#foxtheft

     Only the moonlight allowed him to see the path ahead of him, the silence  embracing the night, a spot reserved for him to pause his surveillance activities. Usually there would be no need for this, however for the last few minutes he had heard the odd vibrations between the tree leaves; the sound didn’t match the wind flow, indicating an exterior presence disrupting. The steps, the pauses, movements, and aura, this was no normal presence, this was in fact a demon. 

     No regular human can see the discrepancy between those altered factors, some can’t even see the difference between a normal person and a demon standing in front of them, however Giyuu was no regular human, he was a demon hunter and one of the bests. He stays still, knowing he individual was close, closer than he would like, the pillar had no intention to confront him, in his current position he had no chance to win and he knew one of his strengths was to acknowledge his limits. 

“I... don’t know how to ice skate, do you?” Martel asked, leaning against the railing of the rink, watching as people went round and round in circles. It didn’t look like much fun, but people were smiling and laughing, so it was plenty of entertainment anyways. The colors trailing behind were magical- reminding Martel of paint on a canvas.

The impact is harsh, his head is swirling dizzy and the smell--- the smell of flowers is still in the air.  Still, he tries to focus his attention elsewhere;  bespectacled hues falling onto him.  Shoichi offers a smile, apologetic, timid and all too worried.   ❝  Are you, are you alright ?  ❞

Dropped for you!

     MAPLE LEAVES TINGED VERMILLION FALL IN SPIRALS FROM ABOVE ! autumn bled through the forest in its fiery brilliance. nestled in the auburn light, a modest shrine and the miko attending to it. lost in thought she dithers beneath the torii gates. an artifact spirit with rabbit ears dancing and weaving around her ankles yet her gaze remains skyward. soil underfoot each crack and brush indications of an impending arrival. keen ears flicking slightly at the sound as her eyes return to the stone-lined path before her; no longer was the trodden road vacant. ❛ oh, i didn’t see you coming this way       you’re not lost are you ? we don’t usually get many visitors. ❜ 

“heya, mister minamoomin!” kurama, bless his heart, encounters an odder shrub among crowding others―a creative eye might have seen a black muffin top protruding from the ground―it wriggles in the bramble, tufts wool-like upon closer inspection, and before long it uproots with a sprightly shimmy-pop. “you’re here again, yeah!”

and evidently so is lambo, bug-eyed mug distinct even through its thin membrane of grime. he blinks up at kurama, heavyset head of his canting to the left as he scales up his company. the entirety of their bizarre encounter begged for context, clarification, just a merciful lick of sense for once in lambo’s curious little orbit. but maybe some questions need not be answered.

Helping Minamino in the knowledge department had been a simple matter; Byakuran had learned about the local flora quite quickly after arrival, and what he did find lined up almost entirely with things he had learned from other universes, making the whole thing trivial. He could easily have laid back and dispensed knowledge to a skilled peer without ever lifting a finger.

But some days, a rare few days, Byakuran was overcome with the desire to create. Today, on his knees with gardening gloves, getting grass stains all over his pristine white pants as they planted herbs, was one of those days. And he was happy to spend it with someone of the same heart.

“I can’t believe I haven’t asked yet, Mina-kun! What is it you did with all these plants, back home? You can’t tell me it’s just a passing fascination, I’ve seen your hair.” And gotten his hands all up in it, besides.

his brow was furrowed in deep concentration. the boardwalk had caught his eye for its frenetic energy and game-playing, curiosity tugging him towards carnival barkers offering many a prize, but this one had been impossible to pass up-- and not much easier to win.

“perhaps i can’t outdo the scammer after all..” the man running the booth offered him a glare at his words of choice, but mukuro’s money was just as good as any other, and he’d played a full three rounds already. time to rope in an onlooker, flagging down someone who had definitely borne witness to at least one sad attempt to throw a ball at moving targets, a pretty man with an odd aura about him. in any other setting, mukuro’s curiosity there might have changed his focus, but by now he was getting annoyed.