Caught red-handed, defacing public property, wide eyes on them like twin spotlights - but what was a bit of vandalism? A little extra paint-turned-explosive mural, permissions from both the city and building owners gone...un-recieved. Oh, Asuka couldn't help themself, lost in swaths of vibrant color, layer upon layer, a koi fish morphing into a watercolor dragon, life-like, real, moving-- The joys of magic paint, the mystical, mysterious, beautiful displays they could put on no doubt rattling the mind of the girl eyeballing them then. For once, they weren't frightened, completely at ease, unconcerned that she might run and blab away - Asuka was a popular indie artist in the first place.

But their technique wasn't quite what it used to be. More...chaotic, messy both on accident and deliberately, talent and skill dampened by halved vision, bandages to conceal what was missing. Shit happens, not worth crying about now - just another consequence of existing as a harpy in the modern era. They wouldn't allow that to trod them down, grind them into paste, prevent them from living. Even if their pride ached, a gaping wound within it.

Lamenting (or pretending not to) wasn't going to get the girl talking, nor was it going to solve their problem. She'd witnessed a bit of magic borne of their paints, and if there were any sorciers nearby, Asuka was in for a warning if they were lucky, jail time worst case. They weren't as concerned as they should've been, then, but what good would squawking in panic do anyone?

HEAVY-HANDED was an accurate way to describe SHŌJIRŌ whenever he handled something with his CALLOUSED hands. LACKING occasional control over his strength, even his finest attempts at being careful seemed COMPLETELY futile. Picking up the pair of glasses that fell to the ground, his touch is AS GENTLE AS IT CAN GET. Proven by the broken frames now resting in his palm, it simply wasn’t GOOD ENOUGH, no matter how much he tried. 

“I can fix them,” he says with confidence despite the disaster sitting on his hand. Reaching into the back pocket of his pants, he takes out his most reliable tool — DUCT TAPE. Even if it was unconventional, he always kept one close, justifying it with a mindset that “it might come in handy”. 

CONCENTRATING on the frames, he wraps the tape around the two pieces in HOPES of joining them together. The result is unsurprisingly not the NEATEST, which he acknowledges with a grimace. “...I’ll just pay for a new pair,” he admits his defeat, handing the glasses back to AYUMI.

talking shit to ur face (affectionately)

so, anyway, jack and i go way—

im just messing. id prefer giving a spotlight to one and so, let's talk about you. you seem really shy. but i gotta say, you can only be shy and hide behind jack for so long before times up and i gotta drag you out by the ankle (🔪).

youre another chill person which i can appreciate! it's like im collecting a bunch of chill people and we all have drinks at ozzies. i hear you're really sweet. somewhat of a bully but considering the topics ive seen, i can turn a blind eye every once in while. from what ive seen, you're as goofy as they come. like lucifers goofy ass. pretty accurate. another case of writer resembling the muse.