( closed ) what sends them to this backwood

[hitokiller]

WHO: Okada Izou and "friends".
WHAT: Catch-all for TDM/event prompts.
WHERE: Various sites around Kyoto.
WHEN: Most of May.
WARNINGS: Animal gore, BDSM talk???. Will update as necessary.

Comments

MARCH 7TH. 5/3-ish.

[hitokiller]

( the hard pitter-patter of raindrops atop the temple shingles. the faint clatter of hooves and snorts from just around the devastated halls of the abandoned building. izou wonders, briefly, before drawing his blade, if these monsters' eyes reflect an instinctual fear anymore. most hadn't had it while looking him in the eyes, but humans had. they'd blinked in disbelief and had inspected him with wide pupils in the dark, hoping to identify their assailant—so wide that they nearly swallowed the iris much like a snake does to an egg, any semblance of light left in them quick to vanish as traces of blood filled in spaces between the rocks in the soil below.

he wonders, but doesn't see it when his blow comes from behind a ripped shoji screen, tearing through the rest of the paper with sharp steel. a horrifying squeal is followed by the tell-tale splash of entrails, and izou figures that must be the end of it when a smaller set of hooves comes ripping down the corridor right for him, mud and all trailing behind it. goosebumps spread across the back of his neck, his blade slicing upwards one second too late to stop immature tusks from slicing neatly through both flesh and suit.

shit. let the little asshole run off and into the woods if it wants to, izou grumbles internally, red dripping from his arm as he runs the back of a palm across a nose that's also wet, having just barely escaped a full-on assault by those mid-sized cloven hooves.

all that matters is that he's done right not only by the organization, but also by a certain someone he was keeping an eye on in the first place. a someone who's been exploring the high-rise expanse of kiyomizu-dera herself, a someone that had him sparing more than a single glance towards on his way in. the downpour and the thump of his own heartbeat are all he can hear if they catch each other's gaze in the dusty passageway. )

Guess I would've been better off gettin' soaked than fighting 'em head-on in here.

( there's a lilt of amusement in his voice, like it's supposed to be funny. )

[bowtography]

[ March is... managing, she'd say, if asked, by someone close enough to get an actual answer. Otherwise, March is fine. Of course she's fine. Why wouldn't she be fine? She's been full of energy and liveliness and cheer, as she always is, with nothing to give her pause.

But no, she'd told herself... she'd waited long enough, hadn't she? She hadn't been avoiding Izou, she just hadn't sought him out as much as she usually did, a little more reluctant to do so with each day that had trickled past where he hadn't mentioned what he'd apparently told Malkuth so readily.

She isn't a fan of shoving things down when it involves more than just her and maybe this had been an opportunity before the boars had attacked, hair still damp from having dealt with the rain in the first place and tiny rivulets making their way down her face from her bangs. She doesn't risk getting soaked in here, but there are other problems and her bow vanishes in a soft blue glow as she frowns and closes the space between them in three quick steps.

His hands are occupied, so she reaches for his face instead, palms pressed gently to his cheeks and that cheer from before is gone, joking disregarded. ]

Hold still for a second, I can heal you.

[hitokiller]

( he doesn't expect her to breach their distance so blatantly, to tap fingertips against his cheeks and startle the soft part of him that stays hidden behind fangs. it feels alien, this tenderness, and this is the first time she's done this, hasn't she? for the sake of healing him, mind you.

a healing aid she gained through a ton of pain, and the memory of that settles izou and keeps him from squirming away from her touch. )

S... Sure.

( the wet tangle of the strands that frame her face are more distracting up-close, and really, what else is he supposed to do besides stare like this? unable to look her in the eye at first, izou listens to the rain and its attempt to wash away the sight of blood and the comfort that comes with its warmth. listens to the way his chest rises and falls as he does his best to settle both the excitement coiling in his chest at the way her bangs stick to her face and the uncomfortable realization that her usual sunshine dissipated the moment she reached up.

maybe it's because of the rain. his imagination, or something. )

You're not gonna experience any weird side effects or nothin' after using this, right?

