-ˏˋ⋆ ↳ ❝ 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙊𝘿𝙐𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙂 : 「 ISSHINSANSAKU 」 ! ❞ ─── a highly selective, independent, & headcanon-based roleplay blog for NIWA HISAHIDE from GENSHIN IMPACT . ┈┈┈ this blog will feature mature themes ─ viewer discretion advised. none of it will be romanticized nor should it be. uses the beta editor only. minors dni. due to health concerns, my activity will be iffy! i hope that will be okay!
a study in : love without strings, being painted as a villain, doomed by the narrative, found family, creating a home for someone, giving up everything for someone you care for, living for others more than yourself, pushing yourself to the limits, reclaiming life taken from you, embracing someone in reunion
Ⅰ . MUTUTALS || this blog is mutuals only, meaning that there will be no interactions (outside of anon messages) unless we are both following each other. personals who constantly spam likes or reblog my posts will receive a hefty hardblock. if you have a side blog, please inform me of it through ims or have it listed on your blog for me to follow so i can ensure i've done it, even if we've been mutuals before, i have a memory only a goldfish could understand so i might forget!
Ⅱ . GENERAL ETTITIQUTE || no godmoding, no metagaming, no controlling my muse's actions, no headcanon overstepping, cut your posts (or at least tag them as uncut), read my rules and verses, don't reblog a thread you're not involved in, don't give me three sentences to my three paragraphs, respect me and i will respect you!
Ⅲ . SHIPPING || you are allowed to be interested in the concept of shipping with my muses, but i ask that we make sure there's chemistry before there's anything confirmed. ALSO: shipping is multiverse, so there will be NO CHEATING plots on here.
Ⅳ . INTERACTIONS || the easiest way to interact with me is through any and all means: greeter starters, random starters, through my inbox, through my ims/dms, liking my plotting calls, liking my starter calls, responding to my opens, etc. i actually really do love when people do that and i promise you that my eyes will become hearts the moment i see someone interacting with something of mine.
Ⅴ . INTERCONNECTED STORIES || since this blog will have a lot of lore on it, it'd be nice to have interconnected stories with niwa! if you'd be interested in that, please do contact me for mains!
Ⅵ . SM.UT || it's okay, but usually not for me!
Ⅶ . DUPLICATES || i am always alright with duplicates following me! i might not follow first (due to the fact i don't want to make them uncomfortable), but it's alright to follow with your muse. if you'd like to make a twin verse or a verse where they might coexist, my ims/dms are always open to plotting it out! i would like this to happen so that way we're not confused about what's happening in the threads!
Ⅷ . DRAMA / CALLOUTS || please leave me out of petty drama. i'm almost 30 and cannot be bothered to keep track of the drama bombs going off. if the person i'm interacting with has done heinous things, then you may inform me, but if you were to tell me you fought about something in the past and couldn't make up, then maybe it's best you sort through things yourself. there's the blacklist feature to keep your blog safe for yourself. also i ask that if you have someone on a dni and i wind up interacting with them (they did something terrible and horrible withstanding), please remind me. i have so many followers and so many rules that i might forget things and it's not because i want to disrespect you.
Ⅸ . MEMORY ISSUES || as stated before and many times over my blogs, i have severe memory issues. not only am i diagnosed with add, but i am also going through early ovarian failure, which can heavily impact my memory. i might forget threads, i might lose threads, i might forget to tag triggers, i might forget to reply to you, but it's never out of spite! it's almost always because i forget and my mind just fizzles into the void.
Ⅹ . MEMES || i am not a meme directory, i am not a meme source, and i really hope that i am not just used for people to constantly take memes from! if i see it constantly happening on my dashboard and feel like we're not interacting at all without it being based on meme taking, then i might softblock in the future. i cannot stress this enough: send memes to people! if it's an anon one, send a meme! if it's a sentence one, send it (if you can't think of a sentence to send in, then, fine, i can understand it better here once in a while)! also if i reply to a meme, you are allowed to continue it in a thread just PLEASE DON'T REBLOG IF I ANSWERED IT IN TUMBLR'S ASK FEATURE.
