#animuras

A trail of eviscerated monsters and blood led down to where a wire was waiting for Eto to slice it through. Despite the red that had stained both her kagune and attire, she surged forward to tear it up so that she could move on to another hole. Yet, before she or her kagune could reach the cable itself, Eto took note of a noise behind her. She jumped forward, away from the cable, in order to both pivot herself around and to avoid the attack aimed at her.

The scent of blood did not completely overpower the stench of a clown, and Eto immediately knew who it was that took aim at her. She grimaced, her face twisting into an ugly expression as the sight of Furuta Nimura became evermore clear.

Of course, she thought, of fucking course.

“Why am I not surprised...?” She hissed, her anger boiling just below her skin; yet, she made no evident of hiding her feelings in neither her tone or expression.

He was certainly not here to assist her (or anyone else) in cutting these wires, so there were only two reasons why Furuta would be here. Eto hated both of them, perhaps as much as she did Furuta himself.

“Get out of the way.”

attempting to scare people every day has always been a part of her routine. typically, it’s purely out of fun. or to strike a conversation, albeit the latter very rarely seems to work. but... for once, she’d really like for it to. especially since this particular costume was a pain in the ass. something should come out of it. 

The teen was hardly a stranger to the various alleyways that lay hidden far away from the main streets of most of this city’s wards-- she had explored them thoroughly during her prior stay on the isle, and now she took to delving into them once more. Such quiet, dark spaces seemed to be the same no matter where she ways. In her mind, they had the potential to be an entirely separate world from the main streets, and they often held far more fascinating treasures in comparison.

The stench of blood was certainly one of her favorites, and as soon as she noted it, Himiko was in quick pursuit of the source. Her steps were silent, with a clear mind and careful-- nearly enough so to be nonexistent--breathing, she maneuvered her way through a maze of cement and brick. It wasn’t long until she came upon the scene of two men; one, bloodied and bruised, his body lying broken upon the ground, and the other standing above the mess, dressed in black and a mask. Himiko’s gaze focused upon the latter, her mind racing. That mask, she thought, it almost looked like...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the movement of the masked man-- he’d noticed her, it was obvious. But how? She had been so careful...

Himiko silently emerged, deciding in the moment that it was better to approach than continue to hide. What was the point of hiding when she’d already been spotted? Oh, well, she supposed. Smiling, the blonde spoke up.

@animuras​

“NimmuuuuuNiiiiimuuu tooooooad. How are you still asleep?” 

Roma had woken up to find her house a mess. What a strange story. Huh? Did normal people refer to their lives as stories. Perhaps she was in a rather dramatic mood today. A moment after she woke up, she had no idea how long she had been sleeping or where she was, but that was probably just her being an airhead as usual. 

As far as she could remember she had lived on this island all her life. She was not the type to overthink things. In fact to avoid that she liked to distract herself. Society was filled with things called distractions that were perfect for taking your mind off the state of the world. She could keep chirping along like a happy bird in the cage. 

There was one particular thing which had been taking up her distraction lately. A troubled boy who reminded her of what she was like at his age had moved in with her. A cursory glance in the mirror told her she was much older than that now, though shorter than him frustratingly. All of these wrinkles sure were something, she had always thought she’d be more babyfaced when getting older. For some reason or another he barely left the house. She was starting to wonder if his parents had raised a Neet, or uh is it called Hikkokokmori? 

She finished cooking a breakfast of human food. (Human food, what was she an alien) and brought it up to his room. “Nimura, you need to eat. When are you going to get a job anyway? Come on, come on, there’s much more fun stuff to do in the outside world. We could go look at the penguins. Or we could go see a show. You like theatre don’t you?” 

She walked over to the bed and pulled the blankets off of him. The plate of what could only charitably be called human food, as the eggs were somehow both runny and burnt she put to the side as she started to push at his sleeping form. 

   He does his best to shake it off, to little avail. Breaths become unsteady with the effort and he thinks if he just keeps going, as long as he keeps walking, he can run away from the hands reaching out to him. Slowly falling into his old cycles of denial, Haise has nowhere to go. His heart beats unsteady within his chest, what feels like an empty cavity only held together by cursed ribs.

   No Arima, no Akira, no CCG to watch him and prevent what could only be ensuing chaos. This is what he believes of himself, and this is why he cannot stand still. He has to go somewhere and find someone, or something, or anything at all. There has to be something. He cannot be alone.

