Anomaly

[pococurantes-blog]

airomancy:

john had always had a knack for cooking. though, in recent years, he hadn’t fucked with the stove due to lack of motivation. he always convinced himself that it was just difficult to do so. so very tedious to be doing a lot to cook for one person. he opted for cup noodles and chips than a proper meal for a long while now. he’s surprised he hasn’t grown sick of it.

he supposes that now that he’s here and not back in earth c, he had more of a reason to go out. new people. new faces. new stuff to try. that includes food. it makes it all the more reason for him to get things back in order. and that includes his love for cooking again.

the star trail had a variety of cuisine that he hasn’t tried before. this was his first time coming here after pretty much trying out everything in cotes ward. so he looks around, trying to decide which one he’d go for. he stands next to the young man with long hair, peering over the stall where he’s at.

“don’t know what to get either?” he picks up on his expression as he looks over.

John’s still young, but the unhealthy eating habits will pull him into a headlock as he ages. May as well enjoy it while he can, right? Not that Izuru would have room for criticism, as he himself will eat whatever is convenient. He usually cooks, but he doesn’t really feel compelled to do it as often as most humans with some inclination for it would.

“I’m deciding on something else.” That tone is ridiculously flat even if he doesn’t intend for it to be. He knows you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but can someone tell his throat that?

John seems like an average young man with insecurities and strengths. Probably was liked by his peers, who saw him as a good friend with some peculiar quirks which may make him endearing to some and a nuisance to others. But he does seem like someone who has a steady group of people he could fall back on if he were to require it. Weird.

Can’t relate. “Where do you come from?” Might as well ask, since he’s seen aliens around and the certainty that all humans came from regular Earth would be meaningless. He himself comes from a ravaged wasteland, so what tells him the other isn’t in a similar predicament?

[pococurantes-blog]

for-hope:

As soon as Kamukura moves from his statue’s pose overlooking the ocean, Komaeda’s hazy eyes snap into focus. As painful and awkward as his messy attempts to understand all the social rules of eye contact are, as soon as Kamukura moves, its impossible to look away. It lasts seconds, just like it had only lasted seconds the first time they met.

Only this time, instead of a bullet to his chest its a coat around his shoulders. Somehow, this was more unexpected. He grabs at it, almost in disbelief, and then pulls it more tightly around himself, his mouth in a wordless ‘oh’ of surprise.

He’s about to launch into the automatic litany of ‘you shouldn’t, for someone like me’ but his voice is all caught up in his throat. The way Kamukura Izuru’s jacket is in his fingers. He swallows, but stays quiet. If even he can predict what sort of thing would come out of his mouth if he started talking, a rare enough occurrence, then it must be really, really boring. What an awful way that would be to repay such an undeserved kindness.

It takes a second, probably a very boring second, for him to refocus.

“An information broker?” he says, back to looking at the dock, or the waves, or anything but Kamukura’s face. “Is that a real job?”

“I mean, if you say so,” He corrects, quickly. “It’s just that… I don’t know how much help Icould give someone like you,” Oh, he’d said the predictable thing anyway. It was true though. Maybe if he was the ultimate detective. Or the ultimate information gatherer. Or the ultimate anything.

Luck, even I have a talent as boring as that.

Kamukura had said that to him once. What could he offer at all? Someone like him? He bites his lip to keep from repeating himself, and then smiles his friendly smile again, as if none of that was crossing his mind at all. “Well, I guess I’ll do my best,” he says, overly familiar, an almost carefree air he never really feels. Because what else can he do?

He expects the other’s bewilderment over his gesture, and he himself has already gotten over the initial surprise. Giving the other his jacket, or at least lending it, seems like the right thing to do for someone so frail and reckless enough to not wear anything better for this cold. For his... Friend? He doubts having shot someone in the chest is a sign of friendship, but Komaeda is alive, isn’t he? Somehow, he still is alive. By now Izuru just attributes it to the other’s ridiculous luck, which really seems to enjoy dragging him along for the ride.

