A TRAIN COMES INTO THE STATION.
You wake up on a train.
Your phone is buzzing. It's in your pocket, in your hand, on the seat next to you. It's a normal phone, and you're on a normal train car. One of the lights flickers, a little further down. The world is very quiet. It feels like you're right where you're meant to be. On the phone's surface is a white screen and the words—
WELCOME TO THE CITY. BEGIN ORIENTATION?
▶ NO
Please take a moment to complete your orientation.
Once you're finished, the subway doors slide open to let you out onto the train platform. To your right, the platform continues on and eventually ends; to the left is a set of stairs that will lead you up into the station itself. The platform is quiet, clean, empty—there's no one else around, and the only sounds you can hear are your own footsteps, your own breaths, and the occasional faraway sound of a creaking pipe or rush of air. The train you disembarked will stay there as long as you do, its doors still open, until you finally decide to venture up into this new locale.
As you make your way up the stairs to your left, you find yourself in the belly of City Hall station. The station is large, a sprawling underground mini-metropolis of corridors and storefronts. Here, you may find others like you, freshly-arrived city residents from other realms (or even your own). There is also a subway map, which will give you an idea of the layout of the neighborhood, and ticketing machines, which can currently only be used to buy tickets to a handful of stations located on lines 1, 2, and 9.
If you're hungry or in need of any kind of supplies, there are plenty of storefronts inside the subway station as well—snack stands, convenience stores, restaurants, clothing stores, a pharmacy, and a variety of empty shops that may or may not have ever been in use. Everything is unlocked, and you can take whatever you need.
Characters may stay on the train platform indefinitely, and may re-board and re-disembark from the subway as many times as they like, but the train will not depart nor will the doors close. Once they go up the stairs into the train station, they may hear the train doors closing and the train departing. Another train will not arrive, no matter how long the character waits. Only once they come up the stairs into the station itself may characters encounter their fellow newly-arrived residents and take advantage of what the city has to offer.
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WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
The station is located in the city center. It has three major exits that lead to areas of interest in the district, but there are several other smaller exits that lead in other directions around the neighborhood. You are welcome to use any of them, but may find the north, southwest, and east exits to be the most welcoming.
TO THE NORTH
The northern entrance to the station leads up into the sunlight and puts you out in a brickwork plaza. There's a modest building in front of you, three or four stories of stone with a welcoming facade. There's a sign above the entryway—it says City Hall. You may be tempted to explore, if you're interested in learning more about the city and how it functions, but prepare to find yourself disappointed—the folders in the records rooms are full of empty, blank sheets of paper, and the logbooks and balance sheets are similarly devoid of information.
Immediately to the southwest of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information kiosk. It looks welcoming, with an inviting glass facade and a sign above the entryway announcing it as the "TOURIST CENTER." It's a humble building with a receptionist's desk on the back wall opposite the entrance, empty magazine shelves lining the side walls, and a few spinning brochure racks full of blank pamphlets. Anyone is welcome to peruse the tourist literature, though they won't offer much information, being primarily filled with pictures of the surrounding area—City Hall, the park, a statue garden, and the surprisingly heavily-featured cemetery. There are a few sentences sprinkled throughout about basic offerings of the city, such as apartment complexes and office buildings, as well as a few maps with the same limited scope as the larger version on the wall behind the receptionist's desk.
The main feature of the tourist center is the interactive kiosk installed dead in the center, right in the middle of a few rows of uncomfortable chairs that fill the small room. It's noticeably in the way of any would-be foot traffic through the tourist center, and something about the technology seems a little more modern than the computer behind the desk or the landline phone on the wall. The kiosk is a tall silver rectangle, about average adult height, and the upper half is a screen welcoming visitors to touch it to activate the kiosk. If you were to touch it, the screen would come to life with simple dialogue inviting visitors to ask it their questions.
However, residents should note that the kiosk is only programmed to assist with exploration within the available areas of the city. It may not be able to answer every question, and tampering with the kiosk may result in unreliable or inaccurate answers!
TO THE SOUTHWEST
The western exit of the station takes you up into a city park, lush and green with a very light fog still hanging about the trees. There are lampposts on the walkways and benches where you could rest, and plenty of flora, although you can neither see nor hear any signs of animal life. You walk the paths that meander idly through the verdant grass and you feel a sense of peace, some of your unease about this place easing into a pleasant calm. The air smells fresh, like it's recently rained, and you'll find the grass ever so slightly damp should you decide to take a seat.
