℘ℯℜℱℯℭţ Ᵽℰℜđǐtǐøȵ

A-re~? Did you come here for a reason, or simply on a whim? If you wanted, I guess I could play with you, ne? Let's play a game together~. [[ A Byakuran roleplay blog ❄ I ship the world. ❄ OCs welcome. ❄ Muses from other series welcome. ]]

[labyrinthineorchid]

shoichin:

               “What are you up to now?” 

There was an unconcealed suspicion underlying his tone of voice, a skeptical look blooming across bespectacled face despite his own curiosity. That is what had done him in when it came to Byakuran, the INTEREST he has for him and the world he saw, the future Shoichi Irie felt the same way and the current one did the same. He could never HATE Byakuran regardless of the austerities he was capable of doing—– He only feared losing a friend again. ( and again and again… ) So regardless of his memories,the ones that kept him up at night, the type that haunted him, he could never cut away from the faux angel. 

         (  Shoichi Irie hoped for the best. )

His frown softens, head tilted side wards—- watching Byakuran’s face for a moment, green hues meeting lilacs and he feels a satisfaction in his heart knowing that they get to have do-overs, that he was allowed to have his company again without the forbidding sense of dread eating away the sentimental friendship he had for him. 

              “Nothing BAD I hope.” 

And he could almost smile but refrains, instead lifting a paper bag in front of him——from a pastry shop. Shoichi never did like sweets, strange that he’d buy some for himself. 

             “Want some?”

|✿| A pale gaze had been idling skyward - almost melancholy, hinting at a disturbed serenity, only for the tentative sound of a dear (traitor) friend’s voice to cut through far too many strings of thought. His expression shifted, immediately - a harmonious excitement replacing all else, looking down at what had been the only other voice in a psyche overrun by a perfectionist’s despair.

                    “Ar-e?           Hora, if I wasn’t up to something, I’d be unconscious,                 and you might not get stomach aches anymore, ne~?”

A tidbit of knowledge, something finite to convince himself he was still talking to one he had spoken to many times before, that throughout each and every universe he had manged to touch, in the future, and even now - ... that there was always a constant.              That he so wanted to trust a single soul, and would gladly receive a knife in the back once again, if it meant he could continue to share this flawed world with the one before him.              Was that nativity, denial or wisdom, then?

                       “It’s never anything bad, for me.”

It was an innocent enough statement, saturated in mirth, as a curious lilt of the head brought the sweets to the ivory-maned mafioso’s attention, and a sudden display of a childlike grin brought him down close to inspect the parcel. Without much hesitation or decorum, a slender set of fingers shot out to wrap like a vice around his peer’s wrist, a gentle tug and an indication back towards a cafe with outdoor seating.

                 “Shou-chan! Did you get them for me?      Ne, did you? We can share them over there, they won’t mind!           ora - but, it’ll be more comfortable to talk sitting down, right?” |❀|

[labyrinthineorchid]

piiovosita:

The memory suited him, gaze foggy and unfocused, alive but immobile and anxiety built like a temporary structure in his gut, awoken only to the sight of endless linen-white feathers and a professional grace that sapped the misery from his bones.

He could never forget the hardships the future had given them, or the fear and loneliness swirling beneath his ribs knowing what he had lost, but forgiveness was in his nature as a free spirit, and seeing the fair haired man now felt akin to touching the soul of an old friend. 

“Eeeh? Byaku – ?” In a swift movement, he glanced about his own vicinity, half expecting to see either an entourage or the real target of the man’s scrutiny. “Did you come here to see Tsuna? He left a while ago, actually. I hope it’s not something serious.”

|✿| They were both alone - more surprising for the tranquil boy before him, and likely concerning in regards to his own lack of tether. His expression was that of sheer benevolence, an austere genuinity that held back only the most fatalistic of progressive thoughts, a palm raised in excited greeting, as he increased his pace to a jog in order to close the distance between them.

       “Hora, Takeshi-kun!                 Ara? No, no, I’m here for you.        Mm? Ma, it’s very serious~!”

