#greetingssheeple

There's a half asleep Kaie not even knocking on Shiba's door, just letting themselves in and trudging on over. They drape themselves over the other in quite the dramatic fashion, grumbling some nonsense under their breath.

{can't sleep, your problem now}

“I refilled the bowl, but I accidentally bought too much.” Shiba says as his Composer makes their appearance. “I’d appreciate it if you just took one of the bags.”

He didn’t want to get into the habit of storing the bags in the Pad, lest those with less self control start getting into the habit of looking for the candy. Shiba looks at them after a second. “It’s been a while since we went to get lunch after work. Are you free?”     /     @greetings-sheeple​​​

It’s pure coincidence that Hazuki’s noticed the date—they’ve been dead and decidedly nonhuman long enough that unless they choose to tune down their vibes and pay attention, the passage of time on such minute level feels inconsequential. By some quirk of reality, however, they have noticed, and the significance of the date hasn’t escaped Hazuki. May 5. Children’s Day. … Their birthday.

They wish they hadn’t realised; long since faded memories are pushing to the forefront from somewhere deep where they have been abandoned. They push back at the unwanted thoughts as they make their way to the Dead God’s Pad—better focus on their duties as the Composer than risk bringing this up. The day will pass soon enough and dates meld together once more.

Distracted by the effort it takes to not think, they acknowledge Shiba with a hum that barely counts as thanks as Hazuki drifts past their Conductor and to the offered candy. The bag crinkles in their hands, and it almost doesn’t occur to Hazuki to think of it as an unwitting present until Shiba’s voice breaks into their not thoughts once again. The lunch invite is hardly unusual, even if it has been a while, but it causes Hazuki to press their lips together and their brow to furrow … and then melt into an amused smile. Why not? Brown eyes flicker to Shiba, their gaze wry.

Send my character a ★ and I’ll bold everything they feel toward your character.

Send my character a ★ and I’ll bold everything they feel toward your character.

@greetings-sheeple sent: {meme} "You always take care of everyone else. Just this once, let someone take care of you."

Who knew that the plush that once held her captive, would give her so much comfort in this moment. That it would help to keep her mind in the present rather than drifting to the past, to what had happened before.. to what could happen in the future..

"I'm fine.. promise." Her voice is barely there, she'd been working herself ragged to try and bring the city back, to try and bring her brother back.

And what was there to show for it? Nothing but exhaustion creeping up on her.

"Direction, smirection." Kariya rolls his eyes, sighing out a sound. "But, I guess I don't own the street, so you're allowed to walk this way." Yes, he was being a bit rude, but he's earned this right after dealing with everything he had to.

"Yeah, maybe I will talk it out with her next time I run into her." That one gets a wave of his hand, with the lollipop and all.

The sigil on his back should be aching, he should feel like his body is being torn to shreds--a lowly Reaper should not be able to use the power unscathed. But, Shiba feels none of it. It's always made him numb, physically and emotionally.

Unfortunately, it's one of the very few things that gives him the power to fix some of the more stubborn glitches in the city. Really, it should be Mikagi's job to handle them, but Shiba has the means and he can't stand to not act when something is within his power.

He must fix what he broke, no matter the cost.

"Mikagi, is there something on my face?" He asks pleasantly.

Their Conductor smells like violence again. It turns to rot where it settles in the back of Hazuki's throat, like raw meat left untended for too long. They swallow, but the cloying, metallic taste sticks to the roof of their mouth. To mask the sensation and their discomfort both, Hazuki clicks their tongue and matches Shiba's smile with a one of their own, a polite grin that barely reaches the corners of their mouth—the less said of their eyes, the better.

"Hm. Funny you should ask. I wasn't aware one could wear overreach, and yet somehow you've got it plastered all over yourself. A little uncouth, if you ask me."

Their feathers, firmly tucked outside this plane, feel like someone's taken a rough hand and dragged it against the vane, leaving their wings rankled and out of sorts. It isn't that their Conductor is being unruly, though he is, and Hazuki wishes he wasn't; Shiba's pointing his destruction inward and calling it construction, a descanter rather than conductor to their composer. He carries the scent of wounded prey but acts like his hurt is untouchable beneath the cocky charm. Hazuki can't tell if they're being taunted or faulted.