#kuidaorc

          Ivory that cascades against marble, broken nails && bruised skin, it wants to split open. His manager asks what happened? Fretting, impossibly upset as he should. This is an investment after all, something that Satoru wants to laugh about, the soothing melody drifts loosely in the air enough to cause the soft companion to mewl delightfully. Melancholic in smiles, he moves to lightly scratch pointed ears till Koro leaves, careful to not scratch the lacquer of the prized instrument. The leather seat moves, he senses there is amiss within the old apartment, sparsely furnished, used when he had no desire to make the journey to the lush neighborhood of Ginza. “Koro-chan…?” softly, coarse && cracked, parched from the lack of nutrients, entertaining the masses despite whatever they may be; ghoul or human, who cares? They look the same after a while. “Oh, that’s what scared her” standing in the door frame, his shoulders dropping, tutting underneath his breath. “Don’t tell me you’re using this place as a safe house too? Shame, there’s a refrigerator if you want to deposit meat there” nonchalant, he moves back to the same old perch, inviting a ghost even though he is the wraith that still continuously plays the same song.

      “Doves are kicking up their activity, think it has to do with the recent events regarding the Binge Eater, makes hunting difficult” he’s never bothered with it, after all, there was always someone to offer flesh even if he snubbed it for bottles of ramune && onigiri - a miserable diet.

        “There’s a few bottles of tea left, I don’t have anything else, probably should go shopping but you know me - I really like a sale”  

          “You’re not actually resting, are you, @kuidaorc? Come on, don’t make me the responsible one in all of this”

           It is an ache that cannot be sated easily, the pull upon the fabric of his stomach, distending then clenching tightly. Koro moves about, small phantom paws that keep him placated, warm with too much love that no longer was able to be poured. By now, his hunger would be sated, long fingers that pull apart the delicate sinew && the laughter that was smooth, gentle, cooing tenderly - how gruesome. The small cubes were no longer working, old man Yoshimura warned him, he would eventually snap seeking out stronger cuts - a pallet that was bred on luxurious delicacies could not last long like the typical ghoul. What a joke, the balmy coolness of the evening comforts him, pressed against his cheek like a phantom kiss, if only it could smooth back the soft strands of ivory.

             The phone continues to vibrate, shaking violently, Satoru ignored the scolding of his manager, any public events or promises of an upcoming tour, show, collaborations with some of the nation’s top upcoming musicians - oh, Satoru, you’re upsetting the humans. Weeping, the scarlet eye no longer can be hidden as he curls tighter into the softness of the futon, the distant noises vibrate in his mind, squeaking hinges as the feline meows in confusion. A familiar scent that sends his brain into overdrive, let this be a nightmare, he could handle it instead of the reality that stands before him. “Trespasser” venomous, it seethes in a thick dialect, unknowing to that of the Metropolitan, the strange anomaly within this ward, outsider it labeled him as. He was in no position to fight, it was crass anyhow, to argue or bring violence into a place that was once a happy sanctuary. When the long arduous days tired his bones, each one weighing heavily as the hymn of both worlds moved in between, it was a place to escape. We’re mates, the childish vibrations of hopeful promises, they never knew what it meant, we’re the strongest, idealistic youth with greater dreams - the fall from grace penetrated deep into the heart.

            A knife that was wedged between, where the blade had missed an artery just by an inch, every feeble prayer wishing it had done so. Defiant, pale && unblemished he tried to push away, shrieking until there was nothing left, that was all he desired but not an inch of strength could be conjured. Yearning for an embrace so tight it would knock the very air from his lungs, yearning to react in violence only then could it grant him solace, a cathartic act that never comes only regret for the past && the imprint that was left upon his kagune. “Damn, can you believe I die like this? What do you think the headlines will paint it as? Or do you even bother with such nonsense anymore? Starvation! This sucks” he always spoke too much when anxiety kicked in, nonsensical words that went on for hours, anything to fill the silence. It fills his mouth, sweet similar to that of licorice with a deep smoke, though he recognized it by instinct. Ichor gained from the purest of forms, blood that was filled in tea cups, he could remember the attendants of the household urging for another drink.

