#anythingooos

He doesn’t have the best of ideas.

Or at least, by anyone else’s standards--by his own, Fukase thinks that hanging on the door frame of a quaint little shop and swinging back and forth is a great idea.

The store owners are perplexed, and annoyed, but he doesn’t really pay them any mind, nor does he make any attempts to get down from his odd little ... perch.

Not even when it seems like somebody else wants to get inside.

“Oh.” He stops swinging, at least, staring at the stranger before him with the slightest cant of the head. And where someone might expect a ‘pardon me,’ or a ‘were you wanting in,’ perhaps, the only thing that pops out of Fukase’s mouth is this:

On less exciting days with the police department, Makoto had to get in his exercise somehow. Wintery weather deterred him from spending too much time outside, but there were other options he’d discovered by now. One center, equipped with a series of tennis courts (among a few other things), wasn’t too far from where he lived. 

He took the time to change and lock up his things in the locker room, then set out to find a court. It looked like 3 were occupied, and another was empty. There was a man nearby that didn’t seem to be doing anything yet, so Makoto approached him and gestured in the direction of the empty court. “Are you here for tennis? I need a partner myself, if you have the time.” 

For once, Makoto didn’t look all that professional: shorts, a polo shirt, a tennis racket in his hands, and a bandana keeping most of the hair out of his eyes.

He stands before a buffet table, a bowl of candies fixed aside various cakes and pastries. The bowl itself holds peppermints and butterscotch candies alike, as well as...coins?

He grasps a single copper coin between his fingers, only to (unintentionally) crush it within seconds. Chocolate--

He watches as a stranger approaches the table, reaching for a coin himself. “It’s--”

“It is chocolate.” He states bluntly.

How sad -- ‘tis the season of full bellies and Hiyoko’s is ever so mournfully...empty. Hunting was much harder than before. Had the change of living space really bothered her so much? It seemed she just couldn’t get her bearings straight, but, then again, it had only been a day or so since she’d been quite suddenly displaced...

She pokes at the frankly pathetic pile of spare cash she’d had in her pocket. It’s good enough for a snack, but she wants to save up -- for something truly important!

Speaking of... A young man is walking by, munching on what looks like the most beautiful loaf of bread in existence. 

Experiencing hunger such as this is unnatural, even more listening urges that are perpetually damaging. Oh, how she knows better than to fall into idiotic temptations that have no purpose and insults all she has worked to obtain. ‘It’s useless now,’ she would repeat over and over, who cares anymore what occurs to Argilla? Asura, Ai -- a terrible combination and without purpose, a mere monster set free to its own devices.

The park is silent and obscure, illumination barely grants a glimpse to the figure waiting for the next unfortunate passerby. No restrains or concern on the consequences, simply bestial instinct pushing her to attack. The fangs on her cleavage click, claws prepared to rip apart whoever walks in and once jumping in front of her victim -- the creature halts, shock irrupting data and perhaps it was already in its lasting minutes of transformation but the face of Prithivi vanishes and leaves the Tuner in front of him.

anythingooos

[ ✥ ]—— One of the most loathsome feelings in the world is when you know something is definitely off, but you can’t figure out what has changed. Wataru’s heart skips a beat the moment he touches Eiji’s shoulder, and as if he’s just touched lava, he retracts his hand abruptly, eyes wide like a deer in front of headlights.

      Then he curls his hands against his chest and casts his gaze down, confused, scared. Whatever it is that gave him that sensation is now draining his body... he has no idea what is being taken away, but it nonetheless made him uncomfortable.

“Can we do one of those?” She tugged on his arm, a childish gleam upon pink eyes once catching a glimpse of a ‘sand castle’. Given her naivety, Argilla was in constant amazement for each small detail and for a change, seemed particularly eager on experiencing everything. It may appear inconsiderate from her part, pushing Eiji on doing whatever crossed her mind -- she can make up for it later, right?

　So, charity.

　Some people, they adore it. The concept, the execution, everything about it. Giving and receiving, it’s all the same to them. Doing things for free, getting things for free, it’s not strange at all to them. It’s a beautiful thing.

　Others, she thinks, are the types who keep giving without taking anything for themselves. Charity as a concept makes them uncomfortable, makes them unsure of where people stand.

　The guy sitting across from her in the lobby, she has to wonder, does he fall in with the former or the latter?

　Maybe he’s somewhere in a category all of his own. She fidgets with the hem of her sleeve as she considers this, looks around at the low-staffed concessions stands and tilts her head as the crowd goes wild over the distant screech of tires on pavement.

　It’s a charity event, with some sort of snappy catchphrase like ‘RACE FOR THE CURE’, only longer and less overused. All of the proceeds from amateurs strapping themselves into 100% donated racecars and all of the bets placed go towards charity, and free tickets had been raffled out over the past several weeks to spread awareness. ... It’s a loud, cheerful event.

　Somehow, it doesn’t suit him.

　“... You aren’t a fan of crowds, either?”