#infinii

“You know, most people consider it impolite to follow someone home without them knowing.”

though, truthfully, without his knowing wasn’t really within the realm of possibility. even after years apart, Nanami could pick Gojo’s energy out of a crowd with as much effort as it took him to finish a neat whisky after a mission. on most occasions, his incessant babbling was enough to give him away far before any investigatory thought need be applied — however, on this unseasonably cool summer night, Gojo had stayed quiet — that was the most worrying detail about the entirety of this encounter.

or, maybe it was the cursed wound carved into his abdomen; could be that.

the mission had been a success, despite the last minute slice from what he could only imagine were extremely unwashed claws — curses didn’t seem like the type to keep up a hygiene routine. he kept his hand pressed tight to his side, well aware that the contrast of the brisk breeze over the sticky red heat seeping through his fingers was the most likely reason for the unprompted escort.

“I’ll be fine, Gojo.“ if he was trying to placate his old friend, his tone didn’t betray as much, even if he was trying.

❛ payment for the bento box from last time. ❜ ─── there is no better way to say thanks , at least in his mind this is a lot more creative on his behalf. without so much as batting an eyelash he places a bag of fresh baked bread upon their lap. even he could be grateful at least , no pranks included even though the idea of a phallic shaped bread stick had come to mind. okay , okay he's really not all that innocent maybe - JUST MAYBE there was a phallic shaped one in the mix , bread was still bread all the same at the end of it. ❛ anyways enjoy Na – na - mi !~ ❜

     A THIN BROW ROSE with both surprise and intrigue, primarily because he honestly was not expecting to receive anything in return for that bento he had given the other. He just thought it would be eaten, Gojo would give some kind of thanks, and then that would be that. ❝You bought me bread?❞ Nanami opened the bag, peering inside curiously as that wonderful aroma brushed against his nose and earned a soft sigh of content. There was nothing better in this world than freshly baked bread. Even the fanciest of meals meant little in comparison (to Nanami, at least -- he was a special case). Anyway, it looked safe. So far there wasn't anything vulgar that caught his eye. How rare of the other to actually be 'good' for once. He would have to mark this momentous day on a calendar just so he never forgot.

“ i sometimes ponder if my choices were wrong. “ ( hey , hgw :) )

     OZYMANDIAS WAS SILENT, GAZE trained outside the window as he watched city lights in the distance. From this height, everything seemed much more beautiful than when one actually wandered through the city streets at this hour. A shame that stars were nearly non-existent. Too much artificial light blocked out the true beauty of the night sky. ❝That is something many of us have felt before.❞ He too had pondered his choices once, so long ago. Wondering if one could have done things different, should have done things different, was such a very human thing to do. That was perhaps why he could not see Gojo the same way that others did because no matter the power he held that put him on a level many would consider godly, at the end of the day, was he not still human? The fact that he was asking this question right now, showing a kind of rare vulnerability to another, spoke volumes in itself to Ozymandias.

( i want to know prompts / accepting. )

     ‘ no, you don’t. ‘ 

   or rather, no one should. it was a hideous thing, her anger, for she directed most of it back at herself. in d’vora’s eyes she could never be good enough - never be strong enough to prevent her very existence from devouring itself. like a snake eating it’s own tail; her power was her downfall, her isolator - the one thing that separated her from everyone else. and that simple fact coupled with her youth and lack of control, angered her beyond belief. she wanted to tear the world asunder for all her suffering, but she would instead settle for these brief moments of pause. the idea of interest not generated by the curl of her hair or blink of an eye.