and then there were none

This woman—this woman was something.

He snorts at her retort before grimacing a bit, he doesn’t even know what to make of her arrogance. But even then, he hesitates…because this is still Yasu, isn’t it? A part of her. He didn’t know himself but it’s not as if he could outright ask at this point in time.

He sighs and decides that maybe, maybe enduring this and trying to play nice was worth it for her. For his student.

"Right. I will trust your claims."

He’s not really startled but confused by the random servants. And interested too, as to how she managed to pay for all of this. This sort of treatment, even though it was more for her than it was him, was starting to overwhelm him.

The car is too small for him, he crouches in an attempt to sit himself down and bumps his head with a loud thud, looking awfully irritated afterwards. In comparison to Beatrice, he’s ridiculously huge and practically squishes himself into the car, purposefully scooting towards the very edge of the seat so she’ll have some space. And also to avoid physical contact.

"You have…done a lot for this occasion. This is all rather considerate of you.

T-..thank you. “

And just as he was starting to play nice, she had to say that. His disposition changes like a light switch.

"Stop it. Stop. saying. that. She is not furniture…! You are a petty—…"

No. Not today.

"Ugh! Just…can we go already?"

He sounds like an impatient child who doesn’t want to talk to their parent about the not-so-good report card that recently came in the mail.

#lifescratching #in ur reply they can reach place or it can be in my next!#also guess what #DESMOND'S BEEN IN A CAR #IS HE A TEMPLAR

Gosh, was it really so hard to be respected while on a date? Sure, he didn't argue with her, but his response and phrasing made it clear he didn't believe her. Her words were not claims, but truth, even if she couldn't state it in red right now.

Still, she was rather surprised herself by his words of gratitude. He sounded sincere somewhat. And that slightly shy hesitation was like music to her ears. It was weakness obviously, and she craved to see him like that. But, she didn't understand what brought it on. She wasn't being considerate or going out of her way to do any of this. This was all... normal, wasn't it? She simply intended to create the perfect date. All of the arrangements were simple to her, and what any person would do in her position. It wasn't like it was that hard to plan or afford either.

"It's nothing. Really. This is nothing."

As soon as his mood shifted so did hers. Her face lit up with a smile that was more frightening than it was truly happy. For now, she resisted the urge to laugh, as surely that would come soon enough.

"Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! Furniture! FURNITURE! FURNITUUUUUUURE!! SHE IS FURNITURE!"

With that little burst out of her system, Beatrice cleared her throat and gave a more pleasant smile, though there was something threatening behind it.

"Compliment me."

All the while the car moved along as if the situation inside it wasn't happening at all.

"Remind me how beautiful I am. Tell me what you love most about me. Go on and on about my wonderful qualities, I won't mind."

a night to remember

Rarely do “challenges” panic Connor. But there is no other way to verbalize how he’s felt this week with a word that wasn’t “panicked”. He wasn’t adept with this whole romance business—dates, kissing, holding hands…Desmond was different. And he wasn’t even going to discuss his relations with Ezio, let alone think about them.

Men and women were…different, weren’t they? He sighs as he ties his hair, slipping off the beads that hold his braid and slicks his bangs back before adjusting the tie Yas—…Beatrice had sent as a part of the personalized suit he was to wear on their date. There was some sort of cape alongside with it, a single-winged bird emblazoned on it along with the suit.

It looks ridiculous. These aren’t even his measurements—his pecs and biceps are ready to burst right through the fabric of his suit. Something tells him that this suit hadn’t been initially meant for him to wear.

So he was playing dressup. Pretend. That seemed to be the case. He always was awful at playing a role that wasn’t his own. From what he sees outside, it seems as if she’s playing dressup as well.

With one arm, he holds the absurdly heavy pair of gold plated shoes he somehow got her, and with the other he holds a bouquet of roses and takes his leave.

What. The hell. Was that? That thing next to her? A car? Was she a Templar, ready to kidnap him? No, no, she was his student, she couldn’t have been a Templar! But she had the specs and ideals for it…damn! How do you ask someone if they’re a Templar?

He approaches her looking as unamused as always and rolls his neck a bit to ease his tenses.

"Hello. Um."

Shit. What does he do next. Compliment her? Yeah. Sure

"You are…stunning. Like a queen. Like queen Mary 1 of England, immediately after ordering for an execution."

Oops. Maybe the bitterness in his voice was a little too audible.

"Oh. And these are for you."

He drops the gold plated shoes onto the pathway without a single care and a very, very loud thud in place of it, and then motions the bouquet of flowers towards her. In the bouquet, a wooden carving of a one winged eagle can be seen—it’s surprisingly beautiful and intricately made. He spent all night making it after all. Not as if he gets much sleep anyways.

"Where will we be going? For this date, I mean."

#lifescratching #everyone who uses cars is a templar

She looked him over, as if appraising a piece of furniture. Or perhaps, a piece of future furniture. He didn't look completely horrible, but it was clear more work would be necessary. Some things would be easier than others. The clothes, she'd design new ones and have him meet with a tailor. Others were harder, like his entire demeanor. That would take time, she knew, though she didn't have much patience. But perhaps someday, she would have him smiling at the sight of her. Greeting her perfectly and opening the door for her like a gentleman should.