[bowtography]

[ Despite herself, her huff is fond and she shakes her head. Her thumbs brush over his cheekbones, willing the healing from her palms into his skin. She's gotten a little more used to the feeling now, the warmth she can feel tingling through her palms when she does this.

Again, he's worrying about her. But... ]

I'll be fine. Anyway, while I've got you here--

[ Before any other pigs break down a wall, before anyone else investigates this place, while she's staring at him and the blood smeared beneath his nose because she's unwilling to look away... ]

There's something I wanted to ask you.

[hitokiller]

( izou swallows as warmth passes from those palms and over skin that's cold from the rain, a good deal different when you're made of flesh now and not just magic. he's grown used to the real sensation of touch these past couple of months.

but what really gives him pause, drops of red receding from the cuts down his forearm and back as everything begins to graft and heal, is the seriousness of her gaze. )

Well, you got my attention. Obviously. What's on your mind?

( there's the rumbling of thunder in the distance briefly, a sign that the rain isn't letting up anytime soon. )

MALKUTH, 5/1.

[hitokiller]

Quit fiddlin' with stuff and get over here.

( a statement that barely holds any malice—more impatience as the two of them pass a myriad of shops with low ceilings and the loud rattling of busted electronic signs as they sway in the wind. hundreds of years later and the air here still feels familiar, the soil beneath his sneaker-clad feet still kicking up as easily as it did when stomping hurriedly after someone in the moonlight.

izou doesn't look particularly perturbed by the state of things, claw marks strewn across the metal of buildings that are unfamiliar to him, motivated more by his ego than anything else thanks to malkuth's request to show her around.

he points a finger up at an old-fashioned gate that's miraculously still in-tact, albeit a bit damp with the recent onslaught of spring showers. )

Here's where folks used to... y'know. If you had enough coin, you were in for a good time. They got a district like that where you're from? This "City" place?

[ignoreher]

[ she can't help it... there's so much and she'd like to document all of it somehow, be it with her camera or writing it down in her pad, debating taking a piece of history back with her... and her disappointment lets itself be known in her sigh as she continues along, stepping a bit faster to catch up.

the gate's still impressive in its age, though she tilts her head at the explanation before her cheeks color a bit. oh. yeah okay she gets it. cute that he dances around it a little... for her sake? or because it's odd to talk about? he's a tour guide, she doesn't mind. ]

I don't know about a dedicated District that focused on pleasure like that, but I do know that they were more commonly found in the Backstreets than their primmer counterparts, the Nests... Some Districts must've been more dangerous to do that in than others though, and no one'd want to be out when the Sweepers came around either.

[ a beat. taking a picture of the gate. ]

Sweepers are a group of unusual people that "clean up" the Backstreets at a particular hour, and it doesn't matter if you're dead or alive to them. A lot of people found their end after a drunken night if they weren't careful. Did you frequent places like this, Izou?

[hitokiller]

( rather than for her, it was mostly for... himself. a man like him, from a long time ago, was still unaccustomed to discussing such topics openly with a woman, no matter how casual she seemed about most things.

but the way it rolls off her back relaxes him a little, a hand rubbing thoughtfully at his chin at her question. )

Huh. Maybe I would've had my head lopped off a lot sooner if I'd lived in yer world. Comin' back sober from a night spent in Shimabara, and early at that, woulda just been sad. But I guess we had folks like your Sweepers. Just not as efficient, given they never caught me. Heheh.

( the hint of a smarmy smirk plays across his lips. )

Those damned wolves—the Shinsengumi—took to patrollin' around at night, actin' like they owned the place when they weren't any better than us. But I wasn't 'round here much unless I had reason to be, or... the money to get me somewhere, if ya catch my drift.

