*/ HIEROPHANT.

affiliated noriaki kakyoin I am out of the veil of despair, I now know the meaning of hope (CONDO 403 // DWARF)

[eliasdrid]

dumb teenagers.sai

My pals got me to watch JJBA at last and I’ve gotten some really dumb ideas to draw so you know, this isn’t exactly 100% my fault.

[hiercs]

jootato‌:

despite his annexation of noriaki’s couch, recent weeks had been lined by sleepless nights and endless bouts of research. his responsibilities at the university had been put on hold as he and the old man pursued dio left and right. what moments jotaro could spare had been spent with one bloodshot eye cracked open at the doors, at kakyoin, at the rerunning programs that kept him company on that same television channel. the minuscule advances from noriaki’s housemates had been met with deafening silence and successive awkwardness until they let him be; too much was at risk for jotaro to stagger for even a second. a second―or not even―was all it had taken to take more after that. (and oh, from jotaro, dio had taken so much―)

― it walks right in and sits beside him.

jotaro stifles a grumble, haggard gaze avoiding kakyoin the best it can. the dull ache in his chest will double otherwise. “… about?” something personal, promised his drumroll, with that edge in his voice set on either pulling teeth or breaking some. jotaro’s eyes flit back to the television, where the sponge and three pink starfish are congregating (far more merrily, might he add) on their own sandy couch. “i’m leaving after patrick meets his real parents.” kakyoin will not honor it. jotaro knows him too well. still, he puts the cap out there without disclosing much else―walking out had been the plan, after all, since confirming moments prior that dio had vanished.

but after the cartoon. and evidently, this ominous conversation.

Kakyoin’s annoyance bleeds like an open wound at the words; he’s tried hard to reign most of it over the weeks with varying degrees of success, usually amounted to tired sighs that Jotaro probably didn’t notice anyway seeing as though he tries hard not to notice anything about Kakyoin these days. He’s used to bare minimum responses at best, so this isn’t surprising. His time limit reduced to a span of a twelve minute long episode of a cartoon—getting reduced to a time limit in general—however, sparks a flare of irritation in the form of lips briefly pursed into a thin line and drawn out exhale through his nose. Jotaro is lucky that this isn’t a conversation Kakyoin wishes to have half ignited by something teetering on the edge of anger; it’s enough that he’s annoyed about the whole thing.  

“About, he says.” The word repeated under his breath, a whispering disbelief. If Kakyoin as a pettier person, he probably would make a guessing game out of it. As it stands, he can be that petty, but he doesn’t have the emotional patience for much besides figuring out which grievances they need to air out to reconcile whatever has cut a chasm’s rift between them.

“What’s your problem, Jotaro?” Question asked then reconsidered—it’s a little too broad in subject and probably a bit cruel besides. He tries again, more specific and with a bit more thought out this time. “It’s strange how you don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, even, as if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. But then you turn around and do this, the borderline hovering. There’s a big discrepancy in your actions, and I’m not a mind reader. Obviously, this involves me, so I’d like to know what’s going on.”

[hiercs]

shows up with 20 pockys in his mouth this time

“Okay,” He sighs, something close to relenting, but necessarily giving in. This is all very ridiculous, he thinks, but only in the fondest sense because you can only take someone so seriously with all that pocky in their mouth. “I’m not playing with you, JoJo” Despite these words, he does snag an extra cookie right out of Jotaro’s mouth and sticks it in his own. “But thanks for offering. Try again next year, maybe.”

[hiercs]

wildberryoras‌:

     AS much as he’d be willing to open those wounds again, talk about what happened, he’s grateful for Kakyoin skipping to safer territory. They deserve to keep things light now that they’re here, on a gorgeous beach, the Crusade dimensions away. They’re safe… relatively speaking.

⦑ Adaptation is my most powerful ability. My experience in the journey to Egypt had been limiting. Here, away from Jotaro, I’ve been forced to grow and it’s made me that much stronger. ⦒

His whole body stiffens at the poor phrasing. hair bristling

⦑ Not that I blame Jotaro for how my development went. We had no time. ⦒

*:・ﾟ☆

“Yeah, you were just a baby Stand.” He pauses, frowns just a little as he recalls Death 13, but continues regardless. “The journey to Egypt wasn’t that long, all things considered, but your growth seemed pretty exponential from where I was standing.” Then again, perhaps that as forced too—all the Stand Users they ran into during the time made sure of that whether they realized it or not.

