Dear Kafka

The child who lost their way back home, has forgotten even the fact of going back. And so, they wish for death once again. ♛ ♛ ♛ SERVANT

[luscinus]

shslsyoko:

✑ — How curious that a world where heroes were warned against revealing their identities would devote whole buildings to cataloging their adventures. If they had any work of Fukawa’s, she might be remiss not checking for herself.

She couldn’t check the computer – they tracked searches, didn’t they? – so her only option was to search the shelves by herself. Specifically, the romance section. They were her claim to fame, after all.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only person taking a look around the place. Noticing the smaller woman, Fukawa stepped out of her personal bubble.

“Wh–What? Who, me?” She looked around for a second, failing to convince herself this wasn’t her conversation. She took a breath to calm herself; at least the subject was an interest of hers.

“I don’t have one in particular, but… I prefer the works of the belles-lettres variety. Classical literature isn’t appreciated these days…” Not by hack-rate writers, at least.

     Well that wasn’t an answer she was expecting. Eto takes a moment to properly assess the person in the section with her. A rather plain looking school girl from what she can surmise, but she knows best that looks can be quite deceiving. Kids these days, always catching her off guard some way or another. 

“That’s rather refined taste. I don’t blame you, they can be good if it’s done well.” That’s the case with any style and genre, but it’s hard to emulate classics. That’s why they’re the classics. “Can’t say I really gravitated towards those on a regular though. Maybe I’ll look for a couple while I’m here.”

It’s nice actually talking books with someone given the fact that Eto was the only one in Aogiri that bothered to read and read a lot. She’d either have to keep her rants to herself or have one-sided conversations with Noro. A receptive audience is always nice to have.

“Classics are always nice to revisit. That was most of my previous collection and anything else I could get my hands on really.” A sigh follows the tail end of those words. This is annoying, having to rebuy all her favorites just so she doesn’t get bored in this place. Maybe she’ll even look to see if her own books are gracing the shelves. “The author question didn’t work, so do you have a preferred genre or two. I know it can be hard to pick for most people.”

[luscinus]

choromaster:

She hadn’t taken that as an insult, since it was very true. Looking in the direction of the woman, she had realized that the other had chimed in a light tone, as if to compliment her for being an outsider in this war. Preferably, she’d rather be heard as a speculator, but even she knew that was giving herself too much credit. Shrugging, she couldn’t be certain on how to properly answer that without sounding too blunt about it. 

“I suppose, considering almost everyone around here seems to have some sort of special talent. It’d be too much of a crowd if I suddenly jumped in without having a plan, anyway…

I guess when the time calls for it, I’ll join in. Since you’re asking me such a question, I can only assume you’re capable of handling this unlike me?”

     “No one knows the true measure of another’s strength until they finally see it in action.” Eto says keeps a friendly smile on her face, deciding to play the role of humble. Bare minimum information concludes that this woman isn’t much too look out for, so there’s no need to keep a close eye out. However, Eto has never been one to place all her cards out on the table, and she isn’t going to start now in an environment she knows next to nothing about. It’s troublesome, not being able to confidently make moves, but she will work around it at some point.  

“So really, who knows if you’re stronger than I am. Though I’m guessing you’re more brains over brawn? Going to properly choose your battles and all that, correct?”

[luscinus]

carminewings:

@luscinus

Her hand was burning. Or rather, the marks on the back of it were. It was a steady, intense pain that almost made her eyes water as they lit up. Did that mean the servant she’d been given was nearby? Honestly, she still didn’t understand this one bit. It was nothing like the wars her father had made her learn about. For starters, no one seemed to be fighting each other for the grail…Perhaps it was a small blessing. 

Slowly, she looked around, using the command seals as her guide. She wondered what they would be like, if they were strong, what their class was. She’d done so much studying and preparing for this moment…even though it was different, and even though she had thought the time had passed. 

But here she was, face to face with what appeared to be another young woman–though she certainly knew better than to judge someone by their appearance. There was something that told her there was more to her than met the eye.

“Forgive me if this is a bit sudden….but are you a Servant?” Was she correct? Would this be the partner she would fight alongside wherever this strange situation took her?

     It was an odd feeling, the flickering out of a previous Master and the replacement of someone else entirely just a few days after. Annoying really, to know that she would be stuck with someone for however long she’s here. But Eto is an adaptable sort, having lived a life too hard won not to be able to make a situation work in her favor not to be.

She decided to go looking for this Master however, finding no real need to since she already has the house at her disposal. She’ll go on her way, like always, and if this person locates her with their own abilities – that bond that always lurks in the corner of her mind – then maybe, she’ll give them a chance to properly slot into their role. 

