perfunctory

(of an action or gesture) carried out with a minimum of effort or reflection. - - - - - - - swf looking for rp partners feel free to message if you want to interact or plan anything!!!! multi muse blog for lili

[snues]

[CLOSED] for hexx0r

[hexx0r-blog]

          “The fact that you think so is endearing.” Her amused chuckle doesn’t last long really, but she further adjusts herself upon one of the pews anyway. It’s hard to look at her conversation partner with the rickety benches facing the other way.  Besides, she doesn’t really know if she had to defend herself just yet. He seemed complacent — but peaceful, for now, but how long will that last?

                  She’s a street magician (to most). A witch.                              One who could perform tricks otherwise unimagineable.                                             But really, she prefers to be called a Dark Mage.

                       So it’s not too uncommon to have people after her head.

          The rotted wood and nails that jutted out of the surface of her makeshift throne gives it its character, she thinks, but she rises anyway in order to greet her visitor.

          “Business, then. Who do you want hexed? I’ll have you know that if you’re making me find my own ingredients it’ll be extra. It’s hard to come by things nowadays.”

          .

[snues]

His brows only crease further when she says "endearing". He doesn't bother responding to that, so he instead stays silent until she addresses the important part.

While he's prone to violence, he'll only do it when needed. If she attacks, he'll defend. if someone proves themselves to be an enemy, they better be ready to be treated like one. With that philosophy in mind, it makes sense that Dante would be so complacent.

He watches her closely as she moves, eyes seemingly narrowing.

"Nah, I'm not here for that." He can live without having to procure desecrated squirrel semen, he doesn't know how Kat can do it because he sure as hell can't. "Things're gonna get ugly when the feds get here, so I'll make this quick."

"Protection for services. You can do whatever the hell you want, as long as you help us out."

Not "me", but "us".

[snues]

[CLOSED] for hexx0r

[hexx0r-blog]

          When the door to her not-so fabulous lodgings is kicked down, the woman in question can’t quite but help but draw her attention to the now wide-open space. At first, she’d assume it was the cops busting her for trespassing (among other things that need not to be named) and she didn’t really want to be seen there and have her oh-so spotless* record tainted.

                                                 ** it’s not actually. it’s stained red. gushing red.                                                      but under official records? she’s clean.

          But when he stands there expectantly, Tharja swings her legs over to the side of the pews that she’d been laying on, sitting up with a languid stretch before casting her glance over him fully — it seemed like the young man had business with her after all.

                       … plus he’s far too.. tainted, to be completely lawful.                        She could tell that just by looking.

          “Good.. morning?” She isn’t even sure. It’s bright out, that’s for sure. “So, what could I do for you. It doesn’t look like you’re here for a confession, that’s for sure.”

[snues]

His brows raise slightly, openly looking at the other. Old habits die hard, as they say. Dante walks in as the woman swings her legs, still some ways from the other as he moves down the aisle. When she greets him, or at least attempts to, he tilts his head to nonchalantly.

"That makes two of us."

He stops after closing some distance, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He doesn't really think she's hear to preach either, but he doesn't feel like speaking so much to a stranger, let alone a woman with a record like hers. Even if he discovered it through word of the mouth.

"Listen, you don't know me and I don't know you. But I have a proposition that I don't think you can refuse."

[snues]

[CLOSED] for hexx0r

Why exactly Vergil wants a witch on his side when they already have one (one he's grown accustomed to, thank you very much), he'll never know. His brother is one he can't often figure out at times, but the ones he can, it's like he's had the ability all along. While he's been briefed on what she's been doing, despite it being mundane shit, he's been given the choice between capturing the mysterious witch or doing some good old fashioned community service.

That being, being his lackey as he traverses through the various codes of Limbo City.

Dante walks through a puddle, the rain deciding to get in his way. With hood zipped up, he traverses through the city, his destination being a church. One that he didn't destroy, as luck would have it. When he arrives, he eyes the doors before he kicks it open. The doors fling open, the sound echoing within the church itself. And... he swears church's aren't supposed to smell like this.

