[ (ooc. this is for whatever night he stayed with Caelus at the hotel after the fight with Charlotte!)In the morning outside the door of whatever room Subaru is in, he'll find a small decorative box. there is a tag on top with his last name in English and a simple note on the back of 'thank you,' as well, with a little doodle of a small cartoon raccoon holding its paws in the air with heart emojis.
it's signed by Aventurine, also in English. (He is hoping the other can read English because after asking like one or two people who speak Japanese and getting a mini lecture on the potential kanji differences of names, he decided English was so much easier.)
Unfortunately, that's the best Aventurine can express on paper here, but in the box will be carefully placed talisman papers from one of the shrines on the island, each one meticulously placed in the thin transparent wrappers finished ofuda are sold at shrines in usually. there's maybe 50 sheets or so in total, so not a ton as Aventurine went through a lot to pick out the nicest and best preserved he could find for making the little gift. It includes a calligraphy brush, a calligraphy pen, a (very) small vial of sealed black ink, and a...hello kitty pen because not everyone's perfect and it's in case of emergency since he doesn't even know if Subaru needs a writing utensil to make use of the paper. ( In his defense it writes really well!)
he also has placed a small business card that's a little bit beat up, but still very legible, and tucked in there for the shrine that he found the items at, in case Subaru needs other supplies or whatnot that might useful to him. ]
[ Some time after Subaru takes his leave of the hotel, it will receive another visitor: a white-winged bird, no bigger than a finch. (But just as fat.) Papery and soft, it carries the faint mark of a Token's magic, the cherished black of the ink used to create it tucked neatly into its feathers.
When one of the residents leaves the hotel for scouting or supplies, it follows on silent wings, using birdsong to signal where passages through the city are safest. When threats are near, it lands in warning to go no further.
It remains active so long as nothing destroys it. (And is content to roost on the hotel's awning when not in use.) ]
[ It's been more or less a week since Subaru stayed at the hotel. Between continuing his exploration of the huge city, Caelus also maintained his habit of visiting his friends and checking on everyone. Naturally, Subaru is among the list, especially as Caelus never forgot the fact that his dear friend had been constantly sleeping outdoors for a while.
Considering the Sundowning's continued effects, it's natural for him to worry. That's why he decided to start a side project that he's been working on for the entire week. He finally finished it today, and he's excited to present it. Thus, using the tether, he calls out— ]
[ Subaru likes to be moving. His apartment in Shinjuku felt like a matter of formality at many points — a place for his phone he never answered, for his work contracts to gather in the formalized net of his answering machine. Bereft of life, wreathed in smoke, perforated by the city's lights through half-drawn curtains. There were so few things he was attached to there, all of them preserved by memory.
He hasn't much had the heart to call anyplace home in this city, either. But he's dutiful and the tether thrums with the soft stability of his answer: ]
[ When Arthur reaches out across the Murmur, it's a familiar feeling to their dance in the dream; pragmatic, professional, clean lines borne with a subdued grace. Along the edges, there's a subtle warmth, like a stubborn frost being eroded by the accumulated heat of a hearth upon a windowpane. ]
[ A wintry return pulse, fluttering like a bird's wing or a shorn flower, a too-natural capitulation to the bond the Murmur brings. But familiarity gives the sensation new dimension as compared to the dream; Subaru has already felt this man's hands, so what cords his mind and heart are also easy to bear. ]
[ His head feels like it is swimming. The emotions felt in the song daze and confuse; it pulls pain that isn't even his to the surface. What is he to do with it? His own trauma is minimal at worst. Ah, what a world they've awakened. ]
[ Unease is like a river's current in the Murmur. Ambient at first, but treacherous the deeper one treads. Subaru senses it; his natural instinct is to assuage the effect. ]
[ it's been some time since he was supposed to meet subaru at the park.
clumsy, staggering footsteps drag him through the city. laid over the buildings, his vision flickers to show what they once were—how they became what they now are. the fear rises up in his throat like nausea and in his ears, he can hear it, steady and continuous:
—I can change nothing no I can change nothing nothing has become my plaything I can make nothing into a weapon there will be no void left unfilled I am human and humans are always human and always scared because being human makes us scared and being scared makes us human—
the chanting eggs him on, and his head feels like a mess. it hurts, it aches, it stings, but at the very least, it's not so far gone that he finds himself unable to recognize the fact. he's not thinking clearly, and he knows he's not thinking clearly. it's hard to think clearly—but maybe if he's lucky, if he gives it a minute, it will pass.
under the red light of the moon, agent choi leans back on what's left of a dingy bus stop bench, closing his eyes as his lips move intermittently of their own accord. ]
[ Some time has never been cause for alarm. It's when some crosses into too much that Subaru decides he will have to go to him, instead.
It only becomes a chase when he tries to reach out through their tether and finds it deadened, as if a wall of static has come down between them. It weighs heavy in his soul. There are breaks in the noise, full of distortion: searing flashes of pasts long gone. Futures wrought by divinity's purging hands. Then, to his ears, the mantras. The hymns, repetitious and discordant. Each notches fear a little higher in Subaru's throat as he tries to locate him in the debris of their connection; he wears the emotion well.