For now though, she simply rolled her eyes at his attempt of a compliment. It was all true, of course, and she knew it, but his words did not share the same conviction as her thoughts. And so, they meant nothing.

"Please, I'm not that young."

He didn't know her age, did he? Well, now he did. Sorta. Older than Mary I, at least. That was honestly enough for a human to get the idea of her age, she thought.

As he dropped the shoes on the ground, she looked at them with an expression that had to be something close to disgust. Or perhaps, it was confusion? A sigh escaped her lips and she motioned towards the chauffeur waiting in the car. They quickly got out and took the shoes, and then the roses. She motioned again and they opened the backseat doors. Beatrice got into the car and then waited for Connor to do the same.

"There's a restaurant in town that I deemed acceptable for tonight. We will have it to ourselves. After that... we'll see."

Of course, she had plenty of ideas and options in place. Even if he thought of one of his own, she could easily have it prepared in seconds. While this was a challenge, it really seemed like she was treating him somehow.

"You know. Most people would smile in this situation. After all, this is the first time you've seen my true form. Surely you prefer this over that furniture I was using as a vessel."

He wouldn't, would he. He'd get angry and yell at her, repeat all that stuff about love and hope again. It was useless arguing, though. First off, he was wrong. Second, his only goal tonight was to please her. Arguments were not pleasing, unless one counted the fact that she enjoyed watching him struggle. Still, it wasn't pleasing in a "date" way. So, if he were to argue against her, she would win. And so early in the night too! The witch grinned knowingly at Connor, waiting for his response.

a night to remember

Why... why had she decided upon this challenge again? While it did make sense from a writer's point of view, as well as a reader's, she herself did not get it. It would likely prove amusing, as she was certain he had no experience with such things. But, why was she doing this? Why was she involved? It really had been a spur of the moment decision, hadn't it?

A date to her... it was pointless. She wasn't interested in him, not in that way at least. After all, there was only one person --

After all, he wasn't worthy of courting a Great Witch such as herself! They were far from equals, so this night was nothing more than make believe.

Beatrice let out a sigh and stared at the door in front of her. It had been decided she would arrive at his apartment and from there the night would begin. Outside a car was prepared for them, and while it wasn't a limo, it was clearly... something. Once they were situated in inside, it would take them to the nicest restaurant in town, which she had rented out for the occasion. It was more so that she didn't want to deal with other people than that she wanted to be alone with him. After that... well, they'd see. It depended on his performance, really.

Finally growing tired of leaning on her cane, she knocked upon the door in a strange sort of rhythm. And she waited, hoping this night's roulette would end in her favor.

#the title sounds cliche but little do you know it's hsm3.#lifescratching

pick your poison ;; open

"It’s not the money, it’s the principle of the matter." She urges, leaning forward slightly. And that alleged principle was that there was no point in playing pretend if she didn’t get to pour a few drinks.

The woman is putting on a fairly obvious air, but then again who isn’t in a crowded bar after dinner? Red had spent a good portion of her life sitting in dimly lit bars trying to decode people, and this interaction wasn’t much more than a day in the life.

Still, she finds the woman’s brand of pomp and ceremony pleasantly different. Because from what Red can see she seems to be more concerned with enjoying her role than she does convincing anyone else of its authenticity.

Though… that could just be Red projecting onto her companion.

Who knew really.

"A game.." Red mumbles after her, eyes widening slightly with curiosity, and she listens patiently as the woman states the terms of their game.

"Collaboration, fun!" Her tone is that of genuine amusement, almost singsong as she sets aside her props (the rag) and pours herself another glass of bourbon. Though her eyes stay trained on the trail of liquid pouring out of the bottle she "hmms" quietly and considers the other woman’s offer.

"What do I want?" And she downs the glass in one gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I want you to answer whatever questions I have at the end, as honestly as you can and to the best of your ability."

Red offers the woman her other hand.

"Deal?"

Hm, so that's what she wanted? If that was true, then... everything was working out just fine. Curiosity and wonder, both those gave birth to magic as well as mystery.

She hesitated for a moment, mulling the words over in her head. There were still, of course, things to be worried about. Logic errors, mostly. Beatrice always kept her promises, which meant if she were to lose she could not lie no matter what. However, there were ways to get around that. "Beatrice" could answer untruthfully, but if to her it was the truth, was it really a lie? Her existence tiptoed between truth and lies, so it really was an easy loop hole to find. So, then, there was no need to be worried, was there? She would answer to the best of her ability and she would answer honestly, but then again could this woman really best her? Either way, the challenge thrilled her.

"I accept."

The witch lifted her hand to meet the other's. As their fingers interloped in a strange sign of trust, the bar's dim lighting hit her ring at just the right angle, causing it to glimmer more so than before.

