#iminha

@iminha      :     unprompted  shitposting      :      always  accepting.

        grabs  the  hand  used  to  strike,       kissing  ‘long  wan  digits,      nipping    &.    biting  along  the  way  with  a  sneer.    “    your  tits  are  looking  pretty  bomb  today,      too,       babe.   ”

    Huff! Huff!

    “Mister Yagami!”

    Huff!

    “Mister Yagami Hiro! I finally caught up with… you… you’re not going into the forest, are you?”

    Guess what Khada Jhin is doing.

    “Oh, no! Mister Yagami, you can’t—”

    “—Don’t touch me.”

    “I’m sorry, Mister Yagami, but you mustn’t go in there. It’s possessed by a horrible spirit. All the townsfolk won’t dare to go near.”

    Khada Jhin, who is today Yagami Hiro, celebrated painter and landscape artist of Zhyun’s Kaijn, is an excellent actor. To put on another face for him is like second nature, an instinct so honed that ‘breaking character’ is inasmuch unthinkable as physically impossible. It just wouldn’t happen.

    Which is why, when he very nearly laughs in this caravaner’s face, it must have been the most absurd thing he’s been told in years.

    “Keep your warnings to yourself,” he says. “I did not come to the borderland simply as a sightseeing journey. There are dyes here irreproducible anywhere else in Ionia, and I will harvest them. Seeing as the last time I sent for someone else to do this simple task came back with little more than weeds and dandelions.”

    The caravaner is aghast. “There aren’t any dyes in… Mister Yagami! I must come with you!”

    “What?”

    “You don’t understand. If something were to happen to you, that would be it for our caravan. The least I could do is ensure your safety, even if you don’t believe the stories.”

    I think it is you that doesn’t understand, Jhin almost hisses, but stays his tongue, instead saying, “Very well. Do not slow me down.” Off with a flourish, he sets  into the forest without another word, caravaner desperate to keep up behind him. Typical. The next he employs a caravan to the northern reaches, he’ll be sure to pack double in gold such they might stay put.

    (And there is dye here, though not the kind to color some philistine’s fabric.)

    The caravaner says something about how fast Jhin is, and he’s well beyond deigning to hear it. Potentially if he’d been in a better mood he’d tell them that in another life—which had not been another life—he’d been a dancer, an acrobat, before settling down in Kaijn once he got older. But then he imagines that the caravaner would then again state the obvious like how ‘Mister Yagami’ does not look that old at all, and Jhin says nothing. Better the silence than…

    Hnh.

    … there’s something here.

    Jhin steps down where he is, covertly picking up a small stick. Enough to slip into the sleeve of his tunic and, once kissed with the breath of magic, emerge out a knife. There’s shuddering in the trees and Jhin whips around, ready to strike.

    Nothing. There’s nothing. Nothing except that the caravaner, too, is gone.

    “Ah,” Jhin says with a harrumph. “Well, now, I owe you my gratitude.”

    He stays ahead.

    Jhin comes across a stream, as expected. It is soot-dark and brackish, informed by the strange salt of the riverbed underneath. Bulbous cattails rise from within, glowing a hard, cool red. He smiles, and picks them one by one as a farmer would a plum. Finally.

    Under his obi are countless vials, and Jhin begins the delicate process of squeezing the bulbs until they secrete liquid to bottle them with. His motions are practiced—he’s done this dozen of times. There’s no common name for these cattails, but their poison is infamous throughout Ionia, the model of limitless imitation by two-bit ‘alchemists’. Jhin does not settle for anything but the best. He accepts only straight from the source, and so.

    Something is with him here again.

    “If you must know, I make for poor prey,” he says, unbothered, still working. “But, please, do enlighten me.”

"Well I wasn't plannin' on it being this bad!"

@iminha     :       unprompted       :       always accepting.

the room was spinnin' . . . and then the other fox hit the floor like BOOM

@iminha​      :      unprompted      :      always  accepting.

        𝙷𝙾𝚆  𝚅𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴     between  them  shall  be:        wind     &.     vix,      heroine     &.     the  beast  with chaotic  whimsey  painted  in  vibrant  crimson     &.     rose   shades.    shefox  could  bring  this  entire  kingdom  down  to  it's  knees  in  ruination,      rend  the  life  from  all  those  taking  freedom  brought  breath,      yet  jean  still  allows  her  presence  somehow.   𝙙𝙤  𝙣𝙤𝙩  𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠  𝙞  𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩  𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚  𝙮𝙤𝙪  𝙤𝙣  𝙖  𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙝.    𝙖𝙧𝙢'𝙨  𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙝,      𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨  𝙞𝙣  𝙢𝙮  𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨.  office  door  locked,      jean  herself  tucked  away  in  mounds  of  paperwork  whilst  keeping  a  close  eye  on  the  fox  just  mere  feet  from  her  quarters;      sprawled  out  on  couch  like  she  belongs  there.    though  if  it  keeps  her  out  of  trouble  somehow,      then  grandmaster  shall  allow  it  this  time.   a  tap,      tap  of  papers  atop  desk,      rise  from  where  she  sits    &.    suddenly  her  back  is  to  the  shelf  just  behind  faster  than  jean  can  blink.

        a  set  of  clawed  digits  caress  her  jaw,      lifting  up,      warm  breath  ‘pon  wind  nymph's  neck.  held  in  place,      no  longer  able  to  escape  the  jaws  of  half  girl,      half  beast  as  fanged  ivories  sink  into  delicate  palour.   such  an  act  pulls  a  sharp  gasp  from  her,      a  struggle,      then  a  gust  of  hot  air  from  palms  in  ahri's  general  direction.

        “    you    !    ”     a  flourish  of  warm  pinks  to  cheeks,      the  pressing  of  gloved  hand  to  where  foxen  she  so  greedily  helped  herself  to  holy  ichor.   jean  wants  to  say  she's  surprised,      but  she  knows  the  fox  witch's  legend  well.     𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨  𝙨𝙖𝙮  𝙖𝙡𝙡,      𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡  𝙢𝙚  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨  𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮  𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮.    narrowing  of  sky  blues  into  dagger  -  akin  glare;      all  knitted  brows    &.    brandished  blade  now  pointed  directly  in  ahri's  direction.   “    when  i  allowed  you  in  my  abode,      witch,      i   did  not  give  you  permission  to  feast  'pon  me  like  a  buffet.    watch  your  tongue,      lest  i  slice  it  from  your  maw  myself.    ”