KIROKAZE
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hello vonnie
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Cosimo Galluzzi
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One Nice Bug Per Day
taylor price
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d e v o n
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@elencholic
No warmth is left in the palm of my hand, all it holds is my wish, my perfect adieu.
∗ independent & selective ∷ original character Suigetsu Ogawa
⋗ penned by neige ( she, 24 ) ➺ multifandom friendly
about && rules && verses && carrd
like or reblog if interested in interacting ♥
c can i write this week
if i don't write my replies by tomorrow take me out back O K
okk i've thrown some replies into the queueueu...
AND WHAT IF I LIED TO BE SO HONEST
okk i've thrown some replies into the queueueu...
I disappeared again in so sorry. I got my cat spayed and my anxiety did not allow me to leave her side Once.. I’ll be returning shortly i promise for real this time.
carpals. what small habits do they have ?
metacarpals. do they ask for help or clench their fists and bear it ?
Thank you for asking ⋆꙳
SMALL HABITS :
If she doesn't understand what someone said, she won't ask for clarification and will unconsciously tilt her head like a bird and try to move past the confusion. If it's a situation in which it's a question she didn't get, she'll just smile until it's repeated differently.
Will pick an eyelash off your face or straight from your lashline if it's about to fall in without warning. “ There's a lash about to fall into your eye ” is all you hear a moment too late once her little talon claws are already going for you. It's a little scary.
She'll click her nails together when waiting for something, usually tapping out whatever enka song is on her mind at the time.
Apologizes to inanimate objects when she bumps into them, says sorry to a door if it's opened or closed too harshly, says excuse me when she's wiping her feet on the mat. She has a personal belief that every object has some sort of spirit and deserves respect, but it can seem rather ridiculous to strangers.
Everyone is -sama unless she's given explicit permission to use a different honorific or no honorific at all. She'll still use it one more time, and if she's encouraged to stop using it from there, then she'll make the change.
Has a tendency to do a silent laugh when something amuses her, she doesn't want to make a scene, and sometimes it's just something very small and otherwise inconsequential that tickles her.
DOES SHE ASK FOR HELP ? Unsurprisingly, she really wouldn't for the most part. There's different ‘ways’ and ‘forms’ of asking for help in her mind, from something like “ Could you help me set the table ” to “ Could you help me find something I lost ”. When it's the former, she's willing, but it's from the standpoint of wanting to include the other person if they'd like, and she only does it to those that she gets a feeling that they might be more inclined to say yes.
For situations like the latter, where it's a more personal request, she doesn't ask for help even if it would benefit her because it just… doesn't really come to her mind that it's something that she can ask for. Whether she's sick, or tired, distressed or exhausted, she'll do it all on her own if someone doesn't intervene… and it can't be polite, you have to be quite direct and tell her to stop and that you'll do it.
( * BARE BONES.
a selection of headcanon questions inspired by key bones in the human body.
skull. what memories/thoughts do they guard the most from others ?
cheekbone. what makes them smile ?
mandible / jawbone. what are they incapable of saying out loud ?
teeth. what lasting mark do they leave on others ?
hyoid / neck. who taught them to speak up, or stay silent ?
clavicle / collarbone. who/what do they lean on when they're vulnerable ?
scapula / shoulderblade. what burden do they carry on their back ?
sternum. what makes their heart pound hardest ?
ribcage. who/what are they trying to protect ?
humerus. do they use humour as a shield or a weapon ? what from/to ?
radius. who/what do they reach for first in a crisis ?
ulna. who stands by them no matter what ?
carpals. what small habits do they have ?
metacarpals. do they ask for help or clench their fists and bear it ?
phalanges. what is their relationship with touch ?
spine. when do they lose their backbone, what scares them ?
pelvis. what future or legacy are they afraid/excited to be responsible for ?
sacrum. what sacrifices have they made ?
coccyx / tailbone. what outdated beliefs do they still carry, if any ?
femur. what drives them forward ?
patella / kneecap. how compliant/obedient are they, who will they kneel for ?
tibia. who/what keeps them moving forward ?
fibula. do they ever feel overlooked ?
tarsals. what past mistakes stick with them with every step they take ?
metatarsals. if they could disappear for a day, where would they run ?
Watari calmly watches those pale fingers work the ties. There is something almost alluring to the movement. A little surprising that, what looked like an innocent charm, instead houses a weapon within. It piques his interest even more.
"I grew up in a temple, and happen to know a little about charms. I had never seen it before, so I wanted to ask."
His eye darts over the object.
"It doesn't sound very superstitious to me at all." He had heard about many such legends of tools doing supernatural things, including his own weapon. Just seems logical to him. Why not put something extraordinary on something you can use. "What kind of disease is it cutting, if I may ask?"