Ⅺ . BREAKING CONTACT || please don't softblock me. just block me so i don't wind up accidentally refollowing you. you also don't have to tell me why you are doing so, though it would be nice to know what i've done wrong so that, in the future and for the sake of others, i can improve myself. i will ALWAYS assume that you don't want me on your dashboard anymore, i will ALWAYS assume that i've done something wrong, so i will not refollow the person who has softblocked (if i'm aware they have and am not forgetting that they did) me because i want to ensure they are given the proper comforts and space. if you wish to refollow me in the future, then i will likely follow back, but i will not follow first.
Ⅻ . TRIGGERING CONTENT || there will be triggering content on this blog. if you are heavily adverse to the following, then this may not be the blog for you: religious themes, death, violence, murder, mentions of blood. i will do my best to tag anything that is extremely triggering on here and i ask that you tag my triggers as well (sexual assault / sexual harassment / dubcon / r*pe: images, mentions, details, real life and fictional depictions)! i will never ever write out scenes of: incest, my triggers, child abuse, su|cide, or animal death.
The most damaging thing I can think of doing is having a verse where he does return, but he has zero memory of prior to the tampering of Irminsul. He's even MORE confused about the motives of the past with the Fatui and thus does he just think they're all maniacs upon revival.
So, if he was hearing this right. This person had memories, his memories from the time in Tatarasuna. It would be foolish to so easily believe those words. As he was not that naive child he was long ago. To believe anything one would say, and listen so willingly like a lost lamb.
So for now he just continued to listen as more words were spoken. Making his fingers curl inwards, till his hands became fists. They lightly shook but Sasori kept his composure. A region of ice and snow, he knew exactly the place which Niwa was speaking about. So the Fatui were responsible for this. His body shook with anger even if on the outside he seemed like he was looking calm.
Deep down though rage only boiled. It only subsided when he had heard Niwa speak a familiar name. One which was cast away so long ago, forgotten. Buried. "Y.....you called me Kabukimono. That name was discarded, when I became a puppet to that man. I am not going to stand by and let anyone do anything to you." No, this was Niwa and he didn't want to lose him again.
"I was never safe. After what happened in Tatarasuna, I so blindly followed Dottore. I became his puppet and endured torture, over and over again. I became a monster, even joined the Fatui as one of the Harbingers. Chasing to become a god but only found out I was being used and then discarded again like trash. I even erased myself Irminsul, to try and change the past. But it did nothing."
He started over new, as a blank slate. As Wanderer. Until the traveler and Nahida restored his memories, did he learn the truth. "I awoke as Wanderer after erasing myself, however that name didn't fit. So I now go by Sasori. Niwa. The truth about what really happened in Tatarasuna. I was going to leave Sumeru and seek out everyone who wronged me, and take revenge on the one who took your life. Dottore."
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ A SECOND'S PAUSE , confusion manifesting beneath the surface. That was what they'd called him, wasn't it? Perhaps he'd overstepped his mortality in this regard; he was, in fact, just a device meant to appear like him, think like him, produce memories like him, but was he really Niwa? In essence, he could bear his face and smile like him; he could recall the very moments that he held dear in life; he could very well remember the etchings of this world's space in Inazuma; however, what one considered flesh and blood was not of steel and silicon...
Though he could have inquired about why he threw away the name, his lips snapped shut, a roller coaster of emotions rolling over him. Confusion, surprise, horror, then he fell to a mixture of what could be calculated as pain alongside the initial emotion he'd been carrying. One hand, lifted to press against his forehead, heading lowering slightly downward. His interior felt as though it were running a thousand miles an hour, screeching through to comprehend, breakdown, and sort the magnitude of information just bestowed upon him.
❝ Ah -- ❞ Processing, loading, one could even argue he was rebooting; unfamiliar is the subject matter to his knowledge. If smoke could start coming from his ears by now, he's sure it would have in all his loss of cognition. ❝ Irminsul... Erased... ❞ Something felt wrong about that; if he was erased from that, then would he still be here? Would Niwa even recall him at all? So why did he recall him? Was it a mix-up? Had he something inside his mind that kept him intact? Were his parts not from this world?
