THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH begins to taste like a poem.       like religion, the way you look at me.

send me a symbol and i’ll tell you:

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.