As Eto feels the presence of her new Master grow closer, she ceases what she had occupied her afternoon with – a bit of light reading and a cup of coffee. The question asked is useless enough that she decides to play difficult. 

“That’s a dangerous question to ask when you seem to be alone.” She states, wry smile gracing her features. “But I am a Servant. Why did you feel the need to ask?”

[luscinus]

panzerjagd:

      He shrugged. It was up to her to decide whether or not it was a joke; either way, he noted that it didn’t seem to faze her, and would have felt more capable of asking about her strange hair if she hadn’t gone and buggered it by announcing her status as a Servant.       Quite and odd one, to say the least. Eren didn’t know whether to be impressed or scared. Overwhelmed might have been a fitting word. He had nothing to say up until she seemed to finish off what she wanted to say, and even then, he had to put his face into his hand before shrugging it all off.

      ‘You’re rather…bold.’ He noted this with a voice one would expect to hear from a disgruntled parent. ‘Didn’t think you’d say that right off the bat. There’s a lot to complain about, sure, but even so, I would have thought most people would appreciate another chance at life – even if it’s just a temporary deal. I don’t think…’       At this point, he felt cautious; if only because he had no clue what to expect from another Servant. Even if she looked like a kid, he hardly doubted her capacity to talk up a storm anymore.       ‘I don’t think any war’s a very good thing. Being brought to fight another person’s war again – now that I think about it, it is pretty cowardly. Makes me sick. Even worse, I don’t even have a clue what I’d be fighting for. What a farce. I’d rather get eaten alive.’       He said those last bits jokingly.

     The other looks weary of her antics already, but he keeps talking so that doesn’t deter her. Not that him being terse and silent would make Eto leave anyway. She’s an author, so there’s always lots of thoughts going around in her head. She’s been known to talk enough for two people whenever necessary. He’s quite an amusing person already, so she’ll stick around. 

“Bold,” she repeats and huffs out a laugh. “that’s one way of putting it. One of the politer ways from what I’ve experience.” People have called her much worse; being dubbed bold is a compliment in comparison. She practically beams. 

“Sometimes war is necessary because the state of the world is too fucked up to right itself so it’s up to someone else to manually give it a factory reset.” That’s her own bit of wisdom, the reason why she chose to lead the life that she did. “At least in that type of war you know what you’re fighting for.”

“I don’t mind fighting; however, I have preferences. I’m smart enough to pick my own battles. We didn’t pick our battle here. It’s like you said, a farce. And a cruel one at that. Some people may be glad to be back alive, but what of the others that aren’t? Those that have accepted their time was up only to get wrapped up in a battle they didn’t choose? Most servants are forced to follow the orders of someone they’ve never even met before. It’s insulting all around, I think. And tiring.”

“Also,” she adds, grin turning a bit more wicked. Eto’s aware of the joke that was said, but it is that type of morbid humor she loves. “if you’re really that desperate to get eaten, I’m sure there are a few people around here that can make that happen. It’s a strange place after all.”

[luscinus]

panzerjagd:

      The summer air must have been getting to him. Was this a girl with green hair? He supposed, given the circumstances, it was the least strange thing hereabouts; in spite of himself, however, he stared at it for a moment before even beginning his reply, which was less of a reply and more of a statement to oneself.

      ‘You’re hardly one to call anyone a kid.’ He joked.       Pulling his free arm up to his chin and pondering for a moment, he flashed a derisive grin at one corner of his mouth, then looked away slightly – this wasn’t something he could have said straight to anyone’s face, at least not without feeling awkward for being so dramatic.       ‘Anyone can become a hero,’ he said, tritely. ‘All it takes is for someone else to call them that.’       ‘Similarly, all it takes is a claim for someone to become a devil. There are plenty of people who were made into both in their lifetimes.’ At that, he turned his head back at her, as if to say, ‘You’re looking at one.’       ‘Heroic Spirits, on the other hand, are generally those extraordinary folks that are quite dead and made into legends postmortem.’ He waved his hand from her grip. ‘Is that enough of an answer for you?’

     “That’s a joke about my height, isn’t it?” more amusement than offence coloring her words. She understands; she’s barely grown ten centimeters since she hit fourteen after all. It’s been a long time since someone directly pointed it out though.

Eto listens to him speak; it’s always been interesting to hear other’s thoughts on varying matters, the whole deal with heroic spirits and such being at the forefront of her interest. His thoughts make him sound like a protagonist of novel, one that has been wronged in the past but a protagonist just the same. Oddly simple and a bit ideological.

