` flower of darkness `

“That’s a world government conspiracy to misinform the masses.” 

“Because I believe the Earth is flat.” 

DONT TRY TO CORRUPT HER AKUTA MIGHT HAVE PULLED SOME SHIT BUT HE DIDNT MAKE KYOUKA AN IDIOT

kyouka-chan im being persecuted

        “I didn’t mean to. I did not realize the drift….”

Lovecraft trails off, sounding somewhat sheepish. It’s a tad embarrassing, really, especially considering he didn’t even bother to head out into the deeps where he could shift forms peacefully and be free of such things as getting stuck in a pier. He’d just wanted to sit and perhaps doze a bit, but… his fate is never a fortunate one.

There is only a slight nod of acknowledgement that she tugged his hair. It doesn’t hurt, really, more of a dull feeling of pressure around his head. His hair itself seems to curl a little oddly around Kyouka’s hand— nothing overtly noticeable, but once noticed, definitely unnatural. (Perhaps it’s not much of a surprise that Lovecraft got stuck.)

         “It’s okay. I can’t feel it that well.”

Something he should probably appreciate, considering this whole ordeal would probably be fantastically uncomfortable were he fully human and subject to the pains that humans are. It is uncomfortable enough already, though that is due largely to an emotional discomfort and sheepishness, instead of the actual physical scenario.

         “Ports are not good places. Full of regrettable things.”

He imparts this wisdom with some odd sense of portent, as if Kyouka will actually need or use this information, or even as if she has not already learned that the Yokohama port is an ill suspicious place to be. Lovecraft means this more in the worldly sense, though— the port has betrayed him, as he knows ports always shall. Curse these crab pots in particular and the hubris of man in general.

kyouka briefly paused in her rescue attempts as she felt his wet hair coiling around her hand, taking a few moments to simply stare at it. she had been told that her own hair had a mind of it’s own, but she didn’t believe it could be used in the same instance as this. she poked the locks carefully for a second, almost waiting for them to wrap around her and suck her into the mess on his head -- but it didn’t.

` You should sleep more carefully. `

it was something she had mentioned to him before. this was not the first time the former assassin had stumbled over him sleeping in a place that was ... not quite meant for sleeping. perhaps he had some kind of condition that caused him to fall asleep at random -- or maybe he simply just didn’t care enough and could sleep wherever he pleased with no worries. what a life to have.

a few more firm tugs released some of his hair from the post as well as one crab pot -- carefully pushing that to the side so it was out of the way. she didn’t think either of them would be too thrilled if it somehow managed to get tangled back up in the current mess that was lovecraft. lips pursed as she paused in her motions, examining the rest to see what would come out the easiest. she didn’t want to cut too much of his hair if possible.

atsushi is quiet for a moment, gaze watching the river’s water as the evening sunset reflects off of the gently flowing surface. the rich, vibrant color of orange, reds and purples is calming, warm – a reminder that they had better days now that were much different from those of the past. dazai-san had been right – had they not encountered each other, he surely would not be here; who knows whether he would have taken his own life. ( deep down, he knows he would have – he had nothing to live for, no reason to live before the agency. he wondered if the same was true for kyouka. )

“no.” his response is clear, firm – it’s genuine in its honesty. for once, he didn’t feel as if he had to lie, that he could trust her. he had never been truthful with himself, always denied his turmoil and warring emotions as trivial. perhaps his open honesty was too much now, given at any glimmer of hope that he could change the outlook of others, open their eyes to the countless possibilities before them; that there was a way to live, a reason, no matter how small or trivial it may be. a quiet smile passes over his features, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes. for a moment, he’s a crowded soul within the shell of who he used to be – lost and vulnerable, without anyone to turn to or anywhere to go, wandering aimlessly. 

his weight leans onto one hand as the other lifts, self-consciously brushing his uneven, choppy hair, carding through it. despite the gentle warmth lingering from the day, there’s a cold shiver down his spine – a single thread of anxiety winding its way around his throat. his gaze is averted, unable to meet kyouka’s as he continues, with a little hesitation; this is a different kind of vulnerability he’s unsure of, wanting to flee, but also tentatively step into shallow waters of reaching out and trusting her with this. “i’m not sure where i would be if the agency hadn’t offered me the opportunity they did…” a pause, gaze flicking briefly to her, carefully watching her expression. “it gave me a chance to start over and be given a second chance…like you were.”