Head snapped up, arms reaching out to attempt to grab hold of the other by his shoulders. It seemed that the previous conversation had died in his mind, all that had been processed clicked into some haphazardly stored space, but what did rise from the battered remains of his comprehension was not about himself; yes, he knew he was deceased, murdered, but -- what did that matter? All he'd done was for the benefit of his people and of Kabukimono -- no, Sasori! He'd failed to deliver that level of safety to him in his final moments...! That's the extent of his knowledge; his failure was unforgiveable... ❝ He -- the Dottore tortured you?! ❞
That man... That incredibly narcissistic bastard of a man -- how could he? How DARE he?! A whisper fell from him, remorse trapping it partially in his throat: ❝ I'm sorry... ❞ He may not be actually the Niwa of his past, but there came something in him that he couldn't deny: guilt. He knew the currents of Niwa's desires, his wealth of knowledge, his world that came and went, and with that does deliver inside him what is deserved. ❝ It's...really alight to be him? ❞
The sad realization of how soon I will see probably the last time I'll ever see Niwa mentioned in this game. Still, he contests the mistake claim by Dottore. Fight him 1v1 in the afterlife. And he DEFINITELY didn't need to make him physically walk up behind him like that ugh...
sir, you put those back on the corpse you stole them from.
SECOND PART BELOW:
I read a leak somewhere about an inazuman playable coming out in the potential future who is linked to scara and kazu and honestly...ngl I felt like that incredibles meme. I can't get copium in my system again so I'll just pretend I never read it.
Words had escaped him. Though, he would not have called this person an imposter. More impossible. But since his words had been cut off by himself, and never finished what he was going to say. It probably seemed as if he was going to say imposter. Though was it true. Was this man he was looking at a imposter. A look alike of Niwa, and someone's idea of a twisted joke.
This man was sorry, sorry! Sasori had never wanted anything more than to bring back the person who cared for him. When he had gone by another name. Kabukimono, that had been who he was a long time ago. Until it was changed to something else, and changed again. "You're sorry. Is that all you can say!"
Though when the other asked if he would like him to leave. Sasori reached out to grab at his wrist. "No. No, don't leave. I....am sorry I reacted the way I did. You just look so much like....." Like Niwa, and knowing the truth of what really happened back then. Sasori had tried to reverse it. But in the end, it still happened.
"I lost someone a long time ago. And I thought, and seeing you so suddenly." Why, why. It had been torture when he lost Niwa before, and now it was like he was being tortured by his image. But could it. Possibly be, him. It was impossible right. "If this is a cruel joke by someone, i'll beat them. But if it isn't.....then how?"
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ THE GRASP UPON HIS WRIST almost had him yanking it away, though he'd settle to tighten himself. For all his time spent awake, the constant touches from everyone had left him a bit raw, though that drove into the precedence of emotion rather than physical ; he should be grateful for all their work, for he wouldn't have made it here to the Akadimya, yet...seeing this figure, knowing that he's who he thought, and fearing that his existence might actually bring new pains -- should he even be permitted to exist?
An initial flinch so barely perceptible, but he maintains himself, breathing out a soft sigh, unnecessary these days yet still done for his own sanity. Was he Niwa? Could he really be what the other needed? The thoughts were a tsunami against his mind, crashing it into near overloading ; he might have called it a panic attack if he were able to move, but he simply stared, those glowing forms that could be compared to eyes firmly planted upon other.
After some time, he manages, a shaking breath falling from him once more, this time meant to calm his nerves. ❝ I...have these memories. ❞ Freed hand lifts to his scalp, holding it as the flooding thoughts start to falter and lie still. At long last can he formulate sentences to speak his mind, though they're as jagged as a broken blade... ❝ -- and...they're of my -- his...time in Tatarasuna. ❞
A cruel joke? ❝ I awoke in a far away region of ice and snow. ❞ The passage of time meant nothing to him ; he'd surfaced only to rush forth from his prison as soon as he'd heard the person spout off his title, his occupation, who he worked for. Pathetic as it was, self-defense felt too broad a term for how he reacted. ❝ I've only known this one existence, but...I escaped...from the Fatui, because I so desperately wanted to find you. ❞ Eyes fall down to wrist, dulling. ❝ My memories are fully intact. The -- ah, the ones who are studying me want to look into them. ❞
He hesitates, before adding, a slight smile appearing on his features: ❝ -- they want to dissect me to see what I am, but...that's alright ; I know you're safe, Kabukimono. ❞ With that, he can die in peace, can't he? They might reactivate him, they might not, but that isn't something he has to worry about when he'd found out Kabukimono is safe.