[ignoreher]

[ that's right... just consider her one of the guys. ]

I catch it, you dog. [ playfully kicking his shin. ] My expectation of you hasn't risen or fallen.

[ he is simply. a backstreet boy. malkuth may not believe in such a division of class nor their stereotypes, there is no doubt that izou resembles it somewhat; it's charming and down to earth as long as it's not being inflicted on anyone she knows. ]

Two questions. First: Are the Shinsengumi a gang, or are they an official sort of "protectors" of the people?

ISHMAEL, 5/5.

[hitokiller]

( truth be told, izou isn't entirely in the mood to do any sight-seeing or cleaning up right now. he's got other things on his mind, like tender gestures and other things he usually don't ponder much on.

but it's a request from ishmael of all people, and that's what spurns him into taking her out to this rather secluded corner of kyoto that just so happens to be closer to the ocean. those one-off days he thought to visit neo tokyo's shores for a moment of reflection only to catch her gazing out at the water longingly have been on his mind surprisingly enough. it's uncomfortably close to the way his childhood friend ryouma used to look, even as he gently chided izou on how they shouldn't dive too far into the waves.

the seaside culture of ine village looks completely run down as they wander, no thanks to the persisting rainy weather, there being fewer newly constructed buildings the closer they approach the boathouses. )

Said you were a sailor, yeah? How often were you out at sea?

( izou peers past tangled, rotting rope laying out on the pier, far more open to conversation than he used to be. what a couple months of fighting monsters together does to a guy... )

[wheft]

[ for the record, she was curious. she's at an unfamiliar place on the map, and she wanted company -- or rather someone else who'd watch her back as she explores what appears to be the remains of a fishing village. it may look neglected now from years of being abandoned, but even ishmael could tell that this place used to be beautiful.

it's such a shame. she could barely hear izou's question as a stray thunderclap drowns out his voice for a hot second, but it's fine. she's got him. ]

At least three years. [ she sounds noncommittal, at least. #coolsailorfacts. ] But it may as well felt longer than that. It would take a while for most sailors to get used to solid ground again after being rocked by the treacherous sea.

[ she turns her head slightly towards the ocean. while kyoto's bay is free of orca blood, it's still deemed unsafe to swim in. once again, what a shame. she can't help but let out a drawn-out sigh at that. ]

Guess we'll never see how this seaside would look like without all this debris...

[hitokiller]

Huh.

( --is all he thinks to say at first, not at all perturbed by the sudden crack of thunder. three years stranded on the ocean sounds like a long damn time to izou, and as he tries to picture what that's like... he fails, really.

but what really pings him out here under the crestfallen sky is how little he's ever asked ishmael, and how little she's ever asked of him. if she knew more about him, or what he'd been keeping from her unintentionally, would she...

... ugh. this shit is really starting to throw him off.

he bites back the anxiety, because this is a completely different situation here, and as the wind picks up, threading through his hair and hers, izou narrows an eye as he observes what was probably a bustling port ages ago. probably. he didn't have much reason to be cavorting about the market here in an age where his blade was needed elsewhere. )

Was just curious 'cause I... you remember me mentionin' how I used to play in the waves and all as a brat? It was always with this friend 'a mine back then, this "Sakamoto Ryouma" guy. All that asshole could ever talk about was wantin' to sail his own boat and be a seafarer.

[wheft]

[ it's a habit she had since her sailor days; the unspoken taboo about asking too much of a fellow seafarer's life seems to hold a lot of water for some of the people she's met here so far. most outsiders see neo tokyo as a way to start their life over, among other things, and ishmael may be one of those people. she's fine not knowing what her coworkers have got going on with their lives prior to coming here, nor will she seek it out herself.

but izou brings up a new name, and ishmael's attention is instantly piqued. ]

I seem to remember that, yeah.

[ their thing at the pool felt like ages ago, honestly. the wind picks up a bit, and ishmael tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. ]

Did this Ryouma guy ever got what he wanted?

