#errantscriptor

WARNING: STORMBRINGER SPOILERS AHEAD!

In light of Stormbringer, Chuuya's background has gotten a few changes (as plotted with @errantscriptor​):

★ ༺ @errantscriptor​ ( Rimbaud ) ༻ ★

           ↳ Cont. from [ X ]

「 ★ 」   ⋮     𝐀 𝐍 𝐀 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐌 𝐀 .  ⋮  ━━   They’re just silent; as if processing their Dad’s words. The unfortunate thing is that kids of the child’s generation really like computer games. INCLUDING the cursed open - world game that was literally made of blocks and cubes. Blocks and cubes that just so happened to resemble their Dad’s ABILITY. Finally, they say ... 

It was strange some times the way things seemed to fall together. So entirely unpredicable, but in ways that some how still made sense. His mother had always chirrped on about small worlds and coincidences. Haruki didn’t think that was quite right. Whether the people involved were aware of it or not, this entire thing, life itself, some how felt almost scripted. Like a book filled with twists and turns that no one saw coming until they happend. Everyone oooing and ahhing saying that they should have guessed it all along. At least that’s how it had always felt to Haruki. Now even more so staring at the man in front of him. 

“Hey. You.. You’re the one from that casino, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you.” 

He’s not sure if his hunting dog’s cloak would be recognizable to the other. He wasn’t technically working, so he’d only really grabbed it for warmth. Now he fiddled slightly with the edge of it, wondering how it might make this stranger react to him. 

The aroma of coffee and baked goods filled the air, and as enticing as both were, neither were the reason for Akechi’s presence in this particular coffee shop. He was dressed in what he considered his civilian attire; not even the suit and tie of a detective, though a few of the café’s customers seemed to recognize him as such. But he ignored their whispers; he wasn’t here for the attention either. 

He was here, however, for one person in particular; a regular customer who was quite the mystery. Dark eyes scanned the patrons scattered throughout until they landed on his object of interest, and he approached with a deceptively kind, sweet smile. 

“Pardon me, but are you busy? I must say, you’re quite the tough one to track down, and I’d like to talk if you have a moment. Oh—but don’t worry; you’re not in trouble. I may be a detective, but I’m just here to chat. Consider this a personal endeavor.”