"I have heard that the legendary blacksmith techniques of Inazuma were something else to behold. But to think that someone who came from the region itself is in front of me.... would you be partial to a few questions. Though I am a good priest, my ....thirst for knowledge is stronger then my worship."
A notebook and pencil were brought out from the depths of his cassock in record time.
"After all, I have little intention of putting such a oppurnity to waste."
His appearance is rather kind looking, but everyone knows appearance can be deceiving . Still the shine of curiosity in his eyes could not be replicated.
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ BACK WHEN HE LEAD TATARASUNA , it wasn't uncommon that someone would find interest in the ways of bladesmithing ; often times, he'd be subjected to rigorous hours of foreigners questioning him before they'd drop the surface level intrigue to inquire about business propositions. So, when approached by someone randomly, he takes a moment to assess them, gaze flickering over the individual as they speak. Perhaps it's only because he tends to go based off his gut response to their interactions, but he doesn't politely excuse himself, opting to remain there, eyebrows only furrowing briefly beneath bangs.
❝ I...suppose I can stay around for a few questions. ❞ Goals are set aside for now, his posture erecting itself. There aren't any excuses he could manifest to leave this place, so he smiles and gestures with his hand vaguely ; it's not as if he minds spreading the word of the Isshin Arts. ❝ Whatever you wish to ask, I'll do my best to answer you. ❞
-ˏˋ⋆ ↳ ❝ 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙊𝘿𝙐𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙂 : 「 ISSHINSANSAKU 」 ! ❞ ─── a highly selective, independent, & headcanon-based roleplay blog for NIWA HISAHIDE from GENSHIN IMPACT . ┈┈┈ this blog will feature mature themes ─ viewer discretion advised. none of it will be romanticized nor should it be. uses the beta editor only. minors dni.
a study in : love without strings, being painted as a villain, doomed by the narrative, found family, creating a home for someone, giving up everything for someone you care for, living for others more than yourself, pushing yourself to the limits, reclaiming life taken from you, embracing someone in reunion
The days always seemed to pass by so lazily. And as always, boredom was etched across the face of one particular young man. Oh sure. He was allowed to come and go as he pleased, to a certain degree. After all Wanderer or Sasori as he went by now, had made a promise to the Lesser Lord Kusanali to stay in Sumeru for now. He became a student, and has come a long way. However. There was still a score to settle, and Sasori was preparing to leave the Akademiya and Sumeru.
A voice came from behind him. Wait, why did that voice sound so familiar. Having been minding his own business only moments before, Sasori was sure it wasn't anything. Right. Though he felt a hand suddenly upon his shoulder after the voice had asked if he knew him.
Slowly, very slowly Sasori turned. What he expected to see was just some other random person trying to be an annoyance to him. His body completely facing the other now, who met his gaze just made him stand there in complete shock. But it couldn't, no it couldn't. This has to be someones idea of a cruel joke.
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ IT TAKES NO GENIUS TO decipher the cut off term -- imposter. What was this form of Niwa Hisahide if not technically an imposter of what used to be the original? The memories were there, yes, but did that make him the bladesmith or a crude recreation of what would be deemed perfection in the eyes of humanity? It struck him deep like a slap to the face, a punishment worse than the blade to his -- his? back... What had he thought might happen when he spoke to this individual? Open arms that would embrace him, tell him how much he mattered and how much he missed him? No, what was cruel was him approaching Kabukimono to face the past he'd likely long become acquainted with leaving behind to forge his own route ahead.
