His tone annoys Kira.
There’s nothing else to say.
Simply put, it’s already put him in… somewhat of a bad mood. It wasn’t enough to crawl under his skin (over the years, he’s managed to build layers upon layers of skin, thickening and toughening it over time.) but it feels akin to that of something trying to, anyway. There was an unnecessary itchiness that cascaded over his skin – not enough to create goosebumps but enough to give off the temptation – that felt like a hard, steady stream from a shower.
In one moment, it hits him at all once but in the very next?
It’s all over, quietly rolling off of his body like rain… exactly like rain.
He takes his time in responding (because he doesn’t why he ought to respond in the first place other than for sake “social niceties”.) without, yet, engaging. Back remained turned towards him, leaving him feeling eerily naked and almost alone (but it’s a feeling that doesn’t go unwelcomed. it’s familiar, calming; he feels better alone.) without a chance to cover up. A twitch of the finger was all that he’s given in form of acknowledgement, lazy and almost subconscious.
Whether it was out of need to raise both of his arms in order to cross them over his chest, grasping onto his biceps in a makeshift hug would remain to be seen. There were other urges (to wrap his fingers around his throat, to see if the tips of his fingers could meet the tip of his thumb before squeezing. to squeeze as hard as he could, all in name of driving out that oh-so tantalizing crack he yearns for each and every time.) that negged him, egging him on almost physically. It was as if he was being pelted with literal eggs, pushing him to do something that he thinks that he should regret but knows that he won’t later on.
His attention remained upon the tombstone before him, a name on it that he feels that he should remember (it’s a typical shape, rounded at the top edges with the deceased’s name etched in print with a repeat under in cursive.) but doesn’t bother to do so. At the “foot” of the gravestone lay a small bouquet of flowers– an intermixing of red roses and white lilies. Kira doesn’t make any mention whether they were from him or not.
Upon the stone, It’s a name (her name was marcia garlowich, an aspiring model from overseas.) that’s best suited for the newspaper. It’s a name (and she was a hand model, apparently. she came to japan because of an opportunity, she told kira.) that’s best suited to be given a double take by the natives, mumbling under their breath, “What a strange name…” before turning to the next page. It’s a name (she laughed, and it’s an ugly sound, whilst wondering out loud, “why people need hand models beats me!” and kira only smiles at her.) that only her parents would recognize, ignorance showing in how they waited for their little girl’s big break on the billboards back home.
The billboards remained the same.
It’s been a month, now.
Her birthday’s tomorrow, too.
His head lifts after a few moments, eyes still peering down at the etching before him (he followed her back to her hotel, because she asked him to. she said he made her feel safe.) with a mild squint. Cursive was so gaudy… so garish… it would forever escape him as to why people would choose such a thing for their graves. It’s not like they would be around (they couldn’t find the body.) to see the finished product, after all.
“Thank you for the offer.”
Words come out a little soft, because he doesn’t want to force anything. For whatever reason this man decided to approach him, would remain to be seen, and Kira wasn’t fully motivated to find out why. He would much rather head back home (he thinks he needs a little more time to prep dinner… he decided to try something a little more “hearty” tonight for him and rohan– steak.) and pretend like none of this happened.
"I don’t think I’m in need of anything…”
“…although, I must look a little lost–” a small joke, though Kira doesn’t smile, “–for you to assume that.”
Why, indeed, would he sometimes choose to approach one particular soul lingering in the cemetery longer than one would expect? Why, indeed, when there are those around that worked for him, that would move for him, that arranged this or that outcome for him? At times, there are only a few margins left between his interest and someone's apparent "loss of personality", as much as only one would want to proclaim it as such. At times, there were only inklings between himself and a 'customer' that should never truly have been one. Alas, for this one? It had been more of a - lucky 'coincidence'. " Most of those that come here appear lost. " And he says it with little to no discernable tone in it all.
A habitual thing, a little thing. Something learned and rehearsed and picked up over hundreds and hundreds of years engaging with the bereaved that were so human, and even those that never had been, would they not act and behave like it once having lost something so - precious - as a life?
The mortician had merely learned that facts with the sing-song of his voice brought forth would be easier accepted [ swallowed? ] than sheer play pretence. " Especially standing in front of an empty grave. " This should not be a surprise. This was not meant to be a surprise. For the way he just had introduced himself made sure that particular knowledge of all graves could be found in his mind. A minor disturbance, eyes idly wandering from the 'guest' back to the gravestone, to the name, to the dates, to the flowers, as if, contrary to former thoughts, not having any knowledge about it at all and needing to perceive every little bit of it as apparent news when it was none at all. " Why would you choose this one? " Why would he ask that? With being here. Being so truly picture perfect, the epitome of mourning someone, or mayhap it is just the oddness of the name that rung so alien in their surrounding?
So he does, as if rehearsed in his play he would lean down, squat down next to the grave, slightly leaning above it as well, in sole means to rearrange the flowers brought as a gesture, into a better, a more open shape and form. Meanings to tell where there was no story to behold beyond what he had spoken about mere seconds ago. Reaching out, picking up a piece one by one, the intermingling of red and white colours to be brought to full view within an easy rounded form now placed on perfectly sculpted earth. A flat surface with nothing else but the fine and parallel strokes of a rake, reminiscent of the idle drawings in a Japanese zen garden. One of his employees had done so.
There was a reason behind it.
There was a reason why this grave had been mostly left as devoid of decoration as it had been left empty in its core.
Usually, his rules would forbid to permit this from happening. From a place and shape taken on these grounds where no one would come to mourn, where no body had been laid to rest [ it had to be at least one or the other? ]. The order of such would find disregard and disapproval from the Funeral Director, if only appearances to be upheld were a deliberate want and need in this current society. Here, he had made an exception to this rule [ were there others around just the same? ], had agreed to the police's demands where they had near grovelled at his feet to have it fulfilled. For it would not change or disperse, no one would want to approach him wrongfully - or unneeded. Thus with all of this in mind, he had finished his little silent work and had brought forth the form of a circle on the grave, intertwined the flowers and a few left over from the grand form, now neatly arranged in a six-point growth from the inside out. It was an odd idea, but - surely one that could be found here and there if one were to have time overlooking the graves of thousands and thousands.
It was a pastime for many people, after all. " You are--- " He stand straight again, a mere smile etched on his lips that were as clear-cut a farce as this whole engagement would ring hollow. After all, the Undertaker only did his god-given work--- " ---the first person coming here since the mock funeral has taken place. " Soft and low. While he does not move past the tilt of his head, arms and legs appear like nought but from doll's strings moved and now left to limber. " I am merely curious as to why you chose this one~ "
gummygunk
izzy806
areudirty
gamechangershow
tangentwithtanner
