Sorry mods, I know you're almost done (big sorry to polaris don't worry i'll enjoy my stay even if u don't tell me to, bet) but I'd like to apply as Sesshomaru from Inuyasha! His app is under /app or the middle star!
Welcome to scenic Isola Radiale!
You will be housed in CONDO 439.
You will retain your ability to heal minor wounds up to three times per day. You may also keep your Demon Form, though for now it will be purely aesthetic and restricted to a regular wolf.
Unfortunately, Sesshomaru's muse isn't gonna work out in this group, so I'll be dropping him. Today is the 20th of August, and this is his blog for convenience's sake. Look forward to my other reserve being followed up on soon, though!
The fire was burning low, casting a soft glow across the length of the penthouse suite and across the forms of its two occupants. In the luxuriant space, his partner (the term, once applying simply to the practical fact that their souls had been decreed by Eternity to jointly navigate the afterlife, had lingered fondly long past that point - what else could so succinctly describe their relationship?) could assume his true form without concern for appearances. The grand piano he had been earlier playing supplied a backing track to the comfortable silence, soft and unobtrusive as the scene required. Peace and quiet were a near antithesis to all the dream demon was and yet similar vignettes dotted more of the nights since he’d met Sesshomaru than not.
“Y’KNOW, I THINK I MIGHT’VE BROUGHT OUT THE BIG GUNS TOO EARLY.” As was often the case between them, Bill was the one to break the silence, the idle movement of his hands through the other’s fur pausing in kind. The demon lord, so close to the edge of sleep, opened one golden eye in a mix of annoyance and curiosity, plainly wondering what it was the Bill felt so important as to impose and to relent in his ministrations. The lack of preamble or explanation did nothing to indicate his intentions, making the conversation a one-sided matter already.
Shifting from his position leaned comfortably against the warmth his partner gave off (the joys of physical sensation still hadn’t lost their edge), he took impatiently to the air in a manner oddly reminiscent to how one might pace a room to chase their thoughts. “I MEAN, THINK ABOUT IT! YOU’RE IMMORTAL, I’M IMMORTAL, AND THIS IS ONLY YEAR TWO! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TOP AN ENTIRE CONSTELLATION DEDICATED TO YOU WHEN WE’VE GOT HUNDREDS OF YEARS AHEAD OF US! I COULD ALWAYS GIVE YOU YOUR OWN GALAXY BUT THAT’S MORE 25TH ANNIVERSARY MATERIAL, YA DIG?”
His meaning now clear, remembrance of the holiday Sesshomaru had learned of around this time the year prior making its relevance equally apparent. For someone who liked to scorn humanity for its foolishness, Bill certainly was one to pick and choose with a causal hypocrisy whichever aspects of the same suited his whims. He would’ve made a suggestion were it not for the fact that the other continued, “SO I FIGURED I SHOULD JUST MAKE IT EASY ON US BOTH AND LET YOU PICK SOMETHING YOURSELF! YOU KNOW WHAT I CAN DO BY NOW.” Or so the ruins of several dimensions attested, a collaborative effort between them that stood as monuments to what Bill often said about them being better together.
Acute effort could easily call to mind the first of their joint ventures, the fulfillment at last of the triangle’s promises of what they could accomplish when bound by no other rules than their own. It hadn’t disappointed in the slightest and while those since then had been much less overly-indulgent affairs, neither had tired of it yet.
“I MEAN IT, ANYTHING! I KNOW I’VE SAID IT BEFORE BUT YOU NEVER ASK EVEN WHEN I KNOW YOU WANT TO. DON’T GET ME WRONG, THE MODEST THING IS CUTE BUT YOU COULD STAND TO BE A LITTLE MORE FORWARD THIS FAR INTO OUR RELATIONSHIP.” It was obvious he was teasing, as he so often did, yet it was clear he was entirely serious about the offer. “REALLY CUT LOOSE! A GREAT NIGHT’S SLEEP FEATURING YOURS TRULY, THAT FRUSTRATING YOUNGER BROTHER OF YOURS OUT OF THE WAY, WHATEVER YOU WANT!”