Having the knowledge he did now - it would be a waste not to utilize it for the dear friends of the one who had found the idealistic extremist, saving one life was nothing for him, and he liked this guy’s nature, either way. After all, if there were more humans like this, it might be a better, more perfect world, wouldn’t it?

                         “I need a little help, actually.                  Ne, first, the cake shop around the corner is closing in the next hour, wanna go?       Annnd then - I’ve got some negotiations I have to work out with another family for Yuni-chan’s sake, and I’d like to keep my guardians of out it, or else they might tell her and stress her out!                Ne, ne - think you could be my partner for the ‘talk’?”

His voice denoted nothing but a good time.|❀|                               

[laverita-inmenzogna-blog]

🔱—He was assured of his actions. He knew precisely each step he took, each motion he made. There were no doubts in his mind… until the holder of a Sky flame spoke again. Inquired again.

        “The me that was there - is somewhere you can never reach.                                   The me that’s here…                       Isn’t the one you want to see, is it?“

   The illusionist’s eye widened - shades of blood, and shades of heaven, hues bursting wide from behind thick, sable nets. The hand that held fast to Byakuran’s wrist faltered just fleetingly. But the candid reaction had been validated enough that it managed to communicate across his recovering muscles, until his shoulders owned  the weight of holding that twisted emotion at bay.

  Grief, made wretched and confused by a lack of clarity, descended upon his resilient psyche like the weight of a thousand graves.        But in theory, it had only been one.

  He was being… terribly careless, to say the least. And delusional, at worst.

  The hand near his own did not know it was the wrong hand.        Those fingertips had never touched him before.           They did not know of the burdensome expectations his skin recoiled at the memory of. The eyes he spoke to were young, clean, waiting patiently for him to scrape together a state of coherency between his speech and his actions. He was existing divided between two places; attempting to sustain two ghosts.

                          ”…is somewhere you can never reach…“

           White-hot realization clawed from behind his eyes.

                "Well, thanks for leaving me at the halfway point.”      Once, and never again. 

 The illusionist’s forehead dropped abruptly onto Byakuran’s shoulder, as he suffocated a myriad grudges, unfinished sentences, the haunts from a history unmade that had believed somehow, without informing him, that their grievance would have been spent, properly. Assuredly.  

❝How pitiful. To think that a casualty would mourn their killer, hn? …to think I would have preferred death to bowing my head twice.❞

     The mist-user swallowed hard; swallowed the anger, the unresolved sense of powerlessness, the width and breadth of an absence that both was and wasn’t alleviated by this youth’s presence. His hand slid down from the captive wrist, until it dropped Byakuran’s arm altogether.

   ❝It is true… But, don’t misunderstand. I do not wish to ask you to answer for what happened then, is all. …I would not ask you to even possess memories of such a wretched place, such vile exchanges. It would be preferable if you did not even know who I was. I would not have sought you out. It wasn’t you.❞

    Mukuro lifted his head, divergent shades pacified, and heavily quieted by thick lashes. His palm came to alight along the side of that younger cheek. The calm had returned to his voice, that grating edge of turmoil had been crushed back into a darkness he preferred to feed his vulnerabilities to - keeping them out of sight, out of mind. He had withheld only a fragment of that twisted affection, and applied it for the purpose of vague reassurance.

                                       ❝But you’re…                                                                       “You are, all that is left.❞