As you make your way deeper into the park, the trees grow denser and the smell of soil and plant life grows stronger. This is the older part of the park, very nearly a forest, with ivy climbing the trunks of the trees and plants and shrubs growing riotously around their bases. As you turn a corner, you find yourself first in the statue garden, although the statues are harder to see now, choked as they are with ivy. There are many statues, some partially obscured, some fully—very few of them still stand free of the vines and clinging roots. (It doesn't feel quite as peaceful here.) If a statue's face looks a little bit familiar, you may not want to look at it too long.
Continue down the path and you will find yourself in a graveyard, one that seems centuries old. Most of the headstones are worn away by time and covered in moss, rendering them impossible to read. The few that are free of moss are blank, or bear only suggestions of names too faint to be understood. (Was that the name of—no, it couldn't have been. Could it?) Many of the headstones stand at an angle or are toppled over completely, having been subjected to either strong winds or the roots of the trees that grow up from some of the graves, spreading branches toward the sky.
TO THE EAST
The final exit of the station, to the east, puts you out on a quiet surface street. Are you hungry? Or are you paralyzed by choice? There are plenty of restaurants, offering options of almost any food you can imagine. You could try a convenience store—it's well stocked, and the items there seem free for the taking. How about a restaurant? There's no one to take your order, but when you look in the kitchen, there's something on the stove, and it's just what you've been craving. Imagine that.
A few blocks down, you come in through the lobby of a tall building and find yourself in a corporate office. The fluorescent lights are steady and unforgiving, and the cubicles and offices are empty. There are a few pieces of paper on desks, a few folders left in organizers, but everything is perfectly blank. Despite how empty and quiet the office is, it nonetheless gives you the feeling that just a few minutes ago, this place was bustling with workers going about their daily business.
You enter another building and find yourself in the lobby of an apartment complex—finally, a place to rest. The first door you try opens easily into a completely empty living room, freshly vacuumed but without a single piece of furniture. It's a nice apartment, quiet, but with a little too much echo for your taste, maybe. Still, and perhaps oddly, you have no trouble envisioning what life here would be like.
The second door you open leads to an apartment that feels lived-in. Why does it feel lived-in? It's fully furnished with items that seem to go together perfectly, true, but the feeling is more than that—the room feels like someone was just here, maybe standing right in the kitchen only moments before you swung the door open. The air is a perfectly comfortable temperature, and it somehow smells like home despite that you've never once set foot here before. The refrigerator is stocked, and the cabinets are full of spices and flatware and kitchen utensils.
As you look around the living room, you find that there are pictures in frames on the walls and some of the flat surfaces—a seascape, a field, a shot of a city park bench. In each of the photos there's something just slightly wrong with the angle, as though the photographer were aiming for a subject that can no longer be seen.
Characters are welcome to explore the district around the City Hall subway station to their heart's content. The City Hall building itself contains several floors of offices and file rooms, but none of them contain any particularly interesting information. Nonetheless, characters may wish to team up with other newcomers and try to find some hints about the nature of the city. They can also spend a while in the park, the statue garden, or the graveyard. In the blocks surrounding the station there are plenty of options for food and housing, as well as office buildings, storefronts, and alleyways to look around. There are no workers in any of the buildings, and there does not seem to be an honor system for payment, nor any consequences for taking food from the stores or setting up camp in an apartment or office building.
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I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM.
Have you ever visited the ice cream parlor located in District 2? It's a pretty quirky little joint!
When you walk in, what you'll likely notice first is the colors. Everything is bright, almost oversaturated—the pink of the leather seats, the teal of the walls, the red of the menu sign hanging over the counter. By all rights it seems like these colors shouldn't go together, but somehow they do, or maybe that's just because being in an ice cream parlor puts you in a good mood. It smells like waffle cones, and overhead, there's music pumping through the speakers at just the right volume, providing some nice background noise to your decision-making process.
Wait, music?
There's a jukebox at the far end of the shop, which seems to be where the music is being chosen. As you head over, the song comes to an end and the jukebox machinery shuffles through its options before landing on a new one. The song sounds sort of familiar, doesn't it? And the longer you listen, the more the lyrics really seem to speak to you. It costs money to pick your own song, so if you happen to have some coins on you—or if you're really, really determined—you can choose the next round of tunes.
