#localcryptidmuses

It's an act without thinking, and now he has Choso pinned. One hand moves, splayed flat beside the man's head; the other remains pressed against his shoulder.

"Shut up." Gojo can practically feel a headache on the horizon from the push and pull of his impulses. 'For someone who insists there's nothing between us.' His eyes are covered but he's looking straight at him. He doesn't like how Choso says that. "There isn't. I'm just..."

He falters. There's small, possibly inaudible sound in his throat. Fingers curl, gripping his shoulder further.

"You gonna eat that?" She points at the food that is clearly within Vanitas's grasp. But like a dog with no sense of courtesy, she stares at the food as if it were floating in mid-air by itself.

@localcryptidmuses || Xion

That time of year again.

Everything went into dormancy. Scent on the winds turned thick, despite there being little to smell. The air itself heavy with moisture. Inuyasha could recall the first winters he'd spent out in the wilds vividly, and to this day it could still be a little difficult to breathe through the heavy moisture. That was his reasoning behind coming to what he deemed a sacred area.

The very cave he always rode out winters when he was younger. For some reason, the waterfall never froze over. A constant source of water, a few rare berry bushes for when spring arrived.

"I can smell you." More abrupt than if he'd drawn the blade at his hip, were his words. A scent Inuyasha couldn't identify, thus he'd commit it to memory should it become a danger. The mood was too mellow; to somber for anything other than a gruff commentary. "It's dangerous around here when the air's so thick." Even more strange that someone had made it this far. "There might be a blizzard soon. Can't tell for sure." Judging the moisture in air was often a fickle thing.

Weather changed so quickly. Sometimes his nose was completely off the mark. Even still, the man stood still as a pillar, glimmering silver hair reflecting off of the sun, and snow as the wind drew it in waves over his shoulders.

"You'll die out here if it does."

Did he take the wrong portal ? At first glance, one might've mistaken this place for Arizona. It was an arid desert. But the farther Guy walked, the more obvious it became that this was anything but Paradise.

How embarrassing. Dude's gonna be so pissed if he kept him waiting at the bar.

Guy stopped in his tracks after spotting a rather cute girl. Maybe she'd offer some clarity. That's totally why he was eager to approach her, not for flirting or anything like that.

❝ Excuse me, miss . . . ❞ despite his exceedingly far above average height, muscular frame, the metal piercings in his face, and the dark attire he donned . . . his voice was rather quiet. Deep, a little rough, but softened by hesitation. ❝ Suspect I'm lost . . . ❞ How embarrassing. ❝ You know . . . where I am, right ? ❞

"You don't read--" jewel didn't know if that was true or not, and it didn't matter.

Not haunted, Kaz knew what haunted felt like. Haunted had weight. Memory. Attachment. This felt… constructed. Like something wearing the shape of a city rather than belonging to it.

His motorcycle rolled to a stop beneath a flickering streetlight that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to exist. Kazuya didn’t kill the engine immediately. He rarely did when something felt off. And something very much felt off. The man stood a few meters away.

Still.

Patient in a way that didn’t belong to people who breathed. Kazuya finally cut the engine. Silence dropped like a curtain.

He removed his helmet slowly, rainwater sliding through his hair, dark strands clinging to his cheekbones. His eyes lifted, half-lidded, tired, already irritated at whatever this was going to become.

He studied the stranger. At first, it was the obvious things. The posture. The presence. The way the air seemed to hesitate around him. Then the less obvious. The pressure behind the eyes of the world when it tried not to look at him directly.

Kazuya exhaled once, slow. “Fuck---…You’re not dead,” he said quietly.

A pause.

The man didn’t react. That, in itself, was a reaction. Kaz tilted his head slightly, as if adjusting his angle might change what he was seeing. “But you’re not exactly… standing on the same side of the living as I am either.”

The wind moved between them. It sounded too clean. He took a step closer, boots wet against asphalt. Up close, the feeling intensified, like reality had been stretched thin around the stranger and forgotten to snap back into place.

Kazuya’s gaze narrowed slightly.

Not fear. Curiosity, sharpened into something almost clinical.

“You feel,” he murmured, “like something that was made wrong on purpose.” His cigarette burned low between his fingers, forgotten for a moment.

Then, faintly, his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything safe.

“…I should start charging extra for this,” he added, voice dry, almost amused. “Entities with existential issues and bad timing are not in the base package.” A beat. His eyes flicked over the stranger again, slower this time, measured, lingering just long enough to be annoying on purpose. “…Or is this the part where you tell me you’re tragic and mysterious and I’m supposed to fall in love with the narrative?”

The sarcasm softened at the edges, though the tension in him didn’t.

For the first time that night, his voice dropped out of its usual laziness. “…So what are you?” He looked at the man again, really looked. As if trying to decide whether he was speaking to a curse, a memory, or something that had learned how to wear a human shape without ever understanding it.

Then, quieter, almost to himself:

“Because whatever you are… you’re looking at me like you already know my name.”

the companion piece and opposing pov to this.

pointed ears raise and flicker up and down with delight. it was kind of refreshing to see someone ... unique? around. someone more akin to him, anyway. eros is always curious when it comes to those who aren't fully human. no matter how they wound up that way.