Well, now, what is t h i s?

He calms when his eye falls on the other. The person who had called out didn’t seem much older than he was. But he keeps his guard up and carefully measures his words.

His accent is thick. He hasn’t spoken Japanese in a good long while. “… I’m not from the city. Don’t mean to be rude. Just hungry.” He considered and tilted his head, “My name’s Puck.” He realized his perch way up higher than this person, whom he is assuming is the head of the local pack, was likely a bad social cue. Outside of the city, it was hard to get this severe degree of higher ground.

He kept his eye on the other as he edged to the side of the building. Carefully he used his kagune to help him down the side of the building. He didn’t want to risk broken ankles on top of a missing eye if this ended in a fight. His kagune were wilted from hunger, but he held them out after getting safely to the ground. As hungry as he was, he might not be able to pull them out a second time if the other attacked him.

U t a  watches the other ghoul slide down the side of the building, his hands leisurely placed in his pockets. They seem oddly careful of the climb down, hesitant, and it makes Uta tilt his head trying to see better in the dull light of the dark alleyway. 

He can see the outline of the other ghoul tremble, and he takes a step back. Despite his ruthless behavior, it’s just not in Uta’s nature to take down ghouls who are frightened. It’s too easy, and there’s simply not much fun in it.

❝Well this ward is mine.❞ Uta says in response to the stranger’s hesitant statement, his tone even and sharp. He won’t hesitate to lash out, though the thought itself  b o r e s  him to tears. 

Still though, he moves slowly to the dismembered corpse, pulling out a few of the organs and tossing them to the other. He’s feeling unusually generous tonight, and he pushes his hands back down into the pockets of his leather jacket. It’s oddly chilly and he wonders if the other ghoul is just cold. Probably not.

❝This ward, it’s pretty violent, too many ghouls and not enough meat, you might have better luck in places like the twentieth ward. Not here, especially if you want to be comfortable. You show any weakness here, another ghoul might have you for dinner. Cannibals are common here.❞

He steps back further, and taps his toe towards the small beam of moonlight that is filtering through the sky.

His trembling slowed to a stop as he watched the other closely. He was so relaxed. After giving out food like that, he must be strong. Even stronger to be head of a pack in the city. City ghouls didn’t live by the same unofficial rules as he was used to. He was wary.

Upon hearing Uta talk about the other wards, he huffed, “Those ‘nicer’ wards aren’t an option. I could never look human like you city ghouls.” He spractially spat the word city through his bites, feigning bravery. Though he did feel a twinge of insult.

His kagune slowly strengthened and folded into resting positions, “You really don’t know outside the city, do you? I’m a cannibal when I have to be. I was comfortable once. Starving, but with my mother, father, and two brothers.” He straightened his back when he finished, “They were torn from my hands. I never want to be 'comfortable’ again. Don’t assume you know me.”

He stepped into the light when beckoned, still cautious, but more judgemental of the other ghoul for his generous behavior and apparent care. His scarring apparent. His sharp teeth peeking out from between slightly parted lips. His eyepatch bloody from when the wound was fresh. Long dried, but bloody. His kagune had filled out, resting more proudly behind him, no longer withered.

        ❝ I wish my sun may never set,                                                         but burn. ❞

                                                        - Anne Bradstreet

rp blog for Miza Kusakari from Ishida Sui’s Tokyo Ghoul:re ind. / sel. / private || crossover & oc friendly written by elle

@noppera-boo

Puck slipped quietly through the alley, his hair yanked back in a crude ponytail causing quite the headache. A black eyepatch sat over his right eye, hiding the gouged out socket that was his old reminder. He’d managed to avoid the local gangs thus far, but he didn’t know how much longer his luck would hold out.

He’d heard stories about this part of Tokyo. Seemed the most like home was, outside Tokyo. The places the ccg had abandoned. He sighed inwardly and slowly peered around the corner. No one in sight. His stomach growled and he winced a little.

Slowly he moved from his hiding place, trying to stay in the shadows of the rubble, where his tiger-like tattoos would function best. Where they would keep his skin mottled to blend with the shadows. His tongue slipped across sharpened teeth as the copper scent of blood slammed against the back of his throat. It took every ounce of willpower not to dart forward after the scent.

It would be suicide.

It smelled like a fresh kill. Which meant another ghoul. Which meant a fight. And without having eaten, he was just a pest to swat, not a real threat. He’d be dead in seconds.

Maybe he could scavenge? It was impossible back home. Every scrap of meat was torn off of fresh corpses to eat or to take back to families or to save. But in the city maybe they’d eat their fill and just leave the bodies. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, edging towards the scent.

Down another alley. Damn. He didn’t dare peak around the corner, he’d be spotted. smelled.

Did city ghouls have sharp enough of a nose to smell him from here? Surely not, right? He backed away a little and looked up at the wall.

Easy enough.

He began to climb up to side of the building. Once he reached the roof he creeped over to the edge, peering down only just enough to see where the kill was. The moment he spotted it and the ghoul sitting over it, he snapped his head back to hide and wait. His stomach growled again and he glared at it a little, as if that would keep it quiet.

Fingers probing through the wreckage of what he considers now to be his latest meal, Uta admires the slick sheen of blood on his nails, pausing to put them carefully into his mouth with a soft, almost melancholy sigh.

The 4th ward has been awfully quiet as of late, and he can’t help but feel slightly bored with his predicament as the ward leader. It’s not uncommon for the ghoul to seek amusement elsewhere but tonight he just doesn’t feel like it. The slaughter of this unfortunate human had been entertainment enough and he kicks at the refuse with a steel toed boot, and then lets out a somber sort of huff, upon the realization that his fun was over.

