Forgive me, I have Sinned @withouttemptation-blog1 - Tumblr Blog

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She was very young to be dealing with such chaos. He could only assume the ‘friends’ she referred to were not much older, if at all aged ahead of her. Alas, it was the way of the world. War did not discriminate. War did not sweep in and shuffle the ground under their feet at a convenient hour. It took over. And it would steal the feet right out from under them if they allowed it to.

“My name is Kenshin. Kenshin Himura.” It was only right to exchange their names after the unique way of their meeting.

His eyes fell to meet with the creature gathered near to them, the one with the odd manner of speech. The one that was capable of speech at all that they could inexplicably understand. There were too many mysteries of the entirety of the situation to unravel at once. Kenshin had been in shock before. He had long learned how to operate with nothing to use at his disposal. Only a simple, primordial process, as though functioning from mere instinct rather than anything thought thoroughly through.

He was silent for a moment, if only to weigh his words carefully in mind befores speaking them. “.... I have known my fair share of battle. I would lend to you a hand against this threat, but I would not know where to begin.”

“Huh.” Misao looked in the direction Rio had disappeared with Himura, a more thoughtful look upon her face. He would know, she supposed, what one face looked like in comparison to another in the visage of a warrior. She had her own battles to face, her own war to confront, but it wasn’t quite like the sort that the two of them had once involved themselves in.

However much mind she paid to the topic, that contemplative look soon soured into a right scowl! “If only it were pride! That idiot doesn’t have a lick of self worth! He thinks he has to face the world by himself.” Like it somehow fulfilled the cost he felt he owed to society. Who the hell didn’t make mistakes? Those were the sort of people one had to look out for. Because such claims were utter shit. Everyone did things that they regretted. Everyone committed acts they wished they could take back. Maybe they weren’t as extreme as those of Himura, or Rio or whatever the case might be, but it didn’t change the truth of the idea!

“Doesn’t make sense.” She shook her head. “What is that lonewolf syndrome but a death wish?” If someone could contradict her thought on the topic, she would absolutely welcome the debate. Not that it would sway her opinion.

Misao nodded curtly, not really speaking of any gratitude with Rio sticking around for the show. Some things went without saying, she would think. Obviously if there was to be some kind of showdown, she would wish to have a little backup. The others were stashed away somewhere within the Inn, but, like she said before, there was other business to tend to. She just... she had her own reasons for sticking by the side of Himura. Not that her view of it hadn’t been shifted. Just a little.

“Those three dolts, they said they were officers. But let me tell you, no officer here would dress like that. Speaking of pride, that lot has it, advertising their position and post whenever they get the opportunity. I’m not sure what this is about, but I can tell you, it isn’t good.”

The redhaired swordsman halted the boys hand, leaning down to whisper a thing unheard into his ears. The boys eyes widened and his face paled. Only then did the man release him down by his feet. The youth motioned to his confused comrades and took off rapidly down the streets, leaving them in the dust. The other boys involved could only look at one another, shrug their shoulders and hurry off to join them, expecting an explanation later.

The swordsman shook his head, picking up items he found dropped in the dirt as he progressively made his way over to the ailing man. He knelt down by his side, the few cuts he could see from the angle he hovered mercifully cosmetic, without any real damage rendered.

“Are you all right?” It was the only question he could ask to get him to unfurl himself, to alert him of the shift in status of the situation now that the immediate problem had been dispersed. It was difficult to tell exactly what he had spoken to the boy to cause him to scurry off so quickly, but it had undoubtedly been something.... unsavory.

It was a simple question to ask at first, but one he left hanging in favor of not overwhelming the poor man more than he likely already was. The look of him clearly advertised his foreign position in the town. Colors so vivid were not often displayed so openly in the markets. Not to mention the bizarre coin he held in hand. He offered the items he managed to gather back to the man if he would feel so compelled to take them. They were his, after all, wrongfully involved in an attempted thievery.