What precedes him aren't the clatter of footsteps, but the flutter of wings. White birds wheel out into the street from an alleyway, bigger, sharper, stronger. Cast with more intent and more formidable magic. They circle, paper and song, some shooting up into the moonlight like signal flares, some coming to land near Agent Choi. As if to say:
[ It's been two weeks since the incident, and Caelus finally left the hotel for the first time in a while. He's so happy to be able to walk outside again! But he knows he shouldn't push it too much, so he's not going to run around like a hyper raccoon or do any crazy parkour moves yet. He did, however, bring his skateboard, so it'll allow some ease of movement on his legs. So he rolls forward, onward to his destination.
The usual stop, in the Chelsea neighborhood. The soft sunshine easily replenishes some more energy to Caelus, who undoubtedly appreciates the light after weeks of constant dark crimson. So he's all smiles as he stops by the familiar trailer in the parking lot he's come to know so well. He peeks around the area first, checking if the trailer's handsome owner is around the parking lot or the fire pit. Tip-toe. Tip-toe.
Then, he sees a recognizable silhouette at the window. He quietly comes up to it and tips himself up, but he can only reach with the upper half of his head. His gray hair and golden eyes are visible from the frame. How long until he's noticed, he wonders. He stays there, not saying anything yet! ]
[ Upon his arrival, nothing changes for a moment. The silhouette insides carries on just as it had been, moving and rearranging things around the trailer. He's somehow managed two homes now, the apartment housing his day to day needs and the trailer becoming a shrine of sorts for his spellcasting. It's well-fortified and as lovely as the day Caelus gifted to him, if not moreso — it's got Subaru's touches all about it now, too.
Then, it's not Subaru who notices him first. At least not technically. ]
Just here to spy? Or would you like to come in?
[ — Subaru's voice from overhead, quiet and slightly echoed. One of his paper birds sits on the roof of the trailer, peering down at Caelus. This one looks more realistic. It's bigger and more refined than its fat, tiny cousins. Subaru's voice was projected from it by the rune that glows faintly on its back. It pauses, then specifies: ]
Not through the window.
[ Inside, his movements have slowed, knowing. Onmyouji are difficult to sneak up on. ]
[ pacing is a bad habit that's getting harder and harder to break.
the fuller the moon gets, the more difficult it becomes. agent choi doesn't consider himself an anxious person by any stretch of the definition, but even in the absence of that, this evening too it's started up again as reliable as clockwork. back and forth. back and forth. back and forth. all in anticipation of what might happen this time.
well, suffice to say that they've found out. or rather, subaru has.
because resting across his lap, in the very same place that agent choi had finally been coaxed from his restlessness into a fitful sleep, there's now a much heavier weight, warm and soft. he can feel it under his hand—fur that's much, much longer, fuller and thicker, and when he opens his eyes, orange, black and white will greet him—a tiger's stripes.
[ Subaru isn't exactly the guy to be espousing the virtues of a good night's sleep to anyone. But he does tend to think that some rest, even intermittent, is better than none; having someone around who might actually be a little worse at it than he is serves as a reminder. Not that he blames him, sensing the deep reservoir of magic storming in him. What shape it'll take... he can't say. What he does know is this: he can only watch Agent Choi wear a rut into his apartment's floor for so long.
It wasn't an easy sell, necessarily. But it did work. And its shape finally emerges when Subaru's sleep-tingled legs and sore back finally stir him from where he'd dozed off too.
His palm drowsily skirts the wide, weighted plane beneath it (a big cat forehead), fingertips catching on thick fur (not hair). Stilling, Subaru tenses, blinks awake fully, a little too cognizant of when he's dreaming and when he isn't. His hands pull away, hovering over the heavy form of a full tiger snoozing away on his lap.
One whose tether has remained the same through the shift, making him realize exactly what's happened here... ]
( To be, or not to be, a Murmur's sweeted bluffer: Determined for your twin star's raccoon mind to suffer The slings and arrows of fortune that him skewer As he rears fluff head and whiskers from the sewer Thus facing Sumeragi woes: to smoke, to sleep No more; and by a sleep, to say pretend There is ever bitter end to consternation That Subaru is heir to? 'Tis a summation Of twink wants, twink needs: to die, to smoke, to sleep To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, Seishirou's the hurt — )
[ when had kim soleum fell asleep. his arms crossed, his head pounding loudly, and when he looks around all he can see is complete darkness, and nothing familiar to his surroundings. his movements feel slow, they don't feel as though they belong to him, and when he goes to lift his arm he swears he can see himself move like an after-image of high quality video game effects.
mmmmmmmm▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓.
radio static. a constant buzzing. blurring. it splinters through his body like vines wrapping around a tree, it pierces his skin and whatever fluids are inside begins to leak out, and movement becomes stiff. it must be a nightmare, or he hopes it to be, kim soleum has always had trouble sleeping.
and what sits on surface of where he rests his head? a pink, plush, bunny rabbit. when soleum sits up, he realizes he's on a bench, and his head turns to the toy beside him. the feeling of happiness never comes, he's cold, and he only grows colder.