A sharp inhale, phantom though it may be, he retracted his hand toward his chest. Though there lurked no truly humanity with the form itself, the expression locked in gaze mimicked hurt, it mimicked pain, it mimicked what the true man would have felt in this moment, for what he could never be was that, could he? It's petrifying to stand there within Divine Tree before him, so, a means to break away, he contemplates leaving, rushing from the scene to give him a reprieve from this terror, but...would that really grant him peace? He'd already stood before him and disrupted that without even a singular thought toward his mind.
❝ ...I... ❞ His hand falls to side, shame's thorns prickling his mind and bleeding it dry of its logic. In the forest his body should've been left to rot, a forgotten husk to avoid him reviving from the dead. ❝ I'm sorry... ❞ Eyelids falter and shut over his irises, lowering his head to stare at the ground, hoping it to open and swallow him and his memory whole. ❝ Would you like me to leave...? ❞
loki accepts the piece of melon. another little snicker bubbles forth from his lips at the sight of how it stains the other's palm — oh wow. he really should consider bringing back a few seeds to valhalla. they could grow an entire grove of these, no problem. ( it wouldn't be hard; surely there must be some harvest god willing to work their magic. ) imagine what manner of trickery he could pull off with these? lacing the rims of teacups with bitter, violet ink. slipping the juice into ares' shampoo — he envisions the gullible brute with a freshly dyed head of purple hair. it would be hilarious, wouldn't it? probably take him ages to notice, too. would it be enough to finally get hilde to crack a smile? maybe. maybe.
reluctantly, loki pushes that fantasy to the side — can't get too distracted, now! there's still investigating to be had before he can spin those findings to his advantage. he gives the slice of melon a cursory sniff, deciding nothing seems too out of the ordinary there. raising it to his lips, the trickster then takes a fearless CHOMP. immediately the taste crashes into him with all the subtlety of mjolnir. loki makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, halfway between a yelp and a chortle; it sure is bitter alright. he swears he can feel his tongue going numb from the intensity — quite the feat, it's technically divine. ❝ wow. ❞ wow. his lips are dyed a brilliant purple, as if adorned with lipstick that matches his eyes. ❝ that's terrible! ❞ the trickster punctuates the observation with a violet-stained grin. ❝ atrocious. awful. horrible. really, really, really bad. ❞ yet his enthusiasm doesn't wane one bit — it doesn't even waver. ❝ it makes me feel alive ~ ♫ ❞ almost like the jolt from an incredibly strong cup of coffee.
he hums faintly while the human tries to narrow down his origins, pretending to look thoughtful — as if he's mulling it over alongside him. ❝ loki laufeyjarson, if you want to get technical. ❞ the trickster preens a little bit at the compliment, tempering it with another generous bite of the melon. eugh, nope! still bitter! ❝ as for where i'm frooom ... it's probably not a place you've ever heard of before. the only humans around definitely aren't living. ❞ polishing off the last of his yet-to-be-acquired taste of a snack, loki claps his hands together. when he parts them, a cloud of ink-like mist emanates from the center of his palms. this would usually be the part where he uses heimskringla to solidify it into one of his many copies, but the trickster decides to get a little creative. spinning a finger, the smoke shifts at his behest, forming a silhouette of a settlement atop what appears to be a mountain. it's surrounded by a massive wall, with an even larger tree that looms overhead — nearly twice the height of the city itself.
❝ it's called asgard. ❞ loki explains, gazing at the recreation with an unreadable expression — something neither fond nor disdainful. ❝ the city of gold, fortress of my fellow gods ... impressive right? the only thing it's sorely lacking is a sense of humor. ❞ he exhales a dramatic sigh. ❝ fortunately, that's where yours truly comes in ... i'm practically an unsung hero, you know. ❞
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES the poor soul might taste it, Niwa knew it'd never become a staple of his diet -- well...not raw anyway. These weren't even remotely delicious to even those who enjoyed the bitter flavor of most fruits and other delicacies ; if they were to survive off them, they would, but to enjoy them? It's hardly anything that would ever happen, not even in the case of another Cataclysm -- knock on wood. Fingertips curl inward, the scent of melon singing his nostrils to remind him of the flavor -- ugh. It's horrific how long it's going to take before he can wash them clean off his skin, but it was worth it just to see someone from far away enjoy a portion of his culture ; maybe he'd remember them fondly through the shared trauma of the bitter flavor and the staining properties of their fruit. Perhaps he could also show him what Naku weeds could accomplish -- after all, a storm wasn't far off from brewing...