[labyrinthineorchid]

|✿|                       Ah, so he felt that strongly about it.   For one whose existence was supposed to based upon shrouded mysteries, this fair-skinned Illusionist was agonizingly easy to read - and it would be with patience that he allowed each realization to hit a fellow wounded mind. They were beautiful, those eyes, but what was this?              ... Regret..? ... Grief... maybe?    From what he understood, what sensation and circumstance had dredged up from a mind entwined with far too many times and places... it hadn't exactly been an ideal exchange.               Although... there were no others like them, were there?   He knew he had missed this enigmatic man, despite never having truly met him before.   That future - the Byakuran there ... the Mist Guardian didn't know, did he?          Whether or not that rage-filled blast had removed the tyrant from existence?                     "...Omoshire, Mukuro-kun." A distant gaze, and a soft sigh, fingers far too mature for a teenager's form treading loosely through an evening backdrop, toying with azure strands as soon as the weight of another fell against his form.               What a troublesome thing he had managed,       what a mess he had made such a perfectly viable thing.                       He hadn't been careful at all, had he?     No, he never was, that was a laughable question.          And he was losing his temper once again.   It really wouldn't do - he even stole his own things, how funny. A vague frown, almost pouting in nature, as soon as the elder lifted his head once again, instead grazing a curious touch down either side of the Illusionist's neck, resting idly in crooks between the shoulder. Nuzzling a cheek into that dangerous palm, another smirk, far more melancholy, far more aloof - before a tilt of the chin would see to it his face was no longer made contact with.               "I was so close..         So close then, there..              I would have done it.                          The perfect world.          Ne, do you think I would have kept you, Mukuro-kun?     If Tsunayoshi-kun had just died like that?                Ara, maybe if it had gone differently, you might have kept me instead?                               But that isn't what you're looking for either, hora..         That defeated me isn't what you want, right?                 How else did you want it to go?                           Since seeing me here, now,             isn't what you wanted at all..                          So selfish, Mukuro-kun~." A distinct apathy encased each phrase - forced around light tones in an almost scathing cage - was it resentment... that this outcome wasn't even good enough? ... it was a possessive streak, and an incredulous predicament - to have a point of interest ache for your touch...              but not yours? He understood, but it was still infuriating.           His grip on the elder's shoulders tightened considerably - a blaze of blinding ivory flecked with the rainbow's caress tearing from fairly broad shoulders, flaring wings of harmonious ire crackling as the ivory-maned mafioso took a step back.           It could have been a dramatic point - or simply a child's fit manifested in light.                   "Ahahaha...~!           Mukuro-kun...                       What did you want from me?    I guess, even with these memories, I still don't understand what I gave to you, that you're seeing me as a mere piece of it right now.           I can make any face you want, you know~.”

Ire, yes, but distress as well, woven into an unreasonably eerie visage - it hinted fear, as well.      Of not being chosen? Of being alone?                     It was so ugly when others made their choices. |❀|

[laverita-inmenzogna-blog]

🔱—A sky was still a sky; whether it was pure and clean, or poisoned by the filth and pollution that human civilization cursed it with. Even now, Byakuran was unfurled beyond sight, endless and impossible to grasp. The further he reached for the ends of this man, the less cognizant he became, stretched too thin, and left with more questions than answers.

   Those slender fingertips, relatively guiltless in this reality, but still red, red, red in Mukuro’s eyes, traveled upwards, and his spine ached with the impulse to move away. The sense of being fearful was nauseating. Especially in the presence of this capricious child. He had to conquer this, somehow. He couldn’t be left to recoil, to avert his gaze every time this stark-white specter invaded his attention.

   Brusquely, the illusionist’s grip left the younger Mafioso’s throat, and grasped at his wrist instead. He made a motion to pin him to the nearest surface by it, the force of his body poised to entrap the lithe frame even more soundly into the resilient cage. His voice was soft, scathing, muted by phantoms by time, negated - but not forgotten. It sought to caress the young Mafioso’s ear, a threat coated in nectar; a sentiment laced with arsenic.

❝Don’t play around with me, kufufufu.             I haven’t seen enough of what you even are, to decide what is and isn’t worth liking.

