NOCT OVERFLOW

[swordhardy]

OVERFLOW & EVENTS

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[swordhardy]

Maybe so.

[ The prospect that the universe is looking out for him by drawing him toward those that would be a good challenge is a heartening one. Their waitress is prompt in bringing two steaming cups of hot green tea, placing on in front of each of them before bowing away. Happily taking his own between his hands, Rokurou warms his palms and inhales—a rich aroma, deeply earthy and raw. That's the good shit.

Holding a hot cup by its rim when freshly made is one thing, but he keeps his fingers wrapped around its belly, seemingly unbothered by the heat that builds beneath them. Temperature has always been an iffy thing for him, resistance to it higher than a human's by virtue of what he is.

He laughs, a low sound while he rubs his thumb against the cup's edge. Light-footed on only the battlefield, Rokurou's never been afraid to be the first to put his cards on the table. An inclination that only grows when Yuuta seems to assess him right back; how much the boy gleans, he doesn't know, and that too is testimony to who or whatever he might be.

May as well shoot his shot. Worst that can happen is that he scares the kid off; there have been plenty who cut tail and scram just hearing what he is. ]

I'm a swordsman and a yaksha—that's a war daemon, if you haven't heard the term before.

[interacting]

[ he hasn’t, not in this particular sense, anyway. daemons and oni and the like, those are things from legends and fairytales, just like the red string that tethers them. but yuta doesn’t brush it off—he’d once believed that curses didn’t exist either, but now, they’ve become a permanent fixture in his life. adapting to noctium means throwing out his basis of what’s real and what isn’t; who is he to judge when the people here come from entirely different worlds? so, ]

I haven’t. [ but it explains some things. he glances at rokurou’s grip on the cup and then to the steam rising from it; he’s certain that if he were to grab his own cup, it’d be too hot for him to hold comfortably. it could be a gift from his gem or more likely, something he’s already had before coming here. the daemons he’s heard of come in all kinds, but the general consensus has always been that they are malevolent spirits in varying degrees of maliciousness, similar to curses. so it makes sense, then, that he would pick up on that energy surrounding him. rokurou’s bangs cover his eye, but if yuta looks closely, he can make out that faint red glow beneath. ] But I’ve heard of someone who’d recently come from Hell, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

[ maybe he’s being too casual about this. the normal response would have been for him to leave, but, well. he’s not exactly normal himself. not anymore. ]

I’m a jujutsu sorcerer, we exorcise cursed spirits. [ it feels strange to say it. he’d gotten so used to people already knowing who and what he is that having the opportunity to identify with it aloud feels both foreign and freeing. ] I was also trained to use a sword.

[ two for two, now: snacks and swords. ]

[swordhardy]

[ Rokurou cocks his head with interest at the mention of hearing about someone come from Hell, but ultimately doesn't ask despite the curiosity. Maybe if he hadn't mentioned training to use the sword, but once the words are uttered, the daemon's focus narrows. He has a few special interests and this is one of them baybeeee. ]

Is that so? I would have guessed you were a spell-caster if you're some kind of sorcerer. [ clearly he has never heard of jujutsu sorcerers; even the term cursed spirits doesn't quite align with what he knows despite being a rather apt description for corrupted malakhim. ] Then, if it isn't too bold to ask, I'd love to spar against you sometime. I'm trying to keep my blade from dulling while I'm here.

[ He hasn't a clue if a daemon such as himself would fall under Yuta's umbrella of cursed spirits, especially since he's only been a daemon for a few years, but that hardly matters in the face of an interesting challenge. There hasn't been an exorcist yet strong enough to dispatch him (ignoring one man, but even then, it's Rokurou still standing); even if Yuta isn't quite the same thing, it's interesting. Exciting. His pulse quickens with anticipation, every nerve now honed to the boy sitting in front of him.

Glancing down at the red string tying them together, Rokurou's drawn from vivid fantasies of a grandiose battle with a sudden realization. ]

... You know, I kind of thought this would go away when we met. [ but there it is. still... being there. ] Do you think there's something else we're supposed to do?