#he's carrying too many shiny interesting things!!!#my goodness

“We, all of us, have our own unique ulterior motive, that we do.” It didn’t make it wrong, it didn’t make it right. It simply was what it was. It was a poor way of explaining it, but also, sadly accurate. The only real way of putting it all. He had yet to see her displaying a blatant feature that bespoke of evil intent, even if her methods might otherwise be described as questionable. He had been called worse in his own life. He was hardly one to pass judgement on anything of the sort.

He reached out a hand toward her, assistance in standing upright to his feet.

However much he needed to do so, his world teetered, and he slumped, if not because of his injuries, because of the exhaustion that seeped from his very pores.

chosenbythecrystal-archived

Noctis had never thought of it like that. He’d grown up viewing Niflheim as the villain but it was very likely that they thought of Lucis in the same light though he knew for a fact that his father never deployed the same tactics the Emperor did. The Emperor wanted power, wanted to take over Lucis whereas his father only wanted to protect his people and reclaim the homes of the men that fought for him.

‘Those in the way of real progress?’

Noctis didn’t agree with that – without his father, there would be no wall to protect them. He kept things in order but he didn’t get in the way of change. He was a good King. Noctis would be happy if he was even half as good as his dad was when he finally takes the throne.

“Why don’t you? Assassinate people anymore like me anymore, I mean.” Growing up as the Crown Prince made him a target, more often than not to get at his father. Going to school rather than being privately educated made him more accessible than his father and everyone knew that the King’s son was the most important thing in the world to him.

Moving closer, he began to rummage through the small first-aid kit, pulling out some antiseptic wipes that he could use to at least try to clean the wound with. He gently pulled the fabric back away from his skin, careful not to jostle the wound too much as he began to wipe away the blood so he could at least see how bad it was.

“Uh, yeah…I guess. I mean…pretty much everything I do ends up in the papers…I can’t go anywhere without people recognising me.”

withouttemptation-blog1

“People have their own opinions. Their own way of looking at the world we have been given, that they do. It’s not to say their view is right or wrong. We can only interpret our view by the experiences that guide us.” That was all. Education only went so far.

Kenshin rested his head back against the wall, allowing his eyes to close. In spite of the evident scarring upon his body, in spite of his obvious experience in brutal affairs, one never truly got used to pain. They might claim otherwise, but it wasn’t the truth. The body resisted the affairs of the heart, enraptured by instinct and the affairs of what truly composed them. They were part of nature, whether they would will it or not. Thus, they were under the scrutiny of what nature dictated, even when it was business that humans brought upon themselves. They were still afflicted with the same basic elements.

“It’s because I made an oath not to.” That didn’t answer the question, and he knew it. But it was all that he needed to know. He made an oath not to return to that man that he was before. To instead, perform the duties that he had wanted to from the start. To protect those that couldn’t protect themselves. Whether it be fully, or in the moment, like in the case with the Prince.

“... that isn’t to say that there don’t exist those on the outside that push me to becoming that monster again.” In fact, it had become a droll routine in his daily living to confront those sorts of people. Why would anyone want that creature unleashed upon the world at large again?

“You do not like this attention bestowed upon you?”

@slayersheart

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There rose from within the unmistakable presence of drive. Not even anger, nothing that would color the drive boldly reflecting in every subtle nuance of her body until it could not be ignored. Drive bubbling to the surface until it flooded the extremities, almost like a propellent. Almost as if it were needed in order to appropriately accelerate in the way that was needed to meet with the challenger ahead. The impossible challenger.

The deadly Battousai. There were few with the fortitude to gaze into those unusually colored violet eyes and live to take the next sharp inhale of breath. If they were somehow inexplicably given the opportunity, it was promptly cut short a mere hairsbreathe of an instant later.

But he wasn’t that man any longer.

That didn’t change the perception others had of him, their need to confront, their need to put down.

If one had any doubt of the strife his past conjured from within, any doubt of the vicious, horrific energy he left imprinted on the very world, it would be eradicated with one look upon the woman before him. If any should stand to gaze upon the warrior from a distant, they would feel the aura of her motivation radiating from her in waves that might threaten to drag in those unfortunately caught in the middle…. should they place themselves too near to her.

