𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯

mikazuki smiles when the boy manages to block his strike with his sword without losing balance. he’s beginning to learn some things. he’s at least guarding himself this time, on request, and then putting some distance between them. mikazuki switches to the defensive, his sword gripped tightly in his hands. sharp blue eyes watch the boy, waiting for his next move, wondering what the boy would do next. 

          it’s another predictable charge. though, it seems the boy this time tried something different, making a last minute momentum change to throw mikazuki off guard. 

still, the move is easy to read, the move is easy to counter. at the last second, he twists his body, sword following him and the wooden blade against clangs against the metal one. more wood ship, but the blade still holds itself against the stronger counterpart. he quickly parries, following through the block with another attack aimed at his shoulder. he moves slower, hoping it will give the boy enough time to execute his own block.

“nice attempt,” mikazuki compliments, a sly smile on his face. “but, perhaps a different tactic would’ve been more effective,” he suggests. but, with that said, he takes a step back, bows, and sheathes his sword. “i think that’s enough sparring for now,” he says, clapping his hands together, applauding the boy’s effort, even if they were unsuccessful. “you did well!” he lies, “but a few pointers.”

he raises one finger. “you must hold your weapon correctly. without proper grip, you will not be able to use your sword properly. it will throw you off balance, it will not aid you in battle.”

he raises a second finger. “patience is key, my friend, don’t always rush your enemies. your patience might reward you with your enemies providing you an opening for you to take advantage of.”

and, then he raises a third. “remember defense is important to any battle.”

          again, the man is slippery-er than most shadows, and minato finds that he has to react fast again, lest his blade — were it a real one — gouge through his shoulder. he instinctively lifts his own to block, ducking slightly, but it’s an awkward one that puts too much strain on his arms at an uncomfortable angle, and he’s sure that anyone who was really trying would be able to easily crush through it. 

          he has a feeling he knows when someone’s going easy on him, and when the man backs off and puts his sword away, signaling the end of their impromptu ‘ spar ’ ( if that kind of sad ass-kicking could have even been called that ), he’s aware that’s exactly what happened. it’s no less than he’d expected — the guy had said he was a seasoned swordsman, after all.

                              ❝ ... okay. ❞

          it’s a half-hearted, even somewhat skeptical, response, as he eyes the stranger with a furrowed brow. he’d never asked for any advice — does this guy walk into people’s yards and just offer sword tips often? he’s tempted to ask ‘ why are you telling me all this? ’ but figures he probably is just trying to be helpful, thinking the unsolicited pointers are welcome.

          sliding his own sword back into its sheath, minato reaches up to finally rub some of the ache out of his shoulder. eventually, he shrugs — patience and defense: both old news. and he’s not about to spill his life story and reasons for recklessness to someone he’s just met. ❝ i’m not used to fighting real people, ❞ he explains instead dismissively. it’s a far cry from the trained samurai going to war against legions of other trained samurai ( or is it? ) like this guy looks like he is.

          as for the first point, though...

THE ‘ENVOY’ RESPONDED WITH A NOD. The position this new world assigned to him was a role he felt fit to play, even if it lacked the comfort and power of actual royalty. Politics were a sea full of sharks no matter the place and this specific city was almost nostalgic to the millieu he was raised in. As long as he could do what he wanted and find out what happened to the world, he was content. With a raised hand, he signaled for the guards to lower their weapons and after exchanging glances they complied. “Envoy is a rather humble title.” It fell with a sigh, unused to being addressed with anything less than emperor.

“But that is what they made of me here. Relax, Minato. We were not enemies afore and I have no reason to turn on thee now.” With a motion of his head, he ordered the troops to back off. They proceeded to go into hiding, letting the two converse in peace. “Thou canst remember the prior city, or not? The one before the sun turned black in which we first encountered.“

                              ❝ ... ?? ❞

          at first, he tries to reason that maybe the negotiating parties had given him his name, for some reason, even though he’s really no more than a point of contact and undercover escort to get the diplomat to the actual big guys that he’s supposed to be seeing.

