Where the Mirror Fractures

“Hey,” He delivers the word with a much deeper tone of voice, a bit more demanding than before and his pace quickens all the while to keep up. “I’m talkin’ t’you.” A hand extends then to grab ahold of one of Artair’s shoulders at an attempt to capture his attention or if he’s lucky, to stop him.

Their movenent is a blur of motion. Their other hand finds Butch's wrist and wrenches his grip away, pivoting Butch's limb painfully at the wrist. Their body turns just enough for the acidity in his glare to bore down into Butch, the grip around said limb made of iron. A few eye patterns bloom on his skin, gazing at Butch before closing.

"No one would be moved by your absence. Your life has been a waste, and now you have nothing. Perhaps you should act on those impulses you drown with alcohol." He intones, a voice as frigid as his gaze. "You will rot alone, the way you should have a century ago."

🫙🌿— Wild ivy and vines climb the walls of apartment buildings that seam a small alley called Onslow Fold. All the other streets and buildings around it appear completely free from any growths, but this particular area looks like nature is being hellbent on claiming it back.

Sakyr approaches one of the overgrown buildings and stops in front of its main door. He rummages in his duffel bag and fishes out a shiny green key card with a sigh. He hasn't been home anymore in months and he knows there is a chance his father or the manager of this building, an old Goblin named Bruld, exchanged the electric locks in the meantime. And using the intercom system would be in vain because his father tends to turn that off. He would have to call the building manager in the worst case to get inside.

So, Sakyr swipes the card across the black screen, and to his surprise, a green light flashes above the door before it slides open for him. 'So, Bruld didn't change the lock yet', Sakyr thinks to himself. 'Maybe he was just busy lately with other things'.

He enters the apartment complex and makes sure his tail doesn't get caught by the door closing behind him. The light, going on and off through sensors, is on already. The entrance hall doesn't look much different than when he went home the last time. The elevator is just across, with the heavy metal door leading to the stairwell right next to it. The hall is sparsely decorated with just two huge, sad-looking pot plants flanking the entrance and an electronic billboard to the right.

Building manager Bruld is there in front of the billboard with a stranger Sakyr has never seen here before. Bruld is currently talking to the latter. "... if you'd like to learn anything about dis place, I suggest you start here. You find loads of information in dis board's database. As I said, I am a little busy right now tho, I can't really--" Bruld stops and turns as his still sensitive ears pick up Sakyr's faint steps. "Heeey Sakyr! My little guy! Haven't seen you here in a good while! Comin' to visit your old man?"

Sakyr stops in his tracks and offers the manager a quick polite smile. "I... yes. I was just here by chance and thought I could see how he's doing. Do you know by any chance if he's here?" There are a few more questions floating in his mind right now, but after hearing that Bruld is being busy before, he opts against it.

"You know, I honestly haven't seen Emrys in a while? I think he's not here right now at least. But, since you are here, can I ask you a favor? Dis fine fellow came here not too long ago, seeming a little... lost. But you see, I need to repair Miss Phynqee's recycler and really don't have the time right now to uh, help him out? Can you maybe jump in for me? Just 'til I'm done?"

'That doesn't bode too well. He hasn't seen dad in a while?' Sakyr sighs and scratches the back of his head.

"I, uh... I mean, I'm not really in a hurry or anything, but I..."

"Thank heavens, I knew I could count on you! I'll see you two later when I'm done with the repairs, alright?" Bruld pats Sakyr's shoulder and scurries past him to call the elevator and leaving him and the stranger alone, just like that.

With another quiet sigh, Sakyr walks towards the big billboard with it's many images and different event notifications flashing all over it, and stops next to the stranger. 'Well, this is a little awkward.'

The strangeness of Sakyr's newest charge is obvious in every way, even from a cursory glance. Closer in proximity, it is only furthered. A pair of ponged dark antlers grow from their head, haloed by white strands of hair that cascade down their shoulders in a gradient to the palest of yellows. Their skin is a navy almost dark as the void, with overlaying tones or greens, violets, and blues. They match the iridescent shimmers of the black feathers on the sides of their face, on the wings where their ears should be, and on two other pairs folded tight against their back. This cosmic blend of color is broken up by cracks of kintsugi gold, except where a pair of loose-fitting pants and a thin, oversized shirt with ripped holes for wings cling to their willow-branch frame.

One arm is missing entirely, the area covered in a strange moss except where peeks of that similar gold shimmer in the cracks. a few plant-like growths seem to cling to those antlers, and grow in some of the deeper golds of their form as well. They do not appear to have a mouth that is visible, though the structure for one is there. Their eyes have no pupils, but a brighter glowing shape gives an impression of where their gaze is fixated. Which is currently locked onto Sakyr where they loom over him.

