synflux | ( closed ) what sends them to this backwood

( 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. )

Edited 2024-05-01 03:06 (UTC)

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?

Edited 2024-05-02 16:44 (UTC)

( 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... )

( 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?

( 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?

Edited 2024-05-15 18:17 (UTC)

( 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.

Edited 2024-05-15 19:55 (UTC)

MARCH 7TH. 5/3-ish.

MALKUTH, 5/1.

ISHMAEL, 5/5.

WRIOTHESLEY, 5/9-ish.

VERGILIUS, 5/15.

MARCH 7TH, 5/16.