And with that, she began to spin her tale. Her words invited the other woman to another place, another time, and it seemed almost as if the entire world around them had disappeared. She spoke easily and freely, yet her words were precise and perfect. At times, she'd emphasize certain words, completely ignore others, and it didn't seem to have much importance when compared to the story. Eventually, she reached the end, although she stopped just before it, looking to the other to finish it for her.

"Tell me now, how does our story end? Who is the culprit?"

#gildedmic

refuge [open to practical survival students]

He gnashes his teeth when she cackles again—so loud, so unpleasant. He’s only know this woman for 5 or 6 minutes and it seems as if all he can expect from her is a cackle. A condescending cackle that made his blood boil.

Her words all meld together like some rage filled blur, but he catches bits and pieces, some of which aggravate him, others leaving him…confused.

But he realizes that this very evidently something personal.

Something he doesn’t really understand himself at this point in time. A part of Yasu that he doesn’t have the right to pry into.

"No human being is furniture. Love, respect, happiness…things we are all deserving of."

"…And that applies to you as well."

But does he really mean it? Love, respect, happiness…he is not entirely sure of he’s worthy of those things either. As a human being, he was. But as Connor?

He didn’t know. Didn’t consider it. He was to protect his tribe, help those in need, devote his body and being to the Brotherhood. Without that, he would be…

well, nothing. Nothing worth caring for. So her words, they strike strings that he can’t see himself but he most certainly feels them.

"Your choice, your challenge. What do you propose we do.”

He considered issuing his own challenge, but that would provide him with the advantage and not even that felt right to him.

"And what can I give you? What do you want? Only you can answer that."

#lifescratching #he would be really good furniture tho :^(

Her mouth pursed as he continued to spew nonsense. Did everything she say just pass right through him? Beatrice sighed, more tired than anything. It was like explaining physics to a child, only more difficult than that.

"Your words have truth to them, but... it seems you're still not understanding. Perhaps, I should make it more clear: Sayo Yasuda is not human. As much as she may appear to be so, that's simply a lie. She is furniture."

... But what he was implying with that 'you as well' thing? That she thought herself as furniture? That she was the same as that... thing?! She paused, trying to remain calm. He wasn't worth it, to tell the truth. If after all this, he didn't get it, why should she waste her efforts any more?

"As for myself... I am not human. I thought I had made that much clear already. I am the Golden Witch Beatrice."

Ah, he hadn't thought this far, had he? He thought, "I'll challenge her," but did not carry the thought any further than that. Something about that was familiar to her, taking her on without even considering what it entailed... She pushed the thoughts out of her head and instead focused on the matter at hand. As he had allowed her to choose, she could easily choose a mental challenge and win. The chance that he would win was incredibly small, but not large enough to make for an interesting game. Most of all, she'd like for him to pledge his life to her as furniture. She'd love to see him kissing her shoes, begging her to even acknowledge him. Yes, he'd be a fine piece of furniture. But... he was not ready for that yet. He wouldn't accept at this point in time, she knew that. She still had work to do with him. It would take time, but eventually she would wear him down and have her furniture just as she wanted. But, what would she do for now?

"... You shall take me on a date."

Her thoughts became words all too fast and she spat it out, almost immediately regretting that she too hadn't taken the time to think this over. Still, she couldn't let him know that. She had to play it off as exactly what she wanted.

"Yes, your challenge will be to please me in an act of courtship. You speak so easily of love, so it should be easy for you to show it to me. If you are able to please me, I will do as you wish. And if I win..."

"You will be mine for a day. You will do as I say. And before you complain, this is an incredibly generous offer on my part. I would rather you swear allegiance for life, but I'll let you off easy this time. And during that one day, I promise my requests will not be ridiculous. I will not make you kill anyone, unless you're inclined to, I suppose. Just serve me. Make me tea. Get the mail. Easy tasks like that.

Well, then. Do you accept?"

--;day one.

“An orphanage?" That raised a brow. Not in a judging way, of course. ”I used to live in an orphanage, too. I was adopted with two other boys, though." She wasn’t the type to just throw that information out there, but it was different when hearing that someone had also been in a similar situation before.

At the other words, Kido sighs as well. She didn’t realize it was that obvious, though to be fair she did notice this in him, too. If it weren’t for a certain someone’s words echoing in the back of her mind, this conversation would probably have ended the moment it started.

“..Yeah. I’m not used to this." She allows a slight grin to appear though, joining the expression party.

“Well, it wasn’t especially unpleasant. I’ll.. see you around, then?”

#concealest #fucking emo nerds

He didn't respond. Exactly, how was he supposed to respond to that information? Cool? Orphan fist bump? Of course, it must have been strange for her to respond to his words, but that hadn't really registered with him until after he had spoken. And even so, it wasn't like they were really similar. She was human. She had a family. She was loved. Even if their stories had began in similar places, they were fated to have completely different endings. And while her life may have its ups and downs along the road, she at least had the possibility of a happy ending. No such thing existed for him. Because... he was furniture.

