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Misplaced Lens Cap
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@dimidiium
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If you wanna know who you are, just come with me into the dark.
“White hair suits you better.” Vermilion optics scanned his visage.He definitely was different than the boy he was when they first met- before he had been an experiment that cost her so much. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, her head canting to look clearly at his face. ”You’ve grown so much.”
' Rize .. '
Flushed tiers are subtly penetrated by pearly whites in order to cease his verbal onslaught. He has the desire to loathe the woman -- to simply detest her presence and tear her limb from limb before DEVOURING such a fragile frame entirely. In essence, he wishes to hate her so terribly so and yet toned appendages ascend to faintly trace lines on pallid flesh before an abrupt cease in phalanx movement and both arms take position by his sides.
' Get away from .. w-why? '
Tokyo Ghoul Chapter 27 and 105 parallels
Bereft of a solemn notion and normal graces befitting that of a girl, she breathes a harsher rapport upon him. He knows not the future that awaits him nor the grandiose designs of their ilk ; subtleties lost between the ever growing crags, coiling and snarling in which rage may swallow whole. Perhaps this whole attempt garners a trivial ideal, harboring one who holds dear that which is defined as prey. ‘Lo the brevity of their life not set fully into his mind — she would make sure of it. Carve out of a place of proper propriety and gentle nuisances that he may flourish without heeding the worrisome beast brewing in the proverbial quagmire of intestines and stomach acid.
A heel crashes down unto pavement, teeth gritting whilst lips withhold insult and a forked tongue. The reprisal is not worth it, she knows. Never is. Never will be. Cruel existence is a sign that she cares, feels, and frets. Burrowed into her heart, he has, if only by a small margin — she feels… responsible. Had she not lolled on instinct alone, he may still be waltzing around. H u m a n . She stiffens, moving the thought quickly from her mind with a shake of ebony tresses. There’s no time for that.
❝Are you here to train or play punch card? You ate before you came, right? ❞
Peril conceals itself before him like 'hide-and-seek', but when it does ultimately divulge it's location then it's already too late and he's left to soak his anomaly of a husk in pond of his own maroon hue. He is unable to revel in the discovery of this strength, the ability to withstand severe physical injury and feel revitalized each time his tongue experiences the refined taste of human flesh. To receive the internal organ of a ghoul -- what kind of world does he exactly live in? He knows not if this information prior to the surgery would be critical enough to save his humanity ; would he have retained enough energy to express his dissatisfaction? In the end, it's futile to even ponder the ideal as he is what he is now and will remain.
HE IS A GHOUL.
Anxiously does he scrutinize her movement and thin brows ascend to articulate bewilderment. Anticipating toxicity to emit from between thin tiers and instead being acknowledged with silence. It's enough for him to show concern. If only consumption didn't require the defilement of human flesh, then perhaps he wouldn't be so tentative to say yes.
' I had a cube -- so yeah .. '
' i dont' think i was clear enough. i said: ‘take care of tsukiyama, he’s dangerous.’ of course it was a warning, and she did it because she knew that the gourmet was dangerous.
' i didn't think you were -- .. '
Keeping his inky gaze steadily trained between a brew of ingredients and the anomaly that is a ghoul ; way too familiar with the sensation of danger, she didn't need to tell him for the youth to ultimately sense it.
' i'll start to be careful from now on touka. '
Amon, Akira, is back up possible? I've got a nasty one here.
Have you heard of it?
'kaneki, you’re nothing but an ignorant piece of shit’, she said, before releasing a sigh at him. she wanted to warn him at all costs, and of course she knew better what tsukiyama was planning.
' touka-chan, what did I do ? '
intonation properly articulating his awestruck visage. he knew not what ' gourmet ' planned for -- his exquisite cuisine.
' did i mess up on the coffee again ? '
now lean arms flail toward the countertop to desperately correct his incorrect notion ; phalanges desperately attempting to practice his method of making the bitter treat.
'oi brat, i think tsukiyama has the hots for you, be fucking careful.'
Each syllable passes between crimson tiers at the speed of molasses and when he ultimately catches each word — arms flail and utter nonsense is expressed.
’ W-what ?! ‘
Since when did his tragic story shift to Shōnen-ai?
’ No way ! I mean, I know Tsukiyama-san’s motive’s aren’t pure, but he wouldn’t be interested in me, right ?! ‘
dimidiium
Hollow echoes belay the softer steps of shoes against pavement, nary a suspicious note to resonate in familiar footfalls. Swan neck cranes, cracking from stiff posture whilst shoulders slump beneath ebony cotton. Her jaw clacks, teeth grinding, and nose crunching with forced disgusted — a hard hand is what she has to work with, a rapport second to none and a serious drive unbeknownst. His training falls to her, amongst others, but it’s with a measure of pride she takes in it — their skill together a synchronized beauty. If not for his sake she does this, then certainly her own.
❝You’re late. Again. ❞
to crave the flesh that dwells beneath the various complexions of bloom or calloused skin is an ideal that doesn't initially stick well with the youth. he plays with the notion and lays his options barren ; he yearns another option more than flesh at this very second -- to urgency require another source of nourishment other than the palpitating organ that lies within the confines of a bleached cage. what scares him the most is that it's the only thing that he can think about. heavy footsteps fall short before her and he knows not the correct reaction to reply with in that interval. he can't genuinely say that he doesn't appreciate everything that she -- no, Anteiku in generally has done for him. albeit, he could do without the snarls and trivial glares that she delivers to him upon his entrance.
❝ A-again? It's usually you who is late though, Touka .. ❞
…But meaningless torture, when torture itself is the purpose… What is there but despair?
❝ Should I tear it off? ❞