“Good for you though.” Kakyoin smiles, a sincere but small thing. “It must not have been easy at first, being away from your User like that. But you seem pretty confident and sure of yourself. Do you like it here then, if you’ve been away for so long?”

[hiercs]

shows up with a pocky sticking out of his mouth

“Are you trying to be cute because pocky day is soon?” Tomorrow, actually, if his phone calendar is correct. Either way, hints are probably being dropped, ones that Noriaki has no interesting in picking up on or thinking too much about to save himself the headache. He gives a blank-faced stare for a few seconds longer before taking matters into his own ( cruel) hands, and bats the pocky stick out of Jotaro’s mouth. 

It tumbles and shatters pathetically; Noriaki watches its demise. The tinny music of his phone game and the high pitched laughter of the talking sponge sing its funeral song. Such is life.  

[hiercs]

ohmygooooooood‌:

Having recently tangled with Dio, Joseph had a bad taste in his mouth. Knowing that son of a bitch was here- even powerless- was enough to make Joseph anxious. By far, he was the weakest Stand user of the SDC. Star Platinum, Silver Chariot, The Fool, Magician’s Red, Heirophant Green all beat out Hermit Purple in terms of power and pretty much anything else. Joseph was a Hamon user, but here he couldn’t access it so what good would it do him?

As he’s wandering about, he could have sworn he saw a shock of cherry red hair. He pauses, waiting for the feel of the familiar Stand user itch on his neck, but maybe they’re too far away.

That hairstyle was too specific NOT to be Noriyaki Kakyoin though. It had to be. Joseph, overwhelmed with joy, nearly sprints over, before stopping. He has to make a surprise appearance! How else would he make his presence known? And also, this…maybe might not be Kakyoin, so the plan would keep Joseph out of line of sight if this person wasn’t a Stand user.

“Let’s see if it really is you, my friend…” He mutters to himself, snaking HP through the legs of a crowd of people to pat the redhead on the shoulder.

@hiercs

Kakyoin is fine with this place, in the oddest sense—knows it’s better than whatever might await him when he leaves, if he leaves. Perhaps it could be worse, perhaps it could be better; he’s long since learned to accept things as they come and deal with them accordingly. At least he’s not completely without companions here, though he sometimes finds himself wishing there was more.

Feeling something brush against his shoulder isn’t an ideal especially in the middle of musing as he is, and Hierophant becomes his own sort of watchpoint, materializing just enough so Kakyoin doesn’t have to turn his head immediately to inspect the intrusion. There’s a threading trail of familiar, purple vines invisible to all but the two Stand Users in this moment. Kakyoin feels himself relax at the realization which soon turns into a fond flicker of exaggerated annoyance as he turns around.

He walks against the flow of the crowd to greet the elder, Hierophant still a hovering spectator just above his shoulders part out of his own curiosity and partly as a show of undeniable identity. If Kakyoin wasn’t confronted directly, then that must be a concern of a sort.

“Mr. Joestar, it’s good to see you.” his words are sincere as he tries not to immediately think of the last time they saw each other. “Are you alright? Nothing bad happened, I hope.”

[hiercs]

There is a definite air of awkwardness that wasn’t between them before—something precariously heavy that hangs in the air with too many things left unsaid and unquestioned. Kakyoin lets Jotaro have this, however, because they’re different people and some don’t appreciate an immediate push. He can give space when needed, when it seems necessary—you don’t spend a childhood alone and constantly aware of people’s reactions towards you and not come out with some innate ability to read the air.

Kakyoin thinks it’s a weird game they’re playing; not really a game, probably, just Jotaro’s awkwardness and Kakyoin’s own shortcomings in dealing with relationships that actually mean something to him. It does get something close to unbearable when Jotaro plants himself firmly on the couch of Kakyoin’s housing and doesn’t seem keen on leaving given that it’s been weeks. Well, at least he’s actually in immediate eyesight, makes actually getting him still to talk easier.