❝ Aren't of the living? ❞ He speaks of this location, but what comes to mind isn't how unreal this sounds, but rather that he cannot picture it as anything other than that of the Leylines below. Were those who lived there humans of the Leylines or were they of a different situation entirely -- ghosts? specters? demons? It's all a vain attempt to comprehend what he has never experienced himself, a cultural divide that he struggles to cross, though he'd like to build a bridge of compehension.
Astonishment caused fixation to morph from polite reservation to full on attentiveness. No one he'd met prior to him had this sort of power ; they were delegated to their visions, a little showiness to give the people of Tatarasuna something to clap at and admire briefly, but this one had no vision -- no simplistic ties that Celestia gave forth. It's that which proves to Niwa that what -- no, who he's dealing with truly isn't just someone who was a youkai or traveling huckster. Gasp leaves lips, though soft and not of fear, watching as swirling mist takes its form to reveal the world that Loki came from, deep oak not able to leave until the other speaks once more. ❝ As...gard... ❞ Flows off his tongue with slight trouble, Inazuman accept fumbling over the pronunciation.
For the briefest of moments, it almost seems he's about to drop the subject, bending down to grab hold of his basket to lift it back into his arms. ❝ Believe it or not, the melons actually taste delicious when you soak them and then roast them. ❞ Tannins inside them are ridiculously obnoxious to the tongue, but the usage of soaking them until you remove most of those pesky intrusions and then roasting them? Oh, the dish was always sublime! When he was a little kid, he'd turn his nose up at it -- especially after the first time he tried one raw. It took his father holding him down and shoving it past his squirming to get him to actually taste it. In the end, a childish muttering about how right he was had to be administered, though begrudgingly from the youth. Ah...he's sure that his own children will give him that experience as a form of karma... ❝ If you stick around for a while, maybe you can pick a few more ripe ones and I can make you a dish ; we are looking to have a communal feast tonight...and you could tell them what you're telling me. ❞
One finger gestures, head in tandem, beginning to walk toward the tree to gaze up at it. ❝ An unsung hero who creates laughter and joy... Is it really so dry there -- that you are the only one who can keep life colorful? ❞ A chuckle, head turning to face him, eyes drifting to mouth. ❝ If you aren't careful, you'll go back only purple next time you head home, though... ❞
❝ oh — ? ❞ admittedly, the compliment manages to catch him by surprise. he isn't accustomed to being praised like that — there's always sycophants and terrified little rodents who stammer their honeyed words in an attempt to save their own skin, but it isn't like they actually mean it. either they fear him or they want something from him — or both, really. yet this human has no way of knowing who he is, nor the reputation that follows him like a pesky shadow. ❝ was it reeeally that impressive? ❞ loki asks. it's a purely rhetorical question, as he quickly continues, ❝ i must have a talent for this. ❞ an undiscovered talent! a genius in the art of — what did he call that purple fruit again? lavender melons? he's a genius in the art of lavender melon picking.
loki observes the human as he picks away at the purplish skin — even floating just a bit higher in the hopes of catching a better peek. ( at what? the trickster hardly knows. ) ❝ hmm? ❞ he spares his companion a glance at the question. at this proximity, his goat-slit pupils practically scream as testament to his inhumanity — but in all fairness, he hadn't exactly been putting in much effort to act mortal, either. ❝ oh, you can call me loki ~ ♫ ❞ he doubts his name is spoken often around these parts, but the trickster still punctuates the words with a bow, cape swishing dramatically from the movement. presentation is everything. ❝ if my reputation doesn't precede me, don't wooorry about it. ❞ the god continues, straightening back up — as much as he really cares about maintaining his posture, anyway. he does like to slouch. ❝ just think of me as the fun one. that's basically my job description. ❞ basically.
the elegant way he peels the melon does earn a faint, begrudgingly impressed hum. he still isn't sure what the human is up to, but his question is finally answered when he presses the fruit to his mouth. didn't he say that's supposed to be incredibly bitter? the thought very briefly crosses his mind, before the human's reaction quickly confirms that suspicion. loki laughs, the sound loud and delighted and surprisingly innocent. ❝ you're PURPLE? ❞ he exclaims, a blunt observation that nets another round of cackling. he's practically doubled over — the pain in his side well worth the amusement. he wasn't sure what to expect, but that certainly wasn't it. looks like he just ate an entire bowl of candy. talk about ridiculous.
