#lio01

“...Looks like I’ve still got my ability, then.”

He flicks his hand around and the car follows. He’s not even paying attention to it, just staring off as he talks to himself. He doesn’t even notice the people on the streets around him, but if he did, then he’d probably chuckle to himself by how unaffected they all were. 

“How the fuck did I even get here,” he mumbles, placing one of his hands on his lips. “Boss is going to have my head. Ane-san's probably worried sick.”

Just moaning to himself isn’t going to solve anything. He groans, slams the car back down where it was moments before-- albeit, the ground pushed downwards and cracked from the sheer force-- and he turns on his heel with a string of curses.

Turns on his heel right into someone who had stopped to watch what the hell he’d been doing.

“The show’s over, kiddo. Unless you can answer a fuckton of questions, would you move?”

The notion of being used for someone else's game of research was not something he took pride in. In fact, he was disgusted all the way inside of his rotten soul. It was atrocious to think his plan had been lead into a entirely new stage of a game where he was losing. No matter, it was all a beginning.

One where he would triumph from. in moments like this, you need to simply gain more then the other. A rather human comment can lead to a conversation. Which leads to information, which he is in need. Two birds with one stone. A hand rose from his ride to grab the young girl’s attention, pointing down to her shoes.

Yggdrasil had been sitting with the rest of the theatre-goers for quite some time, maybe hours, waiting for this... show to begin. She arrived, wholly ignorant of what to expect, but she had always wanted to experience mortal pasttimes, and one of the cafe patrons had so kindly offered her a seat. Her spot had an excellent view, both centered for a good look at the stage, and just high enough to see the chaotic mesh of the other wards below the mountain.

Two people dressed modestly in dark, shiny fabric hold their pose far on stage left. If not for the chill winds that ripple their hair and clothes and their subtle breaths, they could have been mistaken for statues. Belied by their deathly stillness, they hold their arms and legs aloft, relying on each other to reach a delicate balance. Their cheeks almost touch. Spread around the circular stage are four large rawhide drums, people mulling about and laying on their tops while idly swiping their phones.

As the sky grows sanguine, people move to leave on unsteady, numbed legs, having been sitting for too long. Murmurs wash through the crowd, both inquisitive and impatient as more leave. Though, some enter too, and Yggdrasil’s row is soon filled on either side.

The performers’ joined shadows grow longer. When the scarlet sun is perfectly eclipsed by their heads, the wisps of their hair glow like liquid flame. They spring to life with a fervor as though someone had lit a fuse. 

Six drums crackle like booming thunder, so powerful that the seats rumble as if the mountain itself shook, physically jolting viewers from their boredom-induced lull. Instinctively throwing out a steadying hand to the young man to her right, Yggdrasil chimes excitedly as she leans forward, hovering just above her seat with eyes alight as the performers flow and jerk between graceful forms with in some sort of dance.