GAME OVER.

     VEINS FULL OF POISON, BODY goes numb ! a mere GLANCE at the familiar face sets his heart ABLAZE. the game has not been won, the rules are subject to change, he knows this. is this their scheme ----- the reapers, he means ----- are they here to collect his soul with a mere guise?

     OBJECTIVE MET, WALL CLEARED --------- FREE to roam the streets once more. tangled words, throbbing skull, he had yet come to terms with a second week of TORTURE. his lack of voice and sluggish stance denoted such. ( but, GOD, would he continue. for her. “ hang in there, shiki. ” ) alas, without a sliver of hesitation, he calls out to his ‘ partner, ’ despite his unwillingness to drag the nuisance along. ( he’ll deal with the DEVIL, if that what it takes : he reminds himself. )

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                   “What… happened?”

Rhyme rubbed at her forehead with a small groan, she had just suddenly woken up near Hachiko. The last thing that she could honestly remember was pushing Beat out of the way of the shark shaped Noise. Of course, she occasionally got small glances from when she was a Noise as she sat there, but honestly it wasn’t much to go on.

Rhyme struggled to her feet, examining her hands for a few minutes, before glancing back around, her eye catching a familiar orange in the crowd.

Why was she still here? She was happy, but she had to know why. Maybe it was her innate curiosity. Who knew, but she rushed forward, calling the figure’s name.

                  “Neku!”

     THE FAMILIARITY OF SUCH A soft, distinct timbre was cherished. so SOOTHING to his ears was her voice. the absence of headphones aided him tremendously, and his heart had nearly LEPT at the distinction of another voice. to think such a GAME full of HEARTACHE and PAIN would INSPIRE, within him, great change ---------- no, it was unfathomable. ( now, though, he knew. he needed to make amends for his heartless reaction to the erasure of the miniature martyr. )

              ❝ same streets, same crowds -------- right? ❞ 

 “What’s wrong, Neku? Please don’t tell me that’s how you usually look.”

He’s meaning to give a joke, one which Joshua implies to want to return memories considered somewhat precious, despite having inevitably lost to everything. He’s taking quite a leap to give a smile, one which is somewhat ironic and a little shameful, but also one which bleeds the usual snide remark, and, perhaps, there’s a little something genuine too. There’s nothing more to be said at this point, and so Joshua awaits his response, his hope never reaching too high — he certainly knows better than to keep dreaming.

@prcxy​

      REALITY SLIPS FROM BETWIXT LITHE digits, lingering just within reach, but FLEEING each time a forearm is outstretched to the skies. ( silly PROXY, silly, silly boy. the game has only JUST begun ! ) vexation swarms like a VIOLENT STORM, and his RESPIRATION is akin to HURRICANES : wicked winds twirl and twist his stomach in KNOTS ------ alas, he says NOTHING in response. ( not yet, anyway. ) a rejoinder would only FUEL the boy and his annoying observations. but the URGE to spit venom outweighed the minor influence of MATURITY.

     ENGERY DIMINISHED, TIMER COUNTING DOWN, the heaviness in his heart  is beyond his strength — oh, ruinous plights are just beginning. a game was a game, and each were made strictly for entertainment. he simply  wishes not to appease  the makers of this hellish game, but rather … watch  their smug faces crumble when he emerges victor on  the seventh day.