                Yet, eventually, you’re going to make an honest face…                                                                   I wouldn’t miss it for the world.❞

[labyrinthineorchid]

|✿|  Mere pinpoints in an instant - a speck of black lost within a sea of lavender, eyelids flying open as surprise and distress thinned a enigmatic mouth, laughter shifting to a loss of breath as his back pressed against the surface behind him. A step back had been taken instinctively, in order to follow where his hand traveled, which appeared to be a mistake on his part, as that very tangible form was far too close...             He could admit to detesting being trapped, or being forced somewhere.. but then he'd have to once again admit a distaste for the entirety of the world, and that was a road he decidedly avoided in this time. That dangerous, widened expression gazed forward, almost incredulously, an inwardly short fuse burning a hole into an already splintered psyche - energy crackled, flames licked at the young Mafia boss' shoulders - until, suddenly, nothing... instead, he allowed a soothing voice to inject any poison it wished into the cracks - as long as the Illusionist continued to speak...         It wasn't quite so lonely, with proximity like this.. venom like his... this was worth basking in,  each word was gathered and cradled within that troubled psyche.        At times, it was bliss to listen to something other than his own iron ideals, and respect it for truth.           As he so wished never to taint that loving smile that had gone and taken his hand - but she... no, she could never share moments that only those who saw the world for exactly what it was, could.    A devil's smirk ruptured the young Sky-wielder's lips, and a slender spine arched as much as possible to allow the most contact, chin tilted upwards to rest anywhere on the elder's form, where he could indulge the most in that heated breath.          

                "Ara, but... Mukuro-kun,          I always make honest faces.                         But maybe, you're not looking for mine?              The me that was there - is somewhere you can never reach.                              The me that's here...                        Isn't the one you want to see, is it?" |❀|

[laverita-inmenzogna-blog]

🔱—There was a seething, sleepless well of loathing beneath his skin; beneath his soul. It yawned languidly at the prodigy’s words. On the surface, however, that manifested as a flashing fire across Mukuro’s eyes. His heart clamored irately behind its cage. Empty fingers flexed intuitively, though he was currently unarmed.

    The child’s expressions were too recognizable. Yes, of course they were too familiar. The defeat he had suffered at Byakuran’s hands was far more devastating than even that which he had met at Tsunayoshi Sawada’s clumsy, forthright power.  The nature of this person was rotten from the inside; a festering wound cleaved by grievances, both perceived and survived.        Just like him.

   Tempted. Provoked. Mocked, all at once. He had believed himself free of the noose around his neck that this person so easily dragged him in by.  The illusionist reacted almost by reflex, when the ash-haired Mafioso approached. Mukuro’s gloved fingers reached forth to form a cradle around Byakuran’s throat - though no obstructive pressure was applied.

  A ’him’ he thought he could beat’?         Ridiculous.             Not then, and not now.

  Mukuro’s half-scoff was a mirthless sound, as he lifted his chin almost derisively.

❝I only felt like teasing you a bit.           Seeing those fat little cheeks of yours brings out a bad side of me, it seems.❞

[labyrinthineorchid]

|✿|  Deserved, perhaps, was this cage he had stepped willingly into - the reaction was provoked, and thus assumed... regardless, guilt wasn't something felt by one who felt acutely justified in their actions, it had been wrong, it had been.. empty.        No one understood, because they were the same as the rest.             He had been utterly, completely alone - and the few, the precious few he had hoped would see his perfect, ideal creation and smile.. made a choice.     This one.. he liked him, back then - ah.. forward, then? It was a fascinating concept - to have to remember the future, wasn't it? The same look, it was infuriating the same time he had to attempt and preserve it, the potential of someone understanding his thoughts.. to agree... seeking that... he could have killed this man, couldn't he?       He had no other way than to seek harmony, within himself, and in others... but perhaps that had been his fall.Flowery hues finally revealed themselves, a fierce gaze - it lacked repentance, but also any trace of malice, the raging grief that had encompassed the Millefiore leader was missing.         A slender arm rose, fingertips loosely ghosting the material that covered the Illusionist's grip, brushing up the Vongola Mist Guardian's sleeve, fingers outstretched and poised a good distance away from that fascinating, etched eye.                        "A-re~? Well, if that's all, I like each side of you, so it's ok, ne?                   .... it's interesting, you got that eye, I got some wings.                           But they were from the same place.                 And even though you're an Illusionist,    it's harder for you to hide that, than it is for me to put my wings up..." Lilting tenors trailed off, a playful, mocking edge slightly clipped and distracted - until a fluttering burst of laughter bubbled up from the lithe youth's chest, his own mirth genuine and raucous. An amused display of teeth, and the curtains fell on those expressive eyes once again.   

