BUT IT'S NOT MINE

[cinaedius]

i died for like a week, but i’m back and i’m gonna work on a reply or two, since i really. need to not stay up too late, as i have my first job interview tomorrow. sweats nervously. 

[cinaedius]

STRANGER

Ugh, he didn’t need a stranger to tell him that much, it was enough that he was reminded about his own carelessness every single day by little sings such as this one occurrence. This was not at all how he expected his very first view in Koi City to turn out. He was probably already a laughingstock to many of its citizens, this guy included.

“Is that really something you should be saying to someone you don’t know? I might get angry with you. No, normal people definitely would be angry with you.”

        Eyes narrow dangerously, manners (few though they may be) forgotten in the vaguest heats of anger. It wasn't like he'd meant anything by laughing or by his words -- but, really, could he be expected not to find this situation humorous? Nezumi should just leave it alone, he really, really should, but ----

        "Is that a subtle threat, then? I'm not exactly sure how I'm supposed to take the guy who walked around with toilet paper stuck to his shoe for ten whole minutes seriously, if I'm being honest."

[cinaedius]

SHION

Typical Nezumi to avoid his question. They’ve been playing his game of cat and mouse for years. The constant run and hide, bite and scratch, touch and strike. Nezumi is a rat, after all. But he can’t find it in him to mind. These games became routine all those years ago. Shion grew used to being lied to and left behind. It taught him restraint in the real world, the world outside No. 6 and even Nezumi.

It’d been only him for the last few years after all.

“Two inches!?” Shion felt his shoulders drop a little. All that growing for nothing! Not that he’d gotten very tall to begin with. But with Nezumi pointing it out, he could see it. Nezumi had definitely gotten taller; another thing to leave him behind with. The gentle fingers running through his hair brought him back to the past, back to when things were simpler between them. Back when Shion was naive and Nezumi simply smiled at him.

It was something they could never have again; Shion could sense it. His heart ached at the thought of truly losing him. Hadn’t that been the plan from the start? Never to lose each other? He wasn’t really sure what he was reaching for after Nezumi vanished. A peaceful life? No, that wasn’t it. He couldn’t figure it out.

Shion jolted out of his thoughts as Nezumi pulled away. He wished he could reach out and take his hand within his own. Doing that might scare him away and he didn’t want that. If that happened Shion might never see him again; a bolt of dread ran through him. 

“Coffee?” Shion blinked. “A-ah, sure! I’d love to!” He shook away the thoughts and padded after him. He should enjoy what time he had right?

        Wasn't it always like this, Nezumi leading the way and Shion chasing after him? Not much has changed -- yet everything has changed. With Shion falling into step beside him, it would be the easiest thing in the world to reach out and take his hand, but he doesn't. Can't. Why would he? As far as he's concerned, they're practically strangers, now. Shion knows nothing of who he is these days, and Nezumi knows nothing of who Shion is. Something about him feels unavoidably different. More mature, perhaps. And what a wild thing for him to be thinking in relation to Shion -- maturity.

        In order to ensure that his body doesn't get any strange ideas without his express permission, Nezumi slips both hands into the pockets of his pants. For the first time in ages, he is left longing for the jacket he'd worn back in West Block. But it, much like most of the things he'd owned back then, is in no shape, form fitting or otherwise, to be worn any longer. As a man of twenty, his form has started to fill out, however dainty and porcelain he may still look in the face and about the waist. From the peripheral of his vision, he watches Shion, finds himself inexplicably incapable of looking away. 

        "When did you get here?" Just because he won't answer Shion's questions (yet) doesn't mean that he can't ask his own. To say that Nezumi hasn't thought about Shion over the past four years would be unfair. He has, on numerous occasion, pondered over his old ally. How he'd been fairing in No.6, whether or not he'd finally gotten all that life experience they'd both wanted for him, or if he was still just the same old mama's boy as always. Now, he finds himself unable to ask any of that, settling for something more immediately relevant. His curiosity is genuine, too. Lots of things are genuine, these days. 

        (They may be strangers now, but that doesn't mean that Nezumi is unwilling to fix that.)

[cinaedius]

( &. xonsoku​ )

        “That’s... an interesting choice of flavor.” Personally, Nezumi prefers his coffee straight, perhaps with a little sugar, but in no way as decadent as this person who has seemingly poured half a bottle of creamer into their coffee. Two bottles, maybe, with how the usual inky black of the coffee has given way to an almost pure white. Their funeral, he supposes. 

[cinaedius]

STRANGER

Embarrassment was the initial reaction. Then the wonder of how long he had been walking around like this. It had been quite a while since he went to the bathroom, so who knew if that had been where he picked it up. “I… I’m… Thank you so much for pointing it out!!” he yelped, and with flustered movements he began trying to get it off with the other shoe.