Anything gave Sesshomaru quite a few ideas. He could ask for all humans to be dead… could ask for his father to be alive again. He could ask for Inuyasha to become a - what was the term? A vegetable? Sentenced to an eternity of serving as Sesshomaru’s personal handmaid. He could ask Bill to get rid of that obnoxious human girl he was so insistent upon keeping around for unknown reasons. He could ask for Bill to just come with him to Japan to find a suitable, permanent demon vessel to live in so he wouldn’t have to be seen with such an odd looking partner.
For all the ideas he had, Sesshomaru settled on one request quickly enough. “If you are truly ready to give me anything I want, Bill, I have no need of anything. Truth be told, I have no need of ‘things’. I have no wishes that I desperately want granted. Just having a loyal companion like yourself is sufficient. Swear to me you won’t tire of me or run off with someone else and leave me behind, and This Sesshomaru will be content.” It was a rare moment of open, exposed honesty and emotion. Sesshomaru was sick of losing loved ones to humans and whims. Demons should be with demons, humans should be with humans. And for the first time in the two years he’d known Bill, he finally understood why he so strongly disliked Nicolette. Sesshomaru didn’t want her to steal his partner away, like that human woman had stolen his father. Like the priestess had stolen any hope of a competent brother.
The dog demon shifted to sit up, silver locks falling over his shoulder while an intense golden gaze locked on Bill’s one eye. “Do not laugh. Do not make an empty promise to me either, Bill. Make it one of your deals. Take my hand and swear to me you won’t leave.”
Despite the fleeting lifespans of humans (or perhaps because of that selfsame fact), they were quick to dedicate themselves to each other ‘forever’ with no real comprehension of what that entailed. Even the bright-eyed genius he’d struck a deal with to build the portal that would free him from the Ouroboros of chaos the Nightmare Realm had become had declared that their friendship would last until the end of time. Of course, they didn’t need to understand the gravity of their statements, considering that a scant eighty years was as much as they could hope for and ‘til death do us part was a more practical measure.
Bill, on the other hand, had lived before time had spun itself into existence and would persist past the point it sputtered out, finding other universes to occupy until a bigger fish came along and did what bigger fish tend to do to smaller ones. He’d accepted Stanford’s promise with ease, knowing that he wouldn’t live long enough to see it through and he understood just what was on the table with his partner’s request: eternity.
A joke about how he hadn’t thought Sesshomaru was the jealous type and all pretense of discussing the simple celebration of the holiday evaporated as he met the other’s eyes, the triangular being wondering, considering. He doubted the perpetually-serious demon lord would make the offer lightly, which meant many different things, not all of which he could claim to understand in their entirety. With few exceptions, all his so-called friends were either sycophants or had loyalty bought with a handshake and a promise of power. Sesshomaru had joined him on near equal footing with no reservations for the fact that he made a hobby of the destruction of whole dimensions. It was fun to tease him for being a stick-in-the-mud but Bill had to admit that he respected that the other never bowed to him-- as much as he enjoyed that in the conventional sense.
Compounded by the fact that he could perceive uncountable dimensions where they had never met, met and parted before now, or went their separate ways at some point in the future, a commitment like the one he was asked for was a serious one indeed. He’d said once that he would stick around with until one of them grew bored with the arrangement. That sentiment still stood and he saw no reason to change it, nor any likelihood that time was drawing near. Maybe it would never come. The problem with seeing possibilities and probabilities was that you could never be certain but Bill was little if not a betting man.
“AS MUCH AS I WANT TO SAY YOU’RE ONE-OF-A-KIND, THAT’S NOT TRUE. YOU’RE NOT. I’M NOT! WHAT YOU ARE IS THE ONE I CHOSE. I WOULDN’T HAVE BROUGHT JUST ANYONE WITH ME THROUGH AS MANY DIMENSIONS AS WE’VE SEEN, YOU KNOW. I DON’T MIND MAKING THAT A TWO-WAY ARRANGEMENT.” He extended a hand, blue flames that didn’t so much as scorch the air soon to follow. “HOW DOES IT GO AGAIN? YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND? OR REQUEST, IN THIS CASE.”