          && then it clicks into place because no one else he knows actually says ‘ thee ’. his look turns to one of unsure recognition, because this guy doesn’t seem anything like the momentous beast-looking creature he’d met. ( for one, he actually has a face. )

                              ❝ ... wait, tzar? ❞

@orphanos

      “We’ve taken this turn before,” he says after a long moment, looking at the nearest tree and spotting one of his marks on it, like he’d expected. It isn’t as if he’d thought this would exactly be easy, but this? This was just getting tiring. Scuffing his foot along the ground, he turns to the other adventurer beside him, pointing idly with the tip of his tail. 

          “Do you want to try taking the lead for a bit? I can’t really navigate as well as I usually can.” It really made him miss Third Eye more than he had previously. “Or do you have another idea?”

          the sight of the scratches on the bark fill him with a slow, tired dismay, and he sighs, taking the opportunity to just pause and catch his breath while trying to decide what to do next. it feels like they’ve been wandering this forest for hours on this wild goose chase. the other boy sounds just as demoralized as he feels; it looks like even beastkin native to this area can’t cut it through these woods. ❝ ... we’re supposed to look for paths with mushrooms, right...? ❞ there have definitely been mushrooms, but no more than he would expect from any old forest. some more guidance on this would’ve been nice.

          just as he’s about to shrug and step out in front because why not, something catches his eye beyond the next cluster of trees. ❝ hey. look. ❞ he points ahead, at what looks like a cluster of glowing lights half-concealed behind the foliage. ❝ are those the wisps people were talking about? ❞

         The world seemed to disappear around him as he tunnels hard, for the cunning bandit. Kanji’s followed him all the way from the forests and into the streets Opalaria. Even if it was only one bandit, he hand to teach him a lesson not to continue down such a shameless path… And as he shakes the earth with his thunderous footsteps, the beastkin pursues the bandit into a narrow alleyway – only to find himself unable to move… “The hell?!”

         With his eyes focused on the escaping, and now sneering bandit, he growls in response to the taunt. Jerking his head in all sorts of angles to try to wriggle himself out, he was as helpless as a rabbit caught in a snare – the more he struggled the tighter the laundry lines wrapped around his antlers. Yet, somehow he doesn’t understand this, continues to kick, and spew words the neighborhood children probably shouldn’t have heard.

         And then someone approaches. It’s a bit difficult to tell who or what exactly they were, but he can sense the hostility in their voice. With a grunt, he attempts to turn his head around to meet the other which happens to be a half-turn, a scowl apparent on his features.

         “Who gives a crap if I’m supposed’ta be here or not? Some stupid bandit jus’ ran off with someone’s phone! The hell you standin’ there for?!”

          his orders say to rid opalaria of any outsiders. as a beastkin clearly not from the city, this guy should be on his hit list. but before minato can even wrestle with the moral quandaries of what he should do, the antlered man turns around and suddenly the alarm is two-fold. first of all, he recognizes him. shock flashes through widened eyes. secondly, he’s — what? chasing a bandit?

          just barely up ahead, minato manages to glimpse the last hint of a leg vanishing around yet another corner into a small back pathway between houses.

          well, if he says so.

          ❝ kanji? is it... you? ❞ he asks, his voice still quiet but tense with the urgency ( && bewilderment ) of the situation as he moves forward to sever the strings entangling the other guy with a slash of his sword through the air. someone ( or a few someones ) isn’t going to be happy about that when they come to check their laundry, but as far as he’s concerned, the other filler people in this “ world ” aren’t really REAL anyway.

          the line — hilariously, minato would later reflect when adrenaline isn’t pumping through his veins, with a couple socks still hanging from them — are still tied up in his antlers, but at least kanji’s free to move again. ❝ okay, let’s go. ❞

          he doesn’t know when exactly he had made the subconscious choice to go after this thief instead of following through with his orders — a misdemeanor that, with house karliah, might end up with him having to respawn... 

@orphanos / event sc

ADORNED BY MOSAIC and oceanic patterns, the great clock tower in the city struck the evening hour. At one of the many harbor sites, a group of armed men and women stood guard while the one protected overlooked the horizon and setting sun drenching it in warm hues one last time. “Hold!” One of the soldiers shouted and pulled the beastkin envoy’s attention back to his immediate surroundings. “Wait.” The guards threw their glances at him, then stepped aside to allow him to see and pass. 

