@drownblessed said:
drunk : my muse takes care of your muse while they are in a drunken state.
Since this whole stay inside for your safety thing began, Yufi can’t say she’s been doing well. Not that there’s nothing for her to do at home; on the contrary, her commune has everything she could possibly want to do in it. There’s no reason to leave the neighborhood, or even the estate, when there are parlors for every type of entertainment. That’s the privilege of being elite, isn’t it, that most practical things can be at one’s fingertips should they desire it.
But that’s exactly what Yufi loathes. There’s no spontaneity, nothing that goes unexpected. Each day is a duplicate of another, the absolute same, into which all seems to blur into one another. It leaves her irritable, antsy, and even the usual tasks she utilizes to alleviate tension don’t seem to work. For when painting and walks have become the daily norm to fulfill the time, then their effectiveness in other properties ultimately diminishes.
She knows it’s risky, not necessarily the safest thing she could do, but when Godo asks what they can do as to remove the semi-permanent moping from her mouth, the response slides from her lips, smoother than the shochu she’s unraveled the cap from and is pouring into a cup.
Who brings him to her, or whether it’s even explained to him why he’s been shipped from one end of country to another... All the fine details are unclear and unneeded, at least as far as she’s concerned. Most things are, and even the edge of her vision is a little blurred by the time he makes it to her side, door handle uncharacteristically warm from the amount of times Yufi’s checked every few moments to see if he’s arrived. She must’ve been there not too long ago, but when Tida enters he can find her roaming around the tatami clad in socks, an oversized shirt she swore to him she’d never wear (because how could a person of her caliber ever wear one of those anime shirts?), swooning from side-to-side. She takes a swig from plum wine, hand tightly grasped around the neck of the bottle, and spins on the ball of feet, albeit in uncoordinated fashion. Her memory might be shaky, but the center of her focus is clear, and the host grins when she sees her friend’s arrived.
❝ Oh, hey! Welcome home! Or... hey, you know what I meant. You basically could live here. Nothing’s stopping you except you, y’know. ❞
Yufi’s been good in the sense that her phone’s been away from her reach this entire time (hard to keep it on you when you don’t have pockets, right?), but still, she points to where it idly sits on kitchen counter, notification indicator flashing to the rhythm of dance-beats escaping from Bluetooth connected speakers.
❝ I figured I should leave that there...otherwise I’ll look like... what do you call the girl on this shirt? Ahegao? All over your Snapchat. You didn’t want that, right? ❞
Oh, Tida. Your work is cut out for you, isn’t it? But she’s trying to be responsible!