At least even with the initial reluctance, the luckster seems to accept his gesture. Not like he had much of a choice to begin with, as he would’ve insisted otherwise. He’s not about to be responsible for the other catching a cold, or something worse given that health of his. He may be resilient to death, but that doesn’t mean he’d continue to luck out over every little thing too.

“They research information for businesses. Patents, copyright information, or market research. Though they can conduct just about any information search necessary.” He exhales slowly, eyes trained on the white-haired man before him. Even as he tried to look away, he knows his attention is absolutely on him. “Less brokers and more akin to lawyers who provide said services for a fee.”

He said the boring words, didn’t he? It wasn’t a matter of if, more when it’d happen. And now that it did, he can get that out of the way.

“Tell me all you know about this place. No matter how minuscule, I want to hear all of it.” He drapes an arm around Komaeda’s waist, shameless as per norm, and guides him to sit alongside himself on a nearby bench after wiping it off with a gloved hand so it wouldn’t be as cold. Izuru seems to be expecting him to say something now.

[pococurantes-blog]

sterrenlied:

✧*:･ﾟ| A place to think, to dwell in; a majesty he’s not used to, the OFFERINGS of the Dome rivaling only one other. Larger than the Calliope, but not necessarily more impressive. Each location has positives and negatives. A boon to BOTH, it seems, is the ability to sink in his own little world for quite some time before security chooses to force him out. He lingers after this particular, most riveting performance. Like a ghost, a shade, the man floats, a looming form between the seating arrangements. There’s quite some time before the next performance, a show he may also see as well. Yet, he also carries with him a longing; oh how AMAZING it would be to perform as well!

YET, he halts. The stranger his eyes ALIGHT upon seems melancholic. Something tugs upon his heartstrings and within the tumultuous twists and turns of his sharp mind. His head aches, but he perseveres, half smile touching upon his lips still. ❝Is something the matter? The performance has ENDED for quite some time.❞ Siebren hums, more to himself than to the stranger, the young man sitting alone. Arms fold beneath the point of his chin, poised as they are. The strange young man, he seems sad, or perhaps more accurately —- BLANK. ❝Are you well, mijn kind? Or are you like me, simply overwhelmed by this place.❞

He had to admit that performance had been very good, however he still struggles to understand the passion he could see behind each movement and the flicker of glee in those eyes... How does it work? What inspires that sort of passion in humans? Whenever he believes he’s closing in on the answer it eludes him just as quickly with new questions he cannot seem to answer in a satisfactory manner. It’s a tad frustrating, but he definitely intends to crack this case as soon as he possibly can. Regardless, he caught sight of the peculiar man lingering in the area whilst examining the architecture of this place. He definitely appeared riveted by the performance, and he cannot exactly blame him though their reasons must be different.

Izuru knows it’s coming. The unavoidable approach of a man with perhaps too much empathy all things considered. Perhaps he sees something of himself reflected upon the young man, or maybe he’s just worried for a complete stranger. Could be both for all he knows and cares about. Long black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, which frankly helps not mistake him for some television ghost, and carmine eyes focus on the man as he remains unblinking and barely moving at all as those questions are asked. “I’m merely thinking. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” His head finally tilts ever so slightly to the side. “Are you waiting for the next performance?”

[pococurantes-blog]

@gentomologist

His latest explorations have brought him to the Savior’s Respite, and he’ll be the first to admit Spirale has so much lore behind it that it’s rather refreshing. There are myths, urban legends, creatures he’s never before seen and studied as much as he possibly could only to become bored with his discoveries. Once you understand things, they lose their shine. Or so he’s learned in spite of his best attempts to maintain his interest in this new life journey as some would call it. He’s found little things, little pockets of happiness which have helped maintain his sanity, but it’s never easy when he constantly feels like something is missing.

Either way it’s been a while since he’s seen this many flowers, or at least the shadows of what once were and will return once spring has sprung. This place must be ideal for anyone looking for a good view, as he can attest through standing by the edge of the narrow cliff, of whatever fauna may be found around the area. Most likely insects, seems like the most sensible guess in his opinion. Fingers trace along a few locks of black hair, carmine eyes assessing the surroundings without any hesitation despite the fact he’s stood so close to the edge others might interpret it as risk-taking behaviour. Because it is.