“Sure, I guess you did well enough,” she shrugs one shoulder. “You did got to the barebones of it, and made it sound like something you’ve been thinking about for a while. You didn’t have to tell me the last part though, I’m a Servant as well.” 

She supposes it’s nice thought, being written down in the history books for some reason or another. Not that she ever wanted it, just a stepping stone for something greater to be achieved. She doesn’t expect much out of a world that rewrites history so often after all.

“Can’t say I’m personally fan. It’s polite to let the dead stay dead, and you definitely don’t bring them to fight any sort of battles for you. That’s a bit cowardly.” Eto, for the theatrics of it, takes a heaving breath. “Don’t know if I should be flattered about this whole nonsense or not.”

[luscinus]

vlkoslag:

     There’d been nary an inkling of apprehension as rather had insatiable curiosity been provoked upon the distinct feeling of another beastly apparition within proximity. It was an entity yet perceived, surely an illusive creation that had cleverly evaded falling within the realm of Hellsing’s scope, or even more fascinating had been the possibility of a newfound monstrosity birthed in the wake of the Nazi reformation and contributing to the necessity of the civilization thusly thrust into.

     The hunt, the practiced trickery and the methodical finale, unfortunately proved to be anything but tantalizing, akin to attending a scripted play. That said, it was provocative in it’s own right; it wasn’t just any day that some manner of human feasted no differently than those that walked the night.

     ❝Quite the contrary. I’ve found an audience can make the experience more pleasurable.❞ Laden with warped titillation sounded the disembodied voice, emerging from an approaching mass of shadows long before the man himself breached their sanctuary like some form of phantasmal figure. Lips quirked by a particularly unmannerly grin, digits pressed upwards upon the glasses situated upon the bridge of his nose. ❝There’s nothing like grabbing a bite to eat with a half dozen horrified onlookers. It has a certain … charm. Tucking yourself into a corner and eating like some scared dog is no way to take your fill.❞

     Dog, he has the audacity to call her, and that grates on something harsh. The flare of vexation is sudden, a feat few people have been able to accomplish – to annoy Eto so thoroughly before names are even exchanged. Years has it been since she’s been willing to deem herself a piteous animal of any sort. She may have been no better than scrapyard dog in her youth, starving near daily and forced to cannibalize on ghouls less fortunate than her, but she has risen far above that station. Yet this creature speaks as if he knows better and Eto has never taken well to criticism against her person. 

“You don’t know a thing about me,” pantomime of a smile twisting her lips upwards, voice falsely light and cheerful. “I don’t need a reckless bastard that smells telling me how to hunt.” Insulting, that’s what this was. This being obviously knew nothing of caution if words spoken are anything to go by. Ghouls learn how to be careful around humans before they learn anything else lest they be hunted down and slaughtered. 

“If you get off on a bit of exhibitionism though then that’s none of my business,” she continues, shrugging thin shoulders idly. Head cants to the side and thin finger taps against her cheek, a question forming behind her teeth. “I am curious however, what exactly are you? You who have such so much pride and confidence in your own hunting skills. Eating out in the open where I’m from is terribly reckless and only done by the most desperate and foolish of us. And a waste of perfectly good meal in the end.”

[luscinus]

@choromaster

     “You look a little plain to be in this war. Are you planning to actively participate if need be?” Question directed towards a complete stranger whose hand is donned with the red seals of a Master. Curious, Eto supposes anyone can be chosen for any reason. She has still been unable to find a rhyme or a rhythm to the choices being made by the powers that be. Annoying in the sense that there are too many unknown variables at play, but that can also prove to be interesting in the long run. It’s like a giant game with a bit higher stakes.  

[luscinus]

@panzerjagd

     “Hey kid,” hand reaches to gently tug at the sleeve of a shirt, enough force that she isn’t ultimately ignored. It’s curiosity that persuades her to stop the stranger, a question lingering in her head since she was first summoned. Summoned, how novel an idea that is. This entire place and basis it’s built off of is novel, fairy tale like, and seems nearly impossible. But here Eto is, along with others having to deal with, no real choice in the matter. 

Attention caught, she drops her hand, placing both on her hips. “What do you think makes a person worthy of becoming a heroic spirit?” simple question laid out in the open. Heroic Spirit she is dubbed, an interesting title. Eto has done things, more heinous than good, usually for selfish reasons. Lots of ghouls saw Owl as a figure to look up to, to follow, to fear. Her motivation was a righteous one and she wasn’t afraid to pull underhanded tactics to get things done. It makes her wonder just how low the Holy Grail’s standards are however.