— I've finally found you, friend!
it has been such a long time, friend. that is enough to make him smile.between the uncanny movement of creatures that's settled in the city, there's one monster that has been stalking subaru for some time now. a creature that hardly retains form, its pieces falling on the ground and diminishing once coming into contact with the surface.
the creature settles into a sitting position: it's missing an eye, an ear, and even a back leg but that hasn't stopped the blob-like "cat" from trying to keep a familiar form. the nose slowly slides from the creature's face, it hits the ground and disappears in smoke. the feline doesn't make any fuss about its dissolving appearance, rather it turns its head in the direction of a park.
one ear twitches.
the park's color has saturated, there's no light, it's all turned ghastly pale and uninhabitable. there's nothing and no one inside, and yet this cat continues to look in that direction. ]
[ At first, he thought it was a trick of the broken light. Just like everything else in the city's slow inversion of itself as he feels the season turn from bite to balm — Manhattan is pulsing inside out, the way it breathes darkness, sketching asylum and threat in the same phantom colors. Every time his gaze catches on movement, it stops. It deceives.
What follows him though... it doesn't seem to be made of the same influence. It seems as if it, too, is succumbing.
He's walked it along for as long it seems to want to follow him. Just in attempting to divine what it wants, but by the time it's shed several of its body parts, he ends up feeling sorry for it. On the outskirts of the park it sits to signal, Subaru also finally slows to a stop. His attention sharpens on the unnerving, visual chill of the space before he turns on his heel to double back to the disintegrating cat. Quietly, he kneels, gaze soft. ]
You have a strange way of trying to lead me somewhere. Is that right?
[ traveling from point a to point b shouldn't be such a difficult thing.
it's a trip they've made together numerous times before, no less. from a swing set on a small park to subaru's comfortable residence on west 22nd street—it's only a short walk, and it wouldn't, shouldn't take long at all were it not for the strange, sudden shift in their surroundings.
the road ahead of them is cut short by the liquid remnants of the building next to it steadily oozing into their path. structures melt, shift, and reassemble themselves in new shapes—and unlike the grimy buildings of new york, their new architecture is just what one might imagine belongs in a ghost story like this. all wrong, unfamiliar, and—
cold.
it seeps through the air, through clothing, through their skin as a bone-deep chill. agent choi's fur bristles immediately at the prickling sensation of it—something that subaru will feel just as well.
choi doesn't hesitate to take subaru's hand in his. the streetlights ahead have all dimmed and flickered out, and so that leaves— ]
[ It's how all ghost stories begin. Something familiar, wrong. Made wrong, or — wronged itself.
And this is destruction reimagined. Rage and sorrow, a wave and its undertow, crashing through his senses. Subaru takes Choi's hand, but it's not enough. Whatever descends on them nearly snuffs out his warmth and familiarity in its entirety. The chill lances through him as soon as it breaks free into the sky, the streets, a feral warning signaled in his synapses as much as his marrow. He glimpses the mortar of the surrounding buildings beginning to weep, the brick coating in wet, myriad colors.
Subaru steels against the disorientation, following Choi into doubling back. But he's a bit slower, instincts blooming into allergy. ]
Something is here, [ he warns, breath catching on the air in a flare of white. ] and it's also breathing.
[ No preamble, just a jumble of mixed feelings from their tether. Relief, mostly, but there's some frustration and a bit of guilt underneath it, too. ]
[ Rather than try to divine the synapse from the sinew of the matter himself, Subaru simply asks with the intent to allow Megumi to safely disentangle it: ]
( He tallies poorly. Days lost, nights found, slate sand beads slipped between hungry fingertips. Not on the 19th, but a neighbourly approximation: pinned to the gate of Sumeragi Subaru's zoo is one (1) origami koi fish folded off a torn-up travel book page showcasing Kanazawa. )
[ Second nature, to track the days — to mentally assemble and dust clean the approximate scaffolding of a calendar. It's not easy without the moon, with the errant dreams, and yet the occasion that heralds the single fish swimming against the gate of his home aligns with something he doesn't forget, for her sake...
For now, the finer print remains hidden in its folded corners where he places it on the single dresser in his room. ]
( Post their inevitable interlude, a series of unfortunate labyrinth events and other such negligible interventions — )
Why, Subaru-kun ♫ ( Will he ever not sound purringly, smugly self-satisfied over the dream-murmur, while his magic's returned? )
As Hokuto-chan so often noticed, I'm not a jealous person, but... despite the recent sighting of your scantily clad colleague, I hope you won't be tempted to forget, you're a promised man!
Seishirou-san. [ Hello to you too? ] Having the time to feel threatened?
[ His knowing lilts — not unpleasantly. Any strain in the Murmur is purely due to dream pollutants. He's playing along to soften the horrors, as one does. ]
I assume that means you're making quick work of her trials.
[ With their tethers all misaligned and unreliable, he can't blame anyone for seizing their chance at connection through the Murmur's basest form. ]
Our host is fond of spectacle in this dream, isn't she? [ can you sense how much he just loves that. ] I'm well enough, with the circumstances. I'd ask if something was the matter...
( THREE HOURS TO LAUNCH TIME: The sun yawns into unsuspecting languor; early afternoon's golden glow festers, overly ripe. Spring-singed dust and cracked asphalt and the start of pollen poison. A raccoon Post-It quivers alone on the cardiac line of petty stationery excesses governing the veterinarian clinic's welfare and lifespan. An omen.