Nor remain so unkempt.

He doesn't speak, but he figures his entrance is key enough for the witch to turn and look at him.

[executs]

wub wub demons wub wub

[executs]

--

    The sound of glass shattering captures her attention — it’s different from the rhythmic thrumming of the bass, after all, and it was definitely off-rhythm enough for her to pick up.

    The sound in itself shouldn’t have been too surprising though, all things considered, especially when she’s in such a seedy bar. The facility itself is packed with testosterone-raged meat sacks, all fired up and ready to blow.

                                            A ticking time bomb with a short fuse,                                                         and the capacity to level a small town.

    And honestly she’s ready to watch it catch fire and burn and destroy.

    When she finally finds the source of the sound, she follows the trajectory with her eyes to try and see who was responsible. Initially it wasn’t anything more than a game to see if she could catch the culprit with her gaze, but when she set her eyes on her would-be suspect, she perks up!

    There’s a chill that tingles down her spine and the oh-so familiar spark of interest flares up in her chest.

    It’s a game she plays every now and then — participant unknowing to the ploy — where she drops a thread and see if it’ll become another of her strings to entwine within her vast web-like network.

    She’s planning anarchy and she needs participants to help her.

    So she snatches the bottle that was making its way down the table (it was for the person somewhere down the line, but she doesn’t care. it’s a small price to pay for her self-given mission.) and curls her thin digits around the dewed glass carefully before hopping off her stool, heeled soles striding across the questionably sticky floor —

                                                                              — and intercepts her newfound subject.

    “You dropped something.”

[snues]

He hears heels-- the sound is always distinct to him. But it's dimmed out by the music blasting all around him, senses focusing in only on the rhythm of the song playing and dimmed lighting. Dante's nearing the exit, shrugging on his coat further and almost leaves.

Almost.

If not for the girl nearing his space.

Dante knows very well his empty bottle broke against the wall, near hitting the man whom looked at him. So when he hears those words, he only glances down at her, his expression passive. Even while intoxicated, he's still fully functional. But the shift in planes he's looking at isn't-- not when he's starting to see things that aren't there.

So after he looks down at the girl, he looks past her.. then right back at her. But it doesn't last long, because he decides to brush off her attempt at conversation by continuing his walk towards the exit.

[executs]

closed @snues

                                                — she’s not supposed to be here.

    Not according to the common law anyway. But then again — she was never really good at listening to others, let alone keep track of the things she isn’t supposed to do. Namely, perch herself upon a bar stool with her dainty (manicured, meticulously cared for) hand over a glass; lithe digit circling the rim with the tip of her finger. If there’s a hypnotic sound (as any good glass would) she certainly can’t hear it over the booming music.

    Every drink that was sent her way was sent away with a flutter of lashes and a mischievous grin; and if they dare inch closer to the self-proclaimed Empress, she strikes. Tongue like molten silver and locks like woven gold, there’s hardly a man that exist that she couldn’t twist to do her bidding.

    Drink number five was passed onto her by the bartender, one who so generously turned a blind eye at her age*.

                                                                                *  a lie, but a good one.                                                                                    he knows better than to tattle                                                                                    on the one who holds his darkest                                                                                    deepest, secrets.

    When the sender takes that one brief moment to ogle another girl, she dumps the contents of her drink into the glass next to her. She may be able to do whatever she wished, but she didn’t necessarily feel the need to partake in drinking herself silly.

    She had a job to do after all! A contact for an exchange. Sadly they hadn’t agreed to meet her anywhere else but somewhere public. They were smart, she thinks, but murder in a crowded club is hardly impossible.

    Watching hormone-crazed drunks grind on each other could only entertain her for so long though, and she’s super duper duper close into just up and leaving.