[pococurantes-blog]

@sterrenlied

The Spiral Dome was unsurprisingly imposing the moment he set foot within the structure. Architecturally it is definitely a masterpiece, though the most notorious feat would be the amount of technology solely devoted to the visual and auditory arts. Pale digits almost itch with the urge to do something with the access he has to such things, however he does not indulge. He may be a musician, but he’ll likely have to attain special permissions to even consider playing in such a place. And even then, what would he play to begin with? Did they even have any instruments in this particular location, or would he have to bring his own? Hell, he hasn’t even gotten himself one just yet, as the idea of it isn’t exactly appealing to him.

Izuru lingers for a while longer at the seating area of the near empty venue, assessing his options. His expression remains just as flat as it always has, because in reality there’s very little stimulation here for him to even begin to feel interest. Though he does find himself craving to play the piano, just a little. If only to fill the emptiness within him for just a few minutes with music, despite the fact he’s well aware of what little passion he feels towards instruments and their sound. What are these urges, then? Where are they coming from? He doesn’t recall wanting to play at any given time either.

[pococurantes-blog]

@airomancy

He may or may not have been drawn here by the mention of this seemingly endless street he heard around one of his temporary workplaces, but for now the Star Trail seems painfully ordinary. Sure the sheer array of dishes ought to be astounding, and it initially was but... In the end this is a culinary strip and there’s nothing too impressive about that. At least a section of it seems to be devoted to cuisine, and perhaps he’s tempted to cook something for himself. Perhaps try dishes and replicate them? Why would he do that? The idea still sounds mildly appealing, so should he do it?

Where does he even start? Nothing seems interesting enough to pick out on his own, it’d be easier if he had friends. But Izuru’s admittedly been a loner regardless of his location, and calling up the one person he could think of just feels awkward in his opinion. So he stands off to the side, looking very mildly stumped instead.

[pococurantes-blog]

@fangsmyth

While he may not be interested in the Cotes Ward for the most part, Izuru is well aware that the urge to explore is something he cannot avoid. Even with the consistent tedium that he feels, he’s a bit like a child in the sense that he has to explore everything. And the Red Light District in particular has a legend he is rather interested in verifying. That and his own fondness for cats had dragged him around here before the evening, where he was unsurprisingly very popular with a few of the furry inhabitants in said area.

However as the sun goes down, these cats decide to retire into their quarters. So after giving a particularly affectionate black cat a few more head scritches, the young man is left alone again amidst the fog whilst settled upon the steps of a building. He has to wait until the fog is at its thickest, doesn’t he? Good thing he has time to spare, carmine eyes examining his surroundings every now and again as he checks the phone he’d unsuccessfully attempted to reprogram so he could gain internet access. Either they had some advanced technology here which prevented this, or there’s something supernatural at play. The uncertainty may be minimal, though it’s enough to keep him interested at least.

[pococurantes-blog]

@underteika

How thematically appropriate that it’s a full moon night with no pollution. It’s been quite some time since Izuru had been able to catch the sight of a clear sky, so he remained tucked away under the shade of a tree as the afternoon melted into a pleasant evening. It was cold, sure, but that doesn’t bother him as much as it should by conventional standards.  Jacket is tucked off to the side and neatly folded as he jots down a few points in a notepad he held in his hand. From time to time he’d swap the hand he was writing with and continue what he’d been doing, not seeming at all hindered by this.

He supposes that perhaps the peacefulness of the cemetery is what drew him here to begin with, though under the moonlight his pale features and red eyes almost cause him to appear like someone who should be six feet under, not above the ground. Wait, was the cemetery even open at this hour? He definitely doesn’t appear too concerned with the fact, as he hasn’t budged even an inch in spite of it.

[pococurantes-blog]

for-hope:

“Oh, I remember,” he says, rather hastily, and too eagerly. “Ahaha, even someone like me,”someone whose brain is rotting and full of holes, who’s had their already damaged brain overwritten again and again - “remembers that.”

“Meeting someone like you, how could I forget?” He says, a little too hazily to seem entirely there.