        The polite thing to do would be to go on about his business now that his one kind act of the day has been completed. Nezumi, however, still has a lot to improve upon in the department of politeness, so instead he is only able to stifle a laugh by covering his mouth with the back of a hand, only speaking when he is sure he won't laugh right in the other's face. Still, there's no small amount of mirth in his words when he says them. "Sure thing. I might suggest that you start being more mindful, though."

[cinaedius]

SHION

Shion wasn’t ready.

From the looks of it, however fleeting they were, Nezumi wasn’t either. Nezumi more than himself. 

He’d been anticipating this for months. After getting a few tips as to where he had gone, Shion had wandered and wandered and wandered some more, investigating every location given to him. There was a gap in his memories though, and the next thing in his string of constant disappoints had been awaking here in Koi. At least it was disappointing until today. Until this moment.

They were right back to their usual teasing within moments. It was almost like they had never been apart but the air of awkwardness was still there; he could sense it. And the questions buzzing in Shion’s mind didn’t vanish. 

The words Nezumi had spoken registered in his mind and his cheeks immediately puffed up in indignation. “H-hey! I grew a whole inch! A whole inch!” Which wasn’t that much but he felt taller. It was an accomplishment to him. 

“Nezumi, how have you been?” The question was blurted before Shion could stop it. Honestly he should learn by now; Nezumi only answered if he wanted to.

        Already with the questions. Not that this particularly surprised Nezumi; there was always something that Shion needed to know about, one more thing for him to inquire about when he could have done better by spending his time experiencing. This question in specific, though, is one that Nezumi does not think he's quite ready to answer. There's simply too much to regale in the middle of a bustling street. Over the past days, weeks, months, and years, he has traveled near and far, an internal compass guiding him wherever the wind sang to him most potently. 

        Koi had been an orchestra. A choral masterpiece, belting notes and beckoning lilts, luring him in, in, in. Whatever time lag exists between this location and his former is forgotten in all the splendor and beauty of this place. Many things are forgotten, have been forgotten, soon will be forgotten -- but never Shion. Nezumi hums and stalks a tentative step closer, afraid of shattering the illusion of normalcy he's built up so quickly. Shion never was incredibly perceptive, but he did always have a way of reading people that often times left Nezumi frightened.

        Then again, what about Shion didn't frighten him?

        "A whole inch." The rat simpers in mocking tones, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll. "It should serve you well to know that I've grown two." Lips leer, and with a shaky palm, twitching fingers, Nezumi extends his hand and ruffles the other's hair. Soft against his skin, velvety smooth like cheeks and lips and tongue, and he is suddenly finding it difficult to swallow around the uncomfortable lump lodged betwixt the walls of his throat. So bad that he is forced to clear it, a rumble in his chest before his hand falls away. 

        On its descent, Nezumi almost stops it to stroke Shion's cheek, thumb the permanent scarring wrapped like a red viper up and down the length of his body. Interesting, isn't it, that once upon a time there had been an Eve, and a snake that had lured her into a graceless world? He doesn't do that, though, for he knows better. Knows that if he allows himself the chance to touch Shion now, after so long, he might not be able to stop himself. Nezumi will not let the temptation of the supple fruit lead him astray again. He cannot afford to.

        Instead, the appendage drops listlessly to his side, head turning briefly as he recomposes himself. Again. "Let's get coffee." He suggests, wording it in such a way that leaves Shion little room for argument. He suspects that Shion wouldn't protest even if he could, but nevertheless. "There's a lovely place just down the street. Lovely places everywhere, really, but... I've got my preferences, I guess." So he turns and begins to head off, only casting a glance to assure himself that Shion is following.

        "Coming?"

[cinaedius]

( &. allxseeing​ )

        “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe.” At first it had been funny to see the other wandering around with it trailing behind them, but now it was just kind of pitiful.

[cinaedius]

SHION

Today was a typical day. Shion went to gather some food for dinner that night and would probably stop by his favourite library. It was always getting new books in. Many of them were fiction, but Shion had recently discovered the musicals and plays; he’d read a vast majority of them by that point. He still checked them out, holing himself in his room to finish them all in one night. His life was a routine now and he’d grown used to it.

He read, he slept, and he ate. That was his life. The boy wasn’t particularly happy with it, but it was a life, and it was better than No. 6 by a long shot. At least at the start.

But nothing in all his days of leisure and experience prepared him for today.

Now, Shion was a lot of things; kind, compassionate, an airhead, and caring. He prided himself on his knowledge and ability to study. Focusing was in his blood, and the white-haired boy was pretty good at, well, everything. Math, physics, science, it all came easy to him. Shion was always ready for things, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the person his magenta eyes had fallen on.