❝ hey, hey, let me try. ❞ a hand suddenly extends, fingers wiggling. he's just a little bit impatient.
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ BE THY GOD OR CHILD nothing impresses the mind more than discovering the unexpected! Niwa is privy to the concept, seeing as even he startled Mikoshi when they were but children with that knowledge. He'd been dragged all the way back to the village to have the local physician confirm he wasn't dying of some violet-infused disease right before his eyes. The whole way, the younger of the two had laughed and tried to tell him that he was FINE -- but there was no convincing the stubborn older who thought they knew better. Watching the more subdued Kabukimono reaction had been just as entertaining to the eyes, but this one was something special as well -- a childlike glee that branched into infectious laughter, his own bubbling to the surface ; it's always such a delight -- adult or not -- to see joy present in more innocent encounters.
❝ Okay! Just remember the bitter flavor -- it's a nightmare until you roast it! ❞ It's only a warning, though, not a lecture ; a reminder that the hilarity might become a figment of the past upon the tongue. He peels him another large chunk of flesh without a second's delay ; it's all part of the experience when visiting Inazuma, after all! As meat is separated from flesh, he gently holds it out, his palm all but purple at this rate, completely coated in the distinctive hue. It certainly did match his attire, which is likely why it's so impressive to him -- or perhaps it's just the coloration to begin with? Regardless, who was the bladesmith to deny him the pleasurable displeasure?
As he dropped it into his hands, the dye side up (a little mercy upon his digits unlike Niwa's), he decided back to the conversation of who this stranger is -- the way his eyes portrayed themselves is honestly the wildest he'd ever seen. ❝ Loki -- that's such a pleasant sounding name. ❞ The distinction of where it comes from doesn't ring any bells ; it sounds like it could come from Inazuma itself, but that wouldn't make any sense. If he had come from this place, then there's no doubt there'd be whispers of him from the various myths and legends and stories that pass down from generation to generation. Niwa was such an avid consumer of this knowledge that he'd like to think he could recognize a name from their stories. However, his description of fun one does earn an internal brow raise. The fun one ... At the very least, he does fit the job description from just how he acts now, even the jovial nature of his desires to dye his mouth. ❝ You must come from far away. It's definitely not Fontaine, nor do I believe Natlan fits that -- ah, but what about...hm...Nod Krai is somewhere I'm hardly familiar...so it could be possible. ❞ His eyes follow him, watching for any sign of recognition, but he'd relent, placing the peeled Lavender Melon into his basket, removing his bandana to wrap around it to avoid the ore staining its exposed interior.
❝ Where are you from? ❞ Certainly there is no malice behind him quite like Escher had when there came first introductions ; a curious sort, yes, but what he could garner there wasn't anything he should have to worry about, right?
i slide in, i offer this humble lector [priest, fake priest] in your trying times...pls enjoy!!!!!!
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ THE OFFERING IS ACCEPTED AND Niwa shall not consider this one of bitter sanction! However, do note that, in most cases, there is a very protective force behind him ; try not to act suspiciously or he might find himself at the whims of an anemo-wielding ex-harbinger (undisclosed). After all, 400 years of absence + returning = a need to not lose that friendship once more, even if this time it's made of metal beneath the skin that forms him.
