#madeofmelodies

[madeofmelodies]

Sphallolalia

The universe owes no explanations - not a ‘why’ nor a ‘how’, not to a plead nor to a demand.

  —’The train to Shinjuku Station will be arriving in 1 minute. Please stand behind the marked line.’

The intercom announcement comes just before the hum of the tracks. Delic isn’t anywhere near them but the sound is distinct, akin to a high-frequency that needles its way into his ear and makes him feel a buzz creep just above his nape. He can pick it up even beneath his date’s chatter but acts like he doesn’t.

“Scary—!” The host jokes in an easy reply, the gleam in his eyes looking particularly receptive, if not inviting another playful threat, “But, y’know, I can’t really make promises as to availability. You’re gonna have to bring that one up to the boss-lady. She’ll kill me if I make arrangements under the table.” Not that he couldn’t afford a few ‘deaths’.

The morbid idea almost earns a snort from him.

Delic’s smile doesn’t fall, but his head tips to the side, making a deliberate nod in the direction of the tracks, “Your train, by the way. If you miss it, you’re gonna have to stick around another half an hour—” The humming gets louder, enough for him to adjust the edge of his headphones around his ear. It’s a subtle enough motion, overlooked in the teasing smile that he offers after, “And you know just how torturous that can be with me.” That remark earns him a smile. And Delic… he smiles back. Not because he feels a radiating delight bubbling in his chest or a drive to please or some uncharacteristic form of affection, but because he’s learned the social cue, and it’s picture perfect.

The train arrives in time — what else is there to expect from the JR’s reliable lines? — and his date waves (he’d say it’s coquettish) before disappearing behind the automated doors. And he’s left by himself, to walk outside the station, to text his boss once the date is over, to relax in the crisp breeze of the evening, and to look down the venue as neon-lights light up in busy the streets of Tokyo.

It’s a view, between the dying, amber reflection of the sun against the glass windows and the vibrant colors beginning to paint otherwise muted buildings.

Delic hums. There is delight. Then there isn’t as he sucks in a breath that sounds almost like a wince - it’s betrayed by the sheepish smile on his face, and a brief roll of his eyes. He remembers a text he’s left pending - left on read - before his little outing had started. That was four hours ago… probably. He doesn’t dare look at the time-stamp on it before recording a voice message to send back,, “You said you wanted to meet up, right? How busy are you now?” Will it be work? Will it be pleasure? Will it be adventure? Will it be a pain-in-the-ass? The evening is still young, so he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

[madeofmelodies]

End of Track 1

The cogs rusted. What else could be expected from the passage of time? The melody distorted and twisted. It softened until incomprehensible. It ended with a chord that hung in the air like a final breath - unheard in a vast world where the cacophony never ends.

One track has ended — and a new track starts.

Out of Melodies — OOC

Hello hello! It’s been a long time hasn’t it? ElusiveTune here. Somehow, I’ve had  the irrational need to write this loser once more, and seeing as this blog is still standing, I figured ‘Well, why not?’  So — here I am! With a few amends to this bozo’s story line which could or could not be added into the mix.

In any case, catch me on the side of the dreamer. ♪

[royaletiquette]

Ne— I had a question, Hibiya. Did the tickets work?

He watched Delic, waiting for a better explanation for whatever it was coming out of his mouth.

Then, the pieces slowly fell into place as the realization was painted on his features. "Ah!" A snap of the fingers. "These silly things?" Some excitement in his voice as he retrieved the clearly untouched packet from his wallet. Flipping through it, jogging his memory of moving it from a drawer in his desk, to under a pile of papers, to his wallet. He put them there so he would remember... to give to people... and forgot.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Genuinely. Hibiya held it out almost like he was trying to return it.

[madeofmelodies]

Pokes his face.

Whether the poke comes to his cheek, his nose, his forehead, his chin, or his lips, his head gives into the pressure, slanting onto an angle relaxed. His eyes don’t follow the same nonchalance, however, and though those irises don’t look particularly alert or forewarning a retaliation, his hand swipes forth (the way a cat might in a whim) to take a firm grasp of the offending limb, grip on the wrist.

“Hmm—” The sound is little more than a rumble in the back of Delic’s throat as he stares back, guiding the touch off of his own face but not releasing the hold. Was his face poked because he looks like the infamous fortissimo of the city? Was it out of whim? Out of interest? Was it because Delic had been spacing out? The questions surge as those fuchsia irises look intently, his silence stretching a little longer before his lips slowly form into a smile.

His grip loosens and twists to take a hold of the other’s hand, to slowly intertwine their fingers until his own lie just between the mysterious guest’s knuckles. He watches on, not breaking eye-contact as the pads of his fingertips put pressure, soft and curious, against the other’s skin... and soon enough he’s snorting bubbling laughter after he’s watched the blooming reaction from the gray face.