     A special boy with a robust appetite, squeamish && thus, his father assured such eyes would never have to cry when fed, it’s a sign of love && nurture - not of violence. Spatting the remains onto the floor, a deep breath follows, the first bit of air that circulates && no longer is he drowning. Why must be continuous this dance with one another? A ghoul’s insanity is based on the warrant of desire, all of the heart’s dreams that wither from the existence that shuns our very nature, why deny me the greatest joy of mania? Then I could be drunk on the embers of my humanity. Briefly, his eyes close to recollect each thought, though the frigid temperature has yet to break, ice that was unbreaking.

        The back of his hand that reaches to touch, strawberry kissed knuckles && chipped polish - glittery, tooth decaying adorable. “You’ll spirit me away if I do that, then what if I don’t come back? Life continued after you left, each seed we tried to grow withered && decayed, by now you know the answer to such a question” and still, his hand eased into the comfort of familiarity, a grasp so tight he did not care if each bone shattered. Listless his laughter pours, if only to keep back the tears, he loathed such an act - a sign of weakness that was unbecoming.

               “Our palms still fit like they were meant to be, even now, nothing changes between us”

             “Still no lead?” The cardboard cup of coffee was gently nudged into the other’s shoulders. Satoru laughs, in the memories of a morning spent together, saccharine-like his voice would coo: natto, that’s all we have for breakfast. It feels like a lifetime, though the arbitrary rules of Sibyl insist that such memories are detrimental to his hue, don’t think about it - let go, soft hearted boy, always chasing a distant yesterday. Fluffy egg sandwiches, a few stray donuts, he always buys extra, worried still even when he shouldn’t when it's considered useless. “Damn! We’ve been working on this for how long now? Two weeks? Three? Can barely tell anymore, this case is a dead end, don’t know why chief is riding us” designer glasses that slide down from the bridge of his nose, he chuckles, chirping softly.

                            “No point frying your brain, come eat with me, we both could use it” 

             You were my best friend, the words nuzzle upon the tip of his tongue, sweeter than he can imagine but if swallowed would lacerate everything in its path. The hearth crackles, the kettle continues to boil && a gentle yet pleasing aroma of herbal tea dissipates between the two of them. What are they? Ravenous, monstrous, the inability to kill had led them down this path. Hesitation bred a moment of regret, now, he could do nothing to calm the inferno that grew, eyes cast aside whenever they spoke && a rigid structure with each word. “You’re delirious” the words are sharp, blocking out the inkling of yearning that grows at the root of his heart, he recalls it; the laughter of twin souls, fading into the horrific screams, then silence. Young love was ruthless, brutal in the most violent of ways && he was a fool to indulge the whims of a lesser man. Tea, it will soothe them Satoru believes pouring it in haste, when did he move on? When did he begin to make each meal by his own hands? Learn the currency of this realm && navigate the haze of a metropolis that swallows everything whole within a gleam of neon? He couldn’t recall.

              “We’re not lovers, we are not even enemies, I am not sure what we are anymore” in the past, he would have gleefully proclaimed otherwise. I love you, I love you, but this world is not kind && it’s not meant for you - if only he had been braver to utter the truth. Howling wind rattles the cabin windows, somehow, that is the clarity that he clings to - wishing to dissipate into the thin mist && meld within the tundra. It aches horrifically, the desire to reach out && card his hand through inky tendrils, sandalwood && lazy grins, limbs entangled on flimsy sheets where the sunlight cascades, trying to steal candy from each other’s mouth as he laughs delightfully. It’s just a memory, that is all it can ever be, their paths diverge && contrast, a flare of anger that reveals itself arrogantly deeming; you should have ended this nonsense, all it does is bring suffering!

            The ocular closes, opens, he hated the truth more than anything. Hands that wished to cup over his ears to declare its deception, lies, but the inevitable of the curse was to know nothing but the reality even when he wished for honeyed words. “Does it stem from the knowledge we know of one another's deepest fears, secrets, hopes? When you slumbered after gutting me, was it the image of my face that brought you to madness?” The benevolent deity that sat upon the mountains, he who smiled upon all in this mortal life, wishing them happiness && to seek a future that was brighter than today was nothing more than a common liar. If only they knew of the ire that grew thick like venom in his carnivorous chest.