[snues]

Not a night passes where he doesn't frequent the night club in the seedier parts of Limbo City. Not a night passes where he doesn't drink himself silly, and sames goes for having a grand old time. With his quick tongue he always managed at least two or more girls to come home with him, because-- hell, not like he's gonna live long anyway.

Dante drinks from the bottle, not caring if the action itself is messy. It is, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hands. The distinction between reality and Limbo gets thinner, and he's greeted with the same vibrant colors that Limbo City itself lacks. Some people give him looks, their eyes turning a sickening black, the same substance bleeding from their eyes as they stare.

And his patience runs thin, the sudden fury that accompanies such sights. Fuck off, he thinks. So he throws his bottle near the couple that stares, which, to any normal person, seemed to mind their own business. There's an uproar for a moment, some yelling that he ignores in favor of his own needs.

He abruptly stands, stance aggressive before he walks out of his seat in front of the stage (where the girls always dance-- they say it's his spot) and moves through the dance floor to leave. There's not even a passing glance to any girls that shouldn't be here, because at the moment any girl who might be company aren't in his thoughts.

[aardens]

“It’s perfectly livable for me, though. See, I’m pretty neat when I make my art, so I’m allowed to be a little lazy when I’m back home, right?”

It seemed perfectly logical to him, but people generally didn’t understand his point of view. It was fine — he already got used to their lack of tolerance, merely keeping to himself. But she knew of his secrets, and she agreed to live with him even despite that — why, he wasn’t sure, but at least in front of her, he didn’t have to calculate the words he said. Talking was so boring and pointless when every sentence could be a potential landmine.

“Yeah, right over there! Let me help you with the bags, while I’m on this whole gentleman rush,” grinning slightly, he moved to close the distance between them, extending his hand towards her expectantly.

[snues]

She's taken back, the disgust clear on her face. She's lucky her back is to him otherwise this might cause some problems, not like he'd care, though. Despite him being so open to her, that didn't mean she still wasn't sick at the mention of it, or felt some guilt that she didn't try and stop him. Rationalizing it as 'none of her business' when in reality she felt very responsible for those involved. 

"I'm sure your delicacy brought comfort to the families involved."

Sarcasm, sarcasm laced with disbelief at what she's hearing. But at the same time, she's not really surprised. So say she is, is saying she hardly knows the other at all. And as he moved closer, she feels hesitant on giving him the bags. But then she shoves it into his hand and waltzes ahead, attitude in full tow. "Well, if you're finally going to act like a gentleman, then let me help you in being one." meaning, for that earlier comment, she's going to make you her lackey for her entire stay.

[aardens]

  He didn’t expect much gratitude — not from her, anyway — but that didn’t stop him from gushing over his own, kind heart, ignoring the girl standing in the living room for a good few seconds. With a theatrical bow to greet her, as soon as she speaks, he quietens down — looking around his apartment quickly. It wasn’t the biggest, nor nearly anywhere close to luxurious, seeing as his ‘hobby’ required him to move places often. Nevertheless, he found himself staying here for a longer period of time — which is also why he didn’t mind taking a stray from the streets, the girl having some issues with her own home.

It’s hard to say Uryuu had any interest in her reasons for running away.

“Well, I’m a busy man! You can’t expect me to pick everything up!” Stumbling over a cup or slipping on a stray pair of socks never bothered him much in the first place. “Besides, your room is relatively clean. Might’ve stored some stuff in there at some point, but —”

Well, it’s safe to say that she’d do herself a favor if she opened the windows and left them like that for a few days, at least.

[snues]

"Yes, I can. You live here, don't you? You can at least make it livable for yourself. It's none of my business, anyway."

She seems relatively pleased to hear that her room is nothing like this, but that doesn't mean she's going to live in these conditions. "I'm not going to ask what kind of stuff that may be," she sighs, dusting off her skirt. This was all so... gross though. She fumbles a bit with whether she should take the initiative and clean it but.. she rummages through a bag, bending over to grab a change of clothes. "And where's this room? Down the hall, right?" she asks, tossing locks of hair behind her shoulder.