How could he forget? But. He had. He had forgotten. Over and over. He might again. He doesn’t… he doesn’t want to. He grips his knees a little too tightly, his knuckles on one hand turning white, the faintest mechanical click as the joints refuse to move any more from the other. He tries not to think about it. He found him again. He doesn’t want to think about losing such a– a symbol of hope another time.

“If even Kamukura-kun doesn’t know…” Oh, had that been okay? To use that honorific? Wouldn’t Kamukura-sama be more fitting of the immense talent sitting next to him? But he doesn’t correct himself, selfishly. It’s selfish of him that he can’t let go of Hinata-kun, that nothing reserve course student and his words in a make believe world.

He will, of course, if that’s what Kamukura wants. If that’s what talent, what hope demands of him, he’ll lose over and over and over. Gladly. It’s just his weakness that wants anything else. It’s cold. He pulls his jacket tightly around himself. Funny, the last time he’d seen Hinata– Kamukura– it had been so warm out. Now this old jacket was no where near warm enough. Why hadn’t be put on something warmer?

“Do you think that means this place will be interesting, then?” He asks, across the wooden slats of the dock. He still hasn’t figured out, in the time he’s been here, if he’d call it that, but his opinion doesn’t really matter, anyway.

He knows Komaeda remembers, at least as much as his put together brain would allow. The both of them are well aware that their heads have been messed with so often its a wonder they’re still standing. Different methods, however the results are still there and affect them in their day to day far more than they’d care for. And he doesn’t bother to remark on his use of the honorific, because he genuinely isn’t troubled by it.

Finally that gaze is torn from the luckster to focus again on the ocean. So dull, yet he still holds onto some hope that it could excite him. Perhaps it’s the same with some people, and why he’s allowing this conversation to go on in the first place. Nagito had forgotten him, and he’d forgotten the other due to his own devices. That was the last collaboration he did with such an unpleasant woman before promptly stabbing her in the back with the same tedium she’d used against him. Though the realisation that he’d been forgotten stings ever so slightly, lingering just at the back of his brain and Kamukura isn’t entirely sure why it bothers him. Is it just Hinata’s frustration over his choices?

That’s very likely. “... Unlikely.” That very brief hesitation would likely have caused anyone else to wince, but his inexpression remains. “You will be my information broker.”

Mostly on the basis of seniority, if not for any other reason. He’s aware of the gist of this place, as he’s already found himself carrying out work and all, but it still seems like such an outlandish concept when propositioned in the real world and not a simulation. Still, both he and Komaeda are acutely aware that they won’t be leaving here anytime soon.

Noting the other’s body language, he slides off his own jacket and drapes it over the frail frame’s shoulders. That’s definitely warmer. Is this pity he feels? A sense of duty towards him as the one who’d at some point been their so called leader after she passed? Honestly, he’d just rather not have to deal with a sickly luckster if he can avoid it. That ship’s already sailed, but there’s no need to stir the waves any further either.

[pococurantes-blog]

for-hope:

He doesn’t deserve a response from someone so much beyond him, he knows that, but still, a traitorous part of him wishes the other man would look his way. Say something. How selfish. His presence probably isn’t worth acknowledging.

Still… he walks closer, as close has he dares, and looks out at the ocean as well. The rise of the wave, the crest, and then inevitably, they fall as they rush towards shore. He can’t help but think of luck, the good, the bad, the good again.

He wonder’s what the other man is thinking. Surely nothing so petty.

“Do you like the ocean?” he asks.

They’ve done this scene before, even his brain full of holes remembers that. He isn’t trying to rehash things, it’s just he didn’t get a clear answer before. But the look on Kamakura’s face is different now. On the boat - no, he’d probably just be told he’d been imagining it, that fleeting look of enjoyment. Of fun. But there was none of that now.

He bends his lanky legs and sits down. “Guess not, huh.” he says, without waiting for the verbal denial. A nervous laugh bubbles up and out of his mouth.

Inadvertently continuing to mirror their previous meeting, he says “How’d you end up here?” If anyone could figure out the way this strange city works, it’d be him. And if not, well. That would at least be interesting, right?