TWO HOURS TO LAUNCH TIME: Sakurazuka Seishirou, better known as thirteen sighs in a designer trench coat and bastion of glimmering impatience, sulkily recovers enough of his pride to yet again lick his wounds over his briefly returned magic in the privacy of his own rundown abode. He walks in, dubious wine bearing. Strong. A man only his raccoon Post-It masters can tame.
AN HOUR TO LAUNCH TIME: A mighty beast, a two-meter Host raccoon possessed of a maternal instinct as vast as its supersized proportions, catches whiff of the fate of its kind's young, fettered hostages against a Sleephattan building. She is, as fate would have it, 'species blind.' Inevitably, a fat fuck of a pigeon snitches. Inside, goosebumps burst on Sakurazuka Seishirou, as he instinctively prepares to bear the brunt of the universe's terrible humour.
LAUNCH TIME:It comes, dark and swift and deadly. The raccohost rams her formidable form and great old nugget against the door of the vet clinic like a battering ram. The Post-Its hold the line strong; valiant, unnerved. She tears at them to free them. The Post-Its crackled with the kind of awkward second-half embarrassment only inanimate object glorified by uptown onmyoudo can suffer. The raccoohost keeps taking its belly, fuzzy paws and meandering whine to the situation. She is wearing a flower crown to the event, being a queen.
AN HOUR AFTER LAUNCH TIME: Sakurazuka Seishirou awakens shaggy-haired and distinctly unmagical to his new reality as budget Rapunzel to this Sleephattan production of Honey, I Shrunk the Raccohost's Single Brain Cell. The raccoohost is still taking the make-war-not-love approach to his front door. Regrettably, only a handful of Post-Its have conceded the battle and rejoined their impromptu mother, in a sign that Gorilla glue and Sumeragi Subaru must pull straws to determine who has it in the most for the Sakurazukamori. Seishirou wonders, briefly, if he has the fungus-laced coffee supplies to survive with this.
TWO HOURS AFTER LAUNCH TIME: In a fit of wide-eyed, bushy-tailed, bad-idea spawning euphoria, Sumeragi Subaru jetpacks, poofs or otherwise slithers out of a sewer on location. Seishirou doesn't know if the raccoohost grants him passage, one concerned mother to a de fact stationery step-parent, or if he continues to exercise the diplomacy skills of a particularly downtrodden capybara. He finds his way inside the clinic. The raccoohost ramming will continue until morale improves.
THREE HOURS AFTER LAUNCH TIME: Inside, in the main reception hall, Sakurazuka Seishirou contemplates sweet-bitter death (again), his dignity (sundered) and his purpose in life (annihilated). He speedtracks through his third cigarette of the evening, politely groans when the ramming rattles both the walls of his place of (zero) business and those of the fortress of his mind and, a pillar of pettiness erected in the reception hall, spares Sumeragi Subaru a distinctly unimpressed look. )
[ Seated on a modest, nearby waiting room chair ravaged by time and disuse, both feet firmly planted on the floor, Sumeragi Subaru exhales something with enough gall to be a sigh. Lit cigarette poised between his fore and middle fingers, he lifts his hand to delicately scratch his brow with his thumbnail. As if the sensation with assuage the deep-seated bloom of a headache prowling. As if the sensation might pull a single snarled thought through. ]
No, go ahead. Remind me.
[ Please, maybe his dour mood might improve with some incendiary routine added to his steady diet of restlessness, irritability, and propensity for destruction he didn't ask for.
As it is, the next tenacious round of battering motherhost skull that collides with the clinic's doors causes its ceilings to creak and rattle and litter down the fine aged silt of disrepair. The building's bones heave, as if to say, Mercy. Magic crackles across the space, the stubborn sputter of runes and raccoons chained on either end by what may be spite alone. Neither force will give on its own terms, and so —
BAM
here
BAM
they
BAM
are. ]
I can remove the wards at any time. [ His gaze affixes to no certain point in this shaken fishbowl of a refuge as he brings his cigarette to his lips and inhales. ] Then it becomes a matter of whether you prefer peace or protection.
[ He exhales.
Doubtful she'll let them walk away unscathed now. ]
[ The walking distance is only around twenty minutes or less. But it's an hour later from this conversation that Caelus finally arrives after he finishes looking around that particular shop. Something tugged his attention to all the abandoned wares there, and so he couldn't help himself! … The raccoon instinct!? No, he's drawn to them for more reasons, he thinks!!
Anyway, he is here now after getting sidelined! Hello, familiar red door! Caelus curiously peers through the windows first as usual, but after previously being told to use the doors, he has since stopped attempting to climb through them. Being a regular guest here, he's learned at this point that he doesn't need to knock anymore, and so he lets himself in… and peers at the hallways. First, peeking at the living room… Then, he peeks at the kitchen. ]
[ Though his apartment is quiet this time, it's no less warm or lived in. Whatever unease the last long dream brought upon waking seems to have abated... mostly. Some things still linger in his thoughts. Subaru is the only one home, and the sounds of his using the kitchen strengthen the closer Caelus draws to it. His senses lift and he turns from the stovetop at the same time as golden eyes peer around the corner. Rather than a proper greeting, he starts with: ]
Here. [ A simple offering to tempt him in — a hot cup of lemon tea. ] There's a little honey in it.