A wrought smile sprang to his lips at the new sight of the familiar young man at the center of this commotion. “Hah. Art thou the contact person the houses sent here?”

          running errands, escorting people... it feels like he’s a coffee intern, if deadly mafias had coffee interns. what else were the houses, after all? he’d been here not long, but long enough to have put two and two together; already, whispers of planned espionage had reached his ears, things he was expected to take part in, no less. he hopes whatever was happening in the city of spirale would sort itself out soon... and get him out of this hellscape.

          carefully, he’d approached the docks largely under cover, careful to avoid being seen by prying eyes. who knew the skills he’d picked up dodging zerg-rushing shadows in tartarus would come in handy again?

          rounding a corner, he’s about to head up the next street when a flash of quick movement catches his eye — something had disappeared around a corner just up ahead! it had looked large, whoever it was. it might just be someone running late to something, but his curiosity is piqued. he picks up the pace, giving half-hearted chase.

          he doesn’t have to try hard. the moment he turns the same bend, he comes to a sudden stop. there, a man standing in the middle of the back alley behind some residential buildings, evidently frustrated. a glance up reveals the answer: a pair of antlers on his head are tangled in laundry lines used by the people living in these houses... already, a few articles of clothing have tumbled onto the ground thanks to his struggling.

          he hasn’t seen one in person yet, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots —

                                        a beastkin?

          instinctively, his hand rests on the hilt of the sword at his hip as he takes a couple careful steps closer. ❝ hey... are you supposed to be here? ❞

allegiance

rip minato is exactly the same as he was. nothing fancy here; just a human boy trying to make his way through this alive with the same ‘this is fine’ attitude that got him through the dark hour. he is aligned with the opalarian empire.

appearance

same old look as always since he’s remaining human, though his clothes have been swapped out for something more setting-appropriate. his nerdy self would find it kind of cool if this whole situation didn’t so markedly suck.

powers

minato keeps his ability to summon his persona as before. however, thanks to the powers that be in this new world, he also has the added ability to cast fire himself without relying on orpheus, though his attacks are going to be weaker than those cast by his persona.

so what’s he doing

minato woke up in this brave new world to find himself unwillingly shoved onto the front lines of this four-kingdom war, identified as a member of house karliah even though he’s still trying to figure out what that means. he is a combatant for the fighting, much to his reluctance. sometimes he does get sent out to fight against those of other kingdoms, but he is primarily tasked with helping to eliminate spies and internal threats. given the highly corrupt and back-stabbing nature of opalaria, this is very important. so if you’re a non-opalarian wandering around inside the kingdom’s borders, it’s his job to make sure you leave, preferably dead. minato doesn’t really like that he’s been forced into this role, however, so in the right circumstance he’d be quite liable to try and find some kind of loophole for you.

          he stares up at the sky, the angry glare of the flaming circle bathing his face in its unearthly red, hands in his pockets.

@orphanos  ❤‘d for a starter !      ( plotted. )

“ Is that music…? ”   Not so subtly, he is watching the young man seated on the opposite bench to his own with ever increasing fascination. Ashton had first thought it to be nothing of importance – Spirale is full of noise unfamiliar to him, and he’s gradually learned to pay it no mind – but the longer he’d sat here, the clearer it had hit his ears. From the boy wafts muffled song, a tune far from any he’s ever heard. It’s upbeat and rhythmic, fast and flowing, and he can’t help but yield to curiosity and listen. He isn’t sure for the first minute of where the source of this sound is coming from, but it becomes soon apparent as the other reaches to fidget with… something that looks a little like a short stick around his neck. He presses what must be a button, and the song changes altogether. Ashton’s mouth becomes a surprised but silent ‘O’ – so that’s it! The music is in that tiny stick! And it’s coming from his ears! He gapes for only a moment longer, because then eyes find him from peripheral vision and suddenly this stranger is looking straight at him. “ Oh – ”    Ashton falters, his posture shooting upright in a fluster. Gyoro and Ururun turn their heads elsewhere, choosing to feign like they too hadn’t been looking.    “ Sorry, I was staring, wasn’t I… It’s just, that thing around your neck and on your ears. There’s sound coming from it. ”

          feeling eyes on him, minato lifts his head, only to find himself holding eye contact with a boy sitting on the bench across the park walkway from him. he blinks as the boy sits up, a chagrined look on his face from presumably being caught staring, and are those... tiny dragons around him? instinctively, minato wonders if there’s something in his hair, or on his face, and brings a hand up to pat his head down a little. had a bird pooped on him? but there’s nothing except the warmth of dark-pigmented hair having soaked in the heat of the spirale afternoon sun. glancing up again, he sees the boy’s mouth moving, something directed at him— a click of the controller dangling at his collar and the world floods in again.