The sword he removed from its sheath reflected light in odd ways. It was not quite right, not fitting the trend of what blades of that magnitude should do. It was reversed, the dulled edge not quite as crisp and clean, not quite advertising its potential as blatantly as a sword ought.

“Who are you?” He asked, shattering the strain of silence to settle between them. The precursor to battle. “What do you need with me?”

#slayersheart #from ask

tinyblondegoddess

@withouttemptation

It had been such a long time since the girl had seen the people she had come to care about more than anything in the entire world, and she was planning to see them again. She’d hoped that, without a shadow of a doubt, life would give her exactly what she wanted. After all, it seemed that she was destined to go back. She had come to find that what power had been taken from her when she’d returned it to Datara so long ago… had come back to her. And, somehow, it seemed stronger and more powerful than when the impurity from the Sacred Jewel Shard had melted into her body. A week later, she’d found Akanemaru, the pole-spear that she had been given by the God of Habaki when her journey with her friends had officially started way back then. That was all the incentive she had needed to pack up a huge backpack full of snacks and modern amenities from the human world(she remembered the hassle it had been when she was travelling with Kagome back when she was 16) and went to the shrine where the Bone-Eater’s Well awaited her. When she saw it, her blood turned to ice and she froze. What if it didn’t do what she thought it would…? What if this plan was ridiculous? What if she wasn’t supposed to go back?

But her mind was set and made up and she was definitely ready for this.

So she jumped.

And something went terribly wrong.

She didn’t know exactly what it was, but when she emerged from the well, she knew that she wasn’t where she wanted to be. This wasn’t Kaede’s village, and this more than likely wasn’t the Feudal Era. Not only because people were giving the young blonde-haired and blue-eyed girl strange looks for her hair and eyes, but also for the pole-spear that she held close to her chest as a coping mechanism to keep her calm and centered in this moment of uncertainty. Of course, then she was approached by two men in what looked to be a police uniform. Was this the time period when modernization was just beginning? Because most of the other people around the area were still wearing hakamas and haoris and- well, it was just strange to see. So was this the Meiji Era, then? Because, if so, she was a century or two off the mark from the Feudal Era that she had been hoping to hit…

Crap.

withouttemptation-blog1

Swords were released from their sheaths, the comforting sound of steel singing high into the night. Well, perhaps not so comforting for the unfortunate soul now standing at the end of the sharp, pristine edge, ready to pierce through the sad molecular layer of flesh standing in the way of vital organs. The officers eyed the odd presence before them, feet taking them in a steady pace through a wide circumference around her. One slow, measured step at a time. Their eyes never strayed from their careful observation of her, their hands never losing the intensity of the grip they held on their weapons, fully prepared to put them to use.

“Release your weapon.” One dared to penetrate the quiet of the moment, sword raised to shoulder height, the last fleeting warning he would give without words. In those uncertain times, words did little good. Actions spoke far louder and they would use those actions for the benefit of themselves.

Where had this girl come from? They paced by the area just a moment ago, turning round to see the materialization of a form that hadn’t been there before. The unfamiliar did not resonate well within them, nor the unexpected. They would not tolerate being taken by surprise. Aggression was the best method for that business, to be sure!

“Get on your knees.” Spoke the partner, a steady rotation of their normal demands, giving her a chance to comply before brutal force was bestowed upon her. With the way their days had gone, they didn’t mind at all using said force to get what they wanted. It would unleash the pent up pressure compacted on the inside of their hearts. Not that it would do much good. Their days were riddled with challenges they hadn’t a chance to crest. ... had to take victory where they could get it.

He startled to hear his name spoken so simply. As a wanderer, there was little opportunity to experience the sort of intimate conversation that would prompt his name gently uttered. Only a casual utterance when flowing from one place to the next, or no words exchanged at all. There wasn’t a need for communicate when he swept through, only lending his services when they appeared to be needed in a way that couldn’t be requested directly. He hadn’t expected to be confronted in that particular moment, and was even more jarred when it just so happened to be one who knew him. At least, at a base level.

He looked to her, eyes narrowed with contemplation more than suspicion, his head inclined off to one side as though he could hardly support the thoughts that bombarded him.