“Alright, Jojo.” Said without warning and tone brooking no argument or means for escape. Kakyoin sits right down next to him on the dumb couch and steels himself and doesn’t make a comment about the talking sponge cartoon playing on the television. “I know you’re probably deathly allergic when it comes to talking about anything personal, but we need to have a conversation.” // @jootato​

[hiercs]

“So, you’re a plant person of a sort?” Question spoken not unkindly with a tilted head and curious expression. The Island brings in people from all walks of life and situations, many of them that Kakyoin has only seen out of his periphery, never really interacting. Mere coincidence leads him to talk to this woman, however; both of them in the same place of the Eternal Cherry Blossoms though for different reasons, perhaps. Kakyoin’s here to sketch, after all, to break in new art materials with something easy like eternally blooming flowers. “That’s interesting. We don’t have people like you where I’m from. Just humans and I guess vampires and zombies, but those were just an outlier, to begin with.” // @madetodoevil​

[hiercs]

The library isn’t a place he frequents often, not with the weight of academia lifted neatly from his shoulders. Kakyoin isn’t much of a free time reader anyway despite what appearances and mannerism might lead others to believe. He’ll do it when he has the time, a last resort measure so to speak if nothing else is driving him. Something is driving him today, however, mostly curiosity and a realization that he doesn’t know much about the Island itself. Odd for him considering that he enjoys picking up bits and bobs of information on each place he travels, though the journey here was not voluntary like many before.

“Excuse me.” He slips up to the front desk, nice and polite once the person in front of him has all their stuff checked out. “I was wondering where the history section is. Or art history more specifically, but whichever is fine.” // @pavlovianpoet​

[hiercs]

Cotes is a nice ward. Peaceful in a way that’s familiar, close enough similarities with Japan that Kakyoin can sometimes fool himself into thinking he hasn’t actually been taken from home. But, then again, he wasn’t even home before being spirited away here. He hasn’t been home in months actually, and the reminder of that is an odd aching sort of feeling. Perhaps homesickness or something a little more complex on top of all that; he’ll worry about all that later when he isn’t traversing through the Bamboo Grove in search of a quieter place to sit and read or maybe sketch.

He thinks he might have found a nice spot—a pretty clearing with dappled sunlight and soft grass, but it seems to be already occupied. Kakyoin has not been careful with his treading, snapping underbrush and rustling leaves as he goes along. It’s no wonder attention is turned to him so quickly. It’s a little embarrassing.

“Sorry, did I disturb you?” he probably did, given that this one is alone. “Don’t mind me though. I’m just passing through, really.” // @uchihacycs​

[hiercs]

gosh, activity on here has been very slow and i apologize for that! i’ve had nori here long enough to warrant another starter call, so here we go capping at 3 likes but castmates can ignore the cap!

[hiercs]

hi please do not leave your house for reasons

“Are you literally asking me to do anything after ghosting me for almost two months.”

[lintufriikki]

spends half of the day in bed playing animal crossing and eating ice cream when it’s too hot to do anything else 

[hiercs]

wildberryoras‌:

     WHEN called, he doesn’t turn his head, keeping his eyes on the horizon. Were it a year ago, two years ago, he would have whipped around in his excitement to hear his friend’s voice, always ready for any of the Stardust Crusaders to arrive. Too many times he’d been disappointed to find at best tricksters pulling his chain and at worst, his own mind unable to find peace.

So he’s statue still, hovering above the sand until the boy is literally right up on him and he has to accept what’s been trudging through the sand toward him in his peripheral. Emerald green school uniform. The shock of red hair

He twitches back, at first to get space between them and then to get a better look.

It’s him. He doesn’t even have to scan him to know. It’s put him at a loss of words, so he settles for answering the question.

⦑ No. I’ve been on my own for a time. ⦒

By far, the majority of his life. He brings himself close again, not wanting to be a stranger regardless. He’s missed him. He’s missed all of them so much and he does his best to convey that through his voice, not the best at emoting under pressure.

⦑ You don’t know how good it is to see you. ⦒

*:・ﾟ☆

A strange occurrence, Kakyoin realizes, to see Star Platinum so far away from Jotaro, all other things besides, but maybe not. Stands are strange and their current circumstance on the Island seems to be stranger than even this. He can question it all he likes and demands answers, but he has a feeling this is decidedly one of those instances where everything will be vague at best and unanswerable at the worst. He can think about that all later then—that’s fine.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He says, no empty sincerity. Kakyoin understands loneliness in an achingly intimate sort of way, and he doesn’t think Stands are even supposed to be alone for too long anyway.