When you're done at the jukebox, you can go check out the serving area of the shop. Behind the counter you can see milkshake mixers and waffle cone makers; there are ice cream cakes in the freezers that line the wall; and when you approach the main counter you can see the tubs of ice cream in almost any flavor you can imagine.
Pick a flavor, whichever one's your favorite! Do you want it in a cone or in a bowl? There are regular cones and waffle cones, and all kinds of toppings—sprinkles, syrups, gummy candy, mini marshmallows. Decorate your ice cream however you want, the sky's the limit when it comes to choices! You can even come back for seconds if you want, or thirds. Who's going to say anything about it, after all?
But the more of your ice cream you eat, the more you start to feel… strange. Maybe you're starting to get angry, or sad, or giddy—maybe you feel romantic, or feel like you want to tell a secret to a stranger, and you're not really sure why. You also can't quite seem to stop eating your ice cream, and the more you eat, the less worried you feel about whatever's happening to your emotions. After all, why be concerned about that when you have something so delicious in front of you?
| Flavor |
Effect |
| Strawberry |
You find yourself compelled to seek out strangers and tell them a hidden truth about yourself |
| Rocky Road |
You find yourself compelled to seek out strangers and convince them of some egregious lie |
| Vanilla |
You are overwhelmed by a sense of total calm, and can only speak in aphorisms and platitudes |
| Rainbow Sherbert |
You are overwhelmed by amorous feelings towards whoever is near you and try to cuddle or kiss them |
| Chocolate |
You feel suddenly morose about something in your past and cannot stop crying until someone consoles you |
| Bubblegum |
You become uncontrollably giggly and giddy, and can only speak in rhyme |
| Caramel Ribbon |
You become angry and perhaps even violent, trying to attack anyone who comes near |
| Mint Chocolate Chip |
You suddenly have a common but exaggerated phobia (for example, a fear of heights where the step down off the curb is too much) |
When characters first enter the ice cream parlor, they may notice that there's music playing overhead! That's from the jukebox, and the lyrics of the song may sound like they're particularly apt for a character's circumstances. Players are welcome to choose their own jukebox songs for their characters—it doesn't need to have appeared in canon, but characters from modern times are welcome to recognize the music being played. (Players can also feel free not to pick a real song at all, and instead just describe the overall sound of the song and content of the lyrics!)
This is an ice cream parlor, so of course there's also ice cream to be had. Characters can serve themselves whatever flavor combination they want, but shortly thereafter will find themselves suffering certain emotional effects depending on what flavors they chose. These emotional effects, shown above, will last for roughly an hour before slowly dissipating, and their intensity depends on how much ice cream the character ate and whether they were able to recognize what was happening and stop eating. Not every flavor has an emotional effect, so players can also choose to have their character eat a normal scoop and go about their day.
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WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.
If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations.
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citylogs2023-08-02 12:00 am
Richard III | Requiem of the Rose King
[The strange carriage bears him swiftly to a place unknown. Hell, he expects. Yet Richard remains still for a time, ignoring the unfamiliar stimuli harassing his senses. It feels as though he’s been driven to forward motion all his life; to simply sit here—counting each precious breath exiting his lungs—is a luxury that he can’t say he deserves. Richard would be content to close his eyes and rest like this, if not for the irritating pulsing in the palm of his left hand. When he finally deigns to return to reality and look, he’s met with some tablet-like oddity.
Much later, once he finally escapes the carriage, Richard eavesdrops on a conversation aboveground regarding the alleged situation. So, this isn’t the afterlife. An overwhelming lassitude threatens to drown him then; only the knowledge that he hasn’t earned eternal rest prevents him from giving in to despair. And so Richard—neither king nor lord, neither man nor woman—walks onward, with the single voice occupying his thoughts his own.]
▌ I. DISTRICT 1, CITY PARK – FOREST
▌ II. DISTRICT 1, CITY PARK – STATUE GARDEN
cw: implied incest (son to father)
▌ III. DISTRICT 2, ICE CREAM PARLOR
II
Dito's gorge rises in his throat as he looks away from the unnervingly familiar sight, and as he does so he notices a willowy, waif-like individual drawing close to another statue a few feet away. Drawing close with an astounding amount of intimacy, in fact-- apparently Dito isn't the only one seeing ghosts around here. He notes the kiss with mild amusement, which rises to a schadenfreude-like mixture of disgust and delight at the invocation of "Father". This is just too good an opportunity to pass up.]
