#daitanna

They make an interesting contrast; one of them has a beer and the other has a coffee   ---   mug and all. Given all the work he’s supposed to be doing? A coffee seemed like a good idea. Should he have put it in some kind of container more suitable for travel? Yes. Did he ... do that? No. Nothing was supposed to interrupt him between leaving home and walking to the office and yet. There’s that thing he likes to say about 20/20 vision and the past. Whatever. He should have known better. It’s not like this is a favorite mug, anyway.

For the first part, Gost simply blinks   ---   expecting something else entirely. Orange. That’s the first word that usually comes to people’s minds and the nomu doesn’t blame them. It’s everywhere. His hair. His eyes. His skin. His feathers. Even his blood is now a bright, obnoxious orange. And that’s usually what people want to talk the most about   ---   that’s usually what people zero-in on choose to tease him about.  But instead? The puppeteer stuns him into silence. ‘Gay.’ The word used used to describe him is ‘gay’ and it seems to stop everything. Feathers puff to about twice their usual size. Hands open and close at his sides. Orange brows knit and he very clearly fidgets in place. Even with the sunglasses, he avoids actual eye-contact   ---   preferring the wall or the floor.

“ Hey! You’re the one who came to kill me? ” Violence casually inquired as he put his hands on his hips, looking at the guy drunk off his ass right in front of him. It has been a wild ride since the embodiment of Violent Thoughts got materialized in this world within this weird man’s body. But he did hear that apparently there are creatures in this world who kills beings like himself. “ No offense, but I expected someone more... impressive... Oh well- ”

@daitanna​ ask: 

“i know you think you have to get through this by yourself, but you have people here to help you.” kobeni

Since lips first bumped together, the nomu has thought about this moment and if it could ever actually happen. Kichōna had been straight-forward, without a fucking doubt. The key has been in his possession for long enough. Someone normal would have made a move, by now. The interest is there in both parties and yet something keeps the bird from outright having what he wants, from acting on desire. It occurs to him, with Kichōna in his space, that his life is meant to be very short. The nomu are simply pawns. They are fodder. Simply meant to obey and die for their masters. He’s been okay with that since waking in the labs. He’s been okay with so much of it   ---   with being loyal to whatever cause he’s meant to fight for. The means of creating a nomu are no secret to him; he knows he was someone, before. A person. Different, than he is now. The memories are gone. The emotions, the morals   ---   everything is simply missing and it leaves too much room for other things to slip in. Things like Kichōna.  Kichōna, who touches him like he’s important. Kichōna, who teases him with little nicknames and smiles. Kichōna, who hasn’t wanted him to be any different than he is   ---   who carries his own scars and his own darkness that the ghost doubts others are willing to try and understand. So many of the people here are wrapped up in themselves. Their goals. Their pasts. They don’t make room for others to enter their lives   ---   they don’t trust   ---   and the nomu aren’t thought of as much more than unruly pets meant to be crammed in one building until they are needed. Being needed usually entails causing a lot of damage to the city and its people but this is different, this is entirely personal, this is   ... Everything he’s wanted. Mouths are together again   ---   but this time it’s a proper kiss. This time, he’s a little more eager. Less shy. The urge to disappear isn’t anywhere in his mind; there’s only Kichōna. The way he feels. The way he tastes. His own tongue is careful as it explores, as he follows the other’s lead and example. Had he kissed anyone, before his death? He doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter, anymore. That person is gone, and with it   ---   all those experiences and people. He’s a pet of the League, now, and he knows who he wants to hold his leash.  A pause comes so they can breathe but Gōst lingers close and even bumps his nose against a cheek just slightly as a hand comes up to press open against Kichōna’s chest where stitches are hidden. A proper introduction. One that comes after the key, after the kiss. Names aren’t important   ---   not when there is a bond. Not when there is a pull, like this. It’s dangerous, waking with nothing and then suddenly locating the one thing that makes everything else bearable. Wings wrap around him, slightly   ---   the motion almost possessive but there is more than enough room to back out of the space, if need be.

RUMOR TIME - Accepting

" Well, not exactly... " Violence rubbed the top of his hoodie, he wasn't a fan of talking about this part of himself, it reminds me that he's not really human. " How do I explain this, whenever my mask is taken off, my strength is increased by like a lot! And because I have such a burst of strength, I get this... ridiculous adrenaline rush, that just gets me really crazy and violent... suddenly, I start to enjoy hurting people and... well... it's not great. "

The bird has never been this orange before; cheeks and ears practically glowing due to heat that he has absolutely no control over. They are close, again. Gōst has thought about their last encounter too many times   ---   but it’s nothing in comparison to the little scenarios he’s daydreamed about concerning their next possibly intimate interaction.  One key.  And yet so many doors have been opened.  Kichōna has taken up his thoughts a lot, lately. The key has become a focal point for a lot of his mental wanderings   ---   with the object itself being something he doubts the stitched one fully understands. It glimmers. It glints when he holds it just right under the sun. Something about that makes him terribly happy, but it’s nothing compared to the other things that he’s started to collect. No. This came from a person. The key is a gift. A gift from someone who has expressed interest in him and that’s where things become complicated. There are so many questions bouncing around in his head and yet he hasn’t been able to actually show up in the other’s room, he hasn’t yet fully accepted he invitation.  But is it because he’s shy? Is this a human personality flaw? Or is it because he’s a monster? Because he doesn’t know how to interact? He’s worried about it being either. But worrying does him very little   ---   and while he seems fine with stewing in his own confusion and emotions, Kichōna does not. He returns, teasing with his little nickname against his ear in a way that makes his heart absolutely slam in his chest. Kichōna makes him feel light, like his wings aren’t even necessary to take to the sky and he doesn’t get it   ---   doesn’t see how he could possibly have the same effect on the puppeteer. Maybe he doesn’t. And that thought is also confusing.