mono no aware.

She leans in with a conspiratorial smile towards Heidi, taking the juice box with both hands, as if it’s a precious treasure. “Thank you! I won’t tell if you won’t,” she whispers back. 

As Oliver trails in too-soon, Kaoruko slips the juice box behind her, where he can’t see, and immediately passes Heidi a notebook from another class, plus a special pencil bag filled with colored pencils - to keep her entertained in class.

“Here, I kept this on me for you.”

Hopefully the colors were okay - she’d started collecting colored pencils for Heidi, but she still felt the rainbow was lacking. Nothing was too much for the little girl she considered her baby sister, even if she herself was technically the youngest sister in her own family.

Kaoruko glances up from her phone, looking around the yard with perfect indifference to the situation before turning back to her brother.

“Because of this.”

She holds up her phone - and just then, as a water balloon careens through the air and threatens to hit her, the screen flashes, and she disappears for a moment - just enough time for the water balloon to crash into Atticus instead.

When Kaoruko reappears, she’s still in the same position - and still dry. 

bold.      always   /  usually applies italic.      only applies situationally   /   sometimes

𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.   arms  crossed  on  chest.  crossing  legs.     fist-like  gestures.     pointing  index  finger.      karate  chops.     stiffening  of  shoulders.     tense  posture.     curling  of  lip.     baring  of  teeth.

𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. hand  to  face  gestures.     head  tilted.    stroking chin.     peering  over   glasses.      taking glasses  off  —  cleaning.      putting  earpiece  of  glasses  in mouth.       pipe  smoker  gestures.    putting  hand  to  the  bridge  of  nose.   pursed  lips.   knitted  brows.

𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚗.  arms  crossed.  sideways  glance.    touching  or  rubbing  nose.    rubbing  eyes.   hands  resting  on  weapon.  brows  rising.    lips  pressing  into  a  thin  line.     strict  unwavering  eye  contact.  wrinkling  of  nose.

𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 & 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. open  hands.   upper  body  in  sprinters  position.      sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair.      hand-to-face gestures.      unbuttoned  coat.     tilted  head.     slacked  shoulders.  droopy  posture.     feet  pointed  outward.      palms  flat  and  facing  outward.

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. hands  behind  back.   hands  on  lapels  of  coat.   steepled  hands.   baring  teeth  in  a  grin.     rolling  shoulders.   tipping  head  back  but maintaining  eye  contact.   chest  puffed  up.     shoulders  back.     arms  folded  just  above  navel.

𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 & 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢. chewing  pen  or  pencil.     rubbing  thumb  over  opposite  thumb.    biting  fingernails.   hands  in  pockets.   elbow  bent.     closed  gestures.     clearing  throat.    “ whew ”  sound.     picking  or  pinching  flesh.   fidgeting  in  chair.   hand  covering  mouth  whilst  speaking.    poor  eye  contact.     tugging  at  pants  whilst  seated.     jingling  money  in pockets.      tugging  at  ear.   perspiring  hands.   playing  with  hair.    swaying.   playing  with  pointer or marker.      smacking  lips.      sighing.     rocking  on  balls  of  feet. flexing  fingers  sporadically.

𝚏𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.  short  breaths.     “ tsk ”  sounds.    tightly  clenched  hands.   fist-like  gestures.    pointing  index  finger.    running  hand  through  hair.    rubbing  back  of  neck.   snarling.       revealing  teeth.     grimacing.     sharp-eyed  glowers  with  notable  tension  in  brows.     shoulders  back  ,  head  up   -   defensive  posturing.    clenching  of  jaw.   grinding  of  teeth. nostrils  flaring  /  heavy  exhales.

“Thank you!” It’s so cute, though, she almost doesn’t want to destroy its adorableness by eating it. 

... “I’m not upset.”

A lie, if she’d ever told one. Tucking the tessen away in her kimono, she shakes her head, as if to also shake off the recent memory. The demon had come close to slashing her - had she not been able to use the fan to block its attack, and if Izumi’s sword had not intervened, Murasaki might have been wounded, if not killed. 

Why had she reached for her fan first? To resort first to defense, rather than to the short sword at her waist - she would never become stronger if she continued to default to the coward’s tool. 

She walks over to where the demon’s body is disintegrating, and picks up the arrow before slotting it back in her quiver.