At least, they do until they crouch down on all threes, their only clawed hand bracing against the flooring near the points of small, hare-like feet. Their eyes don't blink for a span, as if studying him in his entirety. Then a sound trills out of them, somewhere between a coo of a bird and a cat's start-up noise. Their head tilts one way, and then the other. They repeat their initial chirp.

When their hand meets his, his gloved fingers curl around theirs in a firm grip. He’s not sure if they can feel things with their prosthetic or not but just in case, he makes sure his grip is tight just to let them know what they’re in for.

Their eye contact doesn't break either, but their hand doesn't move either. In their crop top it's easy to see the way their shoulder tightens the muscles to maintain their position, but they conserve their strength for the moment, just keeping Butch near even ground.

"It's no problem at all," he says with nod. "It can be hard out here and it's best that we work together. And, yes...I've been here for a few years and rice is one of my staple crops, even, along with soy beans."

Since the rice is in Artair's possession and he's extended his offer, he would not have been surprised if he was politely told to head out, but then comes the invitation for dinner. Admittedly, he's quite interested in learning more about his new neighbour and why they're here, so...

"I'd be happy to stay for dinner, as long as you're happy to have me," Shunran says with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. "Just one question first... Is yours a shoes-on or shoes-off kind of household?"

"The offer is happily given. Please stay." They wink, backing through the threshold. "You can keep your shoes on for now. I plan for a shoes-off space at some point, butttt..... with everything still in the moving-in chaos stage? And the flooring being a bit worn? I'd hate for you to get a splinter or catch or a nail!" Artair laughs, before gesturing with the rice bag as an invitation inside.

“….Two an’ three quarters!” He catches sight of the kid racing up the stairs and hurries to move inside, nearly toppling in and onto the floor but catching himself at the last minute. Butch huffs at his words, grimacing as his boot reaches the carpet. He sure was a lot of talk for a little brat running for his life!

But for a sleep as deep as this was, all of the banging and yelling did (eventually...) manage to wake him with a start. Panic grips him briefly, limbs locking in close and tight to his body, but as he fully comes to it fades. Right, he's here, and the voices-- they're familiar. But why..?

No one would ever expect a man as big as Caesar to be able to move as silently as he does. There should be so much giving him away, a stray creak of a floorboard, a shuffling, anything. But no, Caesar is a hunter at his core; if he didn't want to be heard then he wouldn't be. And in fact he makes a silent accent up the stairs to Richard's room, right behind Butch-- and suddenly a hand has gripped the back of the man's overalls, and lifted him clean off the ground. He's turned to face Caesar, who looks deeply unamused and, honestly, a little bit scary.

A triumphant grin grows on his face as he feels himself closing in just in time to realize Richard is headed straight for his house! His brows jump up on his forehead as the little one disappears inside followed by the door slamming just before he’s able to catch up. Still, when he reaches the door, he takes to banging on it with a fist, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

“Ya lil’ BRAT! UuRGHHH!!! They used t’cut people’s hands off fer stealin’ shit, y’know!” He snaps, continuing to slam his fist against the wood of the door. He jiggles the doorknob with the other hand just in case Richard had forgotten to lock it but unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

One last frustrated bang against the door and Butch takes a step back, eyes darting around for an alternate solution. Sure, he could just walk away… he had plenty of other chickens at home and besides, the kid would have to return Josie eventually—but he was impatient, and this kid needed to be taught a damn lesson! So, he does the next best thing… breaking and entering.

Pressing both palms against the glass of the nearest window, Butch tries pushing it upwards and is pleasantly surprised to find that it’s unlocked. It slides up a little just enough for him to fit his fingers between the opening and he shoves it all the way up.

So instead, he waits. And the second that window rattles, he knows--- Caesar leaves it open sometimes when he cooks, and the latch doesn't work anymore. It's a pain to levee the thing open even for his father, but it is a window of opportunity for Butch, and one he can't rightly stop.

He continues to charge after Richard, only hesitating slightly when the child hops the upcoming fence, but not for long. He prepares himself before throwing himself over the fence in one big jump! Only—his boot catches the edge of it and Butch falls forward onto his stomach.

"You'd have to catch me first, you pathetic cretin! Finders keepers!" He mocks his pursuer quite scathingly, though the idea of his head being removed does make him plow forward a little faster. He's not good at sweating yet, so his body is getting too warm with all this running. Josie seems to like the heat if not the jostling, but he's not keen to test what would happen should it get too hot. Nor is he interested in giving Butch time to catch up by running far enough his longer strides might make up for lost time. But this is why he has a brilliant plan, as always.