#unmachine

"Huh...yeah we can go on a date i guess?" is this the part where they hold hands.

                    “ ARE . . . YOU ALRIGHT ? ”   he questions cautiously, not one for too much talk when it comes to emotions, but there’s a silence in the archives, and he’d only come by to see gertrude, only realized after sneaking in that she was gone, some trip to russia or something, he’ll pretend not Knowing doesn’t hurt his feelings a bit. it’s always been easier to focus on other people than himself, and the secretary looks like it’s been a rough day.   “ you’ve got that . . . kicked puppy look. ”   he offers to explain the question, as if any sort of softness may need explained. 

eve knocking on cave: HELLO?????

( i would never break your heart )

intimate pillow talk starters

   Kazutora turns his head at the question. He shifts and leans himself over Eve, till his striped hair falls around them like a curtain away from the world.   “  Liar.  “  He murmurs, so close that his lips brush across Eve’s with every shape of his words. Close, but not enough to be satisfying, not enough to constitute as a proper kiss. Just a tease, a taunt of what is so close and so far all at once.

   He like the power of being asked that question. But more than that, he likes to be wanted. It’s an old habit that surges back to the forefront, the way he claws for scraps of attention and desire like meat on bones. Back in familiar violence and darkness, he wants. He wants to be wanted. He doesn’t like to let go of what he attaches himself to. He holds it close and refuses to relent.

   “  Yeah.  “  Gold eyes shine like a pair of tiger eyes from the bushes, watching Eve’s face while his hands rest against the expanse of his chest.  “  You can kiss me again. “  And it wasn’t as though Kazutora was doing anything to dissuade the possibility of things ending up carried away. On the contrary, it seemed like he was pushing just to see what would happen. It was a very Kazutora thing to do.

Not much changes when Eve drinks. It takes way more to get him even remotely buzzed. But he seems looser and speaks more freely (as if that's really much different from his sober state.) He rolls onto his side then his stomach, adjusting himself so he could see Kazutora face right side up. "This is crazy but I used to have long hair when I was younger. There are old pictures of me where I look dumb as hell!" he snickered. A hand outreaches, twirling a lock of his friend's hair on his finger. He glances down at it contemplatively. "Cause I was copying my brother. Long hair doesn't suit me though and I'm glad I chopped it all off... Brother... i'm pretty sure he hates me. I never figured out why or when it started, not that it matters. There's probably something wrong with me but I can't bring myself to not love him." An exhale through the nose and he drops his head back to the ground, releasing the other's long locks and rolling back over on his back to stare at the ceiling.

"I think it's because I'm better at loving things than I am at hating them. I gotta play at my strengths you know? It's hard being treated like shit sometimes but whatever... You treat me nice though...

so, thanks."

   It’s more for Eve that Kazutora has the drinks on hand. He’d been avoidant of drinking before Takemichi had shown up, whispering about Bonten and Mikey. Afraid. Afraid because it isn’t that the drinks make demons, it’s that it lets them out. And his have already claimed two lives as it was. Where others could say I’ll kill you as typical gang bluffs or just friends teasing each other, Kazutora can’t. But then he’d chosen to chase the dark shadow of Bonten, to surge back into darkness, and it’s easy. Easy to drink at a bar while pulling information from people, to break a face. It was even expected like many things. But drinking here is different than the bar. It’s more relaxed. Something that makes him think of summer nights that were still too hot with cold beers and an abandoned arcade filled with smoke. It’s nice. And it seems to help Eve a little bit.

   “  Yeah? "  Kazutora tries to picture it, but it seems at odds with the Eve that he knows. “ I used to have a really cringe hairstyle when I was real young. Same time I got my tattoo.  “  Anything to piss off his father, to be cooler, to be stronger. “ I think one or two pictures exist. Around fifteen is when I started the stripes. Never went back.  “  Outside of another ten years in a cell. He watches Eve reach out to toy with one of the loose strands, but he doesn’t stop him. Only observes as he seems to be lost in thought, in memories. He understands that well.

   He wonders what it must be like for Eve. To love in spite of that? Truth is that even now Kazutora can’t imagine that. Can’t imagine choosing to love when something seems to hate you. He’s always turned to hatred. To destroying anything that hurts him. Even... He watches as Eve sinks back down and rolls over, yet Kazutora doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away as well, but lingers, close and watchful. 

   “  Nah. Believe me, I’m way more fucked up than you are. So hell even if there is something wrong, you’re doing better than me.  “  He offers in his own strange way of comfort. A solidarity perhaps in the face of being fuck ups. “  I can’t relate to that. But that seems better. I’ve always hated easier. Hated anything that hurt me. I wanted to destroy what hurt me, wanted things to suffer like I had. I hated this fucking world.  “  He admits, turning his head to glance out the window for a moment.  “  I did destroy some of it.  “ That was Kazutora. Destroying the few good things that came into his life along with the bad.

concern rp meme starters

   Kazutora doesn’t mind the chill as he stands with his hands in his pockets, leaning against a lamppost. Snow has just started to slowly fall from the sky, though the weather app said it would get heavier during the night. He thinks he might have enjoyed this in a different time. Maybe he would have gotten a hot chocolate and tasted the snowflakes on his hair, enjoyed being able to see the snowfall and give everything a softer glow. But he doesn’t.

   Instead he just thinks about how much the blood will show on the snow. How desolate the night can feel when its dark and cold and the world is muffled. The cold stings against his hands, still irritated from earlier fight chasing down the latest information on Bonten. 

   Kazutora turns towards Eve, caught by surprise at the offer. Or perhaps it was more of an insistence than an offer. It was along the same vein of the other insisting on helping him despite how Kazutora warned about the danger. That, however, had logic applied. This less so. Other than the fact his place was far away and the idea of trudging all the way back there was far from appealing.

   He should put up more of a fight. Dismiss the offer. But in truth? Kazutora was tired. (  And a more dangerous truth? The further he fell into this sort of life, the more he’d always chased scraps.  )