#shigisan

[dokaben]

[nazorneku]

KAREN KAVEH ( @shigisan ) INQUIRED OF AL-HAITHAM: "would you still love me if I was a worm fungus?"

in reference to - 1 & 2

A reposeful evening he intended to share in a company of a book was rudely violated by the presence of another man, eventually anticipated, yet the words that escaped the blond's mouth were not. Bewilderment engulfed his mind, making a vague reference to a talk that occurred not long ago in a company of the Traveler, deepening the perplexed state he found self in, so uncharacteristic to remain at a loss of words for a prolonged period of time and not parry with one of his sardonic remarks.

The cover of the book was lowered slightly to grant the other the killing glance, as a murderous aura enshrouded the scribe, and if a look could kill, that man would undoubtedly fall flat on the floor right that instant. 'Seriously, Kaveh?' A thought saturated with undiluted irritation due to his reading session interrupted with such obscene nonsense crossed his mind, there could be no doubt that incident would not remain unpunishable in the future. Nevertheless, upon displaying his utmost discontent with a mere gaze, he resorted to reading anew, shielding own face with the book and completely ignoring the architect.

Though one could not deny the fact that the question still lingered upon his mind, compelling to doubt the sanity of another male and clinging to a singular word that evoked the disturbance. He had to possess such sentiment towards the other in the first place, whereas the absence of one was perceived.

[ragingsands]

“I don’t want to fight. But, I can’t put up with this anymore.” [ from 99 c: ]

Perhaps it was the works of her riddles, her tongue dancing around the words meant for those with love for the unknown. She knew, however, that the former experiment subject was one for straightforward language, yet she could not help but tiptoe with her fate.

Her love for the puppy-like girl, made the warrior even more of a puppy.

"Then stop fighting," she said with a gentle, compassionate voice. One reserved for the most honest of souls. "Rest unto the embrace of fate, a dance between your own volition and the universe's will."

After all, Hella would also pull her into the throes of freedom.

Fate could no longer bind the two souls down.

[nazorneku]

KAREN KAVEH ( @shigisan ) INQUIRED OF AL-HAITHAM: ❛ what is with your weird fascination with me? ❜ 

The measured routine he was so accustomed to and favored by the man, instantaneously transformed into bustling days stretched into weeks filled with never ending matters that required urgent solutions and his immediate participation, who could have anticipated the probability of actually suffering from success. Nevertheless, it was not beyond his usual tolerance threshold, thus he temporarily assumed the responsibilities without accepting the chair permanently. And once the work hours reached its definitive end, Al-Haitham clocked out from the Akademiya in a swift manner.

Upon entering the premises of own home, he is greeted by another man, though to claim so would be a monumental understatement, as for the majority of the time their conversations carried the aspect of petty squabbles than civil communications. One accidentally dropped word between the two served as a catalyst for a ruinous reaction, albeit both of them carried the dendro element, it did not prevent from it to spread and affect all facets of their lives. At that time the vocalized assumption prompted him to falter, to meticulously consider each word in retort to provide. 'What a nuisance.' A thought would pass his mind, as exhausted the scribe was after solving innumerable problems of the sages, no ruthless remark disguised by sarcasm was thrown at the blond and he spoke with a customary sway of awareness in own voice. "Fascination? Our definition of the term must be utterly diverse." And the tone dropped in its intensity at the last word, hand rested atop of the folio he carried with self from the Akademiya's enormous library, posture relaxed and threatened to break into 'feeble' image he so artfully crafted. He did long for a comfort of the sofa, to nurse a good drink and to indulge with uneventful hours of pleasant reading, instead of entertaining the whims of the architect.

In spite of that, the query lingers on his mind, compelling to reminisce the very first days of their cohabitation, to contemplate the reason for such wonderment to emerge. Kaveh was not known to delve into attitudes of his, sought no basis for the treatment given. Yet what response was he supposed to provide? That it transformed into a habit? An irreplaceable existence, even if one wrought ruckus and clutter? A rather repulsive notion to consider, yet denial would not force its credibility to vanish. "Instead of taxing your brain with unnecessary questions, do make yourself useful. It's your turn to do dishes." Allowing a chuckle to emerge from his throat, the man picked up the book and retired to own room, a hope nested in his chest that such talk would not find its continuation in the future.

&. for the damaged, sentence starters          ||          accepting  

[nazorneku]

KAREN KAVEH ( @shigisan ) INQUIRED OF AL-HAITHAM: ❝  closing your eyes isn’t going to change anything.  ❞

Even the most of his mundane and humdrum existence would be polluted by conflict and squabbles begat by the pettiest of reasons, distorting what once was a peaceful household into a war zone of wits, where the main weaponry appeared to be sharp tongues and intricate insults. Beyond doubt the silence would ultimately reign within the halls of his mansion, nonetheless discord would take root anew once the both men would end in the same room, just as it happened at that time.

