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@polycephebi
(( Actually yknow what this might be easier on my brain in the long run--
Please like this post if it's cool for me to interact with you at any time. i.e random starters, raiding your inbox, whatever
This ain't just for mutuals either! Go ahead and use this post to get my attention if I haven't followed you yet
It's bc Dri fancies himself something 'wisened' and 'cultured' and 'traditional' bc he's just Been Around for so long and spends most of his downtime looking into localized urban spooky stories and bc of that I just have to know a lot of bullshit
update: hokkaido train line research 👍
horror + HC
So nothing really GETS to Dri. As far as horror stories go. Maybe they did, back when he was a kid, but given enough years of seeking out thrill it all starts to water down after a while.
Stories aren't anything. He doesn't, generally, read or watch fiction at all these days. Reality is where it's at.
Even so, with enough downtime, there ARE stories he'll engage with, at least a little - and those are usually gonna be horror.
They have no merit to him, personally-- but he enjoys them on a core level, the fact of their existence. One that sticks out to me is how he doesn't care for hit series Animal Crossing, but he was told about some creepypasta about it, and suddenly nothing is more interesting than that! bc it's funny. bc it's human. bc ghost stories gotta be etched into everything. bc he wants to know what they came up with, and why, and what makes it compelling, and who finds it compelling, and whether he can be rendered at their mercy or not, and how much to laugh when it fails.
his favorite stories are plausibly real, or at least told in such a way that they can ALMOST get him to believe it. The key is almost -- As soon as it's confirmed real, it's not interesting anymore, that's just another stupid paranormal thing. When it's made up, but plays on psychology, fear, the unexplained, the need for answers, the inability to firmly deny -- and when it does such a good job that even he starts to feel doubt, that's interesting!
A movie or a book will never achieve that, though. creepypastas, args, never - just by nature of being firmly fiction. Rumors, whispers, campfire stories will.
His FAVORITE is the Iki Ningyo story
Dorohedoro
Ah, finally, a good question.
They could sense your struggle- but you've ask precious few good questions so far. This is something that can be held and pondered.
"Everything."
"I'm on a journey. On the way, I'm paying my respects to gods and their companions. You, being the sentry of one, makes you one of those such peers. So, before I go, I would enjoy getting to know your story. As it is, I know the road, but not the emotions it bought you."
From their robes, they product a small cup. A light briefly fills it- and before long, the scent of alcohol floats through the air.
"I am here until my companions have finished their own business in this town. So, in the meantime, converse with me. Tell me about this life lived in half, Sentry of the Snake." They offer the cup to your lips, a command wrapped with the bow of a gift. Entertainment often started with a good drink.
Was he meant to see it as a gift?
Was his heart not meant to drop, his feet not to pull away, his lips not to close firmly as a shield against whatever threats slosh within the cup? He tends to measure his face so surely, but in that moment, the fear is a little too clear for anyone's comfort.
Unless you're seeking that. He can't discount it.
It's too late, anyway. This thing saw far too much through him, as it seemed -- His emotions claimed to be the one thing assuredly left in his mind alone, and he felt a wave of protection over them, his private angels.
His lips had wired shut, then. Determined to keep something out or in, didn't matter which, his expression burrowed in a dense coldness that almost never touched his face.
In the back of his mind, he found himself longing for the comforting tip of her sword. Instead, his least favorite question embraced him, tender as a viper;
What do I do?
Yato is desperate—a god without the luxury of pride, an entity so starved of belief that he could disappear at any moment. He makes himself real with every act of petty vandalism. Even if nobody prays, even if nobody calls, at least they will read his name, validating his existence for another hour, just another hour.
But somebody does call. The phone barely completes one ring before he answers, frantic and alert, his whole body rigid with anticipation. The eagerness of the unemployed.
“Moshi-moshi! Thank you for calling, yes, thank you! Good morning! Delivery god Yato at your service! Prayers heard, wishes granted, and requests accepted for only five yen! What can I do for you today?” His voice is as crisp and bright as the morning air, hopeful, energy so high you’d never know he’d been up all night. He smiles as if he knows already he is being watched ( he doesn’t; his enthusiasm just runs that deep ).
He's all at once blown away by the energy -- the hunger. It's the kind of stun so delightful that his lip curls all on its own, that he has to be so careful to not interrupt with a burbling laugh.
"... Ah? Is this some kind of prank?" He presses carefully, the way a human would.
"What does that mean? 'Delivery God Yato'... What's a delivery god?"
Even though he'd rather jump right into it-- to testing this. To PLAYING with it, if he may be so bold.
But he's never heard of a god with such a vague title. Until the basics are uncovered, he can't decide what to do with it.