                         “Ne, ne, it’s because you missed me, right, Mukuro-kun~?” |❀|

[laverita-inmenzogna-blog]

🔱—❝I would not make an attempt of something I was not completely assured of victory.   You know that.         That’s why defeat comes as such a surprise to me.                 You know that, too...

                        That being said. You and I…                                 We are not familiar at all..❞

[labyrinthineorchid]

|✿|  A younger expression, smaller features, yet those lavender irises still reflected nothing but a swallowed disgust - it was less bitter, glinted with far less maniacal desperation, but the Sky’s gaze was far less encompassing than most. Lids fell, brows arced upwards in a mockery of amiable-natured surprise, a knowing smile that begged to ooze sincerity, but could easily exude poison if given the wrong responses.                         “We’re not?          Hora, that’s funny, coming right after what you assume I know, ne?                Ara, tell me, then, Mukuro-kun,                          why am I in danger?                 Are you going to take your frustrations out on a me you think you can beat~?”

It was a possibility he had courted, that of course grudges might be held - despite a currently more innocent state, he still possessed memories from each and every version from all parallel worlds.       The distant between them was crossed, eyes still shut pleasantly, though a curious tilt of the head dared the elder to action.  |❀|

[laverita-inmenzogna-blog]

🔱—❝Kufufufu! It sounds too forced if you use ’-san’.

                  And yes. You’re in a very dangerous predicament.

                        Consider it generous of me to inform you, beforehand.❞

[labyrinthineorchid]

|✿|  “Hora.. I just don't see it,             ..ne.. Mukuro-kun,         are you trying to seem intimidating?       Aren't we more familiar than that?”  |❀|

[laverita-inmenzogna-blog]

🔱—❝I do, and you have.

      Presenting yourself as such a convenient target - with no contingencies within reach.

                                                                              …presuming that I hold nothing against you.❞

[labyrinthineorchid]

|✿|  “Mmm.. seems dangerous,                                       if you put it that way.             What do you think I should do, Mukuro-kun?           Ara.. should I call you 'san' now?”  |❀|

[labyrinthineorchid]

Continued from - ❁   @laverita-inmenzogna

|✿|  “Hora!       You think so?                      Shimatta, did I make a terrible mistake~?” |❀|

[labyrinthineorchid]

                               ㊄The one who beckons to your group ㊅

               Who teeters between| | the {{truth and lies}}

       | |   Was me㊃| |

                                                    Without end　                  Always in the same way -

                                It always circles as life and death ㊁

                     Leave this (‘fate’) ㊂ to me. ㊀

“You’re so...” Finish it in my ask.

[cielo-ambito]

🐟—❝Ｉ ｃｏｎｓｉｄｅｒ ｅｖｅｒｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｔｈａｔ'ｓ ｈａｐｐｅｎｅｄ ｔｏ ｂｅ ｐｒｅｃｉｏｕｓ ｍｏｍｅｎｔｓ ｏｆ ｍｙ ｌｉｆｅ.

   He hadn’t been exaggerating before, in his conversation with Hibari Kyouya. His house was abuzz with mirthful preparations for the upcoming ‘Chinese New Year’ celebrations. They were far beyond the risk of missing the date, so why everything was being tasked so early in advance, was perhaps due exclusively to the spirited natures of those with whom he shared his home. He stared at his mother’s merry handwriting, cheerful and detailed at once, penned onto the bright yellow page he carried in hand. There was even a monkey watermark stamped into the corner. A listless sigh dragged itself through his throat, as he surveyed the busy aisles around him.  