"Busy, he says.."

[snues]

To wonder how she got in this situation was simple enough. The fact that this was one of her only plausible options made her want to seethe a little on the inside, but she sucked it up. Nonetheless, Rin Tohsaka finds herself to be in the apartment of Ryuunosuke Uryuu. With her bags in hand, she throws them on the ground of the living room, finding the stench to already be horribly grotesque. She would complain but.. he took her in, so she owes him some common respect.

"Don't you ever clean up in here?"

Sort of. But she's toning her frankness down juuuust a bit.

[aardens]

He’s still a little dazed by the prolonged sleep and unpleasant images — nevertheless, he registers her lack of cooperation right away, letting out a small, resigned sigh. Of course, it was to be expected; when did she ever behave like someone else wanted her to? “Gee, surprise, surprise, I don’t exist for the sake of your entertainment. In fact, I’m seriously torn between what’s better — being asleep and having nightmares or being awake and have you provide them,” snorting quietly, he didn’t push the subject any further; she’d tell him when she’d tell him.

Eventually.

“Do you even want to take a break? That venomous smile suits you well,” besides, he’d rather not deal with any strange personality swaps right now. She was unpredictable, and he was too tired to guess what’s coming next; too hung up on the feeling of someone else holding his hand. Her next words manage to make him smile, though, an unfocused kind of grin as he looks down at her with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Nah, I think me towering over you fits every situation.”

Hope is superior to despair, after all. Bigger, stronger; although her threats don’t go unheard.

“Does it bother you that much? How petty,” rolling his eyes, he takes one step away from her, but doesn’t sit back down; eyes narrowing when she speaks again. He had good memories — well, kind of. The first few days with Hinata-kun were one of the best that happened to him, right before, well, the other boy began to feel fear rather than kindness. 

It was inevitable, he guessed. Besides, he became worthless pretty fast.

“That’s none of your business,” she was literally the last person he wanted to hear these things from, the irritated, cutting tone of his voice betraying his mood despite the forced, neutral expression.

[snues]

There's a click inside her head.

It's whirling, and there's a surge of something she can't quite put her finger on. Her neck cranes, "Nagito," her 'heart' swells, annoyance suddenly piling.. he doesn't know? He doesn't know! A whole choir sings, laughs at the poor soul who thinks that he isn't here to entertain her. Well, he may be right in some aspect, not to entertain, but to serve a purpose. To serve Junko Enoshima's purpose. "This is my world."

"You exist because I let you."

Those words slip with no precaution, hands spreading in a grand manner, to show him just what she meant. This room, his friends, her friends, him, her, everyone-- "You shouldn't be saying such naughty words unless y'want your tongue bitten off. I can add that onto the list, too, if ya want. No biggie over here." the way he holds that air of superiority doesn't suit him.

It doesn't suit him, at all. That's okay, she can fix it.

"Isn't it mad messed," she takes a step forward when he takes one back, "how all that bad luck keeps piling onto each other? Do I count as that? Oh man, how long do you even have after this when everything's all over? I could be living as long-- ahahaha! I'm already dead, isn't that funny? We can be dead together." a callous remark befitting of a callous individual. "Who'd want to be dead with you, though? I'm not that desperate to do a double suicide with a pathetic, hope-inducing loser like you."

" ....... .... .. . . " Her face falls entirely.

"Maybe I'm being a bit too harsh? You're my first guest after all, and someone I thought fondly of despite all of your miscalculations till now. Though your own stance on this board will throw complications your way, I hope you know that."

[aardens]

“Clearly,” he confirms, forcing his expression to remain neutral. Of course, he recognizes her just fine — he was one of the first people who managed to get most of his memories in check, even though half of them were empty guesses; something to fill the blank spaces that didn’t quite fit.

She did fit, though, like a perfectly constructed puzzle; even if her reasoning was more than questionable. He didn’t suppose understanding her was his top priority, though; after all, they were opposites.