“How did you find me here?” He asked, voice soft, without the relish that others might carry along with them. They were spoken like they belonged fluttering along with the current rather than a thing that worked consistently against it. “I did not expect to see you again since our last parting, that I didn’t. Has this world become so twisted as to require your presence again?”

Misao didn’t pry and she didn’t ask questions, but she was grateful to be provided the unspoken inquiry that hung over the air between them regardless. She smiled, a subtle sort of smile hidden by her motions at the smooth transition Rio seemingly made amongst them. He was a natural. Or maybe there was something within him that was just.... used to occurrences exactly like that. Practiced at it, she would suppose, would be a better way to put it.

Those things that had become an integral part of life were difficult to shake, regardless of the tactics used to remove that part of themselves, to eradicate it from existence. As Himura discovered and as was progressively being introduced to Rio, details of the past began to peek its ugly head up when least expected. There may be bad associations with what happened before, but she had to say, it sure helped to have some of those skills intact when the going got tough.

“Well ya hear that?” She stood up tall, waggling the bloodied rag she held in hand toward the impatient trio waiting shuffled off to one side. They sure weren’t even trying to be inconspicuous about the place, which made their presence even more worrying, but whatever, they’d handled worse. And they would handle worse in the future.

It is what it is.

An irritating concept to keep referring to, but one wholly accurate. There were some things that simply couldn’t be helped! They could only be accepted and dealt with as they went.

“So, sit your asses back down or get your asses out of here. Either/or, don’t really care which.” But she would not tolerate bolstering or posturing or whatever else they felt like doing to puff themselves up to getting what they wanted.

The group did not seem entirely taken with being commanded by the little girl, but they did as they were commanded, replanting their seats down upon the, well, the seat. That was all they really could do without a more direct location exchanged.

“Guess it didn’t go well.” What in the world could Himura be thinking?? He was supposed to have gone to meet with someone he knew, but he returned looking worse for the wear. If there was anything that made sense about that man, she had yet to find it. He gave solid advice, but then strictly did not follow it himself! There was a wall there impossible to penetrate, try as she might.

chrono-crossxd

{short starter | @withouttemptation | Himura Kenshin}

What was this place…? What universe was this? And… who was the man who now stood just before Serge? If anything had come across as noteworthy, it was that rather unpleasing-looking scar etched into the man’s face.

Assuming he had seen some big fights before… Serge tries to continue walking down the pathway, perhaps a bit too nervous to talk to the other.

withouttemptation-blog1

There was nothing quite like a foreigner.

Scratch that.

There was nothing quite like a foreigner obviously lost and aimlessly wandering along unfamiliar terrain, that distant look etched in the eye that questioned the validity of about anything around.

And to wear such unusual riches----! That meant, that he probably didn’t have a lot of street smarts, which was just fine and well by those that lurked nearby watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Or perhaps that was the wrong way to put it. With an attitude so distracted, there was no better moment than the present. They were only just watching as one of those things that wondered if the situation was too good to be true? Screw it.

The kids snuck out in swift succession, some serving as a distraction for the foreign man, the other hastily swiping what he could from his person. And off they went, purposely knocking into him to set him off balance, to put him in a frenzy!

Their little legs pumped hastily forward, only to be snatched up by the scruff by the red-haired man standing not too far away. “Ah ah ah!” The boy he halted wildly struggled, but the man had a firm enough grip to hold him in place. “Now, that’s not a very respectable thing to do, that it isn’t.” He turned the boy to face the man he’d just stolen from, the goods still clenched in hand. “I think you better return what doesn’t belong to you.”

The boy stuck out his bottom lip, looking every bit the part of a mangy little runt. He shot daggers at the ‘victim,’ like his being caught was entirely the fault of his.

The swordsman himself earned a brutal reputation where he hailed. He was also known to have a legendary patience, a calm air not to be shaken through the most frightening of circumstances. But that wasn’t like a normal occurrence much at all. He wondered if a mere sword could have any effect on the creatures he witnessed wrecking havoc upon the land, even when wielded by a skilled hand like his own.

