#avichor

[nullfier]

what’s for lunch, cocksleeve?

let’s go in together

[imitora]

  ▍ FEATURING . . . BEI, USHI ⤻ @avichor. ❪ . . . ❫ “ NO MORE SPECIAL TREATMENT FOR YOU ... ”

cigarette smoke dancing in the space between them, the only tangible connection binding them together in tense silence. mizaru, slouched so far into one chair that her feet could reach the other, the only other available seat on the smoker's balcony, forcing ushi to stand against the wall. to her own defence, she hadn't needed to follow her outside. cigarette once again raised to coated lips, their centre paler and waiting to be reapplied from previously overfilled glasses, her bored gaze flickering around the space, feigning interest in anything ... everything but her, before they once again settled on her form out of need, the lack of anything else even half as intriguing. though just her face, to be exact, for if mizaru let it wander any further, she could just give up the act of resistance altogether. pointer and middle finger pointing ash in ushi's direction, tone then cut and dry. “ working together ... ” an exhale of smoke, tongue poking her cheek in thought. searching for the words. “ —mhm. ” coming up short, lips pursed and eyes narrowed with a sigh caught in her lungs.

then, “ just like old times, right ? ” a walking cliché of snark, the last of her cigarette pushed into the glass tray on the table. her words a mistake ... now that you've said it, no more special treatment for you. tone as warm and inviting as memory begrudgingly served, the sharp smile on her face begging to be wiped off ... one way or the other. ice seemingly broken, walking with the intent to pass her and make her way back into the venue, mizaru instead held a hand to stop her. fingertips clasping the seam of her shirt and tugging, then climbing higher, grasping the collar of it to force ushi to her height. gentle, despite it all. “ for the record, i never asked for it. ” treatment of any kind, special or nostalgic between the two. for ushi to be in front of her, to inevitably have her walk away yet again. fingers released her collar, instead looking for another cigarette and lighter flickering once, twice, three times before the spark met flame. “ so i won't be losing out. ”

[curseat]

▒ ━ RE. SUDA MANAMI . . . @avichor : ” I APOLOGIZE FOR THE INTRUSION. I WAS ATTEMPTING TO SNEAK IN. ‟

AH ! IT BEGS — suguru finds it equal parts amusing and annoying, the incoherent babbling of monkeys right before their usefulness expires, alongside their not-so-quiet, not-so-steady beating of their hearts. he tilts his head to the side, a small glint on his eyes as he shuffles through the curses on his arsenal as though they are cards stacked on top of one another : which one is more fit for this particular . . . man? a businessman whose exploits were resulted in the exploitation of others ( not that suguru cares, particularly, how it is that monkeys deal with one another : as long as the money still flows towards him , they can all kill themselves , for all he cares. hah! might even make his life easier ) . . . he settles for a cat-like thing, with a thousand eyes and a hundred mouths, all sewn shut with a thick, scarlett suture, its flesh an inhuman, deathly grey as it oozes blackened drips thick enough to stain and still, somehow, invisible to their eyes. it stinks, like all curses do, and suguru sighs , „ that's enough. “ a flick of his wrist and the sutures are snapping open, open, open, the curse opening its mouths and — a noise, from the corner of the room. suguru looks at the door, only to see manami walking in.

he turns his attention back to the curse, watches with half-bored eyes as it gnaws at the flesh of the nonshaman, blood splashing on suguru's clothes. what a drag, he thinks . . . he wasn't planning on disinfecting them this early on. he snaps his eyes back to manami now that this has been resolved, tilting his head to the side . . . „ you're late, manami. i assume there's a good reason for it . . . ? “ there is no anger nor malice in his tone . . . he knows her well enough to trust.

[incantat1ons]

the shades are obnoxiously large around her eyes. rims settling low on cheekbones, overlapping the face mask that curls all the way under pointed chin. today was supposed to be the BIG DAY. bandages fresh off. fresh air finally kissing her face. paparazzi on standby for STRATEGIC candids to be snapped and sold. the song princess' return after the car accident that left her HOSIPTALIZED for months. yet utahime is ADAMANT about covering up. this RECONSTRUCTED version of herself is rather unsightly. so much so that her agent's calls are being forwarded to voicemail as she ventures around and readjusts to the outside world within this comical disguise.

since her six month hiatus, offers for interviews and surprise performances have been at an all time high. people WANT to goad. they want to see if she sounds different or her face was smashed in completely like REPORTS and TABLOIDS claimed. while the injury itself wasn't all that life threatening, it IS career threatening. and much to her psyche's dismay, EMOTIONALLY THREATENING. it's why she's knocking at @avichor's door, head whipping from side to side in case someone will SEE her. notice her by signature branded perfume or the ribbon in her hair she can never part from.

@avichor liked for a starter!

[sgeto]

despite the summer humidity, the night air has freezing bite to it that turns his skin to gooseflesh, the building eerily quiet behind him. to any of them that could see it, the energy hanging in the air is nothing more than a thick, blackened fog of death, retribution and decay. suguru's stomach has fallen like a stone, nausea washes over him in waves that threaten to keel him over if he can't breathe through it. he knows he should feel regretful, but he can't muster the emotion. they deserved it, but then why hadn't it felt like justice? why hadn't it felt like the beginning? the two little girls, once caged, have been in the car that brought him here with his uniform jacket draped over their shaking forms, the assistant in the driver's seat anxiously waiting for the student to follow, but he hasn't. he can't. there's a mess here to be cleaned, a crime he knows will demand an answer.

his phone had vibrated only a half hour ago, and he takes it out to read the notification now. and in reading it, suguru can't remember a time he's ever hit call quite so quickly. the dial tone sounds out and makes him shiver, echoes against the dreaded silence as he turns his back on the car and walks back into the building thinking, pick up, pick up.