   Near his breaking point, he sees a familiar black suit in the distance, and he runs toward it with inhuman disparity, the uneven gait only stopping at the hilt of someone he recognizes from home— an agreeable face ever at the side of another investigator.

   “Investigator Nimura!” he cries out, never more happy to see an acquaintance. A bow follows, though he is panting now, and the stance is difficult to hold. But he keeps it nonetheless, out of formality for his colleague. Quite the ignorant one, this young man, but what else is he to know? One minute within the confines of his own home, the next in this unfamiliar landscape, Haise has no idea the kind of mess he has landed in.

   The web of a spider.

   “Please, tell me what’s going on! Where is everyone? Where are we? What happened?!”

    If there was one thing a newly reanimated city was good for, it was alleyway meetings caked in hard light and heavy shadows. (Not that this particular silhouette was any way difficult to mistake for another.)

    Neon strobes and the back-brightness of expensive signage were at their evening crest of intensity--it couldn’t have been any earlier than midnight, and for that the city was still abuzz with activity. Presumably out of a temporary excitement that they weren’t living between rubble and ruins, should you have asked.

   The shadow peered from the edge of the alley, and, apparently satisfied with what it found, threaded its way further in until its--now his--face was lit by the subtlest spark of green-colored energy. A sore sight, Loki’s magic nowadays; himself, handsome to a fault.

    Or so he’d tell us.

    “This city has been a hive of opportunity,” Loki said to the open air. “Dare say that I’ve enjoyed the change of pace. It wasn’t particularly long ago that my magic was neutered in a fashion familiar to this, but that was on account of trying to cast an adult god’s spells in a body far removed from being an adult. Here I can feel the gasps and sputters, ever out of reach.”

To him Worth, it was something he could earn. It’s something like belonging.  And love is wanting to protect, to fight until you’re wrecked,  coming back reformed, reborn and stronger too.

“You fight till you’re basically in pieces... You can’t eat a thing... You choose to do these things?”

Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why.  Why did he strive to be strong? Why did he have to shed blood? Why did he throw away his humanity? Why did he have to throw away weakness? Was it to protect the existence of someone important? (I don’t want to lose anyone anymore.)

That’s right his life had been defined by loss. Do you know what it’s like, to look into the casket and only see the torn up remains of your father’s corpse? It should have been Kuroiwa’s father who was left behind. When he lost an arm, no, he should have been torn entirely in half. 

His father, he wanted to one day work alongside him as an investigator. He was looking forward to working along side him. 

"Kukie Urie, allow me to spell it out for you. The one you truly hate is your father himself. The weaking that died and left you behind all this while.”

At that moment the conscious mind of Urie Kuki that was still struggling to take control snapped as if it had never existed in the first place. It was all a pretense. He had the organs of a ghoul sewn into him after all in order to become stronger. He facilitated the process by letting the rc cells wrap around him, and strangle his bones from the inside out like they were snakes spreading inside of him. It was not like at this point he was suddenly no longer human.

No, for a long time now he had been a human in name only. He was strong, s-s-s-s-strong, so strong! There was no point in hiding otherwise. 

If he hated his father than, everything he had worked for this entire time had been pointless. Urie somehow could accept that. The words the clown weaved around him like a net to be caught in were somehow more comfortable than what he had been telling himself all this time. 

He had been snatched out of an inopportune moment. The exact moment before he could be saved, no right now he was still filled with all those murderous feelings desperate to escape, but the last remnants of his mind could not see anything familiar. 

A street? He thought he had been in a building. A clown, where was that clown? He looked around desperately, he needed to fight. To prove he was strong. (Definitely). He was definitely strong. 

Urie heard, casual whistling, and the sound of light foosteps. His head turned around tongue flopping around wildly. 

"F-f-f-uruta. Rank 1. Suspicious, watch him! Because I am your dog! (Grrrrr). How ridiculous he’s not a threat! Do you really think somebody like Furuta could kill the Washuu? B-but, if you say Bark, I’ll Bark! Make me a special class after I kill him, Matsuri!”

He was yet to be a king, only a knight. It seemed right now though he had stumbled upon a fool. With his eyes in working condition, Arima recognized him immediately. The only other man in this city who shared a past with him.

It took his close approach though for Arima to realize that he was not dealing with Yoshitoki. He was so caught off guard that he even blinked. That was a lot of emotion for a boy his age to show. He thought to reassess the situation, watching quietly, still quite close to the child he had mistaken for Yoshitoki.