“Don’t touch my face all of the sudden like that! I don’t like it,” Delic complains once he’s reined in his mock, loosening his hold to something more relaxed. If he’s making a conscious decision to keep the touch, it’s well hidden under an easygoing expression. “Don’t be mean to me and I won’t be mean to you, deal?”

Teasing scold aside, the blond did wonder what that had been about.

[madeofmelodies]

Track 2 — the experiment

General information:

Specimen: Homunculus Height: 6’2 (185 cm) Age: Unknown - looks mid 20s Body type: Lean musculature Hair color: Faded blond - close to platinum. Eye color: Fuchsia - might wear brown contacts on occasion Occupation: Host - occasionally takes jobs as an escort for social events (has one trusted employer) Likes: Music (sounds in general), citrusy flavors, touch, colorful sights, singing, walking aimlessly, talking with double meanings Dislikes: Screeching loud noise, sugary things, not being able to move (restrains or enclosed spaces), needles, doctors, being ignored Items he usually carries on him: Headphones (commonly used to block sounds or listen to music), portable ashtray, cigarettes, phone, a lollipop

On Love

While commitment isn’t his strong-suit, it doesn’t mean Delic doesn’t genuinely love. His love, however, is an extension of his need to belong in a world he generally feels alienated in. As a result, he can be quick to fall in and out of love just as he can oftentimes ‘love’ more than one person at a time. Due to this, he might be regarded as fickle or a playboy, assumptions he regards with distaste or, at worst, contempt.

On The Experiment

Being a Homunculus means Delic doesn’t age at the same rate as humans. He is a creation of Nebula, a research company publicly known as a large pharmaceutical but which has a long history of underground work trying to gain the secret to immortality - their efforts oftentimes unethical and downright vicious. Delic is the result of one experiment, his looks resembling the man known as ‘the Beast of Ikebukuro’ specifically because his blood was used as an attempt to also recreate Shizuo’s strength. Though the latter goal is vastly deemed a failure, Delic does have the ability to heal at a surprisingly quick rate and even through wounds that should be deemed fatal. That said, he hasn’t been inflicted with every wound possible.The process, however, is neither quick nor easy, and he tends to become hungry and fatigued afterwards.

Though Delic currently lives on his own and has been seemingly absolved of any shackles from Nebula itself, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s still being observed. The notion becomes more predominant when occurrences revolving around him are swept under the rug, or when the legitimacy of his identity is blatantly overlooked - as if there was someone pulling strings.

On Life

Delic may not enjoy every aspect of his life, but he’s surprisingly easy-going and good-spirited for someone who deals with various issues in his background. If one was to ask him what his biggest gripe was with life, his response would be: Being confused with Shizuo Heiwajima. That is because, even if Shizuo isn’t trying to make life hard for him, a good number of the people he beats up tend to confuse Delic for Shizuo and target him as a result. Despite this, he is in conversational terms with Shizuo though not always amicable.

Past this, Delic is generally approachable and easy to talk to. In fact, there might just be a provocative charm about him considering people tend to open up to him without the initial intention to do so. Fortunately, he doesn’t mind, particularly because he does get to learn about people and understanding the ‘human experience’ he’s inherently missing. Some people might mistake this attentive part of him as maturity, however the blond can be immature, petty, impatient, and even ill-tempered at his worse. Past that, it’s important to remember his sympathy is moderately twisted, the same as his morals and ethics.

On Work

Though originally having been recruited for his looks, his job as a host has allowed him to become better acquainted with social cues, interactions, ethics, and morals, just as it has shown him to maneuver the spot-light of a conversation with ease. Intriguingly, the line of work has molded Delic into someone who is generally well-intended and abides by his employer’s code of conduct, but who will be unapologetically selfish should it be in his best interest. Similarly, it might be because of his work as a host that a lot of his interactions and flings are predominantly with women. This said, he has occasionally hosted, and escorted men without any form of contention.

—

Delic’s design is based from a Cover of the Durarara!! OST called “Psychedelic Dreams.” And he is recognized by the fandom as an ‘alternate’ of Shizuo Heiwajima. As far as looks go, he generally resembles Shizuo. This said, there are various visual factors that differentiate him from the well known beast of Ikebukuro. The most prominent difference are his bright fuchsia-colored eyes, which most people believe are contacts. My rendition of him plays on the concept of the universe of Durarara!! (generally 2010s Tokyo, Japan) being the same as Baccano!! and therefore assuming supernatural entities, such as immortals and homunculus, exist in the world the same as a dullahan, vampire, and other fantastical creatures.

[elusivetune]

Links to important bits

Original Bio

Relationships

[elusivetune]

The cogs rusted, but what else could be expected from the passage of time? The melody became distorted. It twisted and softened. It ended with a chord that hung in the air like a final breath. Did anyone hear it?

One track has ended — and a new track starts.

_______

Hello hello! ElusiveTune’s mun here. I will be moving some information regarding the muse onto this neat lil side-blog and continuing onto MadeofMelodies to continue writing a slightly revamped version of Delic’s story. Thanks for the follow!