He tries to switch gears to an expression a little more lighthearted, even if it’s not the easiest. “I’d be happy to see me too after all of what went down.” Because he has to come to terms to what happened in Egypt eventually even if it is odd to think about for too long. “But really, you seem well. You couldn’t do all this last time I saw you, or maybe you could, and I just didn’t pay enough attention.” He’s not even sure Hierophant can talk to him, not with words anyway. It’s all interesting to see.

[hiercs]

gallowsbough‌:

She’s always been fascinated by artists’ ability to create something from nothing. Immortalizing something from the mind’s eye, making the ordinary fantastical on a blank surface— creation by any and by all means has always enchanted her. The Creator’s vision for the sky realm was incomplete, but vested in all those created by Them was their own vision. Whether they were good or bad, came to fruition or fizzled to nothingness— that was too reliant on luck and circumstance, she laments. But her wide-eyed curiosity had lasted until now thanks to this. Seeing people inherit that vision, seeing their labor makes her happy.

I am old and silly, she thinks. She laughs at herself internally.

Yggdrasil cranes her neck at a respectable distance from aside to peer at the likeness steadily emerging on the paper, trying not to disturb the artist— ineffectively.

She tinkles apologetically and shakes her head, head-sprout curling. She does not approach, flashing a subdued smile. Sorry for disturbing you, she chimes, gesturing with a hand at his work as her smile grows, appreciative. I wanted to watch, if that is amenable…? Canting her head in question, she falters awkwardly, knowing not everyone appreciates being watched while they work, whether for performance or nerves.

He can’t understand her, not really—not when she chimes like a bell, more like a spirit of a sort than anything, but Kakyoin’s always had a knack for reading body language, cultivated from and artist perspective and from a childhood spent on the outskirts. He gets the gist in a basic and bare bones sort of way, and it gives him a sort of appreciation for her careful motions, expressive as they are in their subtly. Or maybe he’s just overthinking all this; that tends to happen often enough.

“You can watch if you’d like,” says Kakyoin—moving to the side more though he has more than enough space next to. It’s a show more than anything. “I’m just doodling things anyway, nothing pressing.” Passing the time really, because that’s all he can do here. It’s not as if he has school to worry about or assignment deadlines hanging over his head.  

“I don’t get much practice with charcoal.” He continues, though his attention more or less on the sketchbook in front of him now. His fingers are smudges black already, but it’s par for the course within a matter of minutes let alone the near hour he’s been out here. “Sorry in advance if you get bored.”

[hiercs]

jootato‌:

jotaro hums once, short and tight-lipped. it is an utterly kakyoin quip, one he knows that neither of them mind. the way he cants just slightly is also too much like him: the soft bounce of his hair and subtle smile on his lips make jotaro realize he’s had his jaw locked, shoulders all squared, and so he does his damnedest to relax in his obnoxious three-and-a-half legged chair. had he not set himself on breaking the habit some months ago, he would have taken the edge off with a cigarette he knows is in his left pocket. the disquiet is so palpable that he cannot blame noriaki for pointing it out, only himself for everything else.

“i’m fi―” his canned answer snags on a noteworthy pause, volleying the rest of him into a pit of contemplation. jotaro finally wonders, then, if a bit of honesty would not backfire on him now. although he had stilled his hand, and with it its desperation for tangibility, he surmises those stakes would be significantly lower. he breathes in terse, then out: low, soft, like a secret of secrets but with tenfold the shame. “… no.”

he cannot take it back. instinctive regret cracks its whip and nearly seizes him then―were it not for the small comfort that this were a dream, it just might have. “i…” what could he say? what was there to say? for all the sleepless nights he had spent rehearsing this very predicament, the chimerical second chance to deliver what all went unspoken, the thought pool came up disappointingly dry. jotaro scowls, though not at noriaki, prominent brow furrowed by something sinister. when he looks up, eyes all muted turmoil, he cannot decide whether he should commit kakyoin’s warm expression to memory or shun it. “it’s been―hard. without you.” a phantom flash of pain surfaces. “sometimes, i don’t know if…”

and again it ebbs. jotaro shakes his head after another beat, perhaps one of exasperation. kakyoin probably hasn’t a clue what the hell he’s talking about―he doesn’t even know what the hell he’s talking about―but that’s probably better, infinitely better than having kakyoin hate him the way he ought to.