                              ❝Ehhh… if they have so much energy…

                                                     …they should be doing the shopping.❞

  The complaint hadn’t been sizable or unyielding enough to have uttered it, earlier. Before the sparkling eyes of the girls who essentially ran his house, and knowing full-well how much Lambo and Futa might enjoy the foreign holiday… it had been impossible to refuse. Tsuna knew his mother would glow with excitement over making a banquet for the event. And the girls would probably spin some incredible decorations. …but he didn’t even want to think about fireworks in conjunction with the people he had come to know. And doubtlessly, the little ones would eat everything in sight, of course, and come up with the loudest games imaginable.

          ❝A-ah, especially I-Pin…❞

   Of course. Tsuna’s footsteps faltered, as his sunset gaze settled suddenly on a shelf of glinting red novelty streamers. They spiraled weightlessly in idle playfulness against the artificial breeze of a nearby fan, as he reflected on his first meeting with I-Pin. He hadn’t considered it much, before, but, did I-Pin have a lot of expectations for the Chinese New Year? Did she ever miss her homeland? Might she be looking forward to a party the most out of all of them?

  He added a few of the still-wrapped packages of the Chinese New Year toy streamers to the plastic basket hanging at the crook of his elbow. They weren’t on the list, but… he had a little extra money of his own. 

This wasn’t the worst place to spend it.

   The next stop Tsuna made was at a shady-looking candy store. It wasn’t disreputable in the general sense, but judging by the generous disregard for oral health that the proprietor possessed, the youth had to wonder about the old owner’s intentions. The interior of the store looked to be made right out of the colorful stuff sold in those wide, inviting bins. It was such an overdone atmosphere that younger kids might have had a difficult time discerning what was candy and what was furniture. The item on the list Nana requested was some sort of candied walnut dessert, but… where he would find such a specific and boring thing amidst the displays of  broad licorice ropes shaped to resemble those balloon-poodles at fairs, and rock candy  carved to resemble the mecha-heroes from kids’ morning anime, was beyond him. 

  So engrossed in his task, the young Vongola neglected to notice the people within his surroundings. Amber eyes scrutinized the list again, and the blind pursuit lead him right into the taller frame of the ash-haired mafia. He collided lightly with the older figure - and he fell nearly to the ground out of more panic than force of impact.

    ❝…g-gah! Gomen! I wasn’t looking whe-…. HIIEE!?

    B-BYA-kuran?! ❞

Ａｎｄ Ｉ ａｍ ｈｅｒｅ ｒｉｇｈｔ ｎｏｗ, ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ ｅｖｅｒｙｏｎｅ ｗａｓ ｔｈｅｒｅ ｆｏｒ ｍｅ.

                                                     Tｈｉｓ ｉｓ ｍｙ ｒｅｓｏｌｖｅ.❞—🔥

[labyrinthineorchid]

|✿ | A new year - each and every one brought new outcomes, some of them novel, most of them dull. Memories granted by obliteration via Flames of Sky denoted a curiosity, as he himself, now, rarely felt the need to talk to himself over extended periods of time - each parallel world contacted would have a different outlook on the past... so this holiday was fascinating in of itself.            His own custom boxes depicted dragons no western culture could have conceived, the Chinese and Japanese always seemed to have a much better grasp on time, regardless.

      That, and Yuni-chan had insisted that visiting the young Neo Primo of the Vongola would be the best way to celebrate...and the white-maned mafioso was far too attached not to follow. An inclination bred of forced solitude, apathy born from disgust, this world certainly wasn’t perfect, but it did have her, who reached out to him in that dark, lonely place...and it did have them, who follow him still.                 Right now, that was what mattered,    it was useless to think ahead when all it would bring was conflict. 

The Giglio Nero Famiglia would have found their resident albino missing as soon as the sun had risen, and there would be none amongst the enigmatic man’s group who would be willing to give up his location, immediately invoking Omerta if questioned. While dramatic and potentially panic-inducing amongst most, an intuition held by a dear young girl was trusted implicitly, the former Millefiore overlord knew she’d understand his game, in the end.