“ Any that it must, ” she answers plainly, wiping the blade gently before beginning to tie it away once more. A gentle hum slips past her lips as she does so, tilting her head to the size gently, elegantly, as if pondering her next words before continuing, “ I'm rather prone to bouts of sickness, you see. So, I suppose you can consider it a precaution of sorts. ”
Tucking the blade away into her obi once more, the maiden's dark eyes glance upon the man that stands before her, taking in his appearance before nodding gently. “ I can tell that you were raised in a temple. There's an aura of purification around you — not a bad thing at all, of course. It's familiar. I myself grew up in a shrine… Structures like that tend to impart a bit of themselves upon you, wouldn't you agree? ”
Raising her palm fluidly, Suigetsu rests her hand upon her chest, giving a humble curtsy towards the swordsman before her. “ My name is Suigetsu… I suppose you can say that I am a magician, of sorts. Might I have your name? It seems as if we have a few things in common. ”
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' ... oh my . was that a sigh ? ' he's dumbly astonished that anyone who already bore such a heavy and dark atmosphere could somehow collapse themselves into something even more depressed . subtle and noble in her various movements he still observes the sinking shifts of her posture and the lonely press of her brows , whose various angles he had expertly learned to recognize upon the faces of others after years and years of witnessing them in his own reflections . the second sparkler in his hand peters out in time but he doesn't light yet another one from the bulk . instead , he gradually steps over and offers the rest to her , his expression waiting and expectant .
' you won't answer my question ? ' he doesn't accuse , merely seeking to peek , peel back whatever black veils she's cast over herself . ' i can call ya suigetsu if y'want . but'cha hafta like it . to want it . otherwise ... ' everything about him would have been pointless and purposeless and useless , from shape to voice manifesting an inexplicable yet undeniable presence . ' leaving only seemed the polite thing to do . ' leaving was the only thing left . he steps backwards and kicks a small puff of snow into the air . the flakes shimmer and glitter even in the darkness , like the stars had been ground down into powder and left to dust about their feet .
' haha . " if after ten thousand years we could once meet a truly great sage , one who understands , it would seem as if it had only been a morning . " you invited "me" to the festival and you invited "me" to stay , but then ya broke the secret , and so now i should go . or should i ask again instead ? ' held at the trial of her decision he would try not to pass any poor , hypocritical judgements for seemingly longing for and slipping into bargain with a decidedly suspicious ghost . ' ... i can stay , if y'want . but'cha hafta like it . to want it . '
her foot digs into the bank while his hands settle deep into the spaces of his mimicked sleeves . ' there's no reason for me to use your name or for us to get ta know one another otherwise . i'd vanish in the morning , just another dream . '
Silence lingers between the two of them once his words drift off, her gaze unmoving, eyes focused on the ground before her, almost as if he's ceased existing before her altogether. In her mind, however, thoughts drift by, one after another, lingering on notions of ‘ loneliness ’ and ‘ companionship ’, how her heart feels heavy upon the insistence of her ‘ self ’ wanting…
For a brief moment, there's a flash of something dangerously close to self-awareness of her own desires, something that's quickly and brutally smashed out of her as if it were simply an unwanted bug. Upon such a revelation, her posture straightens slightly, turning to the other as that familiar, habitual smile spreads across her face once more.
“ I'm sorry… I must have been sulking again. Do forgive me, ” hand rising to cheek, she cups it gently, averting her eyes with humility, “ I find my thoughts tend to wander at these hours. ” Bringing her palm to rest in her lap, the other reaches out, slender digits claiming the offering of sparklers. Fingertips run over the thin stickers, looking upon the items with an almost confounding kindness in her gaze. “ … Yes, I'd… ”
Words trail off and she freezes once more, swallowing uncomfortably. I'd like. What an uncomfortable set of words to speak… even so, with her expression faltering, undeniable disdain for her words flashing across for just a moment, she forces the smile to remain. “ … I'd like to be called my name. I don't… get to hear it often, if at all. ”
After a moment, there's a scoff of disbelief directed towards no-one but herself, shaking her head in disbelief, as if the action would bring her back to her senses once more. Brows furrow beneath dark hair, her hand clenching momentarily before, in defeat, her eyes are shut, head turned away. “ … I'd like you to stay. ”
He typically knows where he is. He's not bad at directions, nor does he think he lets much pass his attention. But yet.. it was as if seeing something new when his eyes had settled on the citadel. Brows lightly furrowed as he cautiously, steps unsure and precautious.
A part of him doesn't expect to be addressed the moment he entered, so when he is? He feels his body tense, swallowing thickly as his back straightens up. Approaching a bit closer, yellow cat-like eyes darting to take in his surroundings. " ...A little bit? I u-uh.. was kinda wandering around mindlessly and ended up here. I'm sorry if I disturbed you, ma'am. "
With a gentle expression, Suigetsu abandons her tools for the time being, metal slipping from pale fingers and gently arranging upon the dark wood desk she finds herself seated at. Slowly and elegantly, she rises to her feet, her height almost seeming to unfold before the lost one before her. Though the difference between them might seem imposing, her calm and kind demeanor never wavers. If anything, her gaze softens into something like mercy, as though her only intention is to guard the one lingering on the threshold.
“ Yes, it seems to be a bit of a common occurrence as of late… Fret not, I'll ensure you make it back to your destination soon enough. ”
Stepping forward, the dark kimono slides softly across the ground as she approaches the stranger before her. Ever so gently, she leans forward, bringing her leveled, head tilted inquisitively.