“I’m fine now,” he’s sure she’s not asking, but he says it anyway, wrinkling his nose as if he’s trying to get rid of the sleepiness and unpleasant memories of it. Her next sentence catches his attention, and he tips his head up with a questioning look in his eyes, the confusion blatantly obvious on his features. “Huh? No one else? Who are you still waiting for?” God, he didn’t like not knowing things at all.

Snorting quietly, he spreads his arms in a small shrug, finally pushing himself up to stand. Her looking down at him just didn’t feel quite right.

“I’ve had that expression stuck on my face for a while now. I’m gonna let my facial muscles take a break,” nodding with newfound conviction, how childish would it be to refuse to smile simply because she suggested it? “Besides, it doesn’t fit the situation at all, does it?” He feels tense; annoyed. Probably still because of the dream, but her presence wasn’t exactly soothing, either.

[snues]

She didn't ask, purely because she knew he'd say it anyway.

"Why do you care? I don't think I'm obligated to even tell you anything, you wouldn't wake up for who knows how long and that's sin enough." her smile turns vicious, for a moment, eyes ravenous and baring their true intent. That was for a moment, though, and by the time you can recognize it it's gone like a flash. Gone like her happiness, gone like her irritation-- yet that itch that she can never be rid of is still there. "You'll find out eventually, anyway."

Her smile falls.

"Then does that mean I can take a break too? I'd probably get bored of it so fast, though, is it even worth it? I'm cute no matter what I do, so I guess it wouldn't matter, either," she babbles, but abruptly stops when he stands to his full height. "Who said you could stand?" she looks up to the other, cheeks puffing and brows furrowing. "If you smiling doesn't fit the fuckin' situation then neither does you towering over me."

"If you don't, I can just make everything worse for your besties. Or I can break your leg. Or I can render you incapable of moving. Or make you experience everything you don't want to."

"Ah, that reminds me, d'you like even have nice memories? Probably not, since your life sucks so bad. Ahahaha!"

[aardens]

It was unlike him to dream of his parents — it was unlike him to dream about his past at all, keeping all the misery hidden somewhere in the dark crevices of his unpredictable mind. And yet, there he was, barely four feet tall again — holding onto his parents’ hands as if they were a lifeline, when in fact — on a grand scale of things — they proved to be of little importance, dying a pathetic death right in front of his eyes.

In the other hand, it was an event necessary for his character. Learning to deal with loss so early in your life meant lack of reaction to it later on, any further deaths too unimportant to faze him. Empathy became apathy, sane mind poisoned with wickedness; he wasn’t sure when exactly he started going mad, but back then, things like that still managed to make him cry.

Oh well; it was a long time ago.

Now… — ah.

Snapping back into consciousness, the confusion was the main reason he even bothered to push himself up and look around, gaze stopping on a familiar face nearby; always close, always above, like a predator waiting for its prey to awake.

Ha.

“… ?” 

[snues]

"You're awake?"

It's always so easy to tell when the other's having a bad dream. It's easy to tell for her purely because she's Junko Enoshima. Even in this form, she's still superhuman. A god on the plane the mortals walk, and one whom wishes to reign a shower of despair upon the land. "I've been standing here since, like, forever! I thought you were going to succumb to that dream of yours before you'd give me the time of day."

No real care that she's flaunting her presence so openly in front of the other, in fact, it's a wonder if she cares about this situation at all. "Don't tell me you're just going to sit there... no one else is going to be waking up anytime soon, anyway, due to my calculations. Take a seat or somethin'."

"Awwww. Where's the smile?"

"You always look better with that dumb expression, anyways."

Fingernails tap the walls before she walks just a bit closer, trying to figure what the proper route to take would be, all the while staring at him gleefully.

[snues]

It's all a matter of waiting, right?

She wonders how exactly she came into this position, probably from being previously dead (she always wonders things like this, maybe it's because she always feels so dead-- bored). And, how she's waiting for Komaeda, of all people, to wake up. She's still getting used to the whole prospect of feeling that special tingle when you move your hands, or when your 'foot' falls asleep.