[ Which is a hard resource to come by, but some jars of it withstood enough heating to decrystalize them. Hokuto taught him that nothing soothed a sore throat like honey. Subaru places the cup neatly on the kitchen table and slips it across to the place opposite him. ]
I'm not very good in the kitchen, [ he admits, taking a seat. ] but I didn't burn the water.
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE WON................. 130666 FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL! WOOHOO! YIPPEE!
====================
Dark Exploration Records / Ghost Story / Contamination
[Qterw-A-1845-4: 130666]
: A ghost story found in < Dark Exploration Records >
This is a void of emptiness, it has a penchant of searching for loopholes in requests to do things it wants to do (which is also nothing). If it feels like it's being disturbed (negatively) or witnesses malevolent actions, it will issue out warnings, and breaking them more than three times will result in execution. If it goes without hearing bells for some time, it'll start acting malicious and will devour the shadow of whoever it's accompanying. Any and all sounds verbally made by the cat can be heard, but is also written in a speech bubble. Everything is itemized into a list, and it has a robotic way of speaking, this such as: negative, affirmative, etc.
It doesn't care about its surroundings and melts actively, the pools of darkness made by this cat have depth, and items can be lost inside. One should be careful with their personal belongings.
[ it's not the best of weeks. actually, it's dreadful, horrible, and borderline miserable and he's not able to show that. he can't stop thinking about the changes happening all at once, especially the relief he felt from undoing a forced bond, but the pain that comes from what he has left. tiring, annoying, and something inside tells him to let go, let them all—
Negative ► Mrrp. ► Meow.
words appear in the air like smoke, but instead it's familiar shadow where a cat lazes in the front of a red door to answer soleum's concerns. it's been here for awhile that soleum's pretty he knows who stays here now (all too well), and it wouldn't hurt to check on him... would it? that's where he failed with lee seonghae, he thinks. had he checked on her then... no, he was told she found the exit, and he should believe in that.
she's such a smart girl.
knock, knock, knock. comes a rap of knuckles against the door. ]
[ It takes Subaru a long time to answer. He's not overly hospitable in the first place, or so he'll claim — the constant traffic and lived-in state of his apartment tell a different story. But he is someone who tends to be available when people need him.
And this...
The door pulls open, gentle on its hinges. A ghostly curl of cigarette smoke precedes him, the only vice he's allowing himself absent the splintering claws of all his tethers. Subaru stands in the entryway with his fingers still clasped to the handle, as if hesitating between letting Soleum in or turning him away. Their tether feels much the same, an irritant, but it's the only one he has that runs like liquid, dark and amorphous and coagulating. Almost as if it's some separate, alive thing. And Subaru has known what he wants to do to it.
With the cat between them, he finally relents, opening the door wider. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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22 November.
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November?
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3rd week, TNDNBTG event, gift item.
In the morning outside the door of whatever room Subaru is in, he'll find a small decorative box. there is a tag on top with his last name in English and a simple note on the back of 'thank you,' as well, with a little doodle of a small cartoon raccoon holding its paws in the air with heart emojis.
it's signed by Aventurine, also in English. (He is hoping the other can read English because after asking like one or two people who speak Japanese and getting a mini lecture on the potential kanji differences of names, he decided English was so much easier.)
Unfortunately, that's the best Aventurine can express on paper here, but in the box will be carefully placed talisman papers from one of the shrines on the island, each one meticulously placed in the thin transparent wrappers finished ofuda are sold at shrines in usually. there's maybe 50 sheets or so in total, so not a ton as Aventurine went through a lot to pick out the nicest and best preserved he could find for making the little gift. It includes a calligraphy brush, a calligraphy pen, a (very) small vial of sealed black ink, and a...hello kitty pen because not everyone's perfect and it's in case of emergency since he doesn't even know if Subaru needs a writing utensil to make use of the paper. ( In his defense it writes really well!)
he also has placed a small business card that's a little bit beat up, but still very legible, and tucked in there for the shrine that he found the items at, in case Subaru needs other supplies or whatnot that might useful to him. ]
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When one of the residents leaves the hotel for scouting or supplies, it follows on silent wings, using birdsong to signal where passages through the city are safest. When threats are near, it lands in warning to go no further.
It remains active so long as nothing destroys it. (And is content to roost on the hotel's awning when not in use.) ]
Somewhere within week 4, nearing end of TNDNBTG
Considering the Sundowning's continued effects, it's natural for him to worry. That's why he decided to start a side project that he's been working on for the entire week. He finally finished it today, and he's excited to present it. Thus, using the tether, he calls out— ]
Subaru? Are you busy?
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He hasn't much had the heart to call anyplace home in this city, either. But he's dutiful and the tether thrums with the soft stability of his answer: ]
No, I'm not. Is everything alright?
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beginning of the month sometime ig
Hey, got a minute?
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[ A wintry return pulse, fluttering like a bird's wing or a shorn flower, a too-natural capitulation to the bond the Murmur brings. But familiarity gives the sensation new dimension as compared to the dream; Subaru has already felt this man's hands, so what cords his mind and heart are also easy to bear. ]
What is it?
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ARRIVES 3000 YEARS LATE WITH STARBUCKS
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post One's regrettable sacrifice
I'm afraid to inconvenience.
rest in pieces
Is something the matter?