His brows furrowed at her smile, confused. Why... was she smiling. It wasn't unpleasant? What was she talking about? Their entire conversation had been awkward and horrid and certainly unpleasant. Perhaps, that brought her joy. Perhaps... she liked talking with him because he was so pitiful? By looking at him, she could think, "I'm not that bad," and in that way reaffirm her own self esteem. That was likely, he thought. The idea of someone actually enjoying speaking with him... That was far too unrealistic. Shannon, perhaps. Jessica, maybe, though he still had his doubts. But a stranger? There was no way.

Finally, he mustered his last bit of effort.

"See you."

And that was that. He turned around and walked away. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure where he should be going. Like this conversation, his time today was probably finished. She would have to go to class soon, after all... and so, she would replace him.

refuge [open to practical survival students]

He doesn’t: he can acknowledge that much. Women are human beings. Respectable, authority figures who hold up half the sky. What else is there to know?

He lets her speak first, scowling all the while. She is too loud, too obnoxious. He stays silent as she condescends him, only rolling his eyes in response.

"Hope…Hope is why we fight. Hope is why despite loss and suffering, we continue fighting for happiness, for love. Hope is why we dream. Hope is why we rise, even after we’ve fallen. Hope is a necessity, and the world’s drive.

Hope is not destroying her.

You are.”

It’s then, however, that he begins to bare his teeth all canine-like as if he were a wolf. He becomes progressively angrier with every word.

"Yasuda. is. a human being. Take it back. Take it back.”

He’s devoted his life to bringing down villainous men and women who lust for power, who use others as a footstool and destroy and ravage for their own profits…and he can’t help but to wonder: is she any different?

"And I take no offense to that. I do not fight to look elegant, or to please others; I fight to defend. So no one else has to. My body reflects that."

He listens, taking in every word. A witch, she says…he wouldn’t doubt it. Nor he would doubt that this woman is a part of Yasu, a separate entity, or Yasu herself. He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t have the right to assume.

But he does have the right to investigate.

"Then I challenge you, Endless Witch Beatrice. And if I win, you give me the answers I seek. Understood?"

#lifescratching #i love this reply too Much help me

Her face twisted as he continued to speak of hope of all things. He spoke as if he knew anything about her, anything about the suffering she had lived... No, that Yasu had lived. Not her. That wasn't her. That wasn't her!

Beatrice erupted into a fearsome cackle once again, although this one was even less contained than the last. She seemed on edge as the laughter bubbled out of her mouth. The witch glared at the man who dared question her words, who attempted to say that it was she who was in the wrong. The thought was so laughable! How pathetic he was! He had no idea what he was talking about! What a pitiful man!

"Let me ask you this, Connorrrrrrrrr! Does a chair feel hope? Does it feel love for the people that sit upon it? Does it dream that it may someday be their equals? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Because it is furniture! Furniture cannot dream, it cannot hope, it cannot ever feel love. So what happens then, if you allow it to? What would happen if you allowed furniture to feel love? The easy answer is this, that it would feel love and in a sense become human. But life is not so easy. Furniture is still furniture. And though it may feel love or hope, it will never be human. Yet... it still has those feelings, those feelings that can never be fulfilled no matter how much time passes. And those feeling will fester, for they are the only thing that furniture has. It will obsess and cling to those feelings. And over time, those feelings will change. Love and hope will change to desperation, loneliness, jealousy, anger! And those too will delight the furniture, which before knew nothing of such emotions. But what can a furniture do with emotions? Noooothing! Because it is furniture! So what good is it if it can feel, if it knows everything will only end in pain? For furniture, there are no happy endings. No matter how many princes on white horses appear, NOTHING will change!"

She thought of Jessica, George, and of Battler, as well. All their foolish hopes and dreams, all because of their so called love. They could hope, they could dream, and they could surely love. They were human. But they were fools all the same. Jessica, who assumed like this man that everything could be fixed if you only tried hard enough. George, who in his ignorance, believed in perfect happy endings, without even bothering to ask the other person involved. And Battler. Battler, who left, leaving nothing but empty promises and that dreaded hope.

She hated them all. And she hated this man too. None of them understood. But they were so full of themselves that they thought they did.

"You know, I'm almost tempted to let her back in. If only so I could allow you to see how wrong you truly are. You could ask her yourself, though. And she would tell you. She is furniture. But, you'd simply deny her, wouldn't you? And that would be rather boring to watch... Perhaps on another game board, though."

Honestly, she had almost calmed down again, but his issuing of a challenge made it difficult for her to remain so neutral.

"You challenge me? And what exactly is this challenge of yours? What do you intend for us to do?"

If he was smart, he would choose a physical challenge, in which he would clearly have the upper hand. Her powers were weak, this body was weak, and there was no way she could compete. But if she were to choose, the challenge would, of course, be a mental one. But perhaps, that would be unfair to him. And either way, even if there was risk, each challenge was rather boring as the winner was obvious.