Even if everything about this Junko Enoshima is a fake, she's the closest thing to the real deal.

Elaborating on that is too much work now, though, because she feels like someone is going to wake up. So she's going to wait. And wait, and wait, until they do, with that smile on her face and fingers twisting her hair.

Hopefully she won't get bored, that'd be awful despair-inducing.

[edesem-blog]

“…”

“That’s true, yes.”

Oh yeah, wasn’t he supposed to be dead too, or something? Several times over? Not to mention his millions of alternate selves, but!! The big question was why this woman knew anything about that. Or maybe she didn’t and she was just saying so. Perhaps news traveled quickly? Or she was a part of Jager’s plan?

Suddenly, that became a lot more important than how she got stuck in the concrete.

[snues]

Oh, no, she did.

She made it really obvious, too.

But knowing the way this guy acted, she kind of left it vague because the last thing she wanted was him hounding her like the fox he was. "Exactly," she sighed almost instantly as she spoke.

"So then why is it you're here yet again? I thought you've been finally killed off."

[edesem-blog]

It would have been peaceful for him, too, if he hadn’t seen a girl of all things laying on a bench in the middle of nowhere. Or, at least, what was nowhere to him. Was she dead, or sleeping? Was it weird of him to go check…? Slowly, but surely,  he’d approach, furrowing his brows and creeping as silently as possible… 

“Um, excuse me, miss…?”

Cue a hand ever so softly touching her shoulder. 

[snues]

With someone lightly nudging her, it was hard for her to awake. Especially when he was so light hearted about the act the only thing he had gotten out of her was a light stir. And after some odd time, her blue eyes fluttered open.

" A - Ah... "

[edesem-blog]

Bit tittied bimbo?

That made him curious too, but, he certainly cared less about that than how she’d gotten stuck there. 

“It’s good to hear you’re alright. A fall like that could have easily been fatal…”

Byakuran didn’t care enough to ask if she needed assistance in finding this bimbo, but! He did have good will enough to make sure that she was alright, even if she was being somewhat volatile towards him…

[snues]

"So is a punch to the chest but that clearly isn't stopping you."

Came her reply, as prompt as ever. Honestly, what was this guy doing-- he's died, what, three times now? Four? Should she even count his other selves? Why was she still keeping up with Katekyo Hitman Reborn! to begin with?

[edesem-blog]

Wow, he hated the mornings. Waking up, brushing his hair, doing all that stuff…he just wished he could sleep in all the time. Thankfully, today, he really had nothing better to do with himself, and thus, was just taking a morning stroll in the overcast, mist still clouding his path and birds barely chirping.

Wasn’t it supposed to be peaceful, at this time of day…?

[snues]

It was peaceful-- but sadly for Rin, it was the weekend, meaning that Tohsaka would be fast asleep. Not in her bed, though, but on a bench outside of her manor. How Rin got here, we don't know, but the reason why she was out here was obvious in itself. She wasn't a morning person!

[edesem-blog]

Woah, woah, woah, this lady needed to calm down.

“…Are you alright? You seemed to be in quite the pickle.”

Even though there was concern in his voice, there was no recollection of it in his face. He seemed not to mind her aggressive stance, a bright smile reflecting in his features, as if he wanted it to rub off on her. Not that he actually cared. He just wanted to know how she had gotten so stuck in that concrete.

[snues]

Even though there was concern in his voice, Momiji hardly bothered to actually register it .. but she did register this guy's appearance somewhat. He was that one guy that wouldn't stay dead .. the guy that really pissed her off. 

But of course Byakuran probably wouldn't see this expression as she managed to hide it inwardly-- she stood up straight, dusting herself off. "Eh? I'm fine.." Though her response was a passive grumble, scratching her head with her hand that wasn't encased in a cast. "I've lost that big tittied bimbo, though .."