Izaya accepts the simple, plain card, examining it. Then, in a magic-trick flourish, the paper dances between his fingers and disappears up his sleeve. The contact information will be immortalized in his many phones and the card will come to live in a designated corner of his desk drawer, a keepsake.
The city has given him a gift today. Izaya shimmers with optimism. He’ll ride this high for the next few hours, and even when the ever-persistent boredom settles back into his bones he will still be grateful, hopeful.
“Sounds like a plan,” he sing-songs.
He feels like a giddy schoolgirl. It will take everything in his power not to call immediately.
It really can't be denied, it takes everything in his power to do the same.
In fact, as soon as he sets foot outside the building, he resigns himself to practical torture for the sake of the game, the mystery -- the delight of two entire marshmallows from good ol' Walter.
He spends the rest of the day idling about Ikebukuro, by all accounts aimless, but taking notes, collecting a cursory understanding of the fabled city that can only be experienced on the ground floor. He's careful to leave no further mark of himself, though. Speaks to no one beyond idle chatter, bumps no shoulders, leaves no scuff of his shoe. This isn't his city, after all, no matter how remarkable it proves to be -- and nor is the one he returns to at the end of the day.
When he arrives, late at night, at the apartment signed to Seth, he takes a bath and washes off everything. And when he sleeps, finally, it's not in Ikebukuro nor Funabashi, but in Kashiwa. His town. His world. The place where things that matter actually live.
And he spends the rest of the week there, living his real life, ignoring the ghosts and playthings of the made-up worlds of Funabashi and Ikebukuro. He refuses to return besides to attend humdrum acts of normalcy, to maintain the illusion of Seth's existence ; meetings, grocery runs, saying hello to neighbors, and then abandoning the shell of a human once again.
He lives in Kashiwa. Everything lives in Kashiwa. He wonders if Izaya will find his way there.
He really can't stop wondering it.
The anticipation of the week's end twists like a knife in his stomach.
When he returns to that cafe, it's on the dot ; 7 days, and not one minute more nor less. And yet no matter the surgical precision of it, he then glides in easily, and scans the shop warmly, as if his guts weren't about to burst from ravaging need.
The reaction was typical — though usually she made a point to warn . But of course , u s u a l l y she didn't have clients calling her with so little notice , asking about her services . She had reason to test him from the very beginning — to see whether his version of disappointment might be dangerous — to see how short his F U S E might be . In the first place , it was all for safety . Nothing done so hastily — nothing done so haphazardly . NO — quick , immediate meetings with such HIGH price tags only seemed to invite trouble . The thought was that perhaps at least a brief cooling - off period might dissuade those driven by impulse — that things planned in advance might not provide the specific kind of unstructured solitude the kind of man who may be out to kill may desire . It wasn't fool-proof — it could never be fool-proof — but it was something . Meet first — decide whether they seem safe or dangerous — confirm price — THEN offer the real thing . Did she lose clients over it ? A few . Did she regret it ? No . HE didn't seem to be one of those casualties , regardless . Even less when he attempted to hand her the money immediately . SHE DOESN'T TRUST IT — specifically because he shouldn't trust her so quickly as this . He shouldn't be so comfortable offering her so much money when the promise of what was to come remained in the future far enough that he could be scammed . Not that she was stupid enough to do such a thing — not when her clients were wealthy enough that they could probably have her K I L L E D without facing repercussions . In any case — she knew she had to refuse . It would leave her owing him for far too long — which in turn would leave her far to vulnerable . She laughed it off — light , warm . " Sorry — I usually tell people sooner , but I think I was so surprised by you that it slipped my mind . " As if it weren't orchestrated this way — as if it truly were only an oversight . " It's just precautionary — and really , it's only this time . P r o m i s e . It's like you said — you really can't be too careful , right ? " An appeal to their earlier conversation first — then , a shift to address the large stack of bills in his hand that her gaze would only barely graze over . " As much as I u n d e r s t a n d , it's probably best that you keep it for now — just in case anything changes between now and then . " A gentle refusal — because really , she'd had clients cancel last-minute for a multitude of reasons . She certainly didn't want to be left owing him even longer than a few short days . " How about we meet back here on Friday at — does six work for you ? Or is later better ? " Redirect back to the more positive topic — the one where he DOES get what he wants rather than a strong of denials . " And — as far as hotels , I'll make sure to get us a very nice room , so there's no need to worry about that . "
Of course. See, it all seemed very NATURAL to him, normal, and that was the demeanor with which he ended up accepting her refusal -- and wondering, in the same beat, what it looked like when people DIDN'T accept something so simple. When people were so contorted as a human that they couldn't accept it.
