Soul (variant)

Sigh. Not really half of anything, at this point, only for boredom while the ink fades and starts anew, looking like the runes of a mad man, yet alas: A map. Incredibly mundane use of supernaturally co-signed real estate. The compass updating dynamically is kinda cool, though.

Soul sighs again as his thoughts pass its train through the notion of him probably looking like a creep, standing on the street corner at the dead end of the city, until it's pulled to station by the weight deep in his chest shifting, stealing the air from his lungs as his lightheaded vision momentarily blurs.

Huff… Just shake it off.

An indescribable feather-dusting behind his eyes cues him into taking a second sweep around his field of view, no tells of hostile shadows craving to turn his throat inside-out presenting themselves just yet – albeit the stench of hell's rust lingering is still palpable.

The sea ebbs and flows through his left ear, glancing Soul's resting disinterest back to the map bestowed upon the current state of affairs before his legs take their turn on stage, one bare foot in front of the other… What, you thought the mention of needing shoes was just throwaway prose?

The angel swimming in his head flutters his eyes back onto the road, no distractions.

A small hum is all Maka offers up in response while watching Soul's handwriting increase in neatness by 5%.

Two moments pass; One to finish writing, one to draw a crude depiction of an overly dramatic oppossum underneath the lettering. "…Kinda dumb doodle, but might as well. Classic meme."

"Hey, I think it's cute," her hand rebuttals into his shoulder, only getting a snort for a response, and a quick third moment to tear the post off and slap it on the nearest available surface of behind the counter.

"There. Send post."

A furrow in Soul's brow scoots him aside while watching Maka chuckle, lower down towards the newborn meme, and tap it with her fingers in a hummed off-key tune of some sort. The further confusion is answered with a smile. "It's got notes now."

Stare. Sigh, eye-roll. Helpless grin and a laugh while returning the earlier 'shove' with a fist-bump into her closest arm.

Technically, with his own heart now outside of its body, he's practically immortal as long as it's out of sight, and yet there's this frustrated tension in his fingers, daring him to crush the damned thing into a pulped oblivion.

Not quite productive, really.

He sighs again as he considers what to do with it – Leave it somewhere? Lock it in his closet? Hand it off to someone else?

His face scrunches at the thought, if anyone really needed to be saddled with the responsibility of such a pointless thing.

Lock it up in a box, maybe?

His teeth grit, pushing the floating bane of his existence over to the edge of the piano bench he's yet to get up from – Weak, but not pathetic enough to entertain some dream of a fairytale lover come to swoop in and solve all of his problems for him.

"…I'm not some freaking damsel," Soul finally grumbles, snow-white hair having gotten long enough to drag his shoulders as his frown rests in his emptied hands, propped in his slouch. Somehow, letting his bangs run wild drew more attention than it put off, even with hiding his disinterested stare behind it.

In the nothing-in-particular that follows, Soul finds himself – or, rather, loses himself further in – not getting any less bothered by the cardial rhythm pulsing quietly next to him, difficult to ignore despite it… not really doing anything.

Huff. "Go… wander off somewhere," a hand flutters awkwardly, not touching it, for the problem to simply take its leave elsewhere.

At that, Soul's heart drifts aside, and then "hops" off the seat towards the floor, like a very weird fish in a private aquarium.

Much like the odd analogies, Soul can't help but lean his head away, stare following from between the grand piano's frame while the little organ swims circles around the piano's legs, eventually pulling Soul's curiousity around the other side until he's folded over himself at his heart finally settling on doing nothing beneath the bench.

The dark figure, all spindly and twisted into the shape of a person, walks along the edge of his vision, over to belongings scattered across the disarrayed cushions with hoarse, hushed lament. "…The girl is staying…"

It pauses Soul, glancing tentatively at the black sunflower with more teeth than stare, spider legs for fingers – made more for creeping around corners, yet gently lifting a notebook with the care of a widow. "…It's not going to be quiet anymore…"

"…She's not going to make a lot of noise at night," Soul shrugs back into mopping.

The black sunflower sighs in forlorn whispers, drooping.

"You see me in everything; The corners, the doors, the hallways turning elsewhere. She'll take up everywhere I stand, and her little things will push me away, until… nothing becomes something…"

Another pause leans a brow furrow against the handle, tongue feeling over the sharp edges of his mouth until Soul nudges his head towards the door, readying another round of mopping. "You can still have my closet. She's going to take the other room."

"…Oh?" A snort does not eye the questionable excitement lifting its voices. "Then… I'll untidy up!"