                              ❝ — your neck and on your ears. there’s sound coming from it. ❞

          he glances down at the cord of his headphones, then reaches up to unhook one from his ear, letting the sounds of the park and its strolling inhabitants filter in, bringing himself back into his immediate surroundings. by the looks of it, this guy isn’t familiar with modern tech. in a good mood today, minato offers the smallest of smiles: barely a quirk of the lips, but coming from him it may as well be a beaming grin.

orphanos / minato !

          The establishment before him is rather grand and ostentatious, bustling with countless amounts of people, all waiting to either spectate or join in on the action. Out of those two, he had applied to the latter category, of course; it was a hasty decision on his part, one made just as he learned of the race track’s existence, which had only been ten minutes or so ago now. Ordinarily he had cared little to sit behind the wheel, but in a case such as this, the thought of participating in a race was thrilling, especially since he would never be given the option back home in the Crown City. A grin parts his lips whilst he thoroughly takes the time to look over a map designating the locations of events around the premises. Eyes focused on the large slip of paper in his hands, he takes one step forward only to lightly knock his shoulder against a passing individual. 

          “Ah, sorry ‘bout that…!” Having learning that they’d been fine, he then quickly crouches down to grab the map which had slipped from his grasp sometimes in between their brief collision. “It’s really packed, huh…? Figures…”

          originally, he hadn’t been intending to come. big festivals with streaming crowds of people, trampling fliers and food bits underfoot, are not really his venue. too loud, too crowded, too smelly. and it’s so often awkward, milling around by himself when everyone else is there with a friend or several, or with their family. but they’d said free funnel cake and hot dogs, so here he is.

          it’s in trying to navigate the thick knots of bodies, most of his attention on scanning the signs of passing booths, that he turns a bend and feels himself collide with someone unintentionally. with a sound of surprise, he staggers, then steadies himself, gaze snapping forward.

          ❝ oh, sorry— ❞ his apology comes out at the same moment as the other’s, and he watches as the other boy picks up the map he’d dropped.

THE EMPEROR OF DEMONIC BEASTS exhaled a cold breath. ‘Sucks’. What an unflattering and ineloquent way of putting it. But in the best example of laconism, it captured the heavy sentiment in such a curt way all the same that he couldn’t bring himself to dislike it. “THE YOUTH OF TODAY HATH A WAY WITH WORDS.” He mused aloud, sounding entertained by the off-thought. Sucks. It sucked. Everything sucked. The end of this story also sucked.

“HE MET HIS END ONLY MANY YEARS LATER. I HOLD NO DOUBT SUCH A TERMINUS MUST HAVE BEEN A RELEASE.“ That was him speaking from an experience close to his frozen heart. His arms crossed before him, he lowered his gaze for a moment to the side. “MY PARDON IF THY EXPECTATIONS WERE OF STORIES WITH BRIGHTER ENDINGS. OF THOSE I KNOW OF, MOST ARE BLEAK.“

Like the snow that still covered the world in his memories. All he knew bordered grim fantasy, and he himself was also fitting that description.  “BUT NOW IN RETURN I WANT TO HEAR A TALE. TELL ME HOW COME THOU ART SO OPEN TO INTERACTING WITH ONE SUCH AS I, OF A LIFE DISCARDED AS FANTASY. EVEN IF IT IS BORING AND NORMAL TO THEE, I WANT TO HEAR OF THE WORLD THAT SHAPED THEE.”

          after a life like that? yeah, any kind of death would be a release, he’d imagine. reminds him of something he’d read or heard somewhere once — you either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain? where’d he heard that? some comic... or saying, maybe. it makes him think of some of the people he’d known only tangentially. he’d only seen one side of the story, but no doubt there was more to it that he’d never know. the thought’s sobering. ❝ it’s fine. most of the ones i know are, too. ❞

          it’s with some reluctance that he finds the question turned back onto him, but he guesses it’s only fair. compared to the world this guy must come from, his is just downright mundane. what is there to say about modern japan, or at least the modern japan he’d known?

          eyes closed, he gives an apathetic shrug before opening them again, seeing in front of him the same street of people going about their business, the same corrupt politicians, the same regrets and hopeless endings. or, in truth, it probably isn’t all just that, and he knows that, too. ❝ uh, it’s not that interesting... i guess the only thing that’s kind of ‘ fantasy ’ too is... persona. ❞ he scratches his head, trying to figure out how to describe this to someone for whom supernatural powers and throwing balls of fire probably isn’t uncommon.