However, a moment later a sound, and odd smell enters his vicinity and the blond ghoul glances around, brow furrowing in confusion, and then loosening again.

There is someone here.

For a moment, he ponders the idea of speaking out, but decides against it, walking away from his latest meal with a frown. He takes a moment to peer behind one of the dumpsters in the alleyway and then behind several bags of trash, nose wrinkling at the dreadful scent.

❝H u h.❞ he says more to himself than to the stranger that he is certain is in his midst.

He glances up at the roof, unable to see the intruder no matter how much he actually ends up squinting his eyes, and so he speaks again.

❝Yo. What’re you doing up there…or wherever you are? You’re in my territory, and I don’t exactly take kindly to those who are so rude as to not introduce themselves to me.❞ He wrinkles his nose, their scent is somewhat odd, not familiar, and he shakes his head.

He calms when his eye falls on the other. The person who had called out didn't seem much older than he was. But he keeps his guard up and carefully measures his words.

His accent is thick. He hasn't spoken Japanese in a good long while. "... I'm not from the city. Don't mean to be rude. Just hungry." He considered and tilted his head, "My name's Puck." He realized his perch way up higher than this person, whom he is assuming is the head of the local pack, was likely a bad social cue. Outside of the city, it was hard to get this severe degree of higher ground.

—

The day was exceedingly hot, and found the stray ghoul panting under shade as he tried to stay cool. He peered his one eye open to glance around, his filed-sharp teeth visible as he grinned at the other he saw nearby, walking towards him.

But there was sign of hope.

Brown hues fall on the shaded figure, sparkling with renewed vigor as she makes a beeline toward the person and the shade. There’s a wide smile on the human’s lips as she stands before him, and it only grows when he speaks to her. She doesn’t take notice of the filed teeth, or any of his other unique features. Darla wasn’t one to judge on appearance. “Oh! I was just wandering. It’s kind of what I do~” The young woman swings around the guitar strapped to her back to show it off before sliding it back in place. “I’m a traveling musician just looking for an audience.” The girl gives a snicker with that, swaying a bit as she continues.

☽║☾ Anubis knew his inability to mind his own business would get him killed– frankly, it was only because he was a god that he hadn’t already been devoured by a ghoul. Though, at the same time, his status as a deity had him being hounded by ghouls left && right as god-flesh was even more appealing than human flesh. 

The jackal god, who had gone down a darkened alley in a predominately ghoul-controlled ward, had thought he had found an injured human upon first stumbling upon the unconscious body. However, the body was far from human– and far from unconscious. He had gotten himself entangled in a ghoul’s vicious game, of appearing hurt && injured so they could score an easy meal. 

“Can’t we talk this out? I get it, I do. You’re hungry, but I promise I’m not the sort of meal you’d want. I’m really lean– barely any fat on me. You’d burn more calories chasing me than what’d you’d consume if you ate me. So… could you maybe stop chasing me, please? I really don’t like resorting to violence!” 

The ghoul, unamused by the god’s pleas, continued to chase after Anubis, their chase weaving in && out through empty alleys && dead-ends. At the next turn of a corner, Anubis gave a sigh of relief– he saw another ghoul decked out in intricate tattoos && ran towards him almost immediately. 

It smelled so good...

But what a sin killing a god would be. Not that he didn't revel in sin regularly, that one just felt wrong. After clearing his thoughts, he finally processed the god's plea and saw the other ghoul, sighing.

He stepped around the fleeing god to stand between him and the other ghoul, "Back off, you. You're on my hunting grounds now, you keep going I'll have /you/ for dinner." His bikaku slipped out and lashed irritatedly. Hopefully the other would recognize him and just bolt. He didn't feel like fighting. He'd just wanted to go on a simple walk, that was all.

This was some joke. Some sick joke. Had to be, “…If you’re just dragging this out, I don’t see a point. I’ll humor you only ‘cause I like being on this earth. But this is some kinda sick joke.” He sighed. His accent had gotten thick with his exhaustion, and he almost wanted to lapse into full Italian. Fuck this Japanese nonsense. But as it was…

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. Ragged and painful breaths dragging through his lungs as he regained the breath he’d lost while laughing. He adjusted and put a hand on the dumpster, slowly dragging himself up.

“Yeah, I can walk. The fuck you want to help me for anyways?” The kid maybe? Why? Ghouls sacrificed themselves for their own children lots of times. Was it because the girl was human? Maybe because he didn’t heal like the others? Whatever. He wasn’t gonna look a miracle in the mouth. Or what the fuck ever that saying was. Something about a horse? Fuck, he was getting g delusional.

In a way, they were both risking their lives– so Uta pressed forward, wrapping an arm around the uninjured shoulder of the ghoul. 

“In case anyone sees us, it’ll just look like I’m helping my drunk friend home– if the person is far enough away && doesn’t see the blood pouring from your wounds.”

He watched their surroundings as they began to walk, wary of the possibility that the other's partner might return. That wouldn't be good for either of them. Either of them? Worried about the Dove now? A laugh bubbled up from beneath the pain for a brief second, but it cut off as he stumbled once. Just a small stumble, thankfully the Dove was there for him to catch himself.

It took a good moment for him to process the other's question, and he answered quickly, as if to make up for his delay.

Uta picked up the furry animal upon hearing Puck’s arrival. Presenting the rabbit proudly to the other ghoul, the mask maker gave a genuine smile.