DEFUNCT

                   C A G E D   B I R D   S I N G S  [18+]

            [[ rules & regulations    +     application ]]

                                 []BRAND SPANKING NEW RP SITE[]

 []MULTI-GENRE, CANONS AND OC’S BOTH ALLOWED[]

                   []CROSSOVERS ENCOURAGED[]

[]POWERED BY JCINK[]

If magic is fickle, technology’s a real bitch. Between the two of them, the sleepy little world of Earth is now in congress with a mixture of worlds, times, and places. Time-travel is common-place, so much so that sometimes rifts open up and people living in the past tumble into the present, if it can be called that. Linear time is so passé. Everything in this universe is not always as it seems: magicians commune with demons, gods and goddesses stalk the planets, and beware: there are monsters here, some wearing human skins.

Slavery is legal throughout the universe, particularly on Earth and in deep space, though a dedicated movement of rebels have sprung up who wish to change the status quo. You can find an auction house from Sicily to Mars, and far beyond that. The most dreaded auction house, though, is Slave Point.

By common agreement, the past, the Earth, and space colonies are under the Humans’ jurisdiction. Monsters and faeries are easy to find in the Demon Realm, though some of those demons are employed in Hell. Angels live in Heaven, a stifling paradise. But in this birdcage, lines are crossed between worlds and between people nigh hourly.

Welcome to the Birdcage. We hope you enjoy your stay.

          [[ rules & regulations    +     application ]]

High-rise buildings stabbed the skylines with their steely knives; somewhere, unbeknownst to Sensui, he was once more watched from the safety of above by the blue eyes of a gambler. The selfsame one who had been there ten years ago—the night white went black. Were Sensui aware of it, his skin would crawl; instead, he was preoccupied with the thought of how beautiful the sky would be when the buildings crumbled along with everyone in them.

Long legs carry the former detective into a pristine hotel; frequented by the upper class, he’d found it an agreeable spot to negotiate some terms of alliance with Dr. Kamiya far from prying eyes. Hotels catering to the rich were the most secretive spaces in the city, after all; white-collar illegal activity received little more than a blind eye, and surely discussing the extermination of humanity would be less conspicuous than whatever cocaine-fueled businessman would be streaking down the hall this week.

And tonight, would the deaths his old competitors were afforded be his fate?

The man—who had filled out, strengthened and changed, a delightfully twisted and jaded look in his eyes—was focused on the windows in the moments Sakyo watched him, and he seemed unguarded. Toguro had sensed his power already, and looked up at his entrance, stilling as a predator does when it senses another of its species hunting in its territory.

The last vestiges of red lay down to rest with the sun, leaving only Karasu ignorant of what was transpiring. Sakyo sipped his amber pinot grigio and swallowed, considering the interloper.

Sensui’s cold blue eyes sweep the lobby as he arrives. The restaurant floor…? Far be it from him to imagine this was the sort of place that served haute cuisine tailored to the tastebuds of demonkind. An expense unnecessary, for their lot—unless, perhaps, they were hired help. His jaw sets. Something in his right arm twitches out of reflex. The steel inside knows something he doesn’t.

"Toguro, if you'd invite our guest to the table."

Big hands slid into a trench coat's pockets. "Is that wise, Mr. Sakyo?"

"No. Do it anyway," Sakyo chuckled, sipping at his wine.

Karasu lounged, all long legs and sneer. He'd felt it too, now, and was craning his neck to get a view of the french doors by the elevator.

The colors of the Tokyo skyline extended forever beyond the glass eggshell of this restaurant. The jagged buildings glowed, light on windows. It was a normal eatery for Sakyo, a four star establishment with an upheld reputation, so Toguro sat beside him to mitigate attention and alarm, imbibing little of food or drink, and none of the drink alcoholic. It was a comfortable position. They weren’t conversing for the moment. The food was reasonable for Sakyo’s refined palate, the wine superb.

"I still wonder what it would be like if it all disappeared," Sakyo mused aloud. The buildings, the people, the artificial lights, the cars.

Karasu snorted. He’d been dragged along, disallowed his mask and forced into a suit for the occasion, his long hair braided behind his back, and he sulked and winced in the other chair, picking at his food, visibly antsy and annoyed. Toguro and Sakyo had no notion that his irritability was caused by a phobia of mastication. The chewing of other diners was getting beneath his skin.

The hardwood floors, dimmed lights and delicately circulating servers kept the refined atmosphere up well. Sakyo wasn’t wowed, but he was enjoying himself.

High-rise buildings stabbed the skylines with their steely knives; somewhere, unbeknownst to Sensui, he was once more watched from the safety of above by the blue eyes of a gambler. The selfsame one who had been there ten years ago—the night white went black. Were Sensui aware of it, his skin would crawl; instead, he was preoccupied with the thought of how beautiful the sky would be when the buildings crumbled along with everyone in them.

Long legs carry the former detective into a pristine hotel; frequented by the upper class, he’d found it an agreeable spot to negotiate some terms of alliance with Dr. Kamiya far from prying eyes. Hotels catering to the rich were the most secretive spaces in the city, after all; white-collar illegal activity received little more than a blind eye, and surely discussing the extermination of humanity would be less conspicuous than whatever cocaine-fueled businessman would be streaking down the hall this week.

And tonight, would the deaths his old competitors were afforded be his fate?