She stands motionless for a moment, focusing on the scents and sounds of the night, picking out the clues that will tell her in which direction they should go. 

kny verse tag.

🦊 @pixxelhearted​​ said : "I... I'm going to leave, now. Goodbye; have a pleasant evening."

                   they all say that : word for word and right when there’s a change of expression, a glimmer forced into a deep sleep by daring words and reckless attitudes —— the light from his eyes fades, and for that… only she is to blame. children aren’t disagreeable in entirety ; so many have taken Melancholy’s hand, so many have crawled into its arms when the world around them stripped them bare of their rights. hers was a mere remark… not an insult – per se – but to settle for it as a compliment would be more than just an error. during so desolate an evening, one can’t afford to choose their company. be content, fool, otherwise all you have obtained might turn its gaze away from you. ( she’s no Belkia. she’s nothing like Higan – or the rest, for that matter – either. only in their company would Tsubaki feel completely at ease. )

❝ oh? why?… ❞ he’s not about to demand the reason she is outside around this time ; it’s well past midnight, sure, but his concerns are different. ❝ come on —— my birthday is soon. it’s lonely, isn’t it? remembering you’ve got no one to celebrate it with. ❞

                   fabricated confessions for the easily impressionable. it’s a fox’s job ; to toy with, to deceive, to win someone over for its own benefit. and even though her behavior doesn’t warrant him drawing his sword or bleeding her soul dry, Tsubaki wouldn’t mind wearing the mask of the trickster for the first time in so long.

                   thus a flame flashes behind him. an illusion, if one didn’t know better, and if the other five didn’t emerge to join in a fierce display. the kitsune flaunting its power.

❝ I like interesting stories, so won’t you tell me one? ❞

🦊  𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃  /  𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 !

vibe check - failed. 

someone - who? - had once told her that her intuition was stronger than she believed it to be. and now... her intuition says that danger belies this... person’s appearance. having had limited exposure to other abilities, she wonders if it is that kind of aura that warns her now. 

depart.

she managed to be marginally polite in her farewell, but it seems it won’t be that easy - but then again, social interactions are often much easier entered into than severed. she remembers her mother telling her something like that - 

 it is the mark of a true charisma to be able to gracefully bow out of a conversation - not engage in it. 

it’s a pity the daughter fits neither definition of charisma. she’s on her own for this one. 

she falters at the demand for explanation - why, he asks?

“ ... you failed a vibe check. ”

honesty is never a wise policy - pray he doesn’t ask for further explanation, but that seems unlikely.

“ ... is your birthday really coming up soon? ”

doubt seeps into every word.

she’s about to lecture him - on the merits of honesty, perhaps, but more likely on the merits of a birthday spent alone (known from experience)... when a certain flash of light draws her attention, and any satire dies on her tongue. 

fire.

just a spectre of it, a brief impression - but for the most destructive of forces, even a moment is enough to instill trepidation, even if not terror just yet. 

“ ... an interesting story. ” 

what is this - one thousand and one arabian nights? sell the humanity of a narrative or cease to have another chance to tell another story? 

in flashing his - fire, she’ll call it for now - he’s flashed his hand as well. is this a game she cannot win? in that case - 

she smiles up at him, quite placidly - the console in her pocket seems to pulse, eager to be utilized for its proper purpose finally. 

to be honest (as rare as raw honesty may be in their occupations) - 

there is no thinly veiled request for cash in her comment, only traces of casual sarcasm she feels she may safely express with this particular superior. delicacy of speech is an art that seems to have wholly skipped her generation after her parents’ - not entirely unfortunately. for her, sensitivity is limited to paper - and satire, for the more everyday spoken word... at least, for those she deems both worthy and appreciative of it. there are certainly some she might be curious to ‘talk back’ to... but she has a reason to stay alive, now, and that would might be unwise a move - akin to sending your king piece to meet your opponent’s on their side of the board. 

but, surely... a man of such material luxury (whether he possesses others is beyond her scope of judgment) understands the need for that precious currency just beneath time and familiarity. of course, the port mafia pays quite well, but unlike him, she hasn’t the opportunities to provide as much utility, yet. plus, the use of her ability itself incurs some expenses, as minor as they may be.

she tilts her head at the appearance of an offer - unexpected, but not unwelcome. at the same time... she withholds a slight frown.

‘brat?’

not her, surely...?