     It was here, in this particular town, one that had become so excessively relevant, inside a shop filled with essentially all of his interests, that a large ground squirrel attempted to run him over.

                                      “A-re~?”

     A slender, ivory brow arced high, lost in a mess of locks as eerily light mirrors reflected the earthy tones of the younger before him. It was first a dangerous expression, shifting to something akin to incredulous amusement as soon as the fluffy-headed kid was identified.

                  “Hora! Tsunayoshi-kun!                         Isn’t that neat, that I’d run into you first~?                    I was looking for you, but then I found this place,                               It’s got everything, ne?”

Soft, lilting tenors projected nothing but a pleased stance, though admitting you had been attempting to stalk someone and were distracted by a candy store within the first twenty minutes wasn’t something that should be said a loud. 

         Obsession was evidently something easily set aside for marshmallows.|❀ |

[labyrinthineorchid]

That’s right,                            When we say we’re lonely            And pretend to understand one another..                            The truth is, we’re mistaking satisfaction                                                                            For love.               We really don’t understand anything at all, huh?

|❀ | An Independent Byakuran roleplaying blog. |✿ | Open to Original characters and canon alike, and cross-overs are easily accommodated via the knowledge from parallel worlds. |❁ | Writes to the extreme, will rarely to never write one-liners, but that’s simply due to being unable to shut up.  |❋ | Has been roleplaying since the beginning of time. |✾ | Multi-ship, separated universally. Muse is Demiromantic and Demisexual. // Home \ A-re~? | | Rules // Information | | We’re pretty useless,                           The human race                                   But it is already much too late                Because our instincts fit on whatever wavelength is convenient                 In this world full of egoism                                                 even taking a breath is difficult                            Everyone understands that we’re selfish [W hat values?]                                 So quiet down,                 

[maniaqve-deactivated20160125]

                                           He could feel the others amusement pulse through                                            the room, knew why and tried to ignore it although                                             it was partically impossible for him to ignore it since                                            it felt degrading. Not his amusement per say but the                                            reason for it which he was well aware of from the                                             start. But the blonde had other things to focus on                                             he was there to speak to the other and not to let                                             the degrading feelings dig too deeply into his bones.                                             However it may be known that the subject was something                                            he should keep silent about, he shouldn’t be there                                            or as much as think about it near his boss. Which                                            might sound worse than it was but since it was about                                            Byakuran’s right hand man and the thoughts were                                            of a less positive nature. He hated Shoichi, were his                                            thoughts ever on the positive side when it came to him?                                            No. The redhead was hardly worth it.

           “I might end up harming your             dear Sun guardian severely.”

                                           He watched the Sky through his bangs cautiously,                                            because he did not know how the information would                                            affect him or if it WOULD affect him. If there was                                             something he liked– Maybe a bit too much, then it                                              was to watch people react to the ways he spoke                                              or the words he chose to use. 

                                             (( sheshesheshe ))

          “I won’t kill him though, I’ll            save that for later.”

[labyrinthineorchid]

                                         ‘Dear sun guardian’.....                                  ‘I won’t kill him though’

The simple mention of his sleep-deprived former friend caused the lavender tyrant pause, so tense that his hand, confection still grasped, hung motionless in the air above where he had intended to finish his sweet tower. That previously mocking visage of amused superiority had all but vanished, instead leaving a vaguely venomous hint of teeth visible, untamable tresses concealing what could have been narrowed, hostile eyes. 

It was unreasonable to assume that those around the fox-faced Mare ring holder could comprehend his innate sense of possessiveness, a care once derived from companionship, protectiveness.. twisted from realizations, revelations about the universe and its workings..  Shoichi was the last thing he knew before his entire world, and every world parallel to this one, was turned upsidedown and shaken vigorously. 

The wall of marshmallows chose this moment to tumble over, spilling little white puffs all over the table as the intense, ivory wraith forcefully shifted his train of thought onto another track.