Oi. Oedipus Rex. Mind dry-humping familial effigies on your own time? Some of us have places to be.
[Richard isn't even in the way. Dito's just displaced, disoriented and disconcerted, and the person in front of him seems like the perfect target on which to sharpen his claws.]
no subject
And who are you to suggest my time is not my own?
[Richard indulges in one last study of the sculpture, mournful longing dark on his brow. Then he twists away to face Dito fully, taking a moment to retrieve his gauntlet from the ground and slide it back on.]
Someone learned, at least.
[The curse that befell Oedipus the King…yes, there are some parallels, Richard supposes. Self-fulfilling prophecy doomed them both.]
I just found out these two have the same Japanese VA holy shit
The other man(?) is easy on the eyes, Dito has to give him that. His features are soft enough that he looks either like a very pretty man or a vaguely masculine woman. Sort of like Cent without the muscles. Dito wonders if he's equally as stupid. Pretty people like him usually are.]
Oh? So you regularly indulge in incestual fantasies in public? Tch. You'd fit right in with my former mistress. She was just as much of a freak.
oh my god WHAT ARE THE ODDS highfive dude
What a foul mouth you have. [He does not likewise lift his chin; instead, Richard gazes coldly at Dito from beneath thick lashes, having mastered the effect of looking down on people without actually needing to do so.] Have you never kissed family before? I have to question what your “mistress” had you do, that you would find something so commonplace “incestual.”
[Still, a male prostitute at this child’s age? Well, there are certainly the true freaks who would pay for such an opportunity. That said, Richard wonders if he isn’t underestimating the stranger; the young man might be older than he appears. Buckingham was, after their first few initial meetings.]
Mitsuki Saiga just talking to herself in this thread
Heh. You have to have family first to be able to kiss 'em. Never had any of those-- at least none that I can remember. People might point to that being the reason I'm so fucked in the head, and maybe they're right.
[He doesn't say this as if he's ashamed of it. Quite the opposite-- there's a certain note of coquettish pride in his voice, as if he were mentioning some sort of innate talent he possessed.]
Probably still wouldn't go around making out with statues, though. That's a little too out there even for me. Where'd you even find a statue of your father anyway-- this your garden or something?
what an amazing mental image
“Making out,” [echoes Richard, a touch of confusion punctuating the repeated words. He clearly isn’t familiar with the term.] …In any case, this isn’t my garden. The statue—
[As he speaks, Richard moves to the side to afford a better view of his noble father…except, when he glances at the bust again, the former king is startled to find it now represents a woman. Beyond the length of hair, there’s nothing similar between the caricature of his father and the statue as it stands now.]
…Black magic, [he surmises grimly. Eyes narrowed, he gestures to the shapeshifting statue.] What do you see when you look upon it?
ii
Sasuke walks into the cemetery, because there is nothing more personal to living beings than where they keep the dead. Still, he's disappointed. The headstones are either obscured or entirely blank, just the same as every other material he'd investigated first.
(And, if at one moment he is almost certain he sees a name, a very familiar name that runs ice through his body, gone in a blink — then he must be suffering to this place more than he realized.)
His survey becomes less careful as he moves deeper, out of the cemetery and into the statue garden, stopped by the sound of a voice — not belonging to someone he recognizes, but there's no one here he would. The content of the low, whispering words, and the kiss placed reverently on the mouth of the statue, convince him this is too private to witness. Sasuke has almost turned to leave when he sees something in the image of the statue shift, and warp, before his eyes.]
... It's an illusion. [That would explain earlier.] It isn't them.
no subject
A sharp pain lances his heart. The last he saw this beloved visage, it was on the chopping block awaiting the swing of the axe—held in his own two damn hands. Richard is wholly unprepared to be faced with any caricature of his executed lover so suddenly; with tears collecting in his mismatched eyes, he storms a short distance away from the statue.]
How? [he demands sharply, voice fraught with an emotion he’s too terrified to name.] How did you know? When you called out that it was an illusion, it still bore my father’s visage.
[Blinking away the tears angrily, he whirls on Sasuke. Misplaced anger and hurt darken his countenance.]