[luscinus]

@shslsyoko

     Realization that she has to rebuild her book collection hits when Eto is bored and realizes that she doesn’t have anything interesting to read. It’s an annoying task to partake in, having spent years building up the collection to the expanse it was and having special marginal notes inside her favorite ones. She is not a nostalgic being who dwells often in the pass, but her books with their dog-eared and yellowed pages and hastily scribbled notes provided her comfort and familiarity over the years when she could find none.

A trip to the bookstore will kill a couple hours at least, a welcome distraction now that she thinks about it.

Getting there doesn’t take long, it’s finding what she wants to purchase when she gets that proves difficult. For curiosities sake, she tries to look for the name of authors that strike a familiar cord, ones she’s pulled inspiration from in the past. Nothing wrong with revisiting old favorites even if she is in an entirely new place.

“Do you have a favorite author?” question spoken without preamble towards the only person in the section with her. “I have rebuild my book collection, so I might as well try a mix of old and new.”

[luscinus]

@gentlysweeps

     This city and its construct is not dissimilar compared to Tokyo, though smaller and size and the districts are named properly instead of numbered for convenience. It’s not hard for Eto to slot herself in something akin to a daily life, though comparatively boring when taking her previous one into account. Though there are some high points she supposes, like not having to concern herself with annoying CCG members and not keeping up her public image so thoroughly in place as she did back in her native land. She’s a no name here, and that’s okay for now. Connections are important but she can work on forming them at a later date.

She allows herself to take things at a slower pace which today, involves listening to guitarist play near the market square. It’s a nice venue for people watching since a decent sized crowd has formed and a few people stop for a handful of seconds to listen. It brings back memories of when she did this near daily, back when she was just a teenager trying to learn patterns in people’s behavior and pick someone that might have made a decent meal. 

When the music stops, the crowd disperses, scattering off back to their business. Eto, primarily due to boredom, weaves her way through the crowd, and stops in front of the person that played. She has to wait a few seconds before she’s actually noticed, but when she is, she speaks: 

“You played well,” hands clasped behind her back, she inclines her upper body forwards a bit. “are you a professional or just busking for a bit of extra cash?”

[luscinus]

not doing the event on eto because she doesn’t give a fuck, but i am gonna throw another rp ad out there. capping at three likes and hopefully i’ll have them up soon.

[luscinus]

whoops looks like i can’t fucking read

[luscinus]

dickieking:

She’s caught him in the midst of afternoon tea, complete with delicate sandwiches and an untouched setting; he had intended to share, if and when his Servant chose to reveal themselves. And while she hasn’t a mind for the title, he sees no reason to doubt her interest in a drink shared between bondmates. (Hmm. ‘Bondmates’. That sounds a touch too intimate for the relationship - or lack thereof - they share. He’ll have to work on that.)

“Mm. A Servant who isn’t a servant, and a Master who isn’t a master. What a fine pair we make.” He sets his cup down and turns to look at her. Why, she seems normal enough, normal to the point of not being much of a warrior. He’s not sure how he feels about that. Worried, fretful, confused… He can’t send some skinny girl off to fight in his honor! No, no, she should stay away from all that mess and fuss. The two of them can hide away in their cute little apartment until all this ‘save the world’ nonsense blows over.

“Quite frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn what you call me, as long as it’s not ‘Poopy Longstocking’. I’m fine with ‘clod’ or ‘you roguish devil’, I’ve got them both before.”

He smiles, a touch too forced to be sincere. “So what do I call you?”

     Her Master being human isn’t much of surprise, something she assumed would be the case anyway. She can make this work in her favor, having dealt with humans most of her life. The fact that he seems prepared to speak to her is both interesting and beneficial. That means they can get right to important topics of conversation. She can have a cup of tea and a sandwich if need be to curry the flavor so to speak. Her tolerance for human food as always been higher than other’s after all.

     “Not Poopy Longstocking then,” she reassures, though she raises a questioning brow. There is a story behind that one obviously. Eto takes the seat across from him, hands folded atop the table as she continues. “this is just an entirely new sort of situation I’m in. Referring to someone I just met as Master is a bit odd for me. I can do so for formalities sake in the presence of others if need be.” Identities must be protected here after all, to some extent anyway. 