“They’re fascinating, don’t you think?” And a bit terrifying at the same time, if you really took their appearance into great consideration. The netpups, of course, are what he’s talking about. It’s a rather peculiar place, each dog’s head replaced with various monitors that fit according to their size. The one Yusuke speaks of in particular has its head replaced with a drawing tablet that he tries and fails to make use of because it won’t sit still long enough for him to do anything properly. “I must admit…they seem a bit out of place. I guess the same can be said of a lot of things that one can come upon in this city, though.”

“You can’t help but ask yourself just why they exist in the first place, too…”

@orphanos

          though minato doesn’t like to stare, he’d admittedly spent quite a while watching this guy try to use one of the netpups as a drawing tablet. it was pretty funny, actually, though it might be kind of mean to say he’d gotten a lot of entertainment out of watching the guy get increasingly frustrated at the dog(?)’s inability to just sit and let him draw on its . . . face? which is understandable, he guesses. if he had a drawing tablet for a head, he wouldn’t take too nicely to someone trying to draw on him, either. they kind of remind him of koromaru, in a way. but more energetic.

          ❝ i guess i just don’t question it much, ❞ he replies after a quiet huff of amusement. this place was weird, sure, but he’s just taken it in stride. if this is what the afterlife was like, after all, then it could be a lot worse. he doesn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been this.

@orphanos ❤ ( sc ) !!

Little Tokyo really was a reminiscence of home, and Ann felt just a little homesick. She tried not to feel all that bad; she was in a place that made the homesick a little bit better and there were people here who had nothing to remind them of home. In any case, she was a lot luckier than most people.

It didn’t mean she didn’t worry. Shiho was back home, and she really missed her. She hoped she was doing well and wouldn’t get upset if Ann didn’t answer her phone. She heard time was a bit wonky here so she wasn’t extremely worried, but there was that thought in the back of her mind…

Still, she tried not to think of it much. The girl found herself in one of the convenience stores, tying to pick out a snack or two. Finding herself in the sweets section, she was contemplating on which one to get when her head turned at the sound of some commotion outside. Right across the convenience store, she could see that there was some event going on, one related to either anime or video games. There were a lot of otaku around, so it had to be something related to their interests.

     “Wow, they even have otaku here. This place is      really like Japan…”

          he really should go actual grocery shopping sometime. i keep telling myself this, he thinks to himself as he stocks up on more ramen packages, simultaneously berating himself and also knowing that the chances he’ll make some radical change to his habits is slim. it’s times like these when he really misses having the others around; aragaki-senpai’s cooking... the thought of it makes his stomach grumble with nostalgia. and even when he hadn’t been there... the fridge had always been stocked through some miracle — ikutsuki-san at first ( it’s still weird to think of how much he’d provided for them in those first months ), and then who knows what. now he has to stock his own fridge, which is so much more of a chore than he’d imagined.

          removing his headphones to pay for his stack of ramen and other supplies, he overhears the girl’s comment nearby and follows her gaze out the window to across the street where he knows a tournament is going on. then he looks back at her, curious about the remark ( && maybe the comment about otaku is a little bit personal ). while normally he would’ve just passed off the occurrence as someone talking to themselves, something prompts him to be just a bit more social today.

as suspected, the boy is an amateur, but there was likely need that encouraged the boy to practice and use the blade. he doesn’t ask, instead saving the question for the moment after the battle. mikazuki is simply curious. there are plenty of swordsman here, many coming from worlds that require them to wield a sword. minato seems to be no different, but one that lacks training unlike someone of the others. 

he’s still smiling, his lips has pressed tighter together. he watches steadily, hands gripping the wooden taichi tightly, stance prepared to move. and then he waits, since a swordsman’s greatest strength can be patience for some battles. many battles his masters have fought were won through waiting, watching the enemy for the moments when they reveal an opening and preying on that chance immediately.

