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
no subject
[Nansen's eyes narrow again, and his own lips purse in a markedly less pathetic manner than Rokurou's- the deigning of a cat to pay something any mind. He's already sort of got brothers, technically... But none of them are at the citadel, and they're definitely not here, or he'd be getting bullied left and right. Sigh.]
[Whatever; this guy has a weird vibe to him, and that half of his face almost reminds him of an HRA sword, but he doesn't seem to be an enemy. He'll just have to be on his guard.]
...It's gotta be, but if someone ends up melting them down... [Nansen groans and falls to a squat at Rokurou's sandaled feet.] --Nononono, don't think like that!! [He grips his fingers into his hair and shakes his head; the little curls at the sides make a mock sort of folded-over "ear" that flips and flops around his fingers.] Nyaaaa, someone around here's more likely to pick it up and try to use it, right?? So, I just have to follow that feeling....
[Internal crisis managed in a matter of rollercoastering moments, the blond leaps back to his feet in front of Rokurou, a springy motion with the heels of his dress loafers clicking on the subway tile.]
Alright!! If you're gonnya be my "brother", then you're the little brother! Nyeh heh heh! [Nansen reaches out and gives Rokurou, who has a full head on him in height and at least two in thickness, a hearty slap on the back.] You can call me "aniki" whenever you want! Consider yourself lucky, for not everyone gets this honor!
no subject
[ Rokurou clutches his face when Nansen mentions the possibility of their swords being melted down. Yes, the possibility had crossed his mind, but ... no. Not that sword. So, the daemon slaps his own cheeks, righting his mind again with a series of swats while the other man similarly recoups. Their swords are fine. Fine. They're probably just hidden in a treasure chest somewhere around here. That's always how it goes back where he's from. ]
Hrk! [ the slap catches him off guard; there's force behind it! as expected, a fellow swordsman is no slouch. and this makes them even, doesn't it... debt repaid. ] Alright, aniki.
[ Does he think this is his name? Yes. Yes he does. Despite his name being in the tongue of his great ancestor's land, he's actually never been there. Aniki sounds as fine a name as any other. ]
That's good with me. I'm Rokurou—which means sixth son! I have five older brothers, so I'm used to being the little brother anyway. Hey, that means you have to spoil me, right?
[ A sparkle glints in his eye at the prospect of being spoiled. ]
no subject
[Nansen, also used to being the "youngest" Ichimonji and the spoiled kitten, furrows his brow into a pout once again. For all he complained about his position, he sure did feel protective of it!]
[Ahhh, but this is the way of the world, isn't it?? The strong should take the lead, and he's certainly a powerful and terrifying Touken Danshi! Nikkou-aniki keeps him on his toes, and so he should do the same for his young charge now. Straightening his back a little, Nansen nods to himself and crosses his arms over his chest.] ...Well, I guess it's okay to spoil your junior sometimes, [He acquiesces, and taps his finger on his arm.]
Listen, Rokurou-kun. You and I will work together to find our blades! Oh, there's another guy too, but... Ahh, don't worry about it right nyow. You'll probably meet him eventually.
[Nansen blinks in thought. Trying to explain that gramps was kinda impossible anyway...]
First things first: your odachi got a name? You should be able to call out to him, and if you call with all your heart...! [Nansen slaps a palm over his own chest, a loud clap over the bare skin his shirt barely covered.] ...Mm, well, you probably won't hear diddly, but-- maybe I might!
no subject
Of course it has a name!
[ Calling out, eh? Honestly, that strikes him as a bit silly, but it’s not like it’ll hurt anything to do it. After rubbing his chin for a moment, Rokurou cups his hands around his mouth to give a good shout. ]
STOOORRRMMMMHHHHOOOOWWWLLLLLLLL!!!!
[ Howl… howl… howl…
The echo dies off and Rokurou takes a satisfied breath, standing straight with his hands on his hips. Silly—yes. But as far as stress relief, he’s feeling much better for the first time since realizing that the sword was missing. ]
Hey, that felt pretty good.
[ Tragically, after the echo dies off, the subway channels return to their eerie quiet. Not a shuffle to be heard. Rokurou pauses, then glances back at “aniki”, ]
What is this place, anyway? It isn’t a prison.
no subject
[That's too much thinking for Nansen, though. Wow, this guy is loud. He can't help but wince a little as the reverberating call of the sword's name bounces off concrete and tile, nary a rat or cockroach around to scurry in its wake. Nonetheless, as promised: Nansen focuses his senses as the call goes forth, intensely staring out into the open platform of the train.]
[...]
[... ... ...!] --Unya? [Rushing forward towards the edge of the platform, his head jerks about as if looking for something, and... falls to the sight of a leaky subway grate above, the source of that tiny trickle.] .............Nope. Nothing.
[A sigh of disappointment.] Maybe that guy's nyot somewhere where we can hear 'im? After all, I can't feel mine, either. [But that didn't mean they weren't here, right?]
[Pondering that, he glances back at Ro's question.] Eh? Ahh... It's a place called a 'train station', [He says authoritatively, with the air of someone who learned what that was last week.] These big metal carriages come through the tunnels