He slipped free of the creature once ground was under foot, a bit unnerved by the experience, a bit confused about the entirety of the situation itself.

It was difficult to wrap the mind around events never before witnessed, difficult to find the words to speak, even in response to comments made. Even to reciprocate a calm introduction.

It seemed a fair place to focus on, to begin the complicated process of picking through his thoughts, isolating questions and beginning to piece together the puzzle of a world falling apart.

“Just another war in a different form.” He made the comment, perhaps mostly to himself. Perhaps aloud if only to release the pressure building up on the inside.

It was clear by the evident scarring upon his face that he was no stranger at all to battle.

“Forgive me.” He bowed his head. “This is.... quite the jarring shock, that it is.” It was difficult to wade through his mind enough to find the capacity to speak how he should.

“And you?” He asked, eyes drifting from the creature back down to the girl. “Do you have a name?”

@ask-carmen-sandiego

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He hadn’t expected to be confronted in his moment of vulnerability, hunkered down alone in some lone corner of the wide world. He sat with his back pressed against the side of a rickety old structure, some long abandoned place of business that had never had a real tenant since he’d been around. It was another sign of their ailing times that no one should want to sweep in and claim it for themselves. It sat as a beacon of demise, a sore spot in the midst of an otherwise populated place. His sword leaned against the opposing wall, his feet nearly touching it. It wasn’t a terribly wide arena to settle, but it was one where he could catch his breath.

He untied his haori, allowing it to fall away from the wound cut into his side. A fair gash with a smooth edge, indicative of a sword, perhaps. As would make sense with his own sitting not too far from where he hunkered to rest.

He used the haori itself to apply pressure. It was all he could really do without bandages to aid him.

“.... there is a cost to your dreams.” He murmured, half to himself, half out loud, words tossed out to the cosmos as payment for his indiscretions.

#askcarmensandiego

“Mm.” He acknowledged the changes they both wrought with simple appearance alone, a slight incline of his head. “Decisions made years ago have a way of coming back to haunt the steps of the present. Some things simply don’t work out the way you plan. I suppose there’s nothing for it. At the least, I’m happy to see you here.” It was better to be surrounded by potential friends, then seep in the misery of others. Those who sought only to pick on souls they felt could bolster their own self-worth. Bullying foreigners was a poor substitute for the growth they sought.

His eyes drifted back to the door they entered, the very same leading to the gathering he knew were waiting for him. They might project patience if only because of the location they hunkered down into. But it was not a virtue they would hold for very long. Eventually, they would take what it was they had come for. What that was exactly, he couldn’t be sure. He could fathom a guess that it wasn’t savory for a place like that.

People sought him out no matter where he wandered, but that place... that place was far more intimately aware of him than others might be. That place did not need to hear told of his reputation whispered on the tail end of a gentle breeze. They knew of it personally.

“Thank you for this kindness, Rio. That will be all.” He would have to afford himself the time to grant his body those basic necessities, patching up what had been broken and returning to what awaited him still. He could not allow that danger to lurk longer than he already had. Regardless of how tired he was, it wouldn’t fade away on its own, not without his direct acknowledgement of it.

Regret, if rooted deeply enough in the soul, could act as a toxin raging from within, spreading throughout the body, sullying the mind and all the thoughts that composed it. It was a heavy burden to bear for all, yet especially difficult for a heart like his.

One might never imagine how deeply each strike he rendered another affected him, how it continued to affect him far into the future. How could they know with such expert moves so natural in the making. A body couldn’t move like that if there was doubt cradled within.

He had the ability and the skill to ensure that the weak were protected. What he had forgotten was that the people that he targeted to protect potential prospects were people as well. No one in the great wide was inherently evil down to their core. They all believed they were doing the right thing, in their own way. It was an impossibility to appease to the hearts and minds of all. There would always be someone who felt victimized. Rightly so. Or wrongly. Fully dependent on the perspective.

It was a whirlwind of thinking that would take him nowhere fast. And it wasn’t effective, at any rate. It would help no one to fall into those considerations that held no real answers at all.