"What would I receive if I were to win? My time is precious. If you are to waste it, you should at least offer something in return."

chill

refuge [open to practical survival students]

200 years ago? Never saw himself as a 1800s sort of man. Maybe the 1700s would suit him better, aesthetically that is. Anti-Native racism had already dealt enough damage on him in this century.

Maybe in some other world.

He finds himself becoming slowly but surely angry with how she demeans and condescends him, furrowing an eyebrow out of both confusion and irritation. He has little to no idea what this is about just yet, but he listens regardless hoping to get some sort of answer.

…Beatrice. Is this a game?

He sees Yasu’s eyes, feels Yasu’s body against his own, but he hears someone entirely different.

If this is a game, then all he can do for the meanwhile is playing along. He’s tempted to drop her at this very moment, but this is still the body of his student and someone who has done no harm; there would be no fairness to that.

"Beatrice. And what are you? Why are you here? What do you want?"

It’s then that he hears her dehumanize Yasu, herself, and he finds himself feeling aggravated: he’s at a loss. This is Yasu. He is speaking to Yasu. Yet he hears another person. He is speaking with with another person.

Or is he? He didnt’t know, and that lack of certainty brought him aggravation coupled with her commentary. If she wanted to drag some expression out of him: she got it.

"Yasu—no, Beatrice. She is a worthwhile human being. She is my student. She is my friend. And she is by a far better conversationalist than you are considering she doesn’t raise the other party’s blood pressure in a matter of seconds, or speak as if she’s tasted nothing but sour groups.

What is it that you want.”

#lifescratching #i can't believe connor the hedgehog is fucking dead

"You know nothing about women, do you?"

Beatrice laughed again, although this time she attempted to contain herself since it wouldn't do very well to go into another cackling fit.

"It seems I was right, though. You are entertaining. You could probably even quit this job and make a living as a comedian."

As he spoke about her, Beatrice felt herself tensing up, struggling ever so slightly to maintain that grin of hers. He had no idea what he was talking about. It was funny. it was pitiful. And yet somehow it was something else too. Worthwhile? Friend? He hardly knew the girl.

"It's people like you who make her life the most difficult. People who give her hope in the form of sugar-coated lies. The bullies she's gotten used to. But, hope... Hope is a slow and painful sickness. Hope will destroy her."

For a moment, she might have been actually upset. But she shrugged it off almost immediately and soon returned to her ever so present grin.

"Still, this isn't about her, now, is it? What is it that I want... Hm... I suppose you could call it 'power.' It's not exactly like that. For example, right now, I'm mostly interested in possessing a physical form. This one doesn't suit me very well, surely you agree. It's weak, fragile, not to mention less than human."

Her glance then turned to his body.

"Hm, perhaps..." she said, looking him up and down.

"I'm kidding. You should laugh now. Your body has no affinity for magic, not to mention it's so... shall we say, inelegant? That's why it's funny, you see."

"That being said, I believe I still owe you a few explanations. I'll be going over this quickly, so please try to keep up if you can. I am Beatrice the Golden. I am an Endless Witch. I am currently using the body of a piece of furniture known as Shannon. While I was once incredibly powerful, my powers have dwindled in recent years. Most humans possess something known as antimagic toxin which prevents magic from being used. This school in particular has a large amount. As such, it has been difficult for me to even materialize. And I've been very bored, you see... But, Shannon-- while her magic is nowhere near my level, it is... acceptable. Combined with this environment and the sensation of 'flight,' I was easily able to possess her. Oh, and before you complain, I have her permission. Unlike you, I'm actually her friend. Either way-- I was enjoying myself until you decided to stop and interrogate me. And here we are now, with me putting up with your rudeness. Do you need me to repeat anything? You were rather slow physically so I wouldn't be surprised..."

--;day one.

“Okay then, Yoshida.”

She wasn’t unused to dropping honorifics, since she barely used them at all in the first place since she only ever communicated with the ones she was close with; it felt less awkward just to leave them off, but not everyone felt that way, so it was safer to add them just in case until they say otherwise.

“That’s true. Uhh— that we’re both new, not the part where you don’t deserve the respect. You are still my senior.. I guess..”

She wanted to leave now, but Ayano would urge her to continue the conversation. 'You're this far now, don't give up!!’ Heavy inner sigh.

“What classes are you taking? Uh.. not that it really matters since you’re a year higher.. nevermind." Silence. Okay, next question. ”Where are you from?”

#concealest #*facepalms at kanon* :///////

There. Yoshida. That was better. It still felt foreign in a way but it at least suited him better than Yasuda. Perhaps, he could've "lied" and called himself Kanon, but... she wouldn't like that, would she? And of course, Kanon was the name of a piece of furniture. For now, he had to pretend to be human. He wondered how long it would take for this whole facade to fall apart.

As Kido stumbled over her words, he watched in silence, his expression as unreadable as ever. It was only when she finally decided on the topic that he responded. His mouth moved now only because it was forced to and it seemed as if it did so with the least bit of effort possible.

"Before coming here, I lived in an orphanage known as the Fukuin House. When I wasn't there, I worked as a servant on a small island called Rokkenjima."