                    After all, it isn’t Shou-chan that’s here before me right now..                                   It’s my precious ‘Funeral Wreath’.                             Ahh, what a funny game of ‘Choice’,                                        and both of my pieces are sure they’re                                             the ones moving everyone else across the board~.

“Whoops, at least they didn’t get wasted on the floor. If you’ve got issues with Shou-chan, you can bring them up to him, you don’t have to tattle to me, ne?” 

It was such an immediate shift, back to a more normal state of cheerful facilitation, his soft, tenor tones almost chiding in nature, as though attempting to make his little siblings get along, instead of advising a violent, dangerous assassin on what should be done with a co-worker. 

“I’d be careful, though, I wouldn’t want either of you getting too hurt, I need you both healthy for my plans, Rasi-chan.” 

[campanvla]

So I was thinking to myself if Byakuran would show signs of being upset if Kikyo died but then part of me said that there’s a posibility that he doesn’t feel sad per say but there might be a lingering feeling of loneliness since he did possibly probably maybe spend a lot of time together with his real Wreaths and I don’t know.

Then there’s that part of me that says he’d shrug it off and go on with his life but I don’t think he’s THAT emotionless so I have no idea.

Maybe it’s just the fact that I love angst?

[labyrinthineorchid]

I believe he would be absolutely upset. Kikyo was one of his closest Wreaths in the future, and was technically more of a right-hand man than Shoichi was, due to the fact I’m sure Byakuran knew that Shou-chan would betray him in the end. His attachment to all of them was so strong, that he went and got them back in the past, regardless of where they were currently at. 

So while it might have transformed into a warped sense of possessiveness near the end of the Future Arc, if Kikyo had died, that would have been yet another, huge failure in the Millefiore’s leader’s plans, and he would lose one of the few people who spoke to him both as though he were a human being, and something to be revered. There would be angst, perhaps tears and you can bet on a bit of violence if anyone ever struck Kikyo down.

His emotions are extremely intense, rage being one we saw the most often, but his sense of compassion and empathy were jaded somewhat into forced apathy. So his care is there, you’d just probably see him handle the loss in the form of destroying a continent or something. Quietly. 

[nebbiia-deactivated20151224]

Steals his marshmellows. Shh, you didn’t see anything.

[labyrinthineorchid]

Pupils dilating into near non-existence, barely a sliver of lavender irises visible as the young man sat up with a start, every jaded ideal, every spec of a honed hind-brain screaming out every past failure into his subconscious, blending in a cacophony of such a sudden despair that it sent the Millefiore boss reeling. His physical state barely held up to the onslaught that was barraging his mind, minuscule droplets of beaded sweat trickling down from his brow, the pit of his stomach threatening to release its burden into the living world.

A realization hit, that must be it.. there was no other reason for such turmoil, an intense intuition noting every detail that could have caused this atrocity to his psyche. 

His marshmallows. They were gone.

The twin roars of two ivory serpents resounded in a mile radius, and the resulting explosion of harmonizing flames enveloped his room. The shimmering of ambient energy could be viewed from plenty of vantage points, as the winged specter placed one foot on the railing of the balcony.

The perpetrator would be found. 

[mxkurz]

“What can I do to get you to stop barging in?”

[labyrinthineorchid]

It could have border-lined on a strange form of obsession if the lavender beast hadn’t reigned in the memories of every one of his future selves, plus the excessive fascination that came with them, and while both of these efforts didn’t exactly stop the young man from constantly pestering the poor Illusionist in the abandoned school whenever the opportunity presented itself, it did make each visit somewhat less violent. Usually.

A foxish display of teeth was presented most amiably toward the poor, fruit-haired bastard, the sweet-toothed mafioso’s entire visage promising nothing but playful interest in Mukuro’s progress, and absolute trouble.

“A-re~? What are you saying, Mukuro-kun? Wasn’t the door open~? If I knocked, you wouldn’t let me in, anyway, would you?”  

By ‘Wasn’t the door open’, he meant ‘there was no other way in so I flew through a window like a confused, obstinate pigeon’.