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@kencanas
𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒 : a dependent rp blog for verumfm, written by karin ( any pronouns, 25, gmt +7 ).
DANTE MASOE ( he/him ) : dossier. — persona. — interactions.
LI HAOYU ( he/they ) : dossier. — persona. — interactions.
LINTANG AULIA ( she/they ) : dossier. — persona. — interactions.
“ yes… ” she affirms. “ i’m afraid it has become a habit of mine... even on the eve of the new year. ” the excuse is relayed with a small polite smile. beneath the placidity of her features, an awareness of her position within the local society — amplified by haoyu’s person — draws reticence. she knows the townspeople’s trust is conditional. she knows what seems to be acceptance is merely tolerance. the people of cynefin remain wary of khemia, a wariness that is exacerbated by the mudslide and the rising sea. and so, darika taught herself, if not to avoid it entirely, not to speak of it too casually. “ there are ones which continue to thrive in the winter. the farmers use these to make gin. ” it is how she knows of the rot, from one of the farmers reporting the incident with vexation. she reaches a bandaged hand towards the rotten berries, before placing one on haoyu’s palm. to a normal eye nothing may seem amiss. yet she, one who can sense what lies beneath, suspects it is not as it should be. as her own mind is occupied with withholding the truth, darika fails to notice their evasiveness. “ you may find some tonight — at the festivities. ”
in spite of everything, it's difficult to look at darika and see a stranger: an interloper who has rooted her feet and bound them to the land that they stand on. she is as cynefinian as they come, is what haoyu tells himself. how can one not think that of her when she has devoted herself to the land, the same way he and his family have for generations? the rotten thing now sitting on his palm is as much hers as it is his. he closes his fingers around it, the sickly black of it leaking over his skin. grace, he thinks, is something he can afford to award right now. those hands fed you. "darika," he says, slowly, as he brings himself to full height again. the gaze he turns to her, neck bent as he looks down, carries none of the contempt it did just mere moments ago. curious. cautious. "these mouths can feed themselves on the eve of the new year. as can you, even when these things are rotten. there is enough food, at the festivities." he doesn't know what came over him—this reassurance that he has no reason to offer. still, it's a welcome distraction, the man at the mudslide temporarily forgotten. then, once more, "you don't need to forage. not tonight, at least."
a flushed embarrassment. fern does, despite popular opinion, still experience it as an emotion. & perhaps it is due to the fact that dante rarely asks, so far as fern themself is concerned, with a judgment preconceived. remaining hostile, though, as it is in their nature. just as it is within his to drip, smear, & be sweetened to the point of drowning. two similar forces sliding towards one another with the apprehension of burning flowers. "oh." prim. proper. "ceri and i simply ... see things differently. even if we're looking at the same exact painting. but isn't that just ... the nature of what it means to interpret?" fern acknowledges it's dismissive. but the mention of ceri sets their heart to throbbing ever quicker. "maybe ceri is just stranger than i."
it’s like pulling teeth with fern sometimes. they’re friends, dante thinks, and yet the friendliness doesn’t always come naturally. not from his side, nor from theirs. it’s enough to make him huff, impatience written clearly across his features. “ceri is stranger than you,” he allows, but it doesn’t sound much like an allowance. merely a truth. it doesn’t make her any less than a friend. he wishes fern would see that their strangeness would not turn him away, too. “have i ever implied otherwise?” at this he settles at their side again, shoulders barely brushing. not a prod or a nudge. he tries again, “i know you don’t see eye to eye. like i said, the feeling cannot be helped, can it? but the way you act around each other…” another exhale, much softer this time. “there’s so much poking and prodding. even when you leave each other alone it doesn’t feel like you’re leaving each other alone.”
strange as it sounds, the closer kova is to the bonfire, the safer he feels. perhaps it is thanks to the fact that he is working, and this alone gives him some form of purpose, a way to keep his thoughts on the correct path instead of drifting. but occasionally, when conversation around him dwindles into whispers, he finds himself staring into the flames - recalling, remembering what he'd seen - only to blink himself back to the present. kova clear his throat and turns slightly, grunting once in response before deciding that that is likely not too acceptable an answer tonight. "as well as it can be. enough firewood to keep the flames rolling for another few hours at least," he replies, voice gravelly. "you didn't happen to bring a drink along, did you?"