             “Rightfully, I should have assured this ended before this story could ever begin. We were at odds, constantly within some battle that both of us could not concede to, idealistic hopes that would eventually lead to whatever the hell this is. The greatest sin was sparing you, a lover that wasn’t, given the entirety it’s stupid of me to say I cannot rationalize your reasons but it doesn’t resolve anything. Now, we both idle in this cabin hoping that the other is strong enough to put a stop to our depravity, dying by each other doesn’t seem so bad” long legs, lanky && pale cross together, he clutches the hanten tightly to his chest refusing to look although his glare can be felt through the soft bandages. “We love the impossibility of what we see, in your eyes there is a God that stands beside you in this perfect world without curses && in mine, there is the boy with his warm smile, both of them massacred long ago” pride forbids him to weep, a mark of weakness that he deemed an impossibility, the soft cracks within his tone spoke otherwise.

         The tall branches of sunflowers, fields of gold that he was eager to become lost in. Fertile soil, he remembers it in youth, hiding from the world that wished to keep him caged. Each kiss from the light burns against the balmy skin, pale with thin blue veins, the blunt knife hits against each stock placed carefully in the woven basket. Tea, seeds to be eaten, he would strip them apart as gifts for others; the benevolence of a kind God. Rainfall soon catches him, the presence of one who used to be his other half, “Escaping again?” callous, the remark falls as his haori sticks to his frame. Robes that are slightly skewed open, crimson flesh tattered && frayed, devilishly he wishes to sneer with a dagger like tongue. Where did it begin? Bickering that led into shouting, the sound of their skulls knocking together, blood that is thick on the teeth as he wishes to spit it outwards. Satoru wanted to scream, snarl, the tendrils of black tickle his skin as he moves to maneuver himself on top yet finds it futile. Broader, thicker, the thought sends his head into a spin; even the taste is despicable but isn’t this their fate? To see death by the other’s hands. A fire crackling where thumbs pressed into his windpipe, somehow, the end isn’t scary by the one he loved the most. Ire grows thick within his belly, the land has only known peace, now, this torment threatens to consume them whole, poisoning the soil.

    “Get off” bandages that were torn from his vision, he reached to conceal his eyes, lesser men knew better than to catch his gazes - oculars that vibrated burning deep as if to warn, the soul would become corrupt. Bird bones that thrash, heavy kicks that must sting, even the white of his underrobe has become dirtied in a mixture of their bile.  I love you, he remembered the first time it found its way out of his mouth, awkward && fumbling, I love you - I should have killed you the first time. Soft locks, cradled in a touch he would sink into, feast upon until there was nothing left, his body shudders believing it to be the cold seeping into the bone. Though, a child born at the highest mountain point, where the snow never vanished would never know the cruelty of such frost, it was that wretched heartbeat within his chest.

      The suppleness of his small pout, a mouth that glowed red, torn skin on the bottom tier, teeth that flash as if to warn he would rip out Suguru’s jugular if given the chance. Once more his form bucks, heat dispersing from the pit of his gut, feral as it is carnivorous. This could end quickly, in a gust of removing himself from mortal touch but the sting that is left behind feels like a scorching flame, he laughs, cackles madly. “Coward, do something” the mocking God echoes, then in a nasty sneer, his lips curl upwards.

        “That’s right, you’re too pious, too revered as a benevolent guide to touch me” a fistful of black, shaken as he moves to sit on his elbows, snickering as he lets go. Anything that was broken would begin to heal itself, the sharp snap of bones somehow would make it more bearable, or lest he believe it to be. The swipe of a thumb, it leaves him to ache, anything to escape the sensation of being gutted alive. “Is this your plan? To take me in front of a patch of sunflowers? Wow, you’re horrible at romance. Desecrating this land with your own selfish desires, if only you were braver, less full of yourself to actually do it” suddenly, a long leg jots out. Moving to roll on his side, ivory hair is slicked back, stained with dirt && coated in a mess of red. They’re both equally pathetic, dragging the other into the deepest pits of hell, with a spat blood seeping inwards as he tries to stand.

he comes to a standstill before @kuidaorc , expecting to be met with a snarky remarked offered gently , or perhaps even a chiding of sorts . still , kento reveals nothing of his through in his expression , though the curse bound to his soul protests . haibara , cursed to this plain by nanami's desperation , looms o'er the blonde , a decayed monster with unhinged maw , half his body missing , oozing the thick ichor only a cursed spirit could .

hand lifts . it presses up the sunglasses 'pon the bridge of his nose , then shifts to comfort the gaping void beside him , hand on yuu's jaw . if his former senpai expected an exchange , he'd unfortunately have to pry it from him .