Their departure from the infirmary was interrupted by the recognition that another of the beds was occupied, all the damage done to his first vessel repaired by the same whim of the hotel that had returned the younger demon to him. He was not partial to it but, unlike most vessels he had acquired during his stay, there was no one awaiting its return and little point in wasting what amounted to a rental with no expiry.
The exchange was as uncomplicated as swapping one outfit for another. None of the immediate post-possession awkwardness showed in his movements; the unique quirks of stature and gait that posed problems in fresh forms were ones he was accustomed to and could slip back into like an old suit returned from the dry cleaner’s. Bill didn’t even spare a backward glance for the dark-haired human he had inhabited moments earlier - who was busy stumbling through readjusting to physical form - attention set on returning with his partner to the room they shared.
After taking a moment to ensure the scars left where flames had burned nights prior were obscured with a pair of disposable surgical gloves (borrowed from the nearest desk), Bill proffered his hand anew.
“I WONDER WHERE THEY GET OFF PUTTING YOU THROUGH THE WRINGER LIKE THAT. YOU’RE N O T SOME TRAINED ANIMAL THEY CAN GET TO JUMP HOOPS FOR THEIR AMUSEMENT. WANT ME TO MAKE ‘EM REGRET IT, FLUFFY?” His tone was strangely conversational, though he made no attempt to disguise the threat, anger tempered only by a clear enjoyment of having his partner’s company again.
Uncharacteristic silence had marked his observation of his roommate’s preparations, distraction plain in the way his focus drifted out to dimensions of reality beyond human comprehension. All the plain amusement he had shown at the announcement of their circumstances (more a confirmation than a revelation to him) had been replaced with something like frustration, culminating in the dream demon crossing the room to stand by the door-frame, arms crossed in a way that the trained eye could note as less a casual and unconcerned motion than he was projecting.
He’d seen how this would end and he d i d n ’ t like it.
The lock moved into place with a decisive click, loud enough to be obvious in the absence of any other sound. “DON’TCHA THINK YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH EXCITEMENT FOR ONE NIGHT, FLUFFY? OR, SCRATCH THAT, I’M WAY MORE FUN THAN THOSE SECOND-RATE HORROR FLICK REJECTS; ARE THEY REALLY WORTH YOUR TIME WHEN YOU COULD BE SPENDING IT WITH ME?”
The concept of a masquerade was almost laughable to a being whose presence in the prestigious Morticia Hotel required a facade, but that didn’t mean Bill wouldn’t play along. His vessel was dressed to the nines while remaining subdued, a simple black mask outlining his eyes despite the irony that a careful examination of that same aspect would betray his true nature.
Fashionably late, he took up residence by one of the many tables bountifully laid out with drinks and finger-foods, watching and waiting. This would be, after all, one of the first opportunities for all the current guests to mingle and present their public faces. He may be on vacation but there was still room for a little networking.
A familiar face was the first to attract his notice, however, and his plans were ones that could be set aside in favour of amusing himself for a while. Without a hint of subtlety, he crossed the ballroom to the other’s elbow, his voice - unnaturally loud as it always was - proceeding him.
“FANCY MEETING YOU HERE, KID!” As if by magic, a martini glass filled with something vibrant was in hand, offering a merciful break in his commentary as he took a sip. “Y’KNOW, I WAS GOING TO MIX THINGS UP A BIT, MEATSUIT-WISE, BUT GIVEN YOUR TRACK RECORD WITH MEMORY, WELL...” he trailed off with another brief drink, knowing that it would be simple for him to fill in the blanks of the teasing implication.
“SO, A HIGH-SOCIETY DEMON LIKE YOU-- MUST NOT BE AS TAKEN IN BY ALL THE FANCY BELLS AND WHISTLES AS SOME OF THE STARRY-EYED HUMANS I’VE SEEN TONIGHT, AM I RIGHT?”