how long has dante been doing this, joining the gathering at the town square in the wee hours of the last day of the year to await the new one to come? all his life, comes the answer. this is familiar—normal. as is kova, with no black cat following him around and no knives to fight demons with. for a brief moment, dante wonders if he has ran into darika, if he knows already about the strange sightings at the cliffs. but he doesn’t ask. instead, he says, “ah, planning to ring in the new year with a drink in one hand and a wood chip in the other?” the teasing tone his question adopts allows for his smile to grow. “even if i did bring one along, is it not unwise to not keep all your wits this close to the fire?” and to the new year.
LOCATION : town square, year's end bonfire .
STATUS : OPEN, what came from the sea event .
there's a glint of both fear and fascination in her eyes, as they roam the town square, waiting to see the demon keep its word. the memory of the encounter in the library, still in fresh vivid colours, causes a delicate smile to play upon her lips — my brothers are coming for cynefin, the demon promised. haliya wonders how. she wonders what will happen next. " you there ! " she calls, forgetting herself, as she approaches. " how long until midnight? "
"that's rude," dante says, almost on reflex. for a moment he feels normal again—another new year and another day of running into haliya. they'd see the fireworks soon. but then he exhales, and the reminder of all the horrors he bore witness to tonight comes crashing down again. fireworks, dante thinks. a desperate attempt to grasp normalcy again. the new year. haliya. he shoulders on. "and i'm not carrying a watch with me, anyway. but surely we'll know soon when the countdown begins. have you never seen the way we welcome the new year?"
nothing but tension now. no other movement created when gwendolyn looks at the caretaker. the set in her jaw, belying her true emotions on the matter. "i would not know." quipped. sharp. "i've grown up here all of my life and yet haven't a clue as to the truth of these secrets." she hailed from the capital in another life ; one that felt far too distant. was it any safer there? "anything else happen?"
it almost feels like a truce. just for tonight. they can speak to each other and figure out these secrets without trying to poke at their own. "else?" lintang echoes. her arms wrap around herself, the air chilly even with the warmth of the fire. an admission leave her lips: "i'm not even quite sure of what has happened in the first place. if anything at all has happened." the demons at the theatre did. aster's voice, a stark reminder. she ignores it. "what happened to you, then?"
demons exist.
while the thought should’ve frightened him–it excites him for some reason. Maybe, just maybe he can use this situation in his favor. His thoughts were pulled away when he heard a familiar voice, looking at haoyu to regard his presence before his eyes watched the fire burn.
“were you worried about me?” he asked, “i wanted to but instead, the folks from the sea stole the show.”
folks from the sea. not the strangest thing that haoyu has heard all night, but he hasn't heard that particular one. too many bad omens tonight. it's a full blown frown that he wears on his face now, gaze fixed on elias—studying him even as the younger man looks at the burning flames. "what folks from the sea? this desire of yours to be cryptic, i hope you know it's not endearing." elias' question goes ignored. instead, haoyu says, wryly, "it's been a long night. trouble is the last thing you should be causing."
location: at the edge of the town square.
status: closed to makaria, @oflofticries ; what came from the sea.
fireworks erupt in the sky all around them, just in time to drown out the panicked shouts and shrill screams. it's chaos in the town square, and with everything that has happened this evening— haoyu thinks they need a moment. the dead man slipping through the mudslide. the feared look in zhiyu's eyes. the shadows, descending on them. it's almost suffocating. their legs move on instinct, drawing them away from the bonfire and the crackle of the fireworks. boom. boom, boom. boom. even the rhythmic explosion of colors on the horizon isn't enough to drown out whatever this is. they set their jaw, the shadow falling over them an unwelcome presence. "now would be a good time to leave."
location: near the bonfire at the town square, but probably way before the countdown to midnight.
status: closed to zhiyu, @solavirtus ; what came from the sea.
