I Wish For the Future.

Such was his gentle nature, that got massacred by real life and drove him in the end to almost commit atrocities himself. "I only wonder... Sometimes, when we help, we do more damage than help." the bird seemed to be comfortable in his hands, not having to bear the weight of his hurt wing. "Seeing the fine line between one and another can be very hard."

"Your sister? How lucky, I'll make sure to keep that in mind."

He thinks lucky, however he's long since stopped crossing paths with his own for the betterment of her and his own mental well being. He does wish he had the option of at least visiting.

Finally, he began to lead the way toward the market, making sure to stay close as they spoke.

"It sounds like you're filled with nothing but good intentions," He offers as he continues, "You know what they say, it paves the way to Hell. Something like that can only be learned through trial and error. Push for change too hard and the whole structure falls apart. Push too gently and nothing changes."

As a man who gained the control of the world through bloodshed and lies, he lost far more than he gained. The self imposed exile after coming back from the dead was what he needed. What the world needed, regardless of how many people he left behind.

“Huh! Well, since I’ve arrived here, I certainly have been running into a lot of your kind. Meanwhile, by the looks of things you haven't encountered many Monsters.”

Carol mutters half to herself as places the bag on the kitchen tables and begins emptying several lacy red heart pillows out onto it. She cups a hand to her chin and dips her head in compilation, and only then does she talk to the young man.

“I can count on my hand the number of Humans I’ve encountered prior to that. It’s not a bad thing. You Humans interest me, no matter how dangerous you are.” She says while contemplating over where to put these heart plushies which, funnily enough, resemble one of the main reasons why she is interested in humans to begin with. I know a few good places for these, but some things will have to be arranged. That’s for later. With that thought, she gives her guest her undivided attention.

And...

Dear god. His coat is soaking wet. How awful. Fighting the urge grab several blow-dryers and pelt him with hot air, she instead clops over to the thermostat and cranks it up. Sacrilege under normal circumstances, however, the kid was brought here to thaw out first and foremost, so this will just have to be an exception. When he thanks her for the hospitality, she nods, ear flickering. In place of an amiable ‘you're welcome’, “Carol Holiday.” she briefly introduces herself in a manner devoid of warmth.

The common area was very nicely decorating even if it was a bit heavy on the festive side. Something told him it had a lot to do with the icy doe with ice hooves. It reminded him vaguely about the student council putting up decorations for the holidays--

Oh.

Was she a walking pun? Did she know? She had to know. She was far too observant to not see something that obvious, right?

"--Tea would be fine. I'm L.L.."

He finds himself answering as he comes to terms with whatever the hell he willingly walked in on.

"And you'd would be right. I've met, now including you, two other kinds of people."

A funny thought of every time he himself were called a demon for his plans and schemes. Maybe this was a fated meeting, heh.

"Sunday," He nodded his head, finally directing the attention to the little bird that sat calmly in the other's hands, "Sorry for staring, you just surprised me a bit."

It's the politest way he could say it.

He still got small phantom pains from it at times, but was thankful for the prosthetic to better his rehabilitation progress before arriving here.

Once again, he begins typing upon that screen, getting a little faster as the words came easier. This was a normality for him back home, after all.

[None that would be described as curses by my home's standards, but I have heard small whispers of one of these cursed spirits roaming about Fibo ward, so-I would watch your back.]

There really wasn't many that come to mind when Fibo ward was mentioned. Sure, there were strange creatures littering the actual walls and cracks of the lowest point of that city but nothing that rang out as dangerous. His visitation was only to get a lay of the land since there weren't any in depth maps at his disposal.

Though there was really one notable presence there that gave him pause.

He flips the phone around again and spend a little while typing before offering it to his company once more, a bit more in depth with his explanation this time.

[Curses come from negative energy that humans create, and only a curse can dispel one of it's own, so we are taught to channel that energy to use against them.] [Many people go missing on a regular occurrence in Japan, so we're called in to exorcise the problem curses that cause it. Jujutsu society is practiced in secret, we are given 'barriers' to work within so ordinary people cannot see us. It's been around for a long time, as long as curses have existed.]

Oh the ghetto would be... a sea of death and curses, he could imagine that far too easily. Manifestation of man's selfishness came in the form of his own being. The world having to contend with his will and the despair of every human too?

Sounds like hell on earth. He could feel the weight of his sins in a brief flash before he lets out a breath.