@avichor, gojō satoru.

[dayarmor]

i don’t mean to–i don’t want to hurt people. / lenore

carmilla has left the room, morana not long after her. striga turns her head to peer at lenore from across the table, still in her seat, a severe frown working at her mouth. she's not shy about her own displeasure; what good does a creature like her have for niceties? in silence, she considers lenore.

lenore, of all her blood-kin, is the most puzzling of the bunch. striga had written her off, at one time—no better than the runt of the litter. time with lenore has proven that theory wrong, of course. but they stand here on the precipice of something much bigger, in the wake of carmilla's grand and imperial plans, wrapped up in her need to take the world in her fist. striga can't ever say she went to bed wanting to bend humanity over at the waist, but she won't pretend there isn't a part of her that froths at the mouth when presented with the prospect.

not lenore. lenore is soft. she plays with her food and gets teary-eyed when it weeps and begs for its life. she is delicate in ways that do not suit her—don't suit any of their kind. this alone is what makes lenore so useful. striga often wonders if the last dregs of humanity have been scraped out of her with a sharp-edged spoon. she drums her fingers across the tabletop, all while lenore sits there, the two of them looking at each other. what advice can she offer that lenore would ever take?

bluntly: "you will. you already have. why stop now?" it's not that lenore plays at complete innocence. she could never afford to, to live and work alongside the rest of them—carmilla especially. she pushes herself back from the table, and is ready to leave it at that... but the string of curiosity has been plucked, somewhere, at the back of her head. lenore so rarely speaks of herself. for as soft-petaled as she comes across, she's surprisingly guarded. "why, lenore? they'll all hurt you without a thought." she doesn't say it to be callous. it's just the truth.

i. PROMPT. ii. @avichor

[glimoon]

CATRA SAID:   do you have any other conditions ? /      [  ACCEPTING.  ]        @avichor

❛   plenty more, actually !    ❜         glimmer teleports across the room to appear back beside catra and begins counting off on her fingers. ❛   no hissing, no scratching, no biting, no eye - rolling, no name - calling — even if the dignitary you're speaking with reeeeeaaaaally deserves it — and absoluuutely no talk about how things used to be in the horde. got it ?   ❜

sparkling queen smiles brightly once her list has been rattled off in its entirety. at the very least, she can admit that catra certainly looks the part . . . and cleans up rather well as a bright moon representative. this is the first real meeting she's conducting with delegates from worlds beyond despondos since prime's eradication from the wider galaxy and, well, she's totally freaking out on the inside [ and outside. ] glimmer needs all of her court on their very best behavior if bright moon — and etheria, by extension — are to make a good impression. and though she knows catra likely understands the weight of such an endeavor, she suuuuure does love to push her buttons ! the queen takes a deep breath and smooths down the front of her dress.  ❛   as long as you're your . . . regular, charming, intelligent self, i won't have to banish you from bright moon at the end of the night.   ❜  

[imitora]

  ▍ FEATURING . . . KIRAMMAN, CAITLYN ⤻ @avichor. ❪ . . . ❫ “ WHY ARE THEY YELLING ? ARE THEY ANGRY 'CAUSE THEY'RE BAD MUSICIANS ? ”

blood spilled in zaun's pits as easily as wine poured topside. entertainment found in the sale of fists bandaged and teeth knocked to the ground, the crowds and their torn betting papers in hand drowning out the crew on the stage in the rooms adjacent. bodies packed together tightly, alcohol - sticky floors making their steps kick as they found room to blend in the darkest corners. whether caitlyn wanted it or not, whether she needed it, vi found herself casting warning glances to the eyes fixated on the stranger amidst their patronage ... sticking out despite vi's form offering shadow and shelter, shoulder braced against the wall as though shielding her from the multicoloured lights dancing across the floors and illuminating faces. it would only take one wrong glance, one misguided touch from any in the room, and hell could break loose if they lost their focus.

the tune she'd heard before, whistled in the cages of the stillwater hold. two years of the same rehearsed lines now so perfectly enveloped in harsh strokes of bass, electricity strummed through the strings of the guitar hypnotising the crowd and twirling around effortless vocals. body just barely swaying with the lull of it all, she spared herself the guard - dog routine in favour of watching caitlyn a moment, grinning to herself when she caught sight of her pinched brow, arms folded over her rigid form. caught red - handed when she met her gaze, then leaning to speak in her ear, normal tone just barely a whisper over the noise. head ducking, vi's laugh only visible in the shaking of her shoulders, before leaning to answer with a hand cupped to caitlyn's ear. “ what, you're telling me this isn't your thing ? no waaay, i'm shocked. the orchestra they bring out on tuesdays, you juuust missed it. ” pulling back to fix her with an inquisitive raise of a pierced brow, lips pursed as though trying not to laugh again. then just barely to the shell of ear again, free arm crossing the space in front of caitlyn's torso to rest against the barrier, caging them together with a passive raise of her shoulder. “ everyone's angry down here, but as it goes ... these guys are actually pretty good when you can understand what they're saying. need me to translate ? ”