they'd lost sight of zhiyu sometime during their food tour at the market, which would not be a concern in itself if it hadn't been hours since they last saw their youngest sibling. this long since they last saw him, haoyu cannot help the way their shoulders tense as their gaze sweeps across the town square in hopes of catching on zhiyu's familiar figure. they'd made him promise, earlier, that no matter what he would make his way back to the bonfire far before midnight comes should they part ways. and part ways they did, until haoyu's eyes snags on their brother at the edge of the square. merely a shadow that far away from the warmth of the fire, but they relax all the same. a hand on zhiyu's arm is all that they offer to notify him of their presence. "didi," haoyu says—tries to keep it light. "you've not ran into any trouble since i let go of you, have you?"
anger uncurls. the cupid's bow above fern's upper lip turns into a snarl that even mimics that which skitters across mors's own leonine features. in this, matched in a refusal to be un-seen. this was a bloody mistake. why did you have to become visible. why couldn't you have just stayed mine forever. "my friend. and familiar. if you must be so inclined to ask." fern had no particular issue with haoyu. but there could be one. the distaste from their differences is a bitter drought. this, the reason that they refuse to speak to one another. "are you people?" caustic. "do you think me so blind and unaware of the fact that people will ask questions? but their opinions are not mine to be responsible for."
it should terrify them, this carelessness inflicted in the way fern speaks about the... friend they wear on their shoulders. and yet, it's something else entirely that courses through the red in haoyu's veins. anger. it wraps around him like a friend, an ally that he all too easily grabs and holds onto. anger is easier. it's better than fear on a night like this. "there are no opinions if no one knows what he is." it's an accusation. it sounds a little like, you owe it to us, an explanation of what he is—what you are. "you're no fool, are you? there are people with far less kinder questions than mine out there." the thing is they're no stranger to fern's strangeness, which is not so strange after all when haoyu thinks about it. just a healer bearing the weight of a legacy. he wouldn't know anything about it. "have you been hiding him?"
location: by the bonfire.
status: closed to gwendolyn, @cynefinisms ; what came from the sea.
"is this part of the local new year traditions?" the words leave their mouth before they register who it is next to them, and lintang almost regrets asking. this, they had said, but no explanation of what they mean is offered. looking at gwendolyn, they settle for, "it has been quite the eventful night."
location: by the bonfire.
status: closed to kova, @oflofticries ; what came from the sea.
the man tending to the bonfire is familiar, dante thinks. it's safer to stick to familiar figures. the alternative is— no. not right now. this is not the time, not this close to the start of the new year. they can still make sense of this. "kova," he starts. his fingers reach out to tap the older man on the shoulder. a hesitant smile follows. "all is well here?"
location: by the bonfire.
status: closed to elias, @moonhaloes ; what came from the sea.
the thing about elias callum is that haoyu is never sure whether or not they're cross with him. their brows dip low, lips pulling into a thin line when they catch sight of his silhouette by the fire. "where have you been?" it's equal parts concern and irritation. "for your sake, i hope you've not been causing trouble."
the apology is unexpected: surprising. it must have shown up on zhiyu's expression no matter how much he tries to school it. in the way his eyes snap up to his brother's face, widening, eyebrows raising, albeit little. it similarly eases some of the tense lines on his face. a nod, he is quick to brush the apology away, as much as he appreciates it. "no, i understand." not referring to why it has happened, but why it has put haoyu on edge. "that must have been... terrifying to witness." something pained crosses his features, the thought of haoyu being there is enough to send him reeling if he lingers on that line of thinking any further. ( and perhaps he will, when it's later in the night, and it's him staring at the ceiling of his dorm as he sleeps alone. for another time. ). then- the offer comes, and it lightens up his face as much as it can after the previous subject matter. ends of his lips curl up in a smile. "really? you- you have the time?" perhaps he shouldn't question it like this, so he continues before waiting for a reply. "i haven't seen them yet. i would really like that." spending time with him, in a place where he knows they will be safe? the idea lifts up more of that weight of anxiety over his chest. the way he straightens up, fingers tapping the sides of his own robes is zhiyu's version of showing his excitement. "do you think they'd have those candied fruits we used to have years ago?"