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another post one sacrifice --
... how is my coworker?
we barely knew him 🕊️
I'm alright. You felt it, didn't you?
near far wherever you are i believe that one will go on ~
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1/3
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the offering / guy who rolled a 1 on the subway trip
clumsy, staggering footsteps drag him through the city. laid over the buildings, his vision flickers to show what they once were—how they became what they now are. the fear rises up in his throat like nausea and in his ears, he can hear it, steady and continuous:the chanting eggs him on, and his head feels like a mess. it hurts, it aches, it stings, but at the very least, it's not so far gone that he finds himself unable to recognize the fact. he's not thinking clearly, and he knows he's not thinking clearly. it's hard to think clearly—but maybe if he's lucky, if he gives it a minute, it will pass.
under the red light of the moon, agent choi leans back on what's left of a dingy bus stop bench, closing his eyes as his lips move intermittently of their own accord. ]
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It only becomes a chase when he tries to reach out through their tether and finds it deadened, as if a wall of static has come down between them. It weighs heavy in his soul. There are breaks in the noise, full of distortion: searing flashes of pasts long gone. Futures wrought by divinity's purging hands. Then, to his ears, the mantras. The hymns, repetitious and discordant. Each notches fear a little higher in Subaru's throat as he tries to locate him in the debris of their connection; he wears the emotion well.
What precedes him aren't the clatter of footsteps, but the flutter of wings. White birds wheel out into the street from an alleyway, bigger, sharper, stronger. Cast with more intent and more formidable magic. They circle, paper and song, some shooting up into the moonlight like signal flares, some coming to land near Agent Choi. As if to say:
Someone is looking for you. ]
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Nearing end of Week 4
The usual stop, in the Chelsea neighborhood. The soft sunshine easily replenishes some more energy to Caelus, who undoubtedly appreciates the light after weeks of constant dark crimson. So he's all smiles as he stops by the familiar trailer in the parking lot he's come to know so well. He peeks around the area first, checking if the trailer's handsome owner is around the parking lot or the fire pit. Tip-toe. Tip-toe.
Then, he sees a recognizable silhouette at the window. He quietly comes up to it and tips himself up, but he can only reach with the upper half of his head. His gray hair and golden eyes are visible from the frame. How long until he's noticed, he wonders. He stays there, not saying anything yet! ]
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Then, it's not Subaru who notices him first. At least not technically. ]
Just here to spy? Or would you like to come in?
[ — Subaru's voice from overhead, quiet and slightly echoed. One of his paper birds sits on the roof of the trailer, peering down at Caelus. This one looks more realistic. It's bigger and more refined than its fat, tiny cousins. Subaru's voice was projected from it by the rune that glows faintly on its back. It pauses, then specifies: ]
Not through the window.
[ Inside, his movements have slowed, knowing. Onmyouji are difficult to sneak up on. ]
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Happy 🦃 Day!
🍗🍗🍗
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full moon, december 4
the fuller the moon gets, the more difficult it becomes. agent choi doesn't consider himself an anxious person by any stretch of the definition, but even in the absence of that, this evening too it's started up again as reliable as clockwork. back and forth. back and forth. back and forth. all in anticipation of what might happen this time.
well, suffice to say that they've found out. or rather, subaru has.
because resting across his lap, in the very same place that agent choi had finally been coaxed from his restlessness into a fitful sleep, there's now a much heavier weight, warm and soft. he can feel it under his hand—fur that's much, much longer, fuller and thicker, and when he opens his eyes, orange, black and white will greet him—a tiger's stripes.
snzzz... ]
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It wasn't an easy sell, necessarily. But it did work. And its shape finally emerges when Subaru's sleep-tingled legs and sore back finally stir him from where he'd dozed off too.
His palm drowsily skirts the wide, weighted plane beneath it (a big cat forehead), fingertips catching on thick fur (not hair). Stilling, Subaru tenses, blinks awake fully, a little too cognizant of when he's dreaming and when he isn't. His hands pull away, hovering over the heavy form of a full tiger snoozing away on his lap.
One whose tether has remained the same through the shift, making him realize exactly what's happened here... ]
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AHEM-hem | knock-knock, who is it
Determined for your twin star's raccoon mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of fortune that him skewer
As he rears fluff head and whiskers from the sewer
Thus facing Sumeragi woes: to smoke, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say pretend
There is ever bitter end to consternation
That Subaru is heir to? 'Tis a summation
Of twink wants, twink needs: to die, to smoke, to sleep
To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, Seishirou's the hurt — )
Angry?
a blind minstrel...
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ev: dark signs, early february week two.
mmmmmmmm▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓.
radio static. a constant buzzing. blurring. it splinters through his body like vines wrapping around a tree, it pierces his skin and whatever fluids are inside begins to leak out, and movement becomes stiff. it must be a nightmare, or he hopes it to be, kim soleum has always had trouble sleeping.
and what sits on surface of where he rests his head? a pink, plush, bunny rabbit. when soleum sits up, he realizes he's on a bench, and his head turns to the toy beside him. the feeling of happiness never comes, he's cold, and he only grows colder.
