#kyuseshu.

[case01]

[ 🎙 ] INT.   THE   PENTHOUSE   –   NIGHT.   the   billiards   balls   clatter !   as   cynthia   slides   them   in   their   rack   to   the   far   left   of   the   pool   table,   and   i   unroll   the   map   along   its   length.   she   sets   her   sidecar   on   the   green   like   a   coaster   and   her   free   hand   finds   my   waist.   we   duck   our   heads   but   i   lose   her   whispers   under   the   buzz   of   the   record   player–   something   jazzy   i   haven’t   heard   before,   slipped   in   from   overseas   under   edamura’s   jacket.   cigarette   smoke   rises   to   the   rafters,   quiet   curls   in   the   light,   and   everyone’s   looking   over   my   shoulder.   i believe we’ve   created   something   beautiful   here:

the   ballroom,   drawn   out   in   sedulous   detail,   being   crafted   by   my   ground   team   as   we   speak.   and   before   i   can   finish   my   drag,   edamura’s   smudging   the   ink   with   a   clammy   finger   jabbed   right   where   his   name’s   written–   our   bullseye–   (   "   i   don’t   understand   why   i   have   to   be   the   escort !   this   guy   is   an   arms   manufacturer,   ... what   if   he   pulls   one   on   me !   "      then,   abbey :   leaning   on   the   cue,   blasé,   picking   week-old   polish   from   her   nails,   "   don’t   be   such   a–   "      )   "   it’s   because   you’re   an   important   asset.   smile   and   look   pretty,   and   you’ll   do   fine. "      my   fifth   digit   dots   along   the   exits,      ..   two,   three,   four–   and   lands   on   the   bar.   "   cynthia,   we’re   keeping   you   behind   the   counter   this   time.   practice   your   mixing,   everyone’ll   be   there.   we’re   expecting   something   good.   and   keep   our   guy   hydrated.   he   shouldn’t   be   able   to   walk   by   the   time   the   auction   starts.   "      she   nods,   and   there’s   the   light   of   plotting   behind   her   eyes,   the   seductive   subtlety   of   her   red   lipstick   twines   with   a   drink.   "   eyes   on   the   prize,   "      each   word   fogs   her   glass.

            ... "   seph !   "      i   call   out   to   the   shadow   in   the   corner.   his   weight   in   the   room   is   undeniable,   and   i   draw   it   to   me   like   casting   a   line.   my   hand   finds   the   nape   of   his   neck, charting stars in   the   flesh.   "   you’ll   be   here–   "      the   ink   of   the   marker   is   sharp   and   bitter,   tracing   a   blue   circle   on   the   map,   "   –with   me.   don’t   worry,   i   won’t   let   you   out   of   my   sight.   oh, but   it's   masque   and   dress.   we’ll   have   to   get   you   tailored,   "      touch   grazes   to   the   curve   of   his   collar,   "  won’t   we ?   "   @kyuseshu

[zuixian]

  INQ.     …     SEPHIROTH :   “  even  the  iron  still  fears  the  rot.   @kyuseshu   /   preacher’s  daughter .

ᵀᴴᴱ   cangyan    sea ,          as    forbidding    and    untold    as    a    forgotten    tomb,           the    still    hearts    of    o͟n͟e͟ - h͟u͟n͟d͟r͟e͟d͟ - t͟h͟o͟u͟s͟a͟n͟d͟    men    sealed    in    the    sand,        and    at    his    breastbone    he    feels    it    gnaw,        an    echo    of    prescience    left    unheard.        and    though    constellating    t͟h͟e͟    a͟s͟h͟e͟s͟    of    ages,        his    spark    wanes    not,        a    torrid    glare    manifest.        cold    as    steel,        the    desert    bites    at    night,           dusk’s    moonshine    nonpareil    ayond    THREE    REALMS        (  her    stalwart    gaze    expels    a    glow    like    a    sigh:    he’s    come    home,     and    the    dust    a    susurrus    on    the    wind  ).        palm    rises,        though    sights    do    not    sway–    pulsing    licking    f͟l͟a͟m͟e͟    alights,        blue    in    the    vast    hours    of    the    dark,           he    becomes    his    own    testimony       /       for    all    to    bear   witness    to    his    ascension.         “            rot    is    for    the    weak.        i    have    burnished    myself    b͟e͟y͟o͟n͟d͟    a    blade:    i    have    whetted    myself    impenetrable.    ”