The man—who had filled out, strengthened and changed, a delightfully twisted and jaded look in his eyes—was focused on the windows in the moments Sakyo watched him, and he seemed unguarded. Toguro had sensed his power already, and looked up at his entrance, stilling as a predator does when it senses another of its species hunting in its territory.

The last vestiges of red lay down to rest with the sun, leaving only Karasu ignorant of what was transpiring. Sakyo sipped his amber pinot grigio and swallowed, considering the interloper.

"Miss Sasuga? I’m Miyuki, with security. I’ll be bringing you up to Mr. Sakyo’s office."

Sakyo's office was a penthouse suite, top floor.

The elevator dinged; the velvet lined door opened.

The demoness bowed her in.

"Very good, Miyuki," a voice rumbled.

"Do you require anything more, Lord Toguro?"

Toguro folded his arms and leaned against the stained wood paneling. "That will be all."

Her clothes rustled as she bowed, and then she stepped back into the elevator. It closed with another ding.

The room was dark in a svelte, stylish way. A telephone rang from another room. There was a click, and then a man's voice with a smooth smoker's rasp sounded.

"Yes. Yes. Do you think I care? I said the meeting was cancelled and I meant it." A pause. "It damn well better. I don't want you to call this line again until you have something important to say, you understand?"

The rude stranger hung up the phone, and then footsteps echoed before he walked into the room.

Long black hair fell around his shoulders in a careful way. He was handsome, undeniably so, with a scar tracing his cheek, from a knife or a demon's claw, it wasn't clear. He was looking down as he walked in, dipping the end of a new cigarette into the orange flame protruding from a lighter.

The gold lighter was swung shut and the man groped to place it in an inside pocket. He turned his eyes up, showing them to be startlingly blue, and over to Sasuga.

                           чou should know better than to corner an animal like a ғσx.                                                              —ωe have a tendency to show our teeth.

     ◤♛◢     Roast duck would do; a fresh kill, acquired during this               morning’s hunt. It would be prepared by only the most               inhuman skilled hands, tender and seasoned and worked               over to the bone until it yielded the consistency that the               young Earl desired…much like his company. Speaking of               which, it would appear that they were right on time.                    Some five paces behind him, a respectable yet safe               distance, his shadow smiled morbidly. In a mirror image of               his Master, he seemed eager for the night’s company, but               perhaps for a different reason. As they rounded the corner               of the gilded railing, the little Lord began his descent down               the first of many sets of darkly-carpeted stairs as he spoke.               "Keep your guard up tonight. I don’t trust this man."                     That smile only spread behind his shoulder, the voice                that returned his command saccharine, smooth. "Do you                ever trust these men, My Lord?” He received no answer,                of course. Instead, a gloved hand far too young to scrawl a                signature across documents so severe as those that he signed                anyway waved within the sight of the sharply-dressed Footman                waiting below. The car doors had opened and closed, the foot-                falls of shined shoes (a few pairs of them) climbing the stairs                toward the front door, which was then opened by the Footman.                     The Butler was no longer smiling. Every muscle had tensed.                     The young Master found pause upon the top of the final set                of stairs, his cane clasped within a strong fist as he faced his                foreign company forward from above. Hospitality was expected.

Toguro stood at his shoulder, massive fists balled in his coat pockets, gaze fixed on the Earl's butler. Behind him, Bui stepped forward, a sleek metal frame with no facial cues to give away behind his mask.

Karasu towered behind him, the last of the entourage inside, glancing around before staring up at the Butler with an exacting eye. He crooked a grin, visible only in his glimmering violet eyes.

His eyes fell on the Earl.

A rude and very audible snort echoed from behind the iron mask.

"Miss Sasuga? I'm Miyuki, with security. I'll be bringing you up to Mr. Sakyo's office."

I pinched my cigarette between pointer and middle fingers, blew out a funnel of smoke through my nostrils in a long sigh, and checked my watch. The gardens beyond the balcony’s ornate balustrade didn’t catch my eye.

I had been informed he would be here soon. I hoped he was less boring than the crime lords playing shit games of poker over badly-mixed cocktails in the room behind me. If it wasn’t for his interesting resumé—or as much as one had in the underworld—I would already be gone, back to the portal to ningenkai.

     Except

               He wasn’t alone

          For a short bit, the only sounds to be heard were those made by Sakyo, as well as the background noise of disdainful peers. But that changed as the barely audible noise of shuffling could be heard; nearest to Sakyo, pressed against the balcony railing, was an unusual character of colorful clownish attire—so calmly shuffling a deck of playing cards, much like the ones used as tools of the trade for gamblers.

With a polite smile, I pinched my cigarette and blew out the smoke, away from him, before turning to take him in. "The moon's out." I indicated it with my eyes, before turning them back to the psychotic jester. I could see myself reflected there, the wicked blue in my iris. "Good night for a murder—black blood turns silver. Someone should write a poem."

[ Roleplay blog by Sekahyyh and Rehd Fawx. ]

[  What would have happened if Team Toguro won the Dark Tournament?  ]

When nightmare becomes reality and our boys lose the Dark Tournament, Toguro decides to offer the same ultimatum to them he did to Karasu and Bui.

This is the story of their insane, inane shenanigans, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes comedic, hopefully entertaining.

Sakyo quickly realized that of his four new employees, two were human teenagers, one of the demons encouraged his companions’ behavior, and the other was an arsonist.

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