“...” All of this is familiar, and he knows Komaeda is aware of it. So of course the man says nothing for a few moments, knowing that the other craves some form of attention from him. He isn’t one to deny what they’d been through, but after some time apart this is almost like meeting someone all over again.

The same predictable questions, except he was asking about the ocean instead of boats this time around. Though he appears to get the hint in his own lack of response now, because he indeed doesn’t really care much for the ocean. Izuru doesn’t care about many, many things. He is working on shedding that mentality, but it certainly has proven to be challenging in its own right.

Nagito’s acting like some nervous school boy and Kamukura is well aware of this, despite he has to appreciate that the excitement was better restrained than when they met on the boat all those years ago. “You’d asked me something similar before.” They are bound, much to his chagrin, and he suspects that this won’t be their last meeting. It never seems to be.

There is a long pause, carmine eyes unblinking as he finally offers a glance in Komaeda’s direction. Really there was no need for it, but he’s become acutely aware that visual contact is important even if he has to struggle against his own indolence. “I don’t know.” But I would definitely like to, is the unspoken phrase which lingers between them.

[pococurantes-blog]

for-hope:

Boring, useless people’s lives are oriented around boring and useless things. The lives of those with talent are like compasses with their specific brand of hope fixed as north. That’s how he knows his isn’t really a talent. What kind of compass just spins randomly between north and south. No, his compass is fixed where those of any useless person ought to be. To talent. As much as his luck tries to spin it, that alone can be is true north.

Which is to say the sensation he gets is akin to someone turning on a superpower electromagnet. He couldn’t not go if he wanted to. It’s just magnetism.

Everyone else might as well have been translucent blobs.  The rest of the world might as well be completely whited out, by the contrast. A single sharp black line in a see of nothing at all. Nagito can feel his heart beat thumbing in every inch of him. His chest, his stomach, his ears, and mostly his throat. He’s going to suffocate.

Standing there, overlooking the ocean on a pier, is a singularity, a collection of fundamental forces strong enough to render the hole in the middle of the city quaint by comparison.

It has to be him. It has to be.

“Kamu…kura?”

He’d told Nagito it did not matter which name he used, and at the time, it had seemed okay to call him by the name of that lowly reserve course boy. But that had been. So stupid. He should beg for forgiveness.

Ah— but wouldn’t that be…. boring?

Admittedly, Izuru is stumped for a change. He hasn’t been able to make heads or tails of this place, or specifically who brought him here, and gathering information has proven unsuccessful. As exciting as this uncertainty had been in the beginning, now he finds himself bored with it all over as he predicts the answer will come eventually and the only thing he can do is lie in wait for some grandiose reveal... Or at least some sort of information wouldn’t be a bad thing. He feels the vaguest hint of irritation clawing at the back of his head, from someone who he knows enough about but hasn’t been able to fully accept just yet. But he’s getting there, as proven by how one of his eyes seem to be exhibiting a reaction which seems silly at best. More cosmetic than anything, and he’s come to accept it just as much as he accepts the situation he’s currently in.

There’s a familiar scent in the air which doesn’t even cause him to flinch or make any sort of gesture to acknowledge who he knows this is. Chin leans against the palm of his hand as he watches the ocean waves lap at the sand underneath with an expression which could only be described as that of pure disinterest. The black-haired man doesn’t care about the scenery, or the people, or specially the one who will unavoidably approach him to attempt some form of interaction. Still, he’ll at least admit one thing:

He didn’t expect to find the luckster here of all places.

[pococurantes-blog]

PERMANENT STARTER CALL. 

I’ve had enough of this dude, but this is a call for potential interactions in case anyone is interested. 

Like this post if: 

You’re alright with me messaging you in order to see what you prefer (improv starter, plotting, etc). 

Are interested in interacting. 

Have a cool idea and would rather i approach first. 

Want to involve yourself in long term plots. 

Would like to develop your character and Izuru. 

Are fine with me sending asks out of the blue. 

If we’re mutuals please don’t be afraid to send me an IM if you’d like to plot something or whatever you’re feeling up for, even chatting! 

Thank you!