Well?
no subject
Sometimes I can see what others cannot. [Sasuke's head turns, a look that slides sideways as if guilty, though truthfully more complicated than that. There are many reasons why remaining cautious and moderate with his admissions is a better choice right now.] Don't you find it suspicious? This isn't where we belong. You should expect that your surroundings won't be trustworthy.
[A pair of mismatched eyes flicker back to Richard, briefly.]
And... I noticed something earlier, in the cemetery. It gave me a clue.
no subject
As the young man speaks, Richard makes an effort to master himself. With admirable speed, his demeanor shifts into one of practiced neutrality—distant and cool. Only the moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes betray him, though such weakness will eventually fade. Steeled, not even the recognition of Sasuke’s similar condition of heterochromia shakes Richard. From this distance, the rings of Rinnegan cannot be made out; he can discern just a single purple iris, a lovely color that suits the youth.]
It appears anything is possible in this “city,” [comes his even reply, the heat having evaporated from his voice.] What does our belonging have to do with it? We are outsiders, yet here we are nonetheless. So why would it be suspicious for a statue to bear the likeness of my noble father?
[That said, Richard is not too proud to avoid admitting a mistake.]
Though…you’re correct. I should have taken more care. [Pointedly scrutinizing Sasuke, he candidly adds:] I refuse to make the same mistake again.
Will you share what you found in the cemetery?
i could stare at ur icons all day they're so beautiful
Those questions are more intuitive and observant than any he might have expected to come. Sasuke is careful in his response, picking words like careful footfalls through a path of thorns.]
If our environment is changing to reflect us in any way, it suggests an intention behind its creation. Autonomy in the design of a larger plan. That, and access to our minds.
[It is the most worrying conclusion he's considered. To unlock their deepest secrets, the artifacts of loved ones played out on stone surroundings, would take some force he hasn't found and can't yet see. Sasuke looks away again — choosing even more judiciously his next reply.]
I saw names on the headstones that didn't belong. I know for a fact they couldn't be in this place.
AREN'T THEY, such amazing coloring...
If you are so confident that those individuals are not here, [he muses, tone distracted for only a moment before he returns his full attention to Sasuke,] then you can explain why, yes? In my short time here, I have witnessed men and women, adults and children—all supposedly brought to this realm against their will. Why do you believe those you knew could escape a similar fate?
no subject
Because they are no longer alive.
[He has seen jutsu reanimate the dead — but that is an exception he does not believe possible here. How could it be, when he himself is so weakened? Any other possibility is a cold, clawing threat on his skin. And what would be the purpose? Further torment, before they are gone again?
Sasuke doesn't move as the statue between them changes once more, this time warping not from a figure of Richard's mind but one of his own — tall, dark-haired, narrow-eyed, unjustly manifested from the exact dwelling of his thoughts. He is deliberate not to look at his brother's face. It wouldn't do anything if he did.]
Perhaps yours are. If you believe they might be here, then you should look for them yourself. But I wouldn't anticipate it.
yells at the sighting of a richard in the wilds
but all moments are fleeting, even ones sticky-sweet. the rainbow colors in the parlor had enticed him so easily, the frosted dessert creamy and soft on his tongue. but it's poison. this whole place could be poison. his skin prickles now, heated in a way he doesn't like, in a way a cold substance should counteract but isn't. the staccato rhythm of his heart frightens him. he's thinking of things he shouldn't, of things he doesn't want to, and the longer he stands there, the more he realizes that it isn't the ice cream, but him. it's the wretched want inside of him that's always been there, the thing that makes him both recoil and brush against fire.
from within the folds of his cloak, he grasps for the cross around his neck — then whirls around as if a king has commanded him, as if he isn't a king himself. and he shouldn't have, because his throat goes dry, his eyes widening, the pulse in his heart intensifying tenfold at the sight of richard. richard, richard, his angel, richard.
he jerks back, his hood falling from his blond hair. ]
Richard. [ and, helpless, his gaze follows his pale, slender finger. ] You love strawberries. Let me —
[ touch you? kiss you? he's horrified that those words nearly pass his lips, unbidden. strained, he continues — ] Let me get it for you.