— I've finally found you, friend!
it has been such a long time, friend. that is enough to make him smile.
between the uncanny movement of creatures that's settled in the city, there's one monster that has been stalking subaru for some time now. a creature that hardly retains form, its pieces falling on the ground and diminishing once coming into contact with the surface.
the creature settles into a sitting position: it's missing an eye, an ear, and even a back leg but that hasn't stopped the blob-like "cat" from trying to keep a familiar form. the nose slowly slides from the creature's face, it hits the ground and disappears in smoke. the feline doesn't make any fuss about its dissolving appearance, rather it turns its head in the direction of a park.
one ear twitches.
the park's color has saturated, there's no light, it's all turned ghastly pale and uninhabitable. there's nothing and no one inside, and yet this cat continues to look in that direction. ]
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What follows him though... it doesn't seem to be made of the same influence. It seems as if it, too, is succumbing.
He's walked it along for as long it seems to want to follow him. Just in attempting to divine what it wants, but by the time it's shed several of its body parts, he ends up feeling sorry for it. On the outskirts of the park it sits to signal, Subaru also finally slows to a stop. His attention sharpens on the unnerving, visual chill of the space before he turns on his heel to double back to the disintegrating cat. Quietly, he kneels, gaze soft. ]
You have a strange way of trying to lead me somewhere. Is that right?
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dark signs / week 3
it's a trip they've made together numerous times before, no less. from a swing set on a small park to subaru's comfortable residence on west 22nd street—it's only a short walk, and it wouldn't, shouldn't take long at all were it not for the strange, sudden shift in their surroundings.
the road ahead of them is cut short by the liquid remnants of the building next to it steadily oozing into their path. structures melt, shift, and reassemble themselves in new shapes—and unlike the grimy buildings of new york, their new architecture is just what one might imagine belongs in a ghost story like this. all wrong, unfamiliar, and—
cold.
it seeps through the air, through clothing, through their skin as a bone-deep chill. agent choi's fur bristles immediately at the prickling sensation of it—something that subaru will feel just as well.
choi doesn't hesitate to take subaru's hand in his. the streetlights ahead have all dimmed and flickered out, and so that leaves— ]
This way.
[ —the way they came from. ]
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And this is destruction reimagined. Rage and sorrow, a wave and its undertow, crashing through his senses. Subaru takes Choi's hand, but it's not enough. Whatever descends on them nearly snuffs out his warmth and familiarity in its entirety. The chill lances through him as soon as it breaks free into the sky, the streets, a feral warning signaled in his synapses as much as his marrow. He glimpses the mortar of the surrounding buildings beginning to weep, the brick coating in wet, myriad colors.
Subaru steels against the disorientation, following Choi into doubling back. But he's a bit slower, instincts blooming into allergy. ]
Something is here, [ he warns, breath catching on the air in a flare of white. ] and it's also breathing.
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[ No preamble, just a jumble of mixed feelings from their tether. Relief, mostly, but there's some frustration and a bit of guilt underneath it, too. ]
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I'm glad. [ That is foremost. ] What happened?
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For now, the finer print remains hidden in its folded corners where he places it on the single dresser in his room. ]
dark signs | week iii
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He's a man who likes to lay claim to things. [ Understatement of the century. ] When did this happen?
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march...!
Why, Subaru-kun ♫ ( Will he ever not sound purringly, smugly self-satisfied over the dream-murmur, while his magic's returned? )
As Hokuto-chan so often noticed, I'm not a jealous person, but... despite the recent sighting of your scantily clad colleague, I hope you won't be tempted to forget, you're a promised man!
( Why yes, he did spot Kasumi. )
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[ His knowing lilts — not unpleasantly. Any strain in the Murmur is purely due to dream pollutants. He's playing along to soften the horrors, as one does. ]
I assume that means you're making quick work of her trials.
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late march
How are you holding up?
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Our host is fond of spectacle in this dream, isn't she? [ can you sense how much he just loves that. ] I'm well enough, with the circumstances. I'd ask if something was the matter...
[ but. ]
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april; her first day.
I'm here now in the waking, also. Isn't this wonderful?
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I'm glad you're safe, the circumstances being what they are.
[ He knows better than to wish they were different! ]
You must have questions.
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i am begging dreamwidth to get a different cloud service
brain fell out of my feet this month good heavens
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TWO HOURS TO LAUNCH TIME: Sakurazuka Seishirou, better known as thirteen sighs in a designer trench coat and bastion of glimmering impatience, sulkily recovers enough of his pride to yet again lick his wounds over his briefly returned magic in the privacy of his own rundown abode. He walks in, dubious wine bearing. Strong. A man only his raccoon Post-It masters can tame.
AN HOUR TO LAUNCH TIME: A mighty beast, a two-meter Host raccoon possessed of a maternal instinct as vast as its supersized proportions, catches whiff of the fate of its kind's young, fettered hostages against a Sleephattan building. She is, as fate would have it, 'species blind.' Inevitably, a fat fuck of a pigeon snitches. Inside, goosebumps burst on Sakurazuka Seishirou, as he instinctively prepares to bear the brunt of the universe's terrible humour.
LAUNCH TIME: It comes, dark and swift and deadly. The raccohost rams her formidable form and great old nugget against the door of the vet clinic like a battering ram. The Post-Its hold the line strong; valiant, unnerved. She tears at them to free them. The Post-Its crackled with the kind of awkward second-half embarrassment only inanimate object glorified by uptown onmyoudo can suffer. The raccoohost keeps taking its belly, fuzzy paws and meandering whine to the situation. She is wearing a flower crown to the event, being a queen.