“ If I may be so bold, might I have your name? If we're to be in one another's company for the time being, a bit of familiarity would serve us well. ”
Suigetsu has essentially 1 facial expression by default, but it does shift slightly depending on if she’s sad or confused. The most obvious change is when she is irritated since it’s pretty undeniably >:|
Frozen. No. Utterly paralyzed ; That was Kasen's state. His eyes open wide, mouth slightly agape, his hand hovering mid-air without flinching. He tried to process it … and more importantly, process what reaction came even closer to appropriate to give. But right now he was nothing but profoundly, devastatingly, speechless. His mouth opened as if to say something at least twice, thrice. Nothing.
The … doll. I f it could be called that. A product of a butchered … what? drying rag…? ( Where did Suigetsu even get this from… ? ! ) Haphazardly sewn together, with crude, inelegant, shaky stitches in thick black string. It attempted to resemble a body that was more akin to a cross, the fabric was daring to crumble away at the seams. Then… the face. Or what tried to stand for it. Scribbled with botched, runny paint. Inexperienced strokes crafted something closer to a child's drawing than a doll-like faucet. The remaining part –- hair, seemed to be a mix and match of a discarded, bleached horsetail brush. And worst of all … was this meant to resemble … resemble … c-c-ch… — ? !
“… I… uh, I… ” His brain screamed at him a mandatory order, on red alarms — maximum alert ; ( Conceal your shock! Conceal your shock! This is utterly rude — look at her face! You're breaking a lady's heart – ! ) But it was in vain. The utter processing power the concealment took overwhelmed his head for a second, and all he could muster was a forced, strained smile. “… Ah… I… I see…” A drop of cold sweat through his forehead.
With an indignant look finding its way across her face, the subtleties of Kasen's horrors are plain to see for the woman who knows him far too well. His mouth grasping for words, hands unsure and unconfident as to where to rest, watching his dumbfoundment at the creation she so painstakingly brought forth. Even worse — his absolute inability to say anything of substance! She'd have to be a fool for the sudden shift in behavior to go unnoticed.
“ Kasen-sama… You're being rather cruel, ” she spits firmly, holding the doll just a bit tighter, pulling it closer to her chest as if defending it from his confused gaze, his hateful eyes! Perhaps hateful is a step too far, but the embarrassment twisting in the pit of her stomach can't help but take the lackluster reaction as anything but. Lowering her eyes, Suigetsu observes the fabric within her hands, expression softening ever so slightly. In her eyes, despite it's… novice nature, it's still cute, charming, lovable… Made with passion. Quickly jerking her gaze back up, brows furrow once more.
“ Instead of staring at him so judgmentally, w-why… why don't you offer to help? ” Her head is turned away with a flourish, hair whipping dramatically, a ' hmph! ‘ slipping past her lips before she can control it. The act was exceedingly out of character, immature, yes , but something about the bond between the two — somewhere between mentor and student, mother and child, familial, close — brought out the ridiculous behavior that rests deep within her. In this moment, she’s less of the elegant, beautiful Saniwa who commands respect and admiration from her poised nature, and more of a stubborn teenager, upset that her budding hobbies have been discovered by a parent.
我が定め
No warmth is left in the palm of my hand, all it holds is my wish, my perfect adieu.
∗ independent & selective ∷ original character Suigetsu Ogawa
⋗ penned by neige ( she, 24 ) ➺ multifandom friendly
about && rules && verses && carrd
like or reblog if interested in interacting ♥
The shops appearance was abrupt, unprompted. The evening before, the space between a standard-issue clothing store and a specialty furniture shop remained open as per usual, a whispered passageway where deft steps could lead you to the street behind, so long as you didn't attract any unwanted attention by the businesses cloistered upon busy streets. The next, a narrow building of deep mahogany and paper screens filled the gap perfectly, a narrow shop that looked as if the kenchiku-styled building was manifested from a dream. Ornate lanterns hung upon the entry, and in the circular window upon the first floor, the view inside the shop was given.
Suigetsu sits on an antique chair behind the pane of glass, fingers moving slowly through an ikebana arrangement. A branch if flowering plum, three stems of pale camellia, a singular dried fern. She places each piece as if the flowers were to shatter beneath her touch, with a care that signaled the depth of her thoughts as the piece is brought to fruition. Her kimono is a deep grey, patterned with silver threads woven into the shapes of peacock feathers, catching the weak morning light filtering in from low-hanging clouds. Nails, long and freshly manicured, click softly against the ceramic vase.
The streets outside are busy, citizens far too busy on their day-to-day to take note of the strange, out of place brought forth from nothingness. Salarymen rush past with quick steps, mothers walk their young children to school, miscellaneous folk lingering for but a moment to watch the woman in the window before hurrying onward. Her gaze remains lowered, fixated on her work. With dark circles beneath her black eyes and paper-white skin, she could have been mistaken as a ghost behind the glass, if not for the occasional slow blink.
A figure halts near the window. Unlike before, however, her eyes lift to assess the one who stood before her. A polite smile is brought to her face — as it appears that the first customer of the day has at last, arrived. With a slender hand rising, she points to the entrance of the door, as if to permit the one before her to enter the premises.
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