“forget it. just keep talking.” because it’s easier to pretend. because the voice in question is one he has wretchedly missed. jotaro’s fingertips curl around the handle of a mug he presumes is his, bringing brisk arabica blend to his lips, ceramic clacking a second too hastily against his teeth. thank god the coffee was past piping, though jotaro doubted he would have flinched even if it were not. he has remembered exactly why this memory had been so significant, and he doesn’t like it one bit. noriaki, he likes too much.

Kakyoin’s attentive as he always is when Jotaro speaks, though the words are short, they’re nothing like what he expected them to be. The admittance is surprising enough that his eyes widen a little and his posture straightens. It’s one of those dreams he guesses, the ones where things start of normal and delve into a fantasy scenario of a sort. Of course, Kakyoin’s would involve something simple as talking, but underneath the sad story that is his life, he supposes his wants are basic, simple enough that his mind can conjure a comfort.

“Of course, it’s been hard without me,” a joke at his own expense really—laughter a bit too strained, smile a bit too forced at this moment. This is a dream; it can’t be anything more or less than that. Why else would Jotaro willingly say such something close to sweet, at least for him anyway? It’s like a vulnerably revealing in the simplest of sense—soft underbelly of feelings laid bare in those short, clipped words that it has to be something Kakyoin’s own mind made up. Bittersweet in meanings too, given that Kakyoin is well and truly dead and this only confirms it. Truly too little too late for him, the tragedy of dying young. “I got you out of trouble more than a few times. Can’t go into every fight fist swinging. It’s a recipe for disaster.” Jotaro probably doesn’t need him these days—whatever these days are, that is—but there’s nothing necessarily wrong with being a little hopeful, a little nostalgic in the time he has here separated from the actual flow of time.

He could keep talking about facts and figures and useless chatter, let the dream play out like the memory, pretend that his death never happened, that it will never happen like he can’t fathom the idea of dying even though he’s been willing to do so since his life was saved. He could be that form of selfish or the other sort that strikes him at this moment. If this Jotaro is anything like the one he actually knows, discussing feelings at length isn’t something he’s overly fond of. But that seems to have already been chipped at even just a little, an exposure under the armor, a crack in the wall.  

Kakyoin taps his fingers against the wood briefly, lips posed into a considering frown. “Now that you mentioned it, I’m not actually going to forget it.” Words spoken near stubbornly, he shrugs. “I don’t actually remember what I was talking about anyway. Too bad for you, my attention is caught.” Like Jotaro hasn’t a majority of his attention since Kakyoin first walked down that stairwell that one autumn’s day. “You can’t just drop something like that and expect me not to be interested in what you have to say.” What can this dream of his conjure up, he wonders?

[hiercs]

yunyield‌:

“this is read as tenmei,” says hibari without a shred of doubt, good as if he were saying the sky was blue, eyes glued to the signature in his possession. then he sets down the papers, volleying his glance across the desk he called his. “but you prefer noriaki?” as midday light drifted from the window behind kyouya, draping its rays over the back of his office chair, a part of him wondered how so many people could have gotten it wrong.

“then, kakyoin noriaki.” hibari eased back into the leather, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers over a knee. “why did you visit? another game? or,” and he cants his head at this one, “a favor?” his jurisdiction was not so broad―not here―but what he did manage, he managed well. the hibird on duty skipped across the arm of his chair, onto the desk, and before kakyoin with its round, ever inquisitive eyes.  //  @hiercs

“Yeah, it is.” Kakyoin conforms, amused. It’s rare to hear his name – his actual name – spoken and from someone seeing it for the first time. “I don’t mind Noriaki and I don’t mind Tenmei either. It just got read wrong so many times since I was young, I never bothered correcting anyone about it and started introducing myself as Noriaki.” Strange how all this works out, he realizes, that Jotaro and the rest probably don’t even know his real name, but Noriaki is just as real as anything; it’s just that his parents only call him Tenmei these days.

“I don’t really need a favor unless you can beat some sense into an idiot.” He releases a sigh, a small puff of air follows by him rolling his eyes. A finger held in front of the bird to inspect, he continues, half distracted by either his thoughts or how cute the bird is. “Then again, I can handle it myself once he stops running the other direction and making the whole neighbors thing awkward.” A bit more than he expected to say, but it’s been a strange few weeks overall. Kakyoin is patient where it matters though even that will run its course eventually. “I’m here to play Mario Kart again.”