WRIOTHESLEY, 5/9-ish.

[hitokiller]

( it's been a while since izou's been this humiliatingly drunk. a red mark developed on his cheek from resting it on the bar counter for so long, but at this moment in time, he can't seem to bring himself to care. because this is better than being unsteady on your feet, at least, better than toppling over and falling straight on your feet in the street, and he's more used to being in this situation than not. so it's no big deal, really. no big deal like most things, only most things lately have been a big deal for him, and...

the only reason he lifts his head to dig the heel of a palm in an eye as the bright lights of the bar prove to be too much, is whoever is shoving him lightly. )

You're—

( give him a minute to puzzle it out. blues the color of a stream in winter, and... that scar, like someone nicked him in the face in a fight. )

Rice-lee?

[frostfist]

[ Ah, finally. Some movement from that floofy-haired head on the counter. Wriothesley continues to calmly stare downwards as recognition slowly fuzzes into life in that one-eyed stare, then offers up a quick smile. ]

It's [ what had that one kid said ] Wrio-the-slay, actually.

[ Hm. Judging from that glassy look in his eyes and the lag time between shoulder shove and actual response, maybe he shouldn't be teasing Izou in his time of suffering (read: drunkenness). Don't mind as he takes a seat next to Izou, one hand lifting momentarily to signal the bartend to put in his order - a bottle of shochu. ]

No, just kidding, it's Rice-lee. And you're Izou, right? [ Is any of this conversation even gonna stick, tbh. ] Glad to see you're still breathing. Was worried there for a minute when you weren't moving.

[hitokiller]

( it might?? going off how much i can retain while sloshed

the bartender looks at least partially grateful that someone might keep an eye on their oft-to-pass-out regular, or at least, hopeful that he won't have to remove him near closing time on his own.

izou makes an attempt to adjust his slouch, still hunched towards the counter. )

Is fine.

( a beat or two of drunken silence, and then: )

Nothin' I can't, handle. Sure... you're, gonna be okay? Orderin' a man's drink, and not that... club soda shit?

( that, he remembers. )

[frostfist]

[ A man's drink, huh? There's a twitch of his lips as he tries to hold back the widening of his smile at that attempted insult, his own elbows coming to rest on the bartop as he leans forward, getting himself all comfortable. He's gone and ordered a drink after all, may as well enjoy the scenery while he can.

Even if the scenery happens to be a throng of people all halfway into their cups. ]

Worried about me? [ Light, teasing. This is another joke. ] I appreciate the thought, but I can handle myself. Besides, someone has to walk you home.

[ What's the term they use for this sort of thing, designated driver? Designated walker. ]

Unless you'd like me to call someone else to pick you up, like March?

[ He really shouldn't have gone for the easy target right off the bat, but he's never been the fair-handed saint some people have chosen to view him as. ]

How did she like your gift, by the way? [ .... ] You did find a gift for her, didn't you?

VERGILIUS, 5/15.

[hitokiller]

( there's something up with this city.

something up with it, but even just saying that out-loud doesn't entirely convey the feeling. it's like walking through a haze, the anxious glances and mild disinterest of every other civilian hidden by noisy entertainment and every patron winning it big. and though he was enjoying himself, even indulging, izou remained aware. aware that the place was dripping with an unease akin to those nights spent waiting in his quarters for whoever the next hit might be, the moonlight cutting in uncomfortably from a nearby window.

when he returns to their room late at night in the refurbished hotel, izou's face is bruised. covered with scratches, even. he must've gotten in some sort of trouble or a scuffle.

izou plops his ass down on a cushioned seat at the "bar" of their yeehaw-themed room, the themed dresser in the "saloon" a sad reminder that the alcohol depicted on it isn't real. then, as he turns to shuffle his way over to a bed and retire for the night—

he almost slams back into the wall behind him as two crimson lights peer through the darkness. )

Why the... Why the hell do you do that?