“I can stay. For now. Though it may not be for always. I... have instilled in many a heart the poison of hatred, that I have. I owe those people the right of confronting their aggressor.” And he would not purposely put into danger the innocents trapped in the middle. It was not primarily why he wandered, but it was a hearty reason to ensure that no one knew him so intimately to be involved in those potential heated encounters. .... those inevitable encounters.

“You asked me about my scar.” Two interlocking lines. It was one of the primary features most recognizable for those who sought him out. The cross shaped scar on his cheek. A defining feature of the Battōsai. “.... it is not a thing I.... like talking about.”

#no worries at all!#summer in general is a busy time of year I suppose!

There was a certain rhythm to battle. In spite of the chaos to surround it, if one were practiced enough, they could detect patterns and sweep through with a steady, efficient hand. However, things were decidedly different with enemies like the sort they faced then. He looked to the girl. In spite of what nervous flutterings she may experience, she did not bolt in a terrified flutter of instinct, desperate to get away like her brethren around her. Did that mean she understood what she faced? Did that mean she had seen it before?

He watched in surprised as the feline companion that accompanied her became something different. Not in the way he might have expected.

His mind was a whirlwind of activity, unsure where to attach thought, unsure how to peel back the shock of the moment to find what it was he needed to act. He wasn’t given much of a chance, directed and informed in a rush. There truly was no other way around it.

He joined her on the back of her--- actually, he was unsure what the proper form of address would be for the creature, tucking the question away in the back of his mind. All he could really do was follow her. No matter how skilled a fighter he was, there was no helping the devastation currently ongoing. All he could hope for was that the people managed to flee quickly enough to avoid the rabble created when creatures came together to clash. Things could be rebuilt. However much of an inconvenience it would serve to allow those creatures to destroy what they liked, they would find a way.

“What do we do, to stop this?”

The silence stretched between them if only to give him a moment to steady his own thoughts wildly rebounding, a ceaseless rotation he could not calm with the usual methods. Not that he had many methods to employ to get himself under control. He wafted along the world as though he were a mere piece of debris being guided by the invisible hand of the gentle current rustling past. Going with the flow.

That was only one small part to the necessity of life. One could not remain stagnant for very long, risking the eventually sweep of the feet from under them if they should try to. But neither could they hope to keep up the pace of following the trend of the current for long, not without offering something in return. Something to break up the momentum, that painful rotation of motion that could become more than simply mundane in the mind. It could become outright stale by itself.

It was a risk, opening himself up to exploitation. Offering words that near guaranteed a break in his usual demeanor, something of a vulnerability replacing world wariness. He was tired. And there wasn’t a way to fully shield from the world evidence of the condition, from the way his body seemed to wilt, to the unfocused shifting of his eyes, carefully regarding those stimuli the world offered, but not entirely taken with the prospect of examining it all any more than absorbing events at face value.

There came a point in time where the efforts of preservation had to instead give way to commonalities. There were a base level of necessities a body required. Sleep and rest were only one of those things. He had long surpassed the threshold of needing to acquire those things. The risk had to be taken.

Whatever confusing swirl he might have been faced with had he been completely aware of his surroundings would have to wait until he gained that ends. He was sure, even through the half-conscious considerations he was able to pay to the world, that things would become infinitely clearer once he had that rest to take at his disposal.

He bowed his head again, following the course she marked with her careful steps, an odd-stepping grace carrying her forward.

“My name. It’s Himura. Kenshin.” His voice was broken up, without the real depth of character that he normally exuded. Or wish to exude. His heart wasn’t into sharing much of anything, let alone conversation to break up the silence between them. But names. Names were something simple. Something complex. Something intimate to exchange that might take away the fear of the unknown. With a name so blatantly given, surely there could be no ill intent inside of the mind of the otherwise unfamiliar face.

Of course, names didn’t often mean so much as they meant to him.

neon-banana

“Don’t go, it’s a mighty long fall.”

I’ve been listening to all the One Ok Rock Rurouni Kenshin songs and got caught up in feels. I really can’t wait to watch the second and third movies.

(Palette #85)

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Forgive me, I have Sinned