"Good thing that's only happening in your world. I don't think humanity has much of a chance anywhere else," He mutters the thought before properly addressing the teen.

There was a lot to make sense out of Spirale. The four wards, so different between each other both on technology and culture. The people of all kinds and sorts, including some that Sunday never dreamed could be real. Last but not least, the enormous mysterious hole in the middle of it all, as if reminding all of them of their impending doom at any moment. There was a lot to think and to ponder. Sunday himself had the goal to create a paradise for people, and this was not it. And if this wasn't it, he would take it upon himself to find what could be done. Although he also didn't know quite well where to start.

The strange man in whites and blues would've been ignored as well if not for the gentle lift of wings on the side of his head-- is that an actual halo?

It had been a minute since a new person has been able to get him to stop in his tracks on the spot. Several moments broken only by the weak chirping of a tiny bird in the man's palm broke whatever weird spell L.L. was under.

His eyes flickered down at the bird and then the connection to what the angel had said finally click.

Choso felt mildly responsible for this younger man. Accepting his place in protecting him from whatever this thing was until the powers of the room ran their course on whatever this thing was. Neither man nor curse compared to it.

Still, he stepped between them. He did not have use of his blood manipulation, but that wouldn't stop him from fending this thing off. Launching himself to rip that weapon from its grasp and tossing it away. He didn't need it as much as L.L. would.

L.L. jumped when the weapon was thrown toward him and clattered against the wall before he was snatched from the carpet. He reared back and slammed it against the door knob in desperation.

Everything within the room itself should be feeling the effects of the aging. The paint on the walls should be curling, the wood should start to crack and break under it's own weight. The ceiling should be cracking and collapsing on top of their hands, and the floor should be falling down into the abyss beneath. Or whatever the fuck is below them.

Yet, the room itself was still as pristine as the first day it was built. It was almost as unnerving as the monster currently regenerating limbs as quickly as they rot off.

That was a large pursuit of the compound he was raised within, to give people a sanctuary and a place to grieve their woes before being enlightened.

Alas, it seemed even he couldn't say much to ease L.L.'s rocky relationship with said parents, the wounds were deep, he could see that from how the young man's head hung low upon explaining his mother's betrayal.

"I see, I won't pity you over this as you've trusted me with the information, but I do at least offer my condolences for such a difficult upbringing."

At the mention of so many siblings, Douma briefly thought to his own father, how he was caught abusing girls within the compound. There was little indication which members born within the space might have even resulted in his half siblings, as none of them showed the same traits as him. Not a single one was blessed with those multicolored eyes or his pale hair.

All the more reason for him to be considered so special.

He says so simply, allowing the anger that had built up during the reminiscing to fizzle out. The visage of his father flashed in his mind. The conversation still buzzing in his ears. Disgust still filled his heart. Bile on his tongue.

L.L. looked back to the stranger, a snide comment on his lips that dies away.

beside, it wasn't like the not-kid was withholding his hat either... right? just simply not moving in to give it back either. that alone made chuuya judge him as some high-and-mighty bastard. he let out a scoff of evident displeasure and moved in to retrieve his hat.

Just a bit stun locked at how good of guess this guy's insult was.

"Good thing I'm not," He huffs, a little besides himself as he regarded the other. At the very least, trying to reassure himself that he couldn't recognize him at some noble he might've seen in passing.

"Then please keep your eyes open when you're walking."

The hat was politely and somehow even more disrespectfully placed on the man's head himself.

a voice weaving through the silence brought the Traveler's eyes up from the floral arrangements, seeing an equally disgruntled guest make his entrance.

"yeah..." she sighed, shoulders slack and balancing Paimon's weight on her forearms alone. "we've been searching for the lobby, but no luck yet. guess it's the same for you?"

He sighs it as he rubbed the back of his head. The garden was thick but the sweet floral scent was just a bit too sweet. He's been in grand gardens in the pick of the blooms. This one was odd in more ways than just the endless sky above them.

"I'm not sure what I'm looking for. What I do know is that the lobby doesn't lead to the outside. Did you get the message on your phone?"

There was a tremble to her voice, allowing the blood to be wiped from her cheek and the wound slowly sealing itself. While C.C. was usually the more level-headed of the two, this night had shaken her to the core. Not only being haunted by visions of the men she cared for, but hearing such awful things in their voices, it was making her ears ring.

For the first time in years, she felt like that terrified little girl again.

