#ritsuka 01

[excaliburproto]

@hopeled​​ has come forth

Arthur wasn’t sure at first if he was just seeing things, or if it was simply a case of mistaken identity. It’d not be the first that he was fooled by likeness. Yet-- the closer he came, the greater the sense of familiarity grew. He could detect it keenly, even from here; those unmistakable magic circuits -- limited as an amateur mage would so be, yet weathered by trial and hurdles no other soul born of man would dare test themselves against.

Arthur possessed only one and true Master. This much would always be true. She was his princess, his lady of raven fair, his beacon of light in the path of endless darkness he’d chosen to walk alone, trekking the infinite worlds and possibilities to snuff out the seven flames that would see them undone. So long as he held memory of her face, he could whether this storm for all time -- no matter how far they were parted.

This girl was not that girl. This girl had won his favor of entirely different reasons, and all of her own.

This was not Ayaka Sajyou. Yet, Ritsuka Fujimaru still had his allegiance nonetheless.

“My now~ what’s this? An imp has infested this city?” A disapproving click of the tongue would follow the voice that suddenly rang out from behind her. “Ahhh~, best to deal with this proper.”

And so it was, that the orange-haired magus would find her ahoge tugged at. Not enough to be painful-- just enough to be a tease and a bother.

When she would undoubtedly turn around to lay into whoever decided to bully her, Arthur would be standing there, putting on an innocent face, yet edged by an air of genuine gladness to see her.

“We meet again, Master.”

[paaperboats]

"Fascinating. How, on earth, did you pull.. this, off."

Royce's grating voice suddenly cut through the chaos of Red's nightmare, lifting her eyes for just a moment to catch sight of him across the field. The look on her face was on par with that of a wild animal; territorial, angry, afraid. Subconsciously, her arms tightened around Boxer; his breathing becoming more shallow with every passing moment. Why was he here, of all places? Why now, when her lover was dying in her arms a second time?

"In the cradle. Without.. the Transistor. It should be impossible, really. This is how we go back.. but how do we do that, without the tool that will take us there? Without the one thing that can fix what we.. ruined."

Maybe he was the bad dream. Maybe all of this was because of him. If she ignored him, if she just focused on Boxer, would that be enough to make him go away?

What could she even do without the Transistor?

She didn't want it back. Not now. Not when she had Boxer. But how were they supposed to make it out of this alive?

Red ducked her head down, squeezing her eyes shut, as if refusing to acknowledge the person before her. If they weren't in this position, she would have done everything in her power to take him down-- even as he sauntered towards her slowly, dragging an identical weapon down by his side.

But as something snapped across the grass, it pulled Royce's attention away; piercing eyes darting in another young woman's direction.

".. we have company, I see. Something else that should be.. impossible. Yet here you are."

"And who, are you supposed to be."

▽* :   —   ( @hopeled )

[existentialismee]

                                                    –      ( ❀;  @hopeled​​​​ )

“.. eh?”

“Ritsuka-chan.. are you alright? You don’t seem like yourself today..” though he only knew the barista by name, frequenting her cafe for a cup of tea during his shopping trips, Watanuki could tell that Ritsuka’s usual demeanor was not as bright as it so often was. Her movements were slower, and her laughter was quieter; even the surface under her eyes seemed particularly dark, which immediately caused a frown to pull at the corners of Watanuki’s mouth. “Have you been sleeping regularly?”

[racarnate]

⁞☀⁞ @hopeled​;

this presence -- can it be? something, no, someone who in normal circumstances or any other circumstance had they not been tied by the golden thread of destiny in another time would neither garner such attention or concern from the king. given the hours have merely dwindled into the deeper recesses of 'this grand evening' so say those deviant little pixies as the turn of sand in the eternal hourglass so too does life carry on. ignorant or perhaps choosing the better bliss surely he has studied the majority of these people who chose ( or were forced by certain winged abominations ) to attend. nevertheless ozymandias has sighted more disappointment than improvement as if the magic that hung 'pon high like a wicked unseen veil was not suffocating enough. to live their dreams one would suppose, is a fair wish. humans after all were not cultivated from the divine and hence forged with the flesh of the gods in supreme gift but rather perhaps the most pathetic that were bore like the lowest fruit of the great tree. nevertheless it is in this as his right and sworn duty, the almighty sun and everlasting pharaoh to oversee their progress with regal equality -- the king of kings concerns himself not with the trivial concerns of the people when all that fell beneath the blessed light of his rule superiority nor inferiority exist.

alas what so ever this 'presence' is surely sparks familiarity within him akin to the fervor of ra in full flame. towards the dance floor that commanding golden gaze does flit demanding that said presence alone makes themselves known and it isn't until he finally spots her -- yes her indeed, that he finds himself doused in disbelief clear as the shimmering desert in midday. were these emotions he harbors? sentiment? curiosity for the sole spirit he once put through many an arduous trial simply to weigh their worth only to find the divines divulge that she is that once in a lifetime and one in a million existence that not only defied fate but pulled the anchor of destiny right before his very eyes. goblet thus set aside upon descending those elaborate stairs despite remaining well more than half full he makes no further pause just until standing before her at last, that radiance never once faltering and for the first time tonight, for her he does permit it, the faintest hint of affection that blossomed like the first white lotus in spring; a smile brimming with the all encompassing warmth of the very sun she looks up to. for all of the hatred that festers still within the seemingly bottomless swell of his darkened heart tonight none such befalls her.

❝ i could not believe it more had i not already bore witness to your accomplishments before. the journey must have been long however sure as the sun rises i swore that my light would be with you always. now then, my master, another trial perhaps? shall we dance? ❞

[scarletwinds]

Sitting on the ramparts near the castle roof, Kazuha tilts his head skyward to admire the dancing silhouettes against the backdrop of the starry sky. A fresh breeze alerts him to the presence of a fellow grounded partygoer and he voices his inner musings to them.

“Isn’t it lovely?” He asks companionably. “Even birds and drifting leaves must still obey the laws of gravity, though they are still more free than us.”

“One wonders if it is the masks that have made them feel so light, or if perhaps the absence of physical weight has also lifted an unseen burden from their hearts.”

Personally, he hopes it’s the second one, as he himself denied the offer of a mask at the door.

“I have spent more time than most gliding, carried by the wind, and yet I’ve never moved with such... little restraint. In many senses of the word.” He turns to the newcomer.

“What’s stopping you from joining them?”

@hopeled​

[greenishmoon]

@hopeled​

There was something... Wrong with this city. Beyond the kidnapping, the world melding and the time snatching. Beyond their host’s ability to tamper with their guests; there was just something inherently... Missing. Things which should work even separate from any individual or their power simply... Did not. 

Come on now, she’d been patient enough, hand’t she? Wasn’t she owed a little something in return? It wouldn’t have left any lasting scars, not serious ones anyway. She stood in front of a number of easels in the park with a brush in hand, each canvas painted with a different, strange symbol that were peculiar on the eyes the longer you stared at them. 

“Honestly... I can’t say I’m not thankful for this opportunity, but you’re really not being f̢͘ų͜͠n̵̨ ...” Her words were addressed skyward, but eventually she sighed and glanced down. “Believe me I understand patience, but aren’t you being a little selfish.”

At least she was never one to dwell on what she couldn’t effect at the given time, if a passive role is what was thrust on her then a passive role she’d play. There was plenty of interesting individuals here, so many sights, so many sounds and so many scents. Some things even beyond the perceptions of most, like mana.

It seemed this girl had some, as well as something else.

“Oh! I do apologise. Bad habit, talking to yourself. Is that a tattoo? May I see it? I’m something of a fan.”