「decιpιor」

What an irritating face. Something about the way this newcomer grins and the manner of speech he holds reminds the hitman of one he’d loved to cut down. And what a reckless way to approach someone for that matter! All hours of the night when hardly any roamed the streets… yes, it was the perfect set up, wasn’t it? 

A little hum left him as he pushed from the wall he settled against. Hands rested in his pockets as he turned to address the little rat that approached. A silly little rat indeed. { “What irony it is that you’re the one saying this.” } His steps shift. Leisurely they bring his stride to pass the boy, stopping behind him. A hum escapes him as he continues. { “But what’s worse than that…” } He continues as he turns to face the blond once more. 

His eyes, once a feline yellow, bleed red, night glowing in the low lighting-- he makes no move to run (though perhaps he should, for there’s no real gauging this man’s threat level), as if he wants the stranger to come closer. His face takes on a wide-eyed look, head canting to the side, pupils dilated and hair softly tipping as gravity shifts the strands.

               This kid, this cat – WHATEVER he is, he’s a TRIP! Yveltal chuckles darkly and hums an “oh?”, their hand sliding down to the boy’s neck, fingers gingerly playing at a g r i p —

                                 — then, suddenly, they LET GO, stepping back with a flourish as loud laughter overtakes them. “You’re really something else!” they say with a cant of their head, and even their aura seems to loosen up a bit in their amusement. “Not a lot of beings in this world can sass me right to my face – ‘MAGICIAN’ or whatever you are, kitty, you’re damn fun!” It’d be a crying shame to just KILL something as special as this, they think – he’s not going to answer their questions just from being intimidated, clearly, which only makes them want to know MORE just what it is they’re missing about this boy.

But as quickly as the fluttering was there it is gone, and it seems once more his cheeky tongue was spared to tell another tall tale of his ignominious escapes from such dangerous situations. Perhaps in that manner he was only perpetuating his own demise, because once more his mouth would fall victim to boundless folly and his head would have to scramble to fix the fault.

He wants to go home, he can feel himself screaming for it even as the casual smile is regained by his illusion’s false features. His mind is quickly becoming a madhouse, masks of every kind chiming in for a shot at having their deceiver escape. Kano has become an object of interest, and while that may have saved his life, it doubly meant that he would likely run into the crimson-haired stranger again. He fears he’s made his bed.

                                                           But d e n y, d e n y, denial.

H E L P me polarize, H E L P me polarize,

               Should they be flattered? Entertained? Perhaps they’re a bit of both of these things, even though this slippery feline still refuses to answer their questions – they take one long step to the side, CIRCLING, though somehow still drawing nearer, and then in the beat of a heart they’re almost against the small boy’s body, CLAWS pressing into the tree behind him, hues of cyan still FRIGID as they bore into his illusion.

Oh dear. Not only did Kano fail to repel the creature’s advances, he drew him nearer. That simply wouldn’t do. Certainly his heart was pounding, but he has the feeling that showing any slip of weakness to this creature would be his own undoing. There isn’t a moment elapsed in the pause between the stranger’s words and his own, though perhaps he really ought to learn to hold his tongue...