of course, the young amateur in front of him doesn’t know that. he comes charging in a fast pace, almost flinging himself at mikazuki with no regards for defense whatsoever. 

         right. 

hands instinctively raise the wooden blade to the right. minato’s sword clangs against the ‘sharp’ edge of his wooden replica. the wood chips, but the structure holds on. effortlessly, he slides the blade down the steel, turns and sidesteps. grip changes slightly, and returns a blow, aiming for minato’s left. the blow has no strength behind it and, if it lands, it’s only the dull side of a wooden blade.

“you have too many openings,” mikazuki says softly, as he takes another step back, a resuming a defensive position. again, he watches. “a swordsman always has to watch their openings and ensure enemies will not take advantage of it.” 

“try guarding yourself this time.” with that, he charges, sword low besides him as he moves. as soon as he’s within blade’s reach, he swings.

          shadows aren’t like people. it’s a conversation he’d had with akihiko-senpai once. for some reason, he remembers it crystal-clear when he’s usually pretty bad at recalling the details of events that’d taken place in memory. they’d been sitting on the side couch of the foyer facing the tv, but on opposite ends. he’d been petting koromaru idly and ignoring his homework, and senpai had been crouched on the other side, polishing his boxing gloves, which was a pretty typical evening routine for him.

                  ❝ shadows aren’t like people. they act totally differently in a fight. ❞

          he remembers that he’d looked up at that, curious. without lifting his eyes from the glove in his hands and the polishing cloth, akihiko had continued. ❝ they’re pretty dumb, actually. yeah, sometimes they get out of the way, but for the most part, they don’t have much skill. it’s like fighting a punching bag that tries to kill you. ❞ that’d gotten a laugh out of him.

          minato had never had experience fighting real people. what was there to fight in real life? it’s not like he could carry his sword around school and threaten bullies with it, even if that was something he’d be remotely interested in doing. would probably just get arrested for carrying a dangerous weapon ( which would be awkward for a number of reasons ). 

          senpai was right. as mikazuki effortlessly blocks his reckless charge, minato suddenly realizes that he has no idea what to do with this sudden collision force. the impact of it rings up his arms and through his shoulders and he’s jarred — and only then does he realize that shadows never tried to parry. at most, they wiggled out of the way. the sharp grate of wood on steel is his only warning before a sharp strike to his side stuns him. he staggers back; the blow hadn’t really hurt so much as it had surprised him how easily the man could have just bisected him if he’d had a real blade and been meaning to hurt him.

                                      ❝ uh— ❞ is all he manages to get out. openings? 

          someone had said something about that once with him, something about his recklessness and getting himself nearly killed. but he has no idea how to watch his openings. his friends always did that for him. sucking in a breath, he lifts his sword in an effort to protect himself from the incoming attack like he might a shadow, and at least he manages to not get knocked off balance. still, his foot placement is clumsy, and he hurriedly takes some steps back to right himself and put some space between himself and his opponent. 

@orphanos​.

Syaoran was used to new worlds — new towns, new faces, new technology: when one gets swept up in dimensional magic and world-hopping, it sort of comes with the bill. Coming here felt no different. If anything, he felt rather numb to it all.

Well, he better get started on learning this world, too.

An idle boy, somewhere around his age, he’d guess, caught his eye. He seemed knowledgeable enough. Syaoran approached him slowly, making his presence known with a short clearing of his throat and a small wave of his hand. A faint smile graced his lips as his steps carried him closer to the blue-haired boy, before he spoke:

“I’m sorry to disturb you. Do you have a moment? I’m afraid I’m lost.“

          the smile and eye contact language is universal. somewhat reluctantly, minato reaches up from where he’s standing, waiting for the bus to show up, and detached one earphone. the noise of the world rushes back in: mechanical traffic, voices of people shouting in the distance, the hubbub of everyday life.

          it’s pretty rare to get approached by someone who looks his age on the street. usually, the people who asked directions were older adults, though he’s never wondered why that was until this very moment. 

                              ( probably for the same reason he never asked for directions.                                 preferred to figure stuff out on his own rather than be bothered                                with talking to a stranger. )