobu, maybe, but he isn't sure the wolf would fall to poison. He needs to be sure. Rokurou is many things, loyal certainly, but Yuri is completely sure that he would fell the beast if it came to that. That Yuri's presence, no matter how faint, wouldn't stay his blade.
In the air between them, he murmurs: ]
I'm the one who's gonna owe you, after this.
[ Given the request, it might feel presumptuous to assume there's gonna be an after this, but he's far from counting himself out. ]
[ Whether or not he can hold his promise to keep Yuri contained remains to be seen, but at least he can offer relief for now. The other man leans forward, sags, and Rokurou relaxes his grip on one wrist to reach up and press a scarred palm against the back of his head. Callused fingers close gently over dark purple hair; his hand drags down slowly, keeping a thick lock caught in the curl of his fist in a combing gesture that's surprisingly gentle despite the oath he's just given. ]
Hah. [ a soft exhale, something like a laugh but not quite there. ] I'll start thinking about what I want from you.
[ Neither of them are going down like this. Not without a goddamn fight—death may be inevitable, something that the Rangetsu were born to flirt with, but he won't let it come easily. ]
No offense, [ he drawls with affection, glancing up to meet Yuri's eyes again now that they're so much closer, ] but you look like shit.
[ It feels hilarious to him. They both look like shit, don't they? And that's just scraping the surface. ]
( the blood rain has a sinister effect on everyone, including konoe--- especially konoe. though he may not know his youkai very well at all and frankly doesn't want to acknowledge its existence, the horned serpent hisses its warnings which go ignored. this cat doesn't trust snakes. he doesn't trust anyone but the other cat who also found himself in this awful place.
he would rather deal with his own world than this one.
either way, konoe's exposure to the blood... how it stains his fur and his skin and he's almost compelled to lick it off; to groom himself continuously. only, after some time? he can't seem to move his body. it's not even like having another being residing inside of him. no, it's far more sinister. he can't move his arms or his legs. he can barely breathe. it's the fact he can't control himself that makes him want to panic, to scream and cry, but all he can do is shamble toward some destination...
after some time, he sees it. a lake. it's a lake. and konoe can't keep himself from trudging closer and closer, where he can feel a presence--- suffocating. his future fate? he doesn't know, but his feet are moving by themselves. )
Hakagemachi's descent into madness has only gotten worse. The skies had opened weeks ago, but now water's turned to blood—the stream of corpses left in the streets had just been the latest travesty. Enough of one that Rokurou's stayed out, patrolling the area, trying to catch the spirits behind the assault and end this once and for all with the edge of his blade.
Of course, they remain in the shadows.
What does catch his eye is a figure headed for the lake. A staggered, strange trudge that doesn't seem natural—and when he comes closer, Rokurou realizes that it's the man (cat?) from Mori's. Who had—licked him, that one time.
Maybe he's wrong, but on high alert as he is, Rokurou can't just leave him alone. So, he grabs Konoe's shoulder from behind— ]
( at first, he doesn't move. what rokurou's doing is enough to keep him from moving, but every part of his body continues to try to push forward. the feeling is like an itch that can't be scratched, and the corners of his eyes start to water from the frustration of not being able to continue on despite not wanting to. )
I can't stop myself. ( as he squeezes his eyes shut, he can feel the warmth starting to trickle down. the only thing he can't tell is that instead of normal tears sliding down his face, it's blood. his own? perhaps the blood of whatever has found its way inside of him? konoe doesn't know. )
P-please, you have to do something.
( because he's starting to push harder against rokurou's hand, his body nothing anything more than to force itself into the water that waits for more sacrifices. )
[ I don't know is never a good answer in this city. Despite the uncertainty, Konoe's body moves as though there's a place in mind—warning bells before the tears begin to fall, muddling with the downpour.
His grip tightens as the cat pushes back against him, stark contrast to how he pleads for help. Quickly, the daemon follows the line of Konoe's tread and follows forward toward where it might go. An outcome he doesn't like one bit: the lake. ]
Alright. [ agreement comes fast as he yanks Konoe towards him, bodily throwing the feline over his shoulder before he can scratch or hiss, ] We're gettin' out of here. I'll tie you down if I have to.
