𝕀ℕ𝕍𝕆𝕂𝔼

   a quick update— ! i’m still alive! and i deeply apologize for my lack of activity. that being said, i do in fact plan on coming back full force, but the fires in my area of northern california have inspired a lot of stress on my part, which makes focusing very difficult. 

i will be going on hiatus, but while i am, i will be chipping away at the drafts i do have lined up. if you are not listed below, i may have missed a reply, which is very possible; we all know the fickle nature of tumblr notifs. i may not be checking in on this blog every day, but you are very welcome to send a req to my public twitter, as long as it’s clear in your profile who you rp/who you are. it’s @outerjaw! again, i’m very sorry i haven’t been around more often. when it rains, it pours. but i’m very much so awaiting my day to dance in the sun again! thank you for being patient with me all this time.

here are the replies i owe, in order:

@dancingedge @yabaiboi @bianren @hellslight @swimprize @bubonem @vereisten @achronism @furumetal @sucredanse @illimitexabominer @animuras

   Another crash against his sword, and still, his eyes are locked onto the entities in front of him. There is not a single being that he cannot cut down, or so he psyches himself into thinking; with someone to protect, standing back to back with him, failure is simply not an option. Even if his sword gets heavy (it is), even if he has to face himself (he will), he will protect her as closely as he can.

   It is once he defeats the last of those surrounding the both of them that he grabs her wrist and runs down the street, eager to get her someplace— anyplace— safe.

   Finally, a moment to himself. Between hordes and general city chaos, Haise pulls a cellphone out of his pocket and flips through the contacts until he finds the one he is seeking. With the door to an emptied shop barred, he lets himself slide down the wall, Yukimura 1/3 laying on the floor next to him as he rests his chin on his knees and texts the first person who came to mind in the middle of all of this.

   from: ササキ ハイセ    to: 旧多 二福 || @animuras

     Nothing of this city interests the woman with the exception of the reason of foundation. Partaking in celebrations for whatever never came into her priority list, and she wonders how the other citizens who find themselves in a similar situation can so easily forget how strange and dire the situation in its whole is. Without a clue to go by, Atago masks herself with the facade of enjoyment and participation. It would do her no good to brood in solitude. 

        ❝ Ah, it seems I’m not the only one seeking refuge from the crowds. I suppose I’ll take your kind offer, ❞ she says, approaching the stranger at the beach. Her ears slightly flatten atop her head, an indicator of subtle worry. Well, any emotion really that isn’t her normal, bubbly, invasive self. Maybe the topic of the event did affect her senses, unbeknownst to her. A heavy sigh permeates the air and she plops down on the sand, anticipating a conversation or silence ( she owns no qualms with either outcome ).

   And he is silent at first, wondering if she would rather brood or hold a conversation— his gauge for people tends to waver towards being too giving when it comes to understanding, or empathy, as he had learned in the past with his superiors. But this particular woman does not seem to hold any malice, so he goes with the latter.

   “At one point the beach was as crowded as the audience from the first night, but I think most people have gone home now. I don’t mind big occasions like this, but sooner or later I guess I do end up looking for quiet.”

part of her doubted if she was worthy of participating in this celebration of, she even considered keeping it to herself like she had to during the first two days. however, honoring the memories of those who were long gone…that’s something A2 could easily get behind with. they deserved this.

for those who gave her the burden of living on. for those who mattered. for those she loved. for those who will never abandon her memories.

watching her boat sail off the android recognized this numbing sensation. though nothing that could successfully destabilize her, what really disturbs her is the follow up:the vice-like grip around her ‘heart’, the hollowing sensation like everything is utterly meaningless, that–  why were they allowed to feel to in the first place?

looking over, she hums in response, mostly to acknowledge his presence before those lifeless eyes drifted back to her floating lantern.

     “i guess that makes us two then.” everything is always so new for her. every single day spend here held a promise of new information, it also held the comfort of knowing humans were safe, too. “…it’s not so bad though, is it?” in truth, she found it quite beautiful the way humans regarded their lost ones. it felt… familiar.

   He knows that look from anywhere.

   When he least expects it, he sees it in the eyes of his students. His colleagues. Even his superiors. Everyone in the CCG had lost someone that they miss dearly to this very day, no matter how healed the wound might be, no matter how much time passes them through. 

   Haise understands that every life has a meaning, and a feeling, and leaves an imprint on the hearts of everyone they touch. He himself is touched by this, even though he has never faced loss.

   Isn’t that right?