[ he sweeps away to the counter to ask for the ice cream, wishing he could burst into a million shards of light so the lord could take him. ]
shrieks WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF A HENRY i'm so beyond excited ahhhh
As the other man busies himself at the counter, Richard continues to stare in wonder. The sight is enough to cast all doubt from his mind about the city—this realm cannot be the afterlife. For all that he chased after it, the light forever eluded Richard; he is destined for the bowels of hell, where Buckingham surely awaits him. He and Henry would never meet again in death. It is impossible. And then there is the matter of Henry’s appearance: soft locks of blond hair and an unscarred face. This is not James Tyrell. Not yet. Had Richard not already overheard of such bizarre magics at play here, he might question his sanity for seeing ghosts. Instead, he’s forced to question it for the damned color blooming in his cheeks when Henry returns to him, cone of ice cream in hand. What is he, some lovestruck child?
Numb, he accepts the cone and studies it as if it were the most fascinating object in the room. Though he’s gleaned the proper way to consume such a treat from watching the other patrons, licking the ice cream at this moment feels horrifically perverse.]
…You didn’t get an ice cream for yourself, [he points out, a stupid remark that he regrets almost instantly. Flush intensifying, he stiffens beneath the layers of armor in mild mortification, then rallies; if he’s to make an idiot of himself, he might as well double down.] Come. We’ll request one for you as well. Then we can try the “ice cream” together.
[Richard approaches the counter himself, expression so severe with determination that the young woman helping serve ice cream—another traveler to this world like them—actually flinches away in terror.]
Henry… What flavor would you prefer?
[real "he asked for no pickles" energy]
i'm rusty on the manga i need to do a re-read i'm gomen
I can't have anymore. [ soft, guilt-soaked words. ] I chose the rainbow-colored one because it felt... it looked like a beautiful sky.
[ and it deceived him. turned him into this. he swallows, his prayers a feverish, silent plea. he doesn't want to risk richard doing the kind thing and getting him even more so they can eat together, so he slowly takes a hand and places it on the curve of richard's back, steering him away from the counter and toward one of the pretty plants adorning the far wall. up close, the leaves are waxy and wrong-looking. ]
Do you like it? [ richard loves strawberries. of course he does. henry watches him with concern in his blue eyes, looking disheveled in the worn, brown cloak thrown over his nicer clothes. he is very concerned with the way richard's tongue makes small indentations in the swirl of ice cream. ] Richard, your...
[ without thinking, henry reaches out to brush his fingers over richard's cheek, finding it warm and so soft. ] Your face is turning the color of a strawberry. Should we...? I think this is too much. There's no war here.
[ maybe he's just too warm, covered head to toe in armor, in black. his cross leaves an angry indentation across his palm as he uses both hands to find a place to helpfully unfasten some of richard's armor from his slim body. ]
omg don't apologize, your Henry is fantastic...... this thread is a blessing
And then Henry reaches out toward him. Alarm roots Richard to the spot, a fight-or-fight response that always seems to end in freeze where the other man is concerned. The words that Henry murmurs are nonsensical in that moment; he could be speaking in tongues for all that Richard is aware of. Warmth is blooming, sweet and delightful, on the pale skin where Henry has touched his cheek—and it’s obscene, the way Henry makes him feel, even after all that has come between them, even after all that Richard has done to prove himself unworthy of this.]
“Too much?” What—? [Those lovely hands move once more. This time, however, their intent spooks Richard badly once he realizes what Henry plans. Jerking away with wild, fearful eyes, he brandishes the ice cream cone between them as if it were a sword.] Wh-what are you doing!?
[Unbeknownst to him, the ice cream’s strange magic flares; Richard finds himself parting lips to speak once more.]
I have never even allowed a valet to dress or undress me. [A horrifying truth buried in a secret he must keep from Henry. Why did he say such a thing!? In his panic, his next words are sharper than he means for them to be.] I hardly require your help!
same feel for u
You don't wish to be attended?
[ an image comes unbidden to his mind, of richard bathing in the lake in the woods, his hair glistening like oil, stark and beautiful against the white of his skin. richard is so pale, as if he never allows even the sun to see him. henry can remember so clearly the curve of his back, the way his body narrowed at the waist, how he wanted to see the full shape of him but the waterline had hidden it away. ]
We can go somewhere alone. [ if richard wants peace and seclusion, then henry can find that for him. ] I saw a forest with statues in it. No one will see you.
[ except for henry, whose heart is pounding once again, almost dizzy with want. he doesn't know what to do with it. he only knows he wants richard to feel good and comfortable, and shedding some of his armor while they sit on the soft grass beneath a canopy of trees should help with that. ]
Will you come with me?
iii
Thankfully, you needn't imagine, [ his cold mouth agrees, leaning his hips back into the sleek metal serving counter. it's several degrees cooler in the shop than it is outside, and he doesn't have any particular reason to move on just yet, preferring to get in someone's way and be a nuisance. ] You can just walk right up and taste.