“N-nezumi …?” The name fell from trembling lips and the world seemed to stand still.

        The fallacy of his mortal mind is as such: Nezumi is unsure of how to handle this situation. As an actor, he has felt the encroaching pressure of stage lights too bright on his face, of men with hands too grabby, and directors with ulterior motives and incentives for casting him. As a traveler, he knows how to navigate, how to tread uncharted waters, how to deal with the unknown. But none of that is of any relevancy now that Shion is in front of him, his name on those same lips that he has tried to singe the taste of from the roots of his very existence.

        Nezumi is overcome with the overwhelming urge to change his name, if only to avoid it ever being uttered that way again. With vocal cords that do quake and lilts that leave his own mouth drier than it has ever been while reciting lines for the masses. Reunion was always going to come. He'd made a promise that he'd intended to keep -- on his own terms. In time, he would have returned to No.6. Older, wiser, more mature, and Shion, in kind, would also be those things. All the rest would have worked itself out.

        But Nezumi isn't ready. He's not prepared for this, not yet. He needs more time, he still has a thousand -- no, a million -- more rehearsals before he will be ready to face Shion. And he hates him. He hates him for how easily he seems to be able to crawl beneath his skin, to worm his way beyond barricades of carefully constructed walls erected to protect the weaknesses and frailties Nezumi most longs to keep hidden. What he hates most, though, is that even now, when his hands are shaking at his sides, when his words fail him, when he is terrified beyond reason, he still cannot really hate Shion.

        Lights. Curtains. Scene II. Act III. Let the show begin.

        Schooling his features into something more befitting, faux smugness, Nezumi offers Shion the subtle curve of a smirk. Trembling hands forgotten -- he is a professional, he does not succumb to stage fright. No point in allowing all of those improv classes to go to waste. "Your Majesty." He purrs, thinks no better of bowing and so he does, bent ever-so-slightly at the waist. "It's good to see that you haven't changed, not even a little. Physically, in any case."

        At least he has enough wits about him to pretend that he isn't losing his mind.

[cinaedius]

( &. dreamelodies​ )

        Can you call it a night on the town if you’re only wandering aimlessly, with no idea where you’re going or where you might possibly end up? Nezumi seems to think so. There’s no guarantee that he isn’t hopelessly lost, but he’s fairly sure he knows his way back home. If not, then it won’t be the first time he’s had to sleep on the streets, will it?

        Being alone in his apartment is so horridly boring, and what’s the point of locking himself away inside when there’s an entire landscape he could be exploring? This logic is what has led him to this tiny cafe, though he has no real intent of buying anything. The atmosphere is nice, and what can he say: he’s an atmospheric kind of guy. 

        Unfortunately, this is derailed almost instantly when he bumps right into someone -- a cup of something hot, extremely hot, splashing all over the front of his shirt. Anger should be the response to this, but, instead, he is only left thinking about how awkward it’s going to be to walk home with a giant stain of whatever all over the front of his person.

        The second thought, with more sense, is to apologize to the patron whose beverage he has decided would look better on his clothing than it would inside their stomach. “Sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” Remarkably, his manners are still intact.

[cinaedius]

( &. castificus​ )

        Nezumi spends four years running (though he doesn’t think he’d use those exact words in his own defense, there is no more apt description), and everything comes to a head on a pleasantly warm evening in the new city he’s pretending to call home.

        Time comes to a complete standstill. The world isn’t spinning. His blood has run ice cold. 

        Dramatics aside, it feels like he can’t breathe. He’s spent so much time putting so much distance between himself and No.6, and yet of all the gin joints, here is Shion. Standing right there, not even twenty feet away. This is it. This is the sad, ill-fitting story of how he dies. Right here in the middle of the street with people bumping into him, with a heart that just doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop pounding, and half a mind to run back the way he come.

        But he can’t do that, can he? All he can do is stare like the wide-eyed animal he is, terrified of moving. Perhaps if he stays still long enough, Shion will forget he’s even there.

        (Paradoxical that he was scared of Shion back then, has spent years shaking that fear, and has only succeeded in making it worse.)

[cinaedius]

Ahhh, I made an IC post earlier, but neglected to make the oh-so-necessary OOC intro post. So here’s that!! Only slightly late. My name is Rox, I’m 19, and I’m very excited to be here! RP groups like this one are my absolute jam. I can’t wait to interact with as many of you as possible, because I’m roleplaying trash. 

For anyone that wants to talk OOC, or just wants to see me being a good, my twitter is @asexualtobio, and I spend majority of my time there as I have no life and don’t plan on having one in the foreseeable future. My skype is also available if that’s more your thing. 

Now that that’s out of the way, you can like this for a tiny starter! Smol starter. For now, I’ll set the cap at 4. Yeehaw.