#yaaksha

Velvet doesn’t much care what Rokurou does in his spare time so long as he doesn’t hinder any of the rest of them, so she was fine with letting him have at those few bottles last night. She doesn’t and probably never will really understand what’s so good about drinking, but she’s got more than enough experience dealing with drunkards from when some of the get-togethers in Aball got a little too rowdy.

Rokurou was clearly having a ball last night when Velvet went to bed, but it was nothing she and the crew couldn’t handle, so she didn’t mind that then. But now he seems more than a little worse for wear: his head in his hands, his eyes visibly squinting at the light when he attempts to look up, moaning over his breakfast.

Velvet sighs and smacks him lightly over the head, not bothering to be considerate to his hangover-induced headache.

He just makes himself right at home, doesn’t he?

With own hands hovering over the tattered cloak, she hesitates if only for a moment, before unfastening the buckle over her chest and peeling out of the loose fabric. No point in sacrificing comfortability for modesty. From there it’s almost automatic; first the gauntlet, then the armor strapped to her legs, followed by a select few etcetera belts. That’s as far as she’ll go.

“She has my sympathies.” Eleanor, that is. But, alas, tonight the witch is not her problem to deal with. Not wanting to dawdle on mindless chitchat, the therion climbs into the thankfully large-enough bed, making a noticeable effort to stay as close to the edge as physically possible, without literally falling out. Poor thing; she may be an abomination, but deep down she’s still just a human girl sharing a bed with a boy around her age.

“Stay on your side, and there won’t be any problems tonight.”

                                        surprisingly, she rarely comes into contact with other daemons. most tend to stay away, whether due to fear or their survival instincts, velvet is yet to find out- yet this one stands fearlessly before her, the goddess of calamity, a grin plastered on his face.

                                        perhaps he can no longer feel fear, much like her.

                                        “you look ready for a fight.” a simple observation, spoken in a tone laden with exasperation. for her, fighting is a bore, nothing more than a waste of time that inevitably ended up with her enemies lifeless bodies strewn across the battleground.

❝Rokurou.❞  Golden eyes fixate on the elder man, a frown crossing pale lips. One hand perches itself on her hip, and her posture suggests that she is unhappy. One never wants an unhappy Velvet.

“Rokurou, my darling, daring demon of devilish talents~ Have you any idea what one could do if they found themselves in a situation where escape was nigh on impossible! I’m asking for a friend, of course~”

When she had first awoken on these steps, she’d find little reason to stray far. The mere sight of the tower nags at something in her subconscious, it was...familiar but she couldn’t understand why. So she remains upon the steps with plenty of those of ill heart who wander too close. She would not remember the ill aura as malevolence, but it stirs hunger--and she devours until she is sated.

But when Velvet is approached and even hugged by this stranger, she was frozen. The presence of his malevolence is overbearing, but it conflicts with the pain that courses in her head--similar to when she had first gazed upon the ruined tower. Velvet snarls and rips herself from his embrace, backing away like a cornered beast.