[ tall, broad, lacking a limb and yet seemingly immovable — he stands and watches, curiosity mildly piqued to see how this plays out. ]
no subject
…Yes, [he agrees, a touch reluctant. Even now, he hesitates to help himself to the treat.] Though…the manner of eating it is…indelicate.
[A small, wry smile briefly tugs at the corners of his mouth; Richard’s reaction seems to suggest that he is not so prudish as to proclaim the whole affair of sampling ice cream as debauched, but it is unusual for him to witness publicly.]
You have some on your lip. [Spoken offhand as Richard leans in to survey the flavors past the glass; he soon finds the coloring that matches the evidence behind on Suguru’s face.] “Mint chocolate chip?” Hm.
[Who the hell is he trying to fool? Richard was doomed to select strawberry from the start; they are his favorite fruit, after all. After a moment of apparent indecision put on purely for show, he resigns himself and inexpertly scoops up a small serving of strawberry ice cream—into a bowl. Leave that cone-licking nonsense to the zoomers.
Without fanfare, he raises the plastic spoon to his mouth and takes his first bite. The blast of cold air emanating from the ice cream startles him into swallowing too soon, though the aftertaste is pleasant enough he supposes. Sweet, like strawberries—though lacking the delicious juices.]
I have been telling people my name is William, [he finds himself telling Suguru conversationally,] but it is actually Richard, after my noble father—Richard Plantagenet.
[Richard stiffens, eyes widening. He hadn’t meant to—why did he divulge that secret to this stranger? Still alarmed, he stares at Suguru…and unconsciously shovels in a larger helping of strawberry ice cream.]
no subject
Sometimes indelicacy is the point, [ he agrees, taking stock of Richard's juxtaposition between acceptance of the inherent salacity and deference to a bowl. a willing participant but not an instigator, hm? and strawberry... well, if he comes from a backwater world, that's probably the height of luxury, now isn't it? ]
[ a young noble. it only proves the theory he's been working on, wondering at what exceptional circumstances must've brought him here — for a moment, anyway. a noble's golden cup is nothing to admire unless it quenches a silver tongue, too. the city is without governance because he allows it to be so, but what might come of an ambitious young man without that same whimsy? ]
[ from that perspective: it sounds like small talk. he doesn't question the abrupt volunteering of information in the least. ]
What concerns you about others knowing your true self, William? [ well, at least he's a good sport? ]
I
so, he's out here in the woods— eager to give it another try. hoping that tonight might be different, and once he pulls on the cord attached to his chest, this time his chainsaws will come out and bust through his skull, tearing his flesh apart. oh, how he missed that agonizing pain. he didn't expect to find someone lingering around, and denji would've dismissed it — if it wasn't for the heavy scent of blood in the air.
ah, is he dead? in which he approached the 'body', crouched down before it, and flat-out asked with a nonchalant tone. ]
... Hey. Are you still alive?
i saw you on doomherald's commissions, can't wait to see your icons when they're done :EYES:
Unfortunately, [he remarks lowly, meant to be uttered under his breath but possible to be heard in the otherwise quiet of the forest. Louder:] You sound too casual about possibly addressing a corpse.
[After a moment, Richard leverages himself up onto his elbows, giving Denji his full attention. The boy can’t be any older than twenty winters.]
I presume you’re more familiar with death than you should be at your age. When did you start participating in battle?
oh yeah! I figured those beautiful icons of yours are their work. i'm excited to see mine too!!
more importantly, a knight is a girl's best fantasy, right? he could've sworn he heard that ideology somewhere. "a knight in shining armor". denji wondered if he's supposed to dress like that to seduce someone. the fact denji is more interested in analyzing a potential idea to attract a mate instead of attending to this guy's wounds is— something. ]
You speak as if you're much older than me. [ after all, richard's features are quite young. as for that question— denji gestures with his hand; as if he's explaining the height of a child. ] ... Since I was this big.
[ an honest, concise answer. so he had no fear about approaching a corpse after all. he then relaxed his arm, assuming it was his turn to ask a question and it was certainly a simple one. there is a touch of innocent curiosity behind it, too. ]
What are you exactly?