( of course, it's not like konoe has the strength to fight back--- gasping in surprise as he's practically handled like a doll of sorts, which he is. it's not like the blood has suddenly made him stronger. no, it just controls what it has, and what it has is a somewhat average cat that certainly needs to be soaked to have any kind of weight... )
Whatever you have to do... just don't hurt me.
( because he's fragile? but also, it would probably be hard to explain to asato what's happening. he doesn't want to put the daemon in harm's way by putting a target on his back, even inadvertently. )
[ If only Konoe knew that Asato's already squashed Rokurou's face before....
But there's no squashing now; Rokurou tightens his grip around the cat, but as gently as possible while strapping him down against the river's call. He trudges away from the water, blinking rapidly through the bloodied rain, trying to find his way to some kind of shelter. ]
Ah, I should. You kissed me.
[ No beating around the bush there... ]
Do you remember? At Mori's.
[ If nothing else, maybe the memory will serve to distract Konoe from the siren call of the river while Rokurou tries to find a place to hunker down. ]
[ Despite their previous discussions, Eizen hadn't thought to ask Rokurou exactly where he was staying, which is how he's been forced to resort to this new method of communication.
There is something very not right with the room he's picked out, or so he assumes. This can't be normal. ]
Am I supposed to have some kind of "roommate" in this place? I'm not talking about the uwabami.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
swordhardy) wrote2020-10-29 08:10 pm
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FEBRUARY 2021
sɪx: ʟᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ - ( ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ... )
For no particular reason, he follows it. Maybe because following things before has lead him to good things; his zori dust the earth as he trails after it, drawn farther away from the festivities, lead to a grassy knoll. Quiet, peaceful, with a view of the stars that's even better than the one around the party. Grass ruffles and Rokurou smiles to himself, resting his hands on his hips and looking up, attention drawn away from the sight above when he hears a step.
Glancing over, his eyebrow arches. ]
... Six?
[ The little light had lead him to Six? He almost gives it a quizzical look, but it's gone now. ]
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not that the peace he just found lasts all that long. he senses someone is closing in on him way before rokurou even says anything, ears flickering as they swivel towards the source of his voice. the rest of his body follows, expression softening. ]
Shouldn't you be celebrating?
[ they all should be, but six doesn't count himself. he never has.
he doesn't think he has the right. ]
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[ As a swordsman, it's just part of the job ... and as a lover of battle, the fight itself had been reward enough. He shrugs, stepping closer to the erune, until they're only an arm's width away from one another. Close enough to touch if he reached out ... and while the strange urge remains, the daemon refrains, trying to content himself with close proximity. ]
What about you? Not one for parties?
[ It's almost comical a question; he's long since figured out that Six is something of a recluse, mostly keeping away from others. The why is foggier, of course, only small bits floating in the ether from the memory of little Xing. ]
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... Do I look like the type to party?
[ shaking his head, he can only imagine the answer rokurou will give him. something close to a joke or a tease as is typical of the daemon's behaviour. he wouldn't mind it on a normal day, but right now he barely has the energy to deal with it. they're so close too, close enough that it wouldn't take much for rokurou to reach out and pull him even closer—
he takes a step back before finding someplace he can sit down. the area they're in is quiet enough with the perfect view of the stars above. looking at them makes his heart hurt for reasons unknown.
don't you know? your name means— ]
You'll be better off spending your time with the rest of them.
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[ Another habit of Six's that Rokurou hasn't missed. The suggestion doesn't spur him to return to the party; instead, the daemon drops down to the earth beside the other man, making himself nice and comfortable in the grass before reclining back on his hands to admire the view. ]
Stars ... they're nice, huh? One of the little things you don't think you'll miss until it's gone.
[ Sky. Though the fog hadn't weighed heavily on his mood, there's something uplifting about how clear and bright the night sky is now. With the cool breeze that ruffles the grass and their hair? It's nothing short of lovely. ]
Whenever I look at them, the stars, I want to reach up and steal one. [ he pretends to do just that, reaching up with a hand and pinching his fingers while squinting, trying to pluck a little light from the expanse of dark, ] Like that.