He said this with little to no care, despite having just revealed a great deal about himself and perhaps things other people would have concealed. It was almost like he was speaking of another person rather than himself.

Showing more emotion than he had over this entire experience, Yoshida let out a sigh.

"--This is pointless. Neither of us want to have this conversation, correct?"

refuge [open to practical survival students]

He can feel her warmth beside him as swiftly dashes from branch to branch, her grasp on him becoming tighter with every passing second.

From what it feels like, she isn’t as afraid or tense as she initially was. Something he’s grateful for. With time, she’ll be capable of climbing and navigating through woodlands, he’s sure of it.

And he’s not entirely sure why, but as he carries her on his back, the wind and rush of it all brings him back to days when he was a child, and something swells in him as he can’t help but to smile. Her laughter is comforting at first.

But then it changes.

Coming to a full stop with her still secured on his back, he turns to face her, her head peering over his shoulder with a wicked smirk spread across her lips as she cackles. Right in his face.

"…"

He’s not sure how to feel other than vaguely confused. Human? Is she implying that she isn’t human herself? Is this some sort of game? Slow? But hadn’t she been afraid only a few minutes ago?

“What." He says, not with bewilderment or offense, but firmness and a demand for a legitimate answer. What.

Seriously. What.

#lifescratching #connor the hedgehog

So that's how it was going to be. The witch let out a small yawn at his response. Her eyes locked with his and while her glare was intense, it was somehow soft as if she were dealing with a child who didn't know any better.

"You do realize that when someone tells you to pick up the pace, they don't intend for you to stop entirely? I swear, humans are getting worse each century. Perhaps, you would have been a decent piece some 200 years ago..."

Now that she thought about it, that actually wasn't a bad idea for a game board. A mystery and a period piece, hm... She hadn't done anything like that, unless someone out there considered the 80s to be ancient. And he truly would be a good piece, just not in this particular setting, she thought. Yes, he would be much more useful elsewhere. He would also be more useful if he actually listened to her, but that was a different matter entirely.

"I forgot that we haven't been acquainted just yet. I am Beatrice."

"I should explain myself, I suppose. Although I admit I'll miss that confused face of yours... Still, I'm certain I'll have the opportunity to force your expressions many times after today."

For a moment, she paused, distracted by the various thoughts filling her mind. It'd probably be fun to watch him struggle, wouldn't it...

"Ah, yes... the matter of my existence. I'm currently borrowing the form of your little girlfriend here. You don't mind, do you? After all, I'm a much better conversationalist than a piece of furniture."

refuge [open to practical survival students]

She’s calmed down, to say at the least. He hadn’t entirely realized that she’d have to mount him until he notices the faint blush spreading her cheeks.

…Oh.

"…Onto my back and place your arms around my neck—like this. Keep your legs apart and your feet planted onto the ground until I tell you to lift them."

God. God, he’s gone slightly red. He had no ill intentions of course! He hadn’t even considered anything lewd. She’s a teenage girl, a child for christ’s sake. But rarely does he experience physical contact to start with so he can’t help but to be a bit flustered. And then the realization that someone might see—well, it didn’t matter to him. Her well being and safety were pivotal, and if he could help alleviate her fears and tension this way, then so be it.

"Secure your arms around my shoulder bones. We’re—"

He stands up with little to no effort whatsoever, lifting her legs up with him “going. Legs—around my waist. Keep them there.”

and within seconds he’s already hastily climbed up to the canopy of the tree, effortlessly tip toeing from branch to branch as if he was dancing. It truly was akin to flight.

The canopy consisted of dull sort of green waves with rays of sunshine peeking about, filled with shade and quiet. A dome of their own, maybe.

"Wait—hold on." He whispers.

And then, he gently pushes aside the branch and leaves concealing the view from them, and they both see it—the sun, the sky, and the roof of Tancho academy in the distance and at the moment they know they’re yards upon yards above the ground.

"How do you feel? Are you…alright?"

#lifescratching #:33333333333333

She held onto him tightly, watching over as he began to climb. Everything moved very quickly, and a dizzy feeling overcame her. She hadn't even looked down or thought of the height or danger or anything, and yet it was still all too much. Of course, just keeping on and looking wouldn't do anything. Sayo closed her eyes and felt her head becoming much clearer. In truth, she preferred it this way. She couldn't see the sights around them, but things like that hardly mattered to her. This way all she felt was movement. And it really did feel like flying. She was... flying.

By closing her eyes, she had achieved this flight. If she were to open them, it would all shatter, broken by the truth. The truth was she was piggybacking on her teacher as he climbed through the treetops. But if she closed her eyes, that wasn't the truth. It couldn't be proven to be true at least. She could deny it as much as she liked and no one could argue that she was wrong in her thinking.

Ah... everything felt so... free. So open. As if there was nothing in this world that could stop her. A few laughs escaped her lips in a moment of pure joy. And then others followed, building upon each other until the small giggles turned into a fearsome cackle that she could not hold back.

Her eyes blinked open and she smirked at the man carrying her.