[immortalpoet]

...

[Said red lights flit up to fix on Izou's face, only barely illuminating his face in this dark, dark room. He's sitting in some wooden excuse of a chair, and the sigh that comes from him is as weary as anything.]

[He already really dislikes this place.

Do what...? [And a pause, considering.] Oh. Hrm. I don't do it on purpose. Well, sometimes. They don't call me the Normal Gaze after all.

[A pause.]

What happened to you?

[hitokiller]

( normal gaze... didn't take vergilius here to have a sense of humor. )

This? Nothin' serious.

( off the wall and back onto a cushioned bar stool. he rubs the bruise with the heel of his palm. )

Couple folks tried to start shit with me. Accused me of bein' the cause of everyone just up and vanishing, what with us comin' from elsewhere.

[immortalpoet]

[He sure does. Welcome to his world of deadpan humor, Izou.]

That so? How idiotic. But then again, how expected. People will always turn on what they fear.

MARCH 7TH, 5/16.

[hitokiller]

( it's late into the second evening of their stay, and izou is finally starting to meander on back to his room after a fulfilling night of "activities". or at least, where he thinks the hotel that all the outsiders are staying at is.

it's when he hears two voices arguing that he stops, a tired, amber eye opening wider in recognition of one of them.

march.

it's more than impulsive what he does next, there being no time for a moment of weak-kneed wonder at what she might be wearing or if her hair is done up or anything of the sort. just a flare of irritation in his chest at hearing an aggressive lilt to the voice of the man trying to isolate her, every step heavier than the last with how intoxicated he is.

he'll appear from behind them, a drink still in hand and his bachelor's party suit loose at the collar, a smudge of make-up trailing up his neck. don't ask me how that got there, because i haven't figured it out yet. anyway—yep. izou raises the open can and turns it over on the head of the unsuspecting gentleman. )

Well, lookit... that. My hand slipped.

[bowtography]

[ March (who is indeed wearing something a lot fancier than her usual), whirls in surprise, heels clicking a bit on the ground as she takes a step back to steady herself.

Izou is slowly developing a knack for popping up during those moments, isn't he? A great deal more inebriated than he was the last time this had happened, and she'd stare a bit at the makeup smudge going on and his general state of dishevelment (though of course he would have gone to that bachelor party, Marcille had shown her the pictures) but there's a bigger problem at hand.

Namely that the guy is now soaked in alcohol, face growing redder by the minute. And of course he rounds on Izou, indignantly, towering over him because we love a short king--

"What the hell's your deal, I just said her tits looked lonely!" ]

And I told you to back off!

[ Well, apparently, she was only three seconds away from decking him in the first place. ]

[hitokiller]

( it's his first time hearing march snap at someone like that, and before he can stare awestruck at how that outfit hugs tightly to her curves, izou feels his heart rate accelerate over the aggression in her tone. damn. she'd always been stubborn and pretty formidable, but...

well, no. now's not the time to stand here in a daze over her, the few brain cells that are still chugging as hard as they can in his stupor doing their best to keep him on track. )

Th-... what'd you just—

( he takes hold of the stranger's tie, pulling him closer to izou's face without much resistance.

there he can show teeth, can angle his chin in threateningly and in that low rasp of his that's beginning to slur: )

How 'bout I tie you, to the... top 'a this building here? Leave you to starve.

[bowtography]

[ Well, this was just doomed to not go great from the start, but as the guy lets out a whine, all the fight just goes right out of him. Apparently.

"Yeah... sure... leave me to die. Not like anyone'd miss me." ]

Izou...

[ Like whew March is still pissed off, but she can at least tap his wrist while he's holding this guy up by the tie. ]

... Look, let's just go? I don't think he's exactly in his right mind. And even if he was, he's not worth the trouble.

[ And you should probably not be tying anyone to buildings at this level of drunk. ]