   — But she has a point. Events like this, though they may dig into the hearts of those affected by loss and grief, bridge the gap between longing and love. 

The vivacious atmosphere fits Aerith perfectly: bright lights, warmer energy, all activity. She finds herself in the middle, dancing and singing along to complete strangers and unfamiliar faces — though she’s more intent on just enjoying herself rather than meeting new individuals. Heart pounds to the distant bass of music, and despite the bundle of energy that holds her, even she finds herself out of breath and with entirely reddened cheeks.

She’s standing onto the side, sipping on some iced blue drink of sugar and something else when someone approaches her, honeyed voice almost as sweet as the drink in her hand. 

“A bit,” she laughs breathlessly, “I got carried away.” She wipes her sweat with the edges of her jacket before turning towards the other. “What about you? Dancer? Singer? Something else?”

   Getting along like this with so many people is refreshing in a way completely unique to the Ward’s celebrations; the atmosphere of a party really does bring people closer, everyone here for their own private reasons, yet willing to speak to those who share the space. It goes unsaid that they all have things in common that only take a quick conversation to reveal.

   Sasako offers a smile of understanding as the other woman wipes her face clean of sweat. The lights, the bodies... Now that she thinks about it, it is a little warm. 

admittedly, Ellis is drunk.

his tolerance is fairly high, but by this time of night, he’s lost count of how many drinks he’s downed. after all, how can he resist joining in all of the merriment? he never could turn down a drink offered to him or an invitation to partake in a round of shots. his intoxication wouldn’t prove to be much of a problem, though; it was like a second nature to him now, considering his lifestyle and, well, job as a bartender. 

he pauses in bringing his next drink to his lips, glass suspended halfway between the table and his mouth. charming? it’s been a while since he’s heard that.

“Thank you,” he replies, readjusting his wings just enough to bring attention to them. “That dancing of yours was quite charming, too. What would you call that one dance move?” he chuckles, simply joking with her.

   Sasako finds that it is easy to act more confident when she is inebriated like this, his question inspiring a laughter that is equally as girly as it is carefree. Though he may be a stranger, the celebratory atmosphere is so contagious, she leans a bit closer to him as if she is speaking to any other friend at any other party.

   “Hm, I haven’t thought up a name just yet,” she places her hand on her chin as if in deep thought, only to suppress more laughter at the thought that she is being serious. “Maybe you can help me!”

   She slips a complimentary glass of something off of a silver platter carried by one of the volunteering waitstaff, one she knew to be carrying the inhumanly-friendly alcohols, and takes a drink in contemplation before coming to a conclusion.

So what?

She smirked, letting her small frame tilt backwards. Behind her, the tendrils of her kagune, now massive and pulsating as they began to converge into the same being.

So what?

Eto laughed. He was right– so what? What mattered now, in this beautiful, disgusting place? Who cared if either of them were caught with their own monstrosities? She was dead, as was the person known as Haise Sasaki– he just didn’t know it, did he? He didn’t recall her prior, so he simply couldn’t have remembered just who and what she was, or himself for that matter.

She easily caught the strike of his with her kagune; a snarling tendril of teeth that snapped and chewed at both Haise and the air as it wrapped around his arm. Still smirking, Eto did not rip off the limb as she had done so only moments prior. Instead, she suddenly moved, jerking the other hybrid close to her.

“It hurts, right– existing like this?” 

“It must be so painful for you, and yet you keep trying so hard…”

Before he could free himself, or she flung him into a building on a whim, the author craned her neck forward, taking a chunk of flesh for herself straight from the so called dove she held so closely. In the same motion, she leaned back, letting her kagune throw him hard enough into the ground that the concrete cracked.

“Ah– you taste like shit, too.”

How unsurprising, how boring. She wondered what he thought of her own taste, even if he didn’t seem to recall that particular evening as of yet– a shame, she really did want to know.

   Who is this woman to say these things— Haise does not know her, nor had he ever encountered her before arrival here (a clever guise, living life as an author), but at the sight of her monstrous kakuja he remembers one case file in particular. 

   One eyed owl.    Rating... SSS.

   Besides the biting, nipping, at his body by her kagune, he feels another chunk of flesh ripped from its stem. The noise makes him want to heave onto the ground, so far below him now— raw, pulsating meat cutting ties with sinew and muscle fibers. He can smell the iron in the air and feel it leaking out of his skin like hot metal, the pain earning a cry (a shriek, really; be careful now Haise, don’t you wake the sleeping children.)