     “I’ve gone by lots of things in my lifetime,” she begins finger tapping against her chin in thought. Names are peculiar sort of things, being a ghoul automatically means you have more than one for the sake of survival. “Here, I am dubbed Archer if you’d prefer to be traditional. Sen was a penname I went under for about thirteen years since I was an author and valued my privacy. I was also called X in my youth and Owl in my adulthood. So really, the choice is yours.”

[luscinus]

ryuunosenshii:

          “As a dedicated cosplayer, it is my dream to travel the conventions of the world. Am I not the most kakkoii cyborg ninja you have ever seen?” Genji can’t help himself, this is the second time someone thought he was just a cosplayer. Why not find some humor in the fact and play along for a moment? He pauses to look at this newcomer. She has great taste in hair dye. “Nice hair. In my youth, I too had green hair.”

     “Why thank you. I grew it myself.” Eto preens, fluffy the ends of her hair. Her hair is something she’s always been proud of, though that is something hard to tell when it looks a mess half the time. She is vain though, as most people are, and she allows a smile to grace her features at the words. The situation has turned fairly amusing, no harm in playing along. “You are the first cyborg ninja I’ve ever seen so you certainly are winning the contest. Though you say youth like you’re an old man. A snazzy looking guy like yourself can’t be that old, right?”

[luscinus]

@hveorunqr

     “What’s with the face?” Eto asks, bored and in need something to alleviate said boredom. Her attention caught on a kid with a perpetual frown on his face, at least it seems that way from where she’s standing at least. She always has the most fun with ones that have a short tempering, stranger or no. She can waste a few minutes prattling to this person. 

     “This place is called Utopia,” she continues, saccharine smile on her face and a hand on her hip. Uncaring if her presence is a welcome one or not. It probably isn’t, it rarely ever is. She isn’t a fan of the name of the city itself, but there is a terrible irony behind it that she approves of. “Everyone should be happy here right, that’s what it implies. Isn’t it weird though, that this place is called Utopia yet they’ve plucked people from all over in preparation to fight. What kind of utopia has fighting in it? I think they have the definition all wrong. Don’t you agree?”

[luscinus]

@vlkoslag

     It’s been a long time since Eto has properly hunted. Living in Tokyo required her to be a bit craftier and make less of a mess, to catch humans unware in their homes so it could just be another missing person’s report rather than a ghoul attack. Here, this place is new and knows nothing about ghouls. Humans walk the dark streets without any worry, easy pickings for her to choose from. She needs to get food and fast, if only to help relieve some stress that has built up. It might be a bit sloppy of her to hunt without any proper way of storing the body, but she’ll figure that out when she gets there. 

     Easy is the task of actually fooling someone into thinking she’s a lot less dangerous than she actually is. Eto’s always look waifish in appearance, innocent enough to make fools feel sympathy. She convinces a man that she’s a young girl that’s lost her way, and he falls for it so easily she could laugh. He doesn’t even see anything wrong when she leads him into an alleyway and can’t do anything about it when she snaps his neck. She would have liked to have made him bleed, but Noro always told her not to play with her food, that, and she has an audience and she isn’t kind enough to put on a show. 

     It’s an odd scent – old blood and musty wood, though she wouldn’t have paid much attention to it if it didn’t follow her. She isn’t a fan of being followed, of people knowing too much about her when that information isn’t freely given. Whoever this is could be a liability. 

     “You can come out now,” she sighs, kicking the body out the way as she does so. Not unlike a child kicking at a pebble. “no one likes a voyeur.”

[luscinus]

@dickieking​

     Eto is a woman of many titles, has been alive and fought enough to gain rankings that no one in her world has reached. She fought for her power and station with every ounce of blood and sweat her body had to offer. There is a well-deserved pride that she holds in herself, having held onto being leader of the Aogiri Tree as long as she has been no easy feat. Here though, here she still has her power, but she is no leader. Servant, she was deemed. A warrior chosen to fight to protect her Master. What a laughable situation she has found herself in, possibly having to defer to someone weaker than she. Having to protect someone she has never met is troublesome but necessary. 

As irksome the bond between Master and Servant is, it is a useful tool for locating said Master. Of course, it leads her right to the shared house that they have, the very place she’s been avoiding going since arriving. This is a meeting that would have happened eventually, and her expectations aren’t high, so she can’t possibly be disappointed in what she sees. In the midst of toeing off her shoes once she enters the house, that’s when she spots him. Doing what, she doesn’t know and doesn’t care to find out. 

“You must be my Master.” She says pleasantly, not wanting to seem rude despite her dislike of the situation. She’s played pretend before, has done it for a majority of her life. It won’t be much to do so again. “I’m not going to call you that. I hope you don’t mind.”