Though he could very well imagine it all, it was the finer details that he longed to see up close. The frustration and anger on their faces. The fear on hers.
Well -- That sounded bad~ He didn't exactly want to see her suffer for the sake of protecting herself. He just couldn't much help but wonder what pure, unfiltered T E R R O R looked like on her face, but nor could he wish to see her pitied, pristine blood spilled for the sake of it. [ This kind of world really is cruel, huh? ] The fact that those types of people exist, that she had to put up this much defense against them -- The fact that he wasn't in any way better, but she might even still consider him one of the 'good ones' for not bothering to pull a knife on her now.
Very sad. Very tragic.
He smiled.
"Ah, you're right-- My bad. Good point~" Laughing sheepishly, he stuffed the cash away again and swept it back into his pocket. "-- Six? Ahh... Maybe Seven? After dinner? Or, do you like to get dinner together? Uh, either way is good to me, I wouldn't wanna put you out any more--
"Either way, sounds good! I'll definitely be here."
And he could find plenty of ways to occupy his time until then.
Perhaps it was counter productive, but the yell in Adrienne's direction had most certainly caught Beau's attention - and that stupid smirk sent him into action! Much to the chagrin of the angry employee, he started to scale the shelves to reach where he was. Unfortunately, by the time he got there, Adrienne was gone. Another employee had joined the first, wielding a particularly large broom, to try and whack him off.
Damian, of course, was witnessing the entire thing, gobsmacked. When he responded to the newcomer, he was greatly distracted. "Uh... Hey," he replied, staring up at his brother crawling toward them like a cat, getting in the leg by a broom. "Sorry. Can you hold on a secon- BEAU, YOU ARE NOT GETTING US KICKED OUT OF ANOTHER WALMART!"
"Hey! That wasn't me last time, that was Noemi!"
Ah! -- Ah! Did he start something ridiculous?? No, this was clearly Beau's fault, and Adriane is only the most innocent of passers-by.
"Oi-! Do a flip!"
Who said that? He looked to Damian.
"Ah-? Another one? Does he do this a lot??" It seemed right for that guy-- But it locks him in to the dedication of being a nuisance. He has to see more of it.
awesome dri traits he has where he's so detached he talks in third person a lot
(( so what's up!! so! I'll be honest, I've been at a weird place with my ocs lately. you guys have been so cool and supportive, just for personal reasons, I can't help feeling weird every time I try to talk about them. dri esp I guess, sadly.
I don't wanna fish for compliments, but I do wanna express that any time you guys express interest genuinely means so much. I always end up feeling like I'm holding on to something I should have let go a long time ago, but the love and passion I have for them is still strong, and any hint of reciprocation is sincerely fueling.
Even so, besides Dri just being a picky muse, the feeling keeps bubbling up.
ig I just wanna acknowledge how slow I've been here X0 I'm not announcing a hiatus or anything, and I'm always happy to chat ab this freak of mine, but I'll probably keep being slow despite how often I lurk. at some point dri became someone I have to be Locked In tm to feel good about writing here. :(
anyway, I've been on @noisyhajimari lately if you miss me <33
I miss ocs tho. I've been debating building new ones from scratch for a fresh start. I'm a lil stuck on ideas tho, sooooo...... if anyone wants to adopt me into your lore...... if you got a wishlist that a fresh new character could fill........... hmu? if I do make new guys, they'll probably show up on @kicnai
anyway that's all I love you guyssss!!
@polycephebi
"N-No way I'd ever forget you...!"
"Ryu-- Ryu-rin..... 🥺....? My first... husband.... 🥺😭?
"After everything we've been through...!!! ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜"
having it pointed out so plainly always earns a wince of embarrassment from her. it’s almost second nature at this point, which is arguably worse than any bad habit she might have. the disappointment has her wanting to apologize, but she can’t bring herself to.
“ will you now? ”
the weight of that word doesn’t go unnoticed. have. kathe knows dri enough ( she’d certainly hope so ) that it might as well be a command. the older brother finally putting his foot down on his little sister’s self-destructive habits.
" ... m'kay. " a mumbled word, the fever finally hitting her proper. " no killing me while i'm sick, though. that's not fair. "
And it's because she gets so cute like this-- His shoulders melt with a slow exhale...
His fingers run along her cheek, and thumb brushes tenderly, worriedly, under her eye.
"Really, Kay-chan is going to kill me first, I think..."
Because he didn't trust her one bit. All cute little 'm'kay's aside, she was going to use her power again, and entirely too generously. She always did.
Pissing him off. Making him fawn. It was for that reason that she fit the bill of 'Dri's little sister' perfectly.