bitter nightmare rush? loki mulls over the words with a slow blink. he assumes the description is a good-natured attempt to deter him — although, it unfortunately only has the opposite effect. he's curious now. even more curious than he ever was before. just how bitter are they talking? bitter enough that even a god might struggle to stomach it? the trickster can't help but doubt that. it's still grown in perfectly mundane soil, after all — and he's built of something stronger and scarier than even the average deity. ❝ ... ❞ gaze flicks back to the melon. loki contemplates his warped reflection in the fruit's shiny surface. maybe he'll take a bite — maybe he'll swallow it whole like an egg-eating serpent, right here and right now. just to prove that he isn't AFRAID of a little bitterness. yeah, that sounds like a good idea.
however, before he has the opportunity to follow through, the human DOES say something interesting that curbs loki's desire to act on that ill-advised impulse. ❝ fun, huh? ❞ the trickster echoes. a pity he lacks any eyebrows to raise. he hums faintly as he considers the suggestion. enticing, enticing, enticing. he supposes there are still plenty of melons around to sample if he really wants to test his capacity for bitterness.
❝ fine, fine. ❞ he holds out the melon with a dramatic roll of the eyes — as if HE'S the one doing the human a favor and not the other way around. ❝ i guess i'm a little curious now. show me. ❞
❪ ⋅🍁 ⋆ — ┊❛ ɴɪᴡᴀ ʜɪꜱᴀʜɪᴅᴇ ❜ ❫ THOSE WHO WEREN'T OF HUMAN embrace were often the most interesting of individuals. In a way, it always perplexed Niwa when there were those who oft wished to become mortal, a lifespan and intolerance such as theirs were ones that held nothing but misery in aging. Maybe that's the point ; he knew that the curse of immortality could bring about destruction to one and their psyche, but...to throw it all away? Must be why he prefers to grant honorary human status, hoping to bridge the gap and give them comfort, give them that chance to grow and learn and embrace themselves in the future ; however, he sees the way this one reacts, a smile branching further over pale visage. Whatever went on inside his head, he couldn't gauge (lack of eyebrows being quite possible), but he could tell there came the contemplation of listening to him ; for what purpose does one who has likely experienced far more than a lowly mortal ever have to gain from listening to him explain?
He takes the melon, examining it for just the fewest of seconds, then clicks his tongue. ❝ You found a really decent one: ripe, no intrusions of bugs, and its surface is almost like the blades we make in the village. Even though you don't know what you held, you still managed to find the best of the bunch -- that's really impressive. ❞ It's a compliment, meant to give something back for -- well, in Niwa's mind -- causing some form of embarrassment (or maybe a strike on pride) that came with calling out ignorance. Perhaps it's an extended Cuihua branch. Nothing about it is meant to patronize ; in fact, he did wish to mention it, like he would to the children, foreigners, Kabukimono -- E s c h e r... Well, okay, maybe THAT one was patronizing...
THUNK! the ores are dropped to the ground with a practiced motion of arm straightening out. While iron chunks and white iron chunks were needed today, he supposed it could wait a little longer while he played a little with the guest from...afar? How far? He'd have to ask, so, while he used his short fingernail to peel away at the fruit's skin, he'd glance up, inquisitive nature sprouting. ❝ What's your name? ❞ Whether the answer is short or long, a title or a clinical conciseness, he pulls the peel off in one motion, effectively leaving the interior bare to the elements. Even now, his finger pads stain lavender. Pressing it into his mouth, he swishes it around slowly, then, after much time, spits it clean out, his mouth twisted in disgust.
❝ My name -- eugh -- is Niwa. ❞ His teeth and tongue beneath lips stained purple, but, in case he might've missed it in the introduction, he sticks tongue out, wincing only at the flavor already screeching through his bones.
-ˏˋ⋆ ↳ ❝ 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙊𝘿𝙐𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙂 : 「 ISSHINSANSAKU 」 ! ❞ ─── a highly selective, independent, & headcanon-based roleplay blog for NIWA HISAHIDE from GENSHIN IMPACT . ┈┈┈ this blog will feature mature themes ─ viewer discretion advised. none of it will be romanticized nor should it be. uses the beta editor only. minors dni.
a study in : love without strings, being painted as a villain, doomed by the narrative, found family, creating a home for someone, giving up everything for someone you care for, living for others more than yourself, pushing yourself to the limits, reclaiming life taken from you, embracing someone in reunion