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APRIL | after the rain maulings, hope this is ok
He can handle being alone with the wolf but the endless war inside his own head wears him down, even armed with Emily's tea to soothe their connection. He wanders in and out of reality, wakes to find himself pushing against the door, in wolf shape, clawing at the walls. Sometimes, thankfully, it's more mundane: he'll wake up on the floor, he'll be cooking and not know how he got there, or realize he's in the tub in his clothing.
The isolation devours him.
He hasn't really used the passage between their apartments; Rokurou is more often his guest than the other way around. Yuri cooks, they play cards, drink. It's an easy friendship even if they don't see each other much.
He shambles into Rokurou's apartment in the late evening, looking haggard. He hasn't slept right in days, hasn't showered properly, hasn't had the brain power to do anything more than force the ancient spirit inside himself to submit. He emerges from Rokurou's closet, clutching the crooked door. In the low light, his silver eyes shine like coins. ]
I need to cash in that favor.
[ His voice sounds rough. ]
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The loss of self, however, is something keenly uncomfortable. It comes with a sense of vulnerability and a lack of strength, both things that weigh upon a man who's lost most of his cares and concerns. Both earn quiet reflection in his room as he cleans his swords—the moments of black where his oni had manage to wrest complete agency are a weight on his chest he hasn't felt in a long time. Even after becoming a daemon and tossing scruples aside, his own agency had been always been his staunch line.
It's quiet, aside from the constant patter of rain that's become their new baseline. Yet, when Yuri comes shambling through their closet-tunnel, the daemon doesn't even look surprised; their eyes meet before Rokurou nods his head shortly, as though he had been expecting Yuri's arrival despite the fact that their connected closets have mostly been a one-way street.
Slowly, he places his sword aside and stands. ]
Tell me what to do.
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I need. [ He takes a rattling breath. Focus! ] I need you to promise—
[ For a moment his eyes flash amber-gold. In his mind's eye he can see Rokurou's blight light up like a horrific lantern, a cacophony of murmurs exploding in his head.
Murderer. Fratricide. Arrogant wretch!
No. No. Ozen, he calls harshly, and the wolf's name seems to give them both a shred of clarity. Yuri wrestles it back down, but not before his clenching fist has punctured right through the closet door. His eyes are gray again.
But he really doesn't have the time to be dawdling.
Surging forward, he grabs Rokurou's haori. His hands are encrusted with blood, and now splinters, but it gives him something to anchor himself to, something to keep him in reality. ]
Damn wolf's making a fool outta me...! [ He turns that half-feral gaze on Rokurou's, like raising a hammer. ] I need you to promise that if I get out of here you're going to kill me, got it?!
[ Nothing less will be enough. ]
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Red-stained fingers clutch at his kimono and his own snap up on instinct, curling around Yuri's wrists while keeping his ground. Anchor to an anchor, pinning them together twiceover. ]
That's an easy promise. [ his grip tightens, gaze darkening as he studies the other man's face. ] Ask me for something more difficult.
[ Before Yuri can do so, he makes it clear— ]
I won't let you out of here.
[ Killing is easy. Something that he enjoys (even feral, Ozen is absolutely right about him). His attraction to Yuri has had him thinking about it before—what it would be like to claim his life, how good of a battle it would be, how exciting thrilling satisfying it could all be. But right now—no. Rokurou can't lose him. Homicide, for once, doesn't seem like an acceptable answer. ]
No matter what.
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It's—a huge relief.
Just knowing he has that buffer, that he can focus on staying in his own head, lets him breathe.
Tethered by their joined hands, the only way he has to go is forward, until his forehead bumps against the other man's. ]
Good. [ His eyes shut and he sags a bit, feeling the weight come off. ] Good.
[ Truth is, who else could he ask? Shinobu, maybe, but he isn't sure the wolf would fall to poison. He needs to be sure. Rokurou is many things, loyal certainly, but Yuri is completely sure that he would fell the beast if it came to that. That Yuri's presence, no matter how faint, wouldn't stay his blade.
In the air between them, he murmurs: ]
I'm the one who's gonna owe you, after this.