"I'm perfectly fine, don't worry."

"Although I suppose you could go a bit faster... I realize you're a human, but even so, your pace is almost pitiable."

refuge [open to practical survival students]

The panic on her face has yet to diminish—if anything, it seems as if her anxiety has worsened, simply by observing her body language. Eyes on the ground, slight shaking, eyes hooded out of fear and what seems to be pain.

He wonders if he’s done the wrong, said the wrong thing but he’ll never know unless he tries. There’s a silence between the two for a while, however he doesn’t find it awkward whatsoever. He wants to give her time to settle and come to a conclusion, or to at least find an answer of her own. He leans against the tree and gradually come down and sit on the ground, his back positioned against its base.

He doesn’t say anything. He only looks up at her with a sort of gentleness in his eyes. He looks at her, and he sees himself, a reminder of the 14 year old who looked at the world around him with fear.

"It does. Would you like to know for yourself?"

It’s then that he stands once again before inching near her and looking her down, his facial expression still soft, and crouches down on one knee.

"Get on. I can carry you on my back. We’ll climb together and then come back down, and if you don’t feel well then you are free to leave. Is that alright?"

#lifescratching #you can take them into trees and then my next reply will be the 0_0

"Mm."

It sounded so inviting, so impossible. And in truth, it was. Humans couldn't fly and neither could furniture, unless things like airplanes were involved. But even an illusion was welcome in her mind. If she could pretend to fly for just a moment, then perhaps for that moment she could also pretend to be happy.

And... if he helped her, she wouldn't have to worry about her body failing or anything like that. She could simply enjoy the moment. Of course, there was again the problem of her special treatment as well as simply the idea of... being on top of a man even like this... The rumors would surely start up after this.

But somehow, she didn't care. If she could fly, then she could be free, she thought. The rumors and whispers would start regardless, so she might as well try to enjoy herself as best she can. Sayo didn't often feel like this and she wasn't sure why she felt so calm or agreeable. Something just felt... right.

She nodded and then looked to Connor. It was then she realized she would have to actually get on him, not just look at him. For a moment, she bumbled, unsure of what to do.

"Do I just..."

And proceeded to attempt to mount the man.

"Er-"

Eventually, she found her place and though it still felt strange, she decided this was probably the best she could do for now.

"I'm- good, I think. Sorry, I- um... yeah."

--;day one.

"Likewise."

It seemed as if they both wanted to turn around and leave now, feeling awkward and not really wanting to interact any more than they had to, yet they were pushed on by the encouraging voices of ones who would want them to socialize, no matter how unused to it they were. They were at a school, so she supposed it was only normal to meet new people.

Honestly, if an outsider stepped in to watch this conversation, it might seem like two coldly intimidating students about to start fighting or something. Their cold gazes (intentional or not) and distant tones didn’t make it seem like a very friendly exchange at all.

"Ah, so you’re an upperclassman. Um, Yasuda…senpai?"

She’d never really addressed anybody that way before, so it felt more weird than anything. It rolled off her tongue awkwardly, and her brows furrowed unintentionally. Hopefully the other would be able to see that she wasn’t angry, but nervous and awkward; wasn’t very likely though, there weren’t many people who could tell the difference, especially not a stranger.

#concealest #kanon is the king of facial expressions

"... I suppose."

He answered as if she really had asked a question, though that wasn't quite the case. Hearing his name was weird, and it wasn't just because of the awkwardness of the situation. Yasuda didn't feel like his name at all. It felt as if he was wearing someone else's clothes and the fit was noticeably off. The added senpai didn't help any.

"Yoshida is fine."

This was for his own sake more than anything. He didn't particularly care about honorifics or respect when it came to himself, so the implications behind his statement didn't bother him. It was obvious they were not close at all.

"I hardly deserve the respect belonging to an upperclassman. I'm as new to this school as you are."

refuge [open to practical survival students]

Sayo had also been one of the not-so-inherently skilled students in his class: he often kept an eye on her considering her apparent frailness. However, with as timid and insecure as she was, he fully believe she was capable of succeeding in his class. She had her own alternatives and a crafty mind that was commendable.

During class, she had never seemed very particularly happy. Her smiles were feigned, he could very easily tell, and he often wondered why she had taken in to start with…not out of aggravation, but curiosity and concern.

He sees the panic that washes over her face as he calls her over, and feels a twinge of regret and sympathy. He never, never enjoyed forcing panicked students into situations that evidently caused them stress and tried to avert it as often as he could. But he sees the way she subtly shakes, hears the uneasiness in her voice and the fear in her eyes and he knows it’s not so much of a matter of physical sickness than it is anxiety. She had troubles of her own. And he did not want to add to said troubles, let alone worsen then.

He pulls her to the side, telling the students to start their assignment immediately and as they begin to leave, he speaks to her softly.

"It is alright to feel nervous. This is by no means any easy task and it is alright to struggle. But know that if you don’t start to train this class, you will be obligated to start next class. If you are feeling sick, I’ll take you to the nurse’s office. Your decision is your own and your own only."