   If they leave their homes, she is sure to take care of their regrets.

   ... ... ... ...

   Dizzying lights are dancing across his eyes now. His head is the first thing to crash into the concrete below. Cracks in the foundation to better sear into him, sharp corners of rock only adding to what he is struggling to focus on.

   Looking up now, he does not have the strength to do much. And in his weakness, his kagune suffers as well. The once-whipping tendrils, having been smacked away and bitten into, are nothing but limp arms at his side. 

   “Painful?” Nothing but a mumble, but he is sure she can hear him.

   On an uneasy knee, he attempts to stand, never taking his eyes off of her all the while. “And what if it is? I’m not him. I never will be, never again. So why don’t you shut up about it already?”

   A mere moment on the ground is enough for him to regain a fair amount of his composure. He is resilient— healing or otherwise, determined to see this through— dancing with death herself or otherwise. If he is not careful, he could succumb to his wounds already, but another part of him itches and prods to continue fighting. To get up, get up, get up, GET UP,

It was then that the boy really felt a sense of fear. Not at the idea of authority, but perhaps shame and the idea that he is in trouble. To make matters worse, there seemed to be some sort of miscommunication between the two of them- that Hadwyn thought his parents living nearby was close enough, so they let him out by himself, but this thought didn’t translate well and he was hesitant to even try and clear up the confusion for himself and the older.  

He only remained staring at the ground in completely silence as a small panic took over, only growing worse with how aware he was that someone was awaiting an answer. Out of frustration and fear, his throat tightened considerably ( there was a shake to his frame ).

“I…” His statuary spell broken by the lifting of his sleeve, to clear his now blurry eyes.

   Oh no.

   “I-It’s alright! Don’t cry,” he attempts to reassure the boy, though it may be too late for that. It is easy to see that the boy is shaken up, whether it be from Haise’s light scolding or nearly falling out of a tree, and unfortunately Haise cannot say he has ever handled young children before— his own had been much older.

   Out of his breast pocket is a handkerchief, never used. (It really has been a while since Haise found himself crying.)

   There is an old man he cannot see. Memories are funny in this way, being so clear and yet shrouded all the same. There is a boy, and a girl. A coffee shop. An old book.

   His head pounds with every small piece that comes together only to fall away right after, as if he does not have the mind to make them stick. With hands to his face, he writhes until he falls to the sand, keeping his face covered and his eyes closed. The sound of the ocean is far away now. He cannot feel the earth beneath him, as if he could fly away at a moment’s notice.

   But something echoes— was it a word? A question? Auditory hallucinations? Haise decides to uncover his face to check, and finds another young-looking face staring down at him.

   Reconciliation for those they miss?    Arima, I wonder if you’ve thought I ran away.    Akira, I wonder if you’ve thought I lost myself.

   Quiet contemplation sets the tone for an empty gaze out towards the last of the glistening lanterns in the bay. He is truly alone here, not a mother or a father— or his own children— to keep him from losing himself too much in thought. Come on Sassan, they might say. This isn’t like you. Why don’t we go home?

   And in an almost-answer, he hears sandy footsteps from behind him, but when he turns to look it is no one he is familiar with. He has to wonder why, on such an empty beach, he is approached at all, but the last thing Haise would think to be is rude.

   He is not that person, but oh, he was. 

   The boat wobbles until it can stabilize, with a single note rolled up and tied to its mast. Its contents will not be seen by a single other soul; eventually he knows the structure will collapse to the water and disintegrate. But he hopes in some way that they can feel his resolve, wherever they may be.

   Someone else approaches him, but he does not look until he is sure her boat has sailed off. Out of respect.

   He may not eat it himself, but his cooking adventures have been lacking as of late.

   It does not matter so much that the other overseers are sorting through personally-scheduled food breaks; he is certainly capable of handling most things on his own, but looking towards a small crowd approaching from the south, he is relieved to see that he is at least not standing alone.

   By too much, she understands that she is not necessarily drunk, per se, but she is inebriated enough to break out of her typical mode of subtlety and modesty. She sings along to the songs she knows, and dances to the ones she does not— damn that bar for being inhuman-friendly, and her inhuman dance partners for encouraging her.

   It is between one song and the next that she sits down for a moment, striking up an instant conversation to the man she sits next to.

   But still, she sticks to the sidelines as she often does when she is in public like this. It is best not to arouse attention to oneself, though the woman standing next to her looks quite out of place. Haise— no, Sasako envisions her dancing with the others and thinks it to be more fitting than standing like she is.