[ Given the request, it might feel presumptuous to assume there's gonna be an after this, but he's far from counting himself out. ]
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Hah. [ a soft exhale, something like a laugh but not quite there. ] I'll start thinking about what I want from you.
[ Neither of them are going down like this. Not without a goddamn fight—death may be inevitable, something that the Rangetsu were born to flirt with, but he won't let it come easily. ]
No offense, [ he drawls with affection, glancing up to meet Yuri's eyes again now that they're so much closer, ] but you look like shit.
[ It feels hilarious to him. They both look like shit, don't they? And that's just scraping the surface. ]
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june | your shadow half remains
he would rather deal with his own world than this one.
either way, konoe's exposure to the blood... how it stains his fur and his skin and he's almost compelled to lick it off; to groom himself continuously. only, after some time? he can't seem to move his body. it's not even like having another being residing inside of him. no, it's far more sinister. he can't move his arms or his legs. he can barely breathe. it's the fact he can't control himself that makes him want to panic, to scream and cry, but all he can do is shamble toward some destination...
after some time, he sees it. a lake. it's a lake. and konoe can't keep himself from trudging closer and closer, where he can feel a presence--- suffocating. his future fate? he doesn't know, but his feet are moving by themselves. )
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Hakagemachi's descent into madness has only gotten worse. The skies had opened weeks ago, but now water's turned to blood—the stream of corpses left in the streets had just been the latest travesty. Enough of one that Rokurou's stayed out, patrolling the area, trying to catch the spirits behind the assault and end this once and for all with the edge of his blade.
Of course, they remain in the shadows.
What does catch his eye is a figure headed for the lake. A staggered, strange trudge that doesn't seem natural—and when he comes closer, Rokurou realizes that it's the man (cat?) from Mori's. Who had—licked him, that one time.
Maybe he's wrong, but on high alert as he is, Rokurou can't just leave him alone. So, he grabs Konoe's shoulder from behind— ]
Hey—where are you going?
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( at first, he doesn't move. what rokurou's doing is enough to keep him from moving, but every part of his body continues to try to push forward. the feeling is like an itch that can't be scratched, and the corners of his eyes start to water from the frustration of not being able to continue on despite not wanting to. )
I can't stop myself. ( as he squeezes his eyes shut, he can feel the warmth starting to trickle down. the only thing he can't tell is that instead of normal tears sliding down his face, it's blood. his own? perhaps the blood of whatever has found its way inside of him? konoe doesn't know. )
P-please, you have to do something.
( because he's starting to push harder against rokurou's hand, his body nothing anything more than to force itself into the water that waits for more sacrifices. )
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His grip tightens as the cat pushes back against him, stark contrast to how he pleads for help. Quickly, the daemon follows the line of Konoe's tread and follows forward toward where it might go. An outcome he doesn't like one bit: the lake. ]
Alright. [ agreement comes fast as he yanks Konoe towards him, bodily throwing the feline over his shoulder before he can scratch or hiss, ] We're gettin' out of here. I'll tie you down if I have to.
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Whatever you have to do... just don't hurt me.
( because he's fragile? but also, it would probably be hard to explain to asato what's happening. he doesn't want to put the daemon in harm's way by putting a target on his back, even inadvertently. )
... you look familiar.
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But there's no squashing now; Rokurou tightens his grip around the cat, but as gently as possible while strapping him down against the river's call. He trudges away from the water, blinking rapidly through the bloodied rain, trying to find his way to some kind of shelter. ]
Ah, I should. You kissed me.
[ No beating around the bush there... ]
Do you remember? At Mori's.
[ If nothing else, maybe the memory will serve to distract Konoe from the siren call of the river while Rokurou tries to find a place to hunker down. ]
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reaper@hakagemachi.co
There is something very not right with the room he's picked out, or so he assumes. This can't be normal. ]
Am I supposed to have some kind of "roommate" in this place?
I'm not talking about the uwabami.
[ There's something on his ceiling. ]
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Already making friends, huh?
[ He knows not of Eizen's plight... ]
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It's a daemon, and it's really interested in the ceiling for some reason.
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Those
One stole all my clothes when I first got here
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You could've warned me!
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It sounds like yours is more interested in the ceiling than stealing your clothes anyway
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