His voice is low and gentle, and he has no intentions of admonishing her.

His facial expression softens as he speaks, and there’s a bit of a silence as he traces the indentations in the tree’s bark.

"Trees—most people typically do not climb them in search of safety, I think. But when I was a child I’d…often feel anxious. Scared. And I would climb and glide from tree to tree, and I’d feel like I was flying, and that there was no ground present to ever fall on. It felt quick, weightless, and…peaceful.

That is still a feeling I have now. If you are feeling scared, then I would like to share it with you. If you fall, I will catch you. There are no students to watch—only you and myself. Regardless of the decision you make, I understand.”

Of course, he just had to pull her aside. Of course. It was clear he was trying to be kind to her, but he was only making it worse. He was giving her special treatment, which in turn would bring the scorn of the other students. Already, she could hear the whispers. About how people only cared about her because she was weak, or perhaps they'd say it was her looks this time. Rumors about how she was using her teachers to get what she wanted. It didn't make sense to her, though. After all, what kind of person could ever care for furniture? If furniture broke, it didn't matter. It could be replaced. Even if someone did care for her, as soon as they learned the truth, they'd hate her. While she was sure Connor merely pitied her, if he did genuinely care... it wouldn't matter. He didn't understand. And if he ever did, he'd so quickly change his mind about her.

"I..."

She wondered for a moment what he must have thought about her. That she was weak, fragile, that she needed to be protected. She wasn't capable of anything on her own. But that's what he was there for, wasn't it? And he must have thought himself so great for being kind to her. That's the only reason people were ever kind, she knew. To feel better about themselves. Poor Sayo... she was so weak... But he was such a great teacher, being so patient and caring. As if. If he really did care, he would leave her alone. He wouldn't force all this upon her. All he was doing was making her life worse. But, it's not like he would care, would he? Even if she told him, he might not believe her and may even try to push her further. Because... while he said it was her decision, that wasn't true. She couldn't make a decision. She couldn't choose for herself. She wasn't human.

And even so, he spoke to her as if he understood. As if he understood anything! Her problems were not so easy that they could be solved by climbing a tree, by running away. She could never be happy if she lived her life as furniture or as a human. It was only with magic that she could ever be happy. Could he really understand a fate as cruel as her own?

Still...

"—does it really feel like flying?"

#lifescratching

pick your poison ;; open

The woman who approaches her is the picture perfect definition of mysterious. Red would know after all, she’d spent a good portion of her life marketing herself the same way.

Despite her condescension and subtle jab at the fact that she was fully aware Red wasn’t actually a bartender, she smiles, thoroughly satisfied by her apparent companion for the night.

"Don’t count me out just yet." She says, lips pursed in a feigned pout. But she gives the woman her drink anyway. "Coming all this way just to order water? You’re killing me here lady." A rather dramatic shrug of her shoulders follows her words, her chosen bartender persona seemed to be from a 1920’s mafia movie.

"If you’re not going to buy anything then I hope you’ll at least offer me decent conversation. You look like you’ve got some stories to tell so don’t try n’ convince me otherwise." Elbows on the counter, she jerks her chin in the direction of the door the actual bartender had disappeared into. "Who knows when he’ll be back."

#gildedmic #BLUSHING REALLY HARD

Beatrice didn't even look to her water, let alone drink it. Her focus was entirely on the woman in front of her. In regards to chess, her order was comparable to moving the first pawn forward. In doing so, she created opportunity for other pieces to move. In ordering a water, she had stricken up conversation with this woman, who would now allow her to move her bishop in order to protect the queen. Or rather, affirm her existence.

"And what does it matter to you what I order? It's not as if the money will go to you... If it did, well, that would be interesting to see play out, to say the least. I'd be more inclined to order something else if I knew it came with a free show."

But it seemed more likely she would be performing tonight. That was alright with her, though. Any turn this conversation took, as long as it did not undermine its purpose, would be satisfactory.

"Stories, hm..."

She looked away, as if trying to recall something. And then as if it had suddenly dawned on her, her grin widened, a sense of mischief behind it.

"I have a better idea. Let's play a game. I'll agree to tell you a story, but..."

"You'll have to tell me how it ends."

It was clear that she was in her element now. She seemed like a child with a new toy, giddy to begin playing with it.

"The story will be a mystery. At the end, I will ask you 'who dun it.' If you're right... Well, I don't know. Is there anything you want from me?"

--;day one.

Ah..

She could have been wrong, but his response felt untrue; years with Kano taught her to read into things like lies; not that she would say anything, this stranger probably had his reasons for lying. She didn’t have any proof in the first place, and it would be plain rude to go about demanding truths from someone she just met.

Prepared to leave, Kido was about to voice a farewell just as the stranger spoke. The idea of leaving now left, she gives an awkward response, not quite knowing how to properly introduce herself, she realizes. She never really expanded her range of ‘friends’ past her ‘family’.

"It’s Kido—"

"—Tsubomi Kido. Uh, just Kido is fine."