Scarcely audible, yet heavy exhalation found its way out of his mouth, a display of utmost exhaustion imposed upon him not only by the present company, but mostly by the volume of the blond's voice. Long fingers flipped a few pages of the book in a futile attempt to immerse self back into its content prior to being interrupted by a vexed tirade of another, and eventually closed the book completely, still nursing it at the side and sinking comfortably into the sofa, proceeding to blatantly disregard the other male.

Upon assuming the desirable position, lids were tightly sealed to remove Kaveh from the view, which prompted a discontented reaction and a vocal commentary, to which now the scribe provided a response with a completely devoid of any emotion voice. "At least this way I can rid myself of your irksome image." With an effortlessly uttered harsh statement, another escalation in their perpetual arguing would be inevitable; despite that the man's original intent was simply to dismiss him from the vision, if he could not achieve such with mind.

&. murakami prompts         ||          accepting

[wiildcardd]

@shigisan sent: " I remembered the expression on our faces when neither of us had yet to experience hell. Don't you think that returning to such moments is what our hearts inexorably crave ? " A question asked from Asura's mouth aimed straight at Otakemaru. Sadness or perhaps yet anxiety painted itself on his face when the memories hit him. " I missed you. Even if things don't look the same anymore… " A smile appeared on God of War's face as he grabbed Otake's hands tighter. [ softies for otake and asura uvu ] ---- RANDOM PROMPTS ALWAYS ACCEPTED

❝ a-asura... you look so different now... hardened by combat, by war. your voice is-... why have you come here? it's embarrassing for one such as your stature to see me like this. ❞

forlorn gaze meets the intense yet soft glare of the god of war, memories of a time long past filling the mind of the vessel that had absorbed so much of the toxic miasma that laid bare upon his now accursed home. those warm hands sending a chill up his spine as it contrasts with the ice-cold fingertips and palms of the oni who had taken up as the guardian of mount suzuka.

salty dew, a familiar feeling, begins to form from eyes of sadness and longing. how long had it been? for three hundred years he has sat here, with only the spirits and voices in his head to keep him company, it was so surreal that from the darkness was the red fiery light of one he thought he'd never see again.

in an instant, otakemaru rushes forward and embraces the larger frame of the god of war, letting out a cry that he had left inside of him. his family in his mind was all but gone, lonely heart stabbed by millions of angry souls from the corrupted font of the ice field they stood. a sob, a true heart piercer for those who pitied him, and through sniffles and hiccups the former young master would at last speak.

❝ i have missed you too... i thought you weren't real, i thought you an illusion to once again torment and mock me... but you really are here! ❞ a hand rises to touch soft cheek, head tilted with tear stained cheeks, curiosity and sadness written on broken visage.

[fallesto]

“ Next time, you will not be so lucky. ” [ for Shinjuro Rengoku from Crimson Yoto! ]

THERE WAS A TIME WHEN HE WOULD NOT HAVE ALLOWED THEM TO UTTER A SINGLE WORD TO MAKE CONVERSATION WITH THE ENEMY WAS A WASTE OF TIME

What did they have to say, other that a warped version that painted themselves within the light and offered nothing more than excuses upon excuses for there endless crimes, he didn’t want to hear it, he never did, especially these days. He only wanted to hear them wail and scream for mercy as he beat down upon them, more often than not, letting them go afterwards, beaten, broken and shamed as well.

KILLING CREATURES LIKE THIS IT NEVER MADE A DIFFERENCE NOTHING HE DID … EVER MADE A DIFFERENCE

All of this was pointless anyway. So, what? If he killed this creature, then what? Someone else across the country was getting mauled, ripped to pieces and devoured. It didn’t make a different. It was an endless war for a reason, humans against the darkness. You could not fight it. he had tried.

HE HAD TRIED SO HARD GIVEN EVERYTHING HE HAD FOR WHAT FOR NOTHING AT ALL

As strong, as fast, as well skilled as he had become, for the twenty years he has done this, each and every single day. the thousands of people he had saved and the untold number of monsters he has killed, what was it all worth, what did it all mean when he could not protect the only person who matter.

HE DIDN’T PROTECT … HER

As he glanced down for a moment. A growl leaving his lips, as he took the bottle from his belt for the moment, a sway in his steps as he would steady himself for the time being. Blinking to try and stop seeing double of the piece of crap before him. even with how far he has fallen, as drunk as he has become, a shell out of himself. He was still … one of the best as all he could do, was click his tongue and take a swig of his sake at there … almost comical words.

“Next time? Ugh ….”

As once again, he took another swig of his drink. Next time? Fucking next time. The fuck was this bullshit. He let them live! They should be running with there tail between there legs and never coming back to be anywhere near him, any other slayer would have removed their head and been done with it, but him … he just could not give a shit about this anymore, it was all so … pointless. Kill one of these pieces of shit and guess what, there is another one right there. How can you fight an enemy, that just will not deplete at all? Fucking twenty years doing this and everything was still the same and looking back, it was laughable that he ever thought for a single moment, that this world would be any different.

“Next time I’ll kill you, if I ever see your disgusting face again, I won’t go easy on you.”