"So we attempt to reason with him, or kill that part of you. Understood."

She was back to that usual monotone cadence, but not quite right. C.C. was shutting down, she steeled herself to endure until they were out of this place.

"C.C.," He calls her name, tone a bit softer.

But that was his own fault for not thinking further than the flowers in front of him. Some pains were greater than the body in front of him; he knew that.

"Mh..Y'know, I don't have a sibling so I can't properly relate. The best I can give is my deepest condolences to the pain you felt...but-"

And he shrugs an arm up to gesture over to the darker haired fellow at his side, glancing towards that sad tinged smile.

"She sounds sweet. And somethin' 'bout sweet-hearted people I notice is they hate leavin' the weight of the world on others. So even if it's not their race nor their horse, they'll saddle it.

It's not being cruel; it's not a punishment even if it feels like...It just means they love you."

A know-it-all didn't remember it all. Not all at once. His greatest plans required months of excruciating patience to solve any and all minute issues that could arise. Accounting for human error and mechanical error. Accounting for time delays and internal fighting. Accounting for miscalculation.

Accounting for everything but the human heart.

His ached and bled and screamed with a force he hadn't felt since killing the first woman he ever loved.

His face turned downward, clinging to the soft shadows the flowers created. He didn't know who was mourning for now. Nunnally was still alive, he believed so with all he had. He missed her terribly. Enough for a soft wheeze to squeeze out of his lungs.

David's words had a point. No, he knew he was right. A complete stranger able to point out the obvious that even he struggled to grasp on to. He was loved despite it all. He was missed despite it all.

It took several long minutes for L.L. to find his composure. To carefully pluck his broken and bleeding parts up from glowing petals and back into his freezing chest. He breathed deeply.

"...Yeah," He utters rather anticlimactically, the thickness in his voice giving away the battle he's barely won.

"I think you're right. She's never been the one to do something ever out of maliciousness or cruelty. Even her... hardest decisions were made with me in mind. I need to remember that while I'm stuck here, away from her."

He looked back across to the chasm to the lights. An ocean between their life raft and the shore.

He heard the conditional, and he frowned. L.L. never said things without purpose--all of his words were picked out carefully, efficiently. Just like the rest of him--his flair for the dramatic aside.

The man modeled his outfit after a chess piece, after all. Suzaku had been in denial for a very long time.

In many ways, he still was. He was in denial about the mistake that led to the massacre. He was in denial about the damage that he caused to the people that he loved. He was in denial about the decisions that he'd made--each and every one of them, and the ramifications thereof.

L.L. knew this. They didn't have to talk to communicate it. They never had to talk to communicate. Even now.

Even now.

L.L. faced away from him, and there was good reason for it. The two of them hadn't spoken for days. Not since the events at the Inn. Not since L.L. looked at him with fear in his eyes.

Not since the baggage Suzaku had been carrying mysteriously felt clear--since he'd killed the past. Since he'd faced down his darkness and killed it with his own, two hands.

He didn't blame L.L. for this. He didn't. But it wasn't like L.L. to run away from things--no, it was exactly like him, the more that Suzaku thought about it.

After all--they still hadn't talked about things that happened during the rebellion. The people that died. The people that they both killed.

The things that they said to each other.

["Your existence is a mistake!"]

"You...went away to process things for a year, L.L.." Suzaku finally said. "If...if we're going to be involved in each other's lives--as friends, or as more--then we have to talk about it. Everything that happened."

He swallowed.

He knows it. He knows, he knows he knows.

He knows all too well.

He knows what Suzaku means. He knows what he's thinking or wanting or--

He takes a breath as he keeps his eyes off of the other.

L.L. could think about Suzaku just fine. He could imagine him just fine. The real issue was in the proximity. He remembers it vividly. The anger that set his soul ablaze, the smoldering hate as he watched himself flee from the room.

What was the most cruel was that Suzaku had been so warm to the touch. Had been so solid and warm and he felt his own body start to relax despite the chill of danger that ran up his spine. A bear trap that was hidden plainly upon the sheets and blankets.

What was worse was how slow it had happened. It didn't take hours, but it might as well had. His flailing meant nothing on the grip around his neck. His screams being cut off by the pressure. After being killed once by his friend, this should not bother him.

Maybe drawing indifference at the very most. Death meant nothing here. Neither should this.

Why did he look so angry?

L.L. didn't look at Suzaku.