#angelusism

۞ – Honestly, he didn’t mean to touch her chest. It just sort of happened in the middle of weaving through a crowd. Those days are far over for the Magi(or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.)

Of all people, he really wouldn’t have expected to see her here. His eyes lingered upon the blue coat with little angel wings in the back of it. Squall’s eyebrows raised slowly and he canted his head, almost curiously.

‘That... can’t be her... can it?’

He nearly turned and walked away. He didn’t think anyone he knew would be in this city, after all. So far it had all been strangers and the fact that there was a glimpse of her in the crowd... well, it seemed like it was too good to be true. Was he just hallucinating or something? He thought that was over with.

Welcome to Amaranth, Rinoa!

Your welcome bag contains your Telepiece, a key coupon for Spiral’s End housing, and a moon rock. It rocks so much that it’s out of this world! You’ll be paired up with Arabelle Goodwin. Hope you two get along!

Have fun with your eternity!

Also, please check out our little after joining page for tips after acceptance!

The festivities, and spending them with people far different from those he's become accustomed to, are: welcome distraction; severe brightness in a sea of unknown; a comforting return to roots while remaining adrift.

Yamamoto cares almost too deeply for those he's left behind - but it's a relief, somehow, in a bittersweet, brightening way, to have fallen in with another who feels the same about what she's left behind - and is, like Takeshi himself, somehow still surviving the divestment of it. Without really knowing what's going on in their homeworlds, that's all they can do: hope someday they'll be able to exclaim, 'Wow!'

Or in Rinoa's case, because it seems like something she'd let slip, instead of the gaping teenage wordlessness Yamamoto's more exemplary of: 'I'm so happy to be back!'

'What the heck happened while I was gone?'

For now, though, they are where they are, and they might as well make the best of it. Enjoy themselves a little, since it is an amusement park.

The Rain Guardian's costume for the day is a little tongue-in-cheek, what with its nostalgia and simultaneous simplicity. Lingering in the crook of the hallway, where the arc of many doors ended and gave way to the elevator waiting spaces, Yamamoto's fingers tuck into the arch black of pants which emphasize gangliness rather more than elegance. At the least, the suit sits well on his shoulders, even if his tie is mediocre in its knotting and garish baseball pattern - unworthy of a real mafia member, probably, but that's what he means to go as.

Turning at the tap of footsteps, Yamamoto raises a brow and breaks into a smile.

"Yo!" he calls, raising one hand. "Are you ready to go, Rin?"

  He knows he's supposed to feel, in his core, that he - has it easy, situated on the first floor of the hotel as he is, with the good fortune of a trial far more straightforward than the third's behemoth guardians or the fourth's explosive ritual just to get in and out of his quarters. (Room 100 isn't a home, not really. He'd call it a base if anything, as in a game. A place to return to, when everything else about the park, ugly in its reticence, fails to yield answers or exits - a corner to rest, missing the familiar soft snores of his friends all the while.)

  He also knows he's meant to consider himself lucky he needn't worry about a roommate flipping a gravity switch on sudden whim. There are further those who resort to sleeping in the lobby when, say, the second floor is snowed in for the day.

  But even in the simplest scenarios - particularly after nights where the silence stretches too long in the dark - people make mistakes.

  Being handed directions should have been a cakewalk. (In fact, he has most of the first few rooms down to an art.) It's an unexpectedly chilly afternoon, however, when Yamamoto crosses the elevator threshold, cheeks still chapped with a bit of autumn. No snow, not yet, not even on the weather floor today, but Yamamoto shrugs his shoulders as if brushing off a day's downpour anyway anyway. Exploration hasn't yielded much new. Limbo makes a decent training ground, sure - surprises, multitudes of strangers, not all of them happy to see him - but he misses a lot of things.

  He wonders: if everyone is doing alright. If Gokudera has firmly relegated him to Tsuna's shoulderblade yet; if they're having luck looking for him (not just whether they are - that's a certainty).

  Yamamoto wonders about so much, in fact, that, in thought, he hardly notices the other person he bumps into - a stifled yawn bringing his arm up right into her path.

  Directions and ticket slip through his jarred fingers just as a brief "Ah!" of surprise leaps off his tongue.

  He follows up with a pleasant: "My mistake - "

  And in the midst of kneeling to retrieve what he's lost, Yamamoto smiles up. "Did you drop your directions too?"