"Shop's closed. You're staying where I can see you for a few days, right?"
What comes next ? This is where she makes her final decision — and of course , it clearly must be a c c e p t a n c e , right ? No reason to deny — even less when it seems now that she's working on a somewhat short time - frame — unless , perhaps , his return was only temporary . Should she press that ? Of course it's better for her if clients remained steady , but he would hardly be the first she only saw on the rare occasion that they were in the area . It's no REAL REASON to deny , was it ? It's time to speak about logistics . She forced herself to ignore that intense , G N A W I N G suspicion that still managed to cling to her . Instead , she addressed his question the same way she would for anyone else — " Next , if you choose to continue , we agree on another night to meet — at a restaurant or bar or something along those lines , usually . Formalities , really — so nobody gets in trouble , but usually we'd go to a hotel next . " The law doesn't tend to appreciate selling sex — so it was as simple as plausible deniability . He pays for her time — and if questioned , she insists the sexual part of the evening was only the result of CHEMISTRY . A legal loophole as old as time — or so she was told . " I charge twenty thousand for one night , cash up front only . Six o'clock until four in the morning , though the exact times are flexible , of course . " She'd certainly never complain about being home early , after all . It was all spoken so casually — so easily — her tone carrying that LILTING AFFECTION that sounded genuine even when it was anything but — then , closed with a suggestion — " If you're interested , I'm available Friday night . " Less than forty - eight hours — sooner than she would typically offer , but between his assertion that he was leaving soon and her fear that she might chicken out — it was as good a time as any .
20,000.
Not Yen. Dollars.
He'd garnered a similar price when looking into her -- but hearing it confirmed at the source, and as fluttery as the wind all the while - was something to marvel at.
She made it sound so easy! And he nodded, and reached for his pocket like-so.
The thing that gave him pause was the date. Friday. He'd have to wait?
Even though it existed in a guess in his mind, and even though it wasn't that far off in the first place, some part of him ended up disappointed, still. He mused a quiet "Ah-" as fingers grazed his wallet.
On one hand, it justified nabbing more from her dad, was the biggest motivator toward acceptance.
-- To be clear, he in fact had no issue paying out of pocket for this. In case there were any doubts about his dedication to the game, he was the type who would sally into debt if it meant he could play with something [ interesting ] . But, the humor to be found in making [ some lowlife kind of guy ] pay for not only his amusement, but a few christmas gifts, too, was all too enticing.
On the other hand, he could EEEAASILY lie about how much time he'd actually spent on this mess. He had every intention to already, in fact.
-- How far would he go with these lies, anyway? It had to be admitted, he was pretty curious what 20,000 dollars was worth, here. Was it all for the name, the pretty face, the guise of 'high class' stapled onto an ordinary person? He was sure she was skilled at her trade, but how much, anyway? Could she indeed manage to please someone like him? He was, after all, incredibly picky about what could excite him in that regard.
The curiosity of it all sure was something. And he had to wait ~?
He stepped forward, drawing the wallet out.
"I see-! Sorry, I was confused, I kinda thought it'd all be tonight- Is that off the table?"
Just in case.
Even so, he started drawing out bills. Chickening out, from his end, was swiftly eliminated as a possibility.
"Can I pay you now, anyway? It's kinda scary carrying all this around, haha--"
She could just take it and run, he was more than aware of that. In fact, a part of him may just as well dare her to, opening up a whole new kind of path for him to follow -- but he didn't think she would. A hunch, but she didn't quite seem that type of person.
He was fascinated to see. To learn all about her.
Shuichi just returns his intense stare with a nervous one of his own. Maybe he was reading too much into he said....or was he? Either way, he didn't want to treat it like he was actually interrogating him.
No matter if he's actually done anything illegal or not, it's not like he could prove it! So with a nod in defeat, he mutters: "...A-Alright. I believe you."
If he was going to say it in such a serious tone, maybe he should just believe him... "S...So you don't have to look so intense. I wasn't going to do anything to you, anyway..."
...! His plan worked!! He ended up defeating the government after all!!
Or, whatever this ''detective'' worked for.
All at once, he relaxed and smiled, all warm and friendly and gentle in a way that not just contrasted the previous moment, but plastered a 'no one will ever believe you' vibe over the alleged intensity. Barring that Shuichi talked to anyone who knew him whatsoever, who would definitely believe it.
"That's good! It's nice to meet you, detective-san~ May I ask about that title? You look like a sweet kid~? No offense..?"
"You're the one that started it dude."
"Dude?? I'm a dude now??
"I called you cute! Since when is that a bad thing!!"