sometimes he thinks of how different they are. how often haoyu’s brows furrow, their features closing off to the rest of the world, their expression unreadable. compare that to zhiyu, with his widening eyes and raised brows, and all of it all too transparent for haoyu. he wishes he is more like that, sometimes—when he forgets himself and his impossible wants. “it has me—” tired, on edge, angry. “—wound up,” is what they settle for, an agreement as much as it is an explanation. "you know the mudslide hasn't been very kind to us."
but then his brother smiles, and haoyu thinks maybe the omen doesn't have to be an omen. there is a dead man by the mudslide and there is his littlest brother smiling, and surely these two things are only mere coincidences. new year's eve is—could be—any other night. and like any other night, haoyu relents in the face of his brother. "i've nothing better to do until someone lights the fireworks," he says. it's a truth. "come. i'll take you." keep you safe, goes unsaid. they turn, slowly. enough for it to be an invitation for zhiyu to follow. still, just to be certain, their gaze settles on their brother once more, their neck craned to look over their shoulder. i'm still here. it's not quite a smile on their lips, but it's a near thing. "if this town is good for anything at all, we'll have every fruit imaginable candied. hurry, before they run out of your favorites."
lips part slightly to give a reply before they close shut. zhiyu listens, silent, hands by his sides. right next to the care and love he has for his older sibling, there has always been quiet admiration and respect. despite the unspoken tension between them in the past few years ( your fault, it's all- ), a part of him will constantly wish to go back to what they once were. which leads to this: maybe the zhiyu from a couple of years ago would find it much easier to reply back with something haoyu might not like. now, he doesn't. "i- i haven't been around much. was looking forward to the festivities." doesn't add more to the sentence. the reality of the situation is not something that he can put into words. "of course. promise." doesn't need to mull over what haoyu has said to agree. and before he can stop himself. "you have to keep safe too. i know... it's dangerous." firmer, more resolute. "will you stay inside as well?"
it is sacred, this role of being an elder brother. you have to— he's— be kinder, haoyu. he hasn't been good at it lately, this kindness. his is warped and twisted and all kinds of thorny. seeing zhiyu cut themselves on it—words coming out in a stutter a tell-tale for the elder brother who's watched them grow up their entire lives—is enough to soften all the harsh lines on the planes of his face. i don't mean to— haoyu wants to say, but what does he not mean to do? —be harsh with you, perhaps, but has his love not always been like this? "sorry," he says instead. it's no better. "there's— something happened at the mudslide, zhizhi. a man died. fell to his death. you have to be careful." this time, it's not a demand. just care and concern, unwrapped. a hand reaches out to pat zhiyu on the shoulder. "enjoy the festivities. just stay away from the edge of town. have you seen the food stalls at the market? you'll be safe there." then, after a moment of hesitation, "i could take you, i suppose. then we'll both be far from harm's way."
Leila Chatti, What Will Happen
the prodding resembles a poker's sharpness. this, due to the fact that it is not something to which fern has become accustomed to: the welcome sensation of any kind of touch. they remain at a distance from most others, except those who are of the ilk to cross it. dante crossed many distances. sometimes, fern wishes to have their hands throttle him for it. ( but that would be against propriety's healing. ) "i have not the slightest idea what you're talking about." prim. proper. as their appearance of their mannerisms continues to be. he prodded them through the silk of the throw over their shoulder. still, it burns bare. "i behave perfectly fine. savina grows cross with me regardless of what i say. how am i supposed to work with that?"
he means well, —he always means well— but it is also no secret that dante masoe's kindness is not always the kindest. it's too late when he realizes fern is not one to poke and prod at, the finger jabbed against the sharp bone of their shoulder something sticky and sickly sweet. like honey—impossible to get rid of. he sighs, drawing back to put a distance between them anyway, but only enough to study the lines of fern's face. "you don't have to be so—" here, too, he pauses. take it back, dante. his lips form another try. "i'm not talking about savina," he settles for. "her being cross with you is not a strangeness." the honesty is not meant to be unkind. it never is. "i'm talking about ceri. you both are so... you behave so strangely with each other, is all. i've never understood it."