AN HOUR AFTER LAUNCH TIME: Sakurazuka Seishirou awakens shaggy-haired and distinctly unmagical to his new reality as budget Rapunzel to this Sleephattan production of Honey, I Shrunk the Raccohost's Single Brain Cell. The raccoohost is still taking the make-war-not-love approach to his front door. Regrettably, only a handful of Post-Its have conceded the battle and rejoined their impromptu mother, in a sign that Gorilla glue and Sumeragi Subaru must pull straws to determine who has it in the most for the Sakurazukamori. Seishirou wonders, briefly, if he has the fungus-laced coffee supplies to survive with this.
TWO HOURS AFTER LAUNCH TIME: In a fit of wide-eyed, bushy-tailed, bad-idea spawning euphoria, Sumeragi Subaru jetpacks, poofs or otherwise slithers out of a sewer on location. Seishirou doesn't know if the raccoohost grants him passage, one concerned mother to a de fact stationery step-parent, or if he continues to exercise the diplomacy skills of a particularly downtrodden capybara. He finds his way inside the clinic. The raccoohost ramming will continue until morale improves.
THREE HOURS AFTER LAUNCH TIME: Inside, in the main reception hall, Sakurazuka Seishirou contemplates sweet-bitter death (again), his dignity (sundered) and his purpose in life (annihilated). He speedtracks through his third cigarette of the evening, politely groans when the ramming rattles both the walls of his place of (zero) business and those of the fortress of his mind and, a pillar of pettiness erected in the reception hall, spares Sumeragi Subaru a distinctly unimpressed look. )
Far from me to remind you that you caused this.
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No, go ahead. Remind me.
[ Please, maybe his dour mood might improve with some incendiary routine added to his steady diet of restlessness, irritability, and propensity for destruction he didn't ask for.
As it is, the next tenacious round of battering motherhost skull that collides with the clinic's doors causes its ceilings to creak and rattle and litter down the fine aged silt of disrepair. The building's bones heave, as if to say, Mercy. Magic crackles across the space, the stubborn sputter of runes and raccoons chained on either end by what may be spite alone. Neither force will give on its own terms, and so —
BAM
here
BAM
they
BAM
are. ]
I can remove the wards at any time. [ His gaze affixes to no certain point in this shaken fishbowl of a refuge as he brings his cigarette to his lips and inhales. ] Then it becomes a matter of whether you prefer peace or protection.
[ He exhales.
Doubtful she'll let them walk away unscathed now. ]
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Early April, Week 1
Anyway, he is here now after getting sidelined! Hello, familiar red door! Caelus curiously peers through the windows first as usual, but after previously being told to use the doors, he has since stopped attempting to climb through them. Being a regular guest here, he's learned at this point that he doesn't need to knock anymore, and so he lets himself in… and peers at the hallways. First, peeking at the living room… Then, he peeks at the kitchen. ]
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Here. [ A simple offering to tempt him in — a hot cup of lemon tea. ] There's a little honey in it.
[ Which is a hard resource to come by, but some jars of it withstood enough heating to decrystalize them. Hokuto taught him that nothing soothed a sore throat like honey. Subaru places the cup neatly on the kitchen table and slips it across to the place opposite him. ]
I'm not very good in the kitchen, [ he admits, taking a seat. ] but I didn't burn the water.
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ding ding ding
YOU HAVE WON.................
130666 FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL! WOOHOO! YIPPEE!
This is a void of emptiness, it has a penchant of searching for loopholes in requests to do things it wants to do (which is also nothing). If it feels like it's being disturbed (negatively) or witnesses malevolent actions, it will issue out warnings, and breaking them more than three times will result in execution. If it goes without hearing bells for some time, it'll start acting malicious and will devour the shadow of whoever it's accompanying. Any and all sounds verbally made by the cat can be heard, but is also written in a speech bubble. Everything is itemized into a list, and it has a robotic way of speaking, this such as: negative, affirmative, etc.
It doesn't care about its surroundings and melts actively, the pools of darkness made by this cat have depth, and items can be lost inside. One should be careful with their personal belongings.
====================
— take aim & give, week two
Negative
► Mrrp.
► Meow.
words appear in the air like smoke, but instead it's familiar shadow where a cat lazes in the front of a red door to answer soleum's concerns. it's been here for awhile that soleum's pretty he knows who stays here now (all too well), and it wouldn't hurt to check on him... would it? that's where he failed with lee seonghae, he thinks. had he checked on her then... no, he was told she found the exit, and he should believe in that.
she's such a smart girl.
knock, knock, knock. comes a rap of knuckles against the door. ]
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And this...
The door pulls open, gentle on its hinges. A ghostly curl of cigarette smoke precedes him, the only vice he's allowing himself absent the splintering claws of all his tethers. Subaru stands in the entryway with his fingers still clasped to the handle, as if hesitating between letting Soleum in or turning him away. Their tether feels much the same, an irritant, but it's the only one he has that runs like liquid, dark and amorphous and coagulating. Almost as if it's some separate, alive thing. And Subaru has known what he wants to do to it.
With the cat between them, he finally relents, opening the door wider. ]
You came a long way, didn't you?
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week iv;
Subaru... can we have a sleepover?
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Are you feeling lonely?
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