kyouka remained silent as he spoke; blue eyes focused on the orange tinge of the sun sparkling across rushing waters. a warm breeze blew by -- ruffling ink colored locks and her crimson kimono. it briefly made her think of the bodies she had watched fall beneath her blade ... the way hair would splay across the floor and red splatters of blood slowly fell through the air ...

it took her a few seconds to snap herself out of the thought, feeling a mild pain through her fingers. she would glance down to find her hands clenched into small, tense fists -- tight enough to where her knuckles turned white and a lingering cramp took time to fade from her fingers. a second chance. it was something she thought of often whenever she would look at atsushi -- her savior. her light.

` ... ` kyouka’s own anxiety fluttered through her, wrapping cold ribbons around her heart and squeezing it slightly. she knew she shouldn’t have felt it. after all, she had changed so much from that emotionless assassin. she was experiencing life as it should be -- spending her time as a ( almost normal ) teenage girl. a soft sigh would soon slip out, keeping her gaze focused on the sunset; the river -- anywhere, but those familiar eyes.

It’s expected (almost) for people not to like him, and almost as much for people not to understand him. A great majority of Ivan’s communication is done solely to amuse himself, since he has more or less given up on other easily understanding the confusing jumble he thinks. So, Kyouka is forgiven for her lack of understanding. Be he can explain!

“What’s the difference? Wars are drama. A squabble and a bloodshed now, a dramatic adaption in novel or movie in a half-century.” Ivan waves his hand dismissively. The difference is done in mere feeling, the closeness one feels. To the citizen getting their house blown up it is war, to the person half a world away watching updates on a live feed with scientific interest, it’s a drama. Ivan has merely chosen to think about it in the unattached self-assured way of one who is sure he will be victor.

“God exists regardless of if people believe in Him, you know. You can’t stop God.” Both the metaphysical God and the embodiment of God whom Ivan worships– the second, at least, is very, very real. So Ivan trusts the first is too.

kyouka could see the way he thought -- but considering it was so vastly different from her own, she couldn’t properly understand it. he had a complete disregard for things and perhaps, that was something his master had instilled in him. a person life was not a drama. it was something she had learned recently -- the loss of life wasn’t a drama either.

` ... There’s no such thing as God. `

“I’m afraid I can’t do that quite yet. We shall all have to wait our time! Why are you so eager for me to die, girl, I thought the agency and I were getting on quite well.” That’s a lie.

“I think … we need to invest in an air conditioner, Kyouka-chan.” 

All of the tell-tale signs were there: the slowly diminishing breeze, the worrisome creaking and cracking, the ON/OFF button that required a few smacks at times to get the sole source of comfort they had from Yokohama’s heatwave — working. Atsushi and Kyouka’s fan was dying. As a result, they were both sweltering, drowning in their own sweat, certainly doomed to become soup should they continue to stew for any longer. Atsushi himself laid on the ground in front of the dying fan, only donning a pair of pants, after helping Kyouka amass all of her long locks into a messy bun that sat firm on the top of her head. Yes, they needed an air conditioner. 

The problem was that air conditioners were expensive, and their paychecks combined didn’t amount for much. Buying a new air conditioner would require saving up for one ( but Atsushi was convinced they would perish before then ) or digging into the money they set aside for food ( which was embarrassingly, a rather steep amount — the both of them did have monster appetites, Kyouka even more so. ) 

Even Demon Snow appeared concerned from them both, hovering as she often did, this time in circles, like a mother distressed over her children — powerless to do anything that would grant them comfort. 

@dcmonsnow

kyouka had long since decided that she did not like the summer heat very much. she did not like the way the air felt too close to her skin; or the way it seemed to make everyone’s mood ten times worse -- her own included. it only seemed to worsen it as she sat in front of their last hope of comfort from this sweltering blaze -- blue eyes widening just slightly whenever the fan would groan noisily before resuming it’s slow swiveling.

the former assassin was practically motionless, having read that moving too much would only result in further sweating and that was something she wished to avoid. she barely acknowledged atsushi’s words -- only showing by the slightest different blink of her blue eyes. she agreed -- an air conditioner would certainly be the most ideal thing to invest in at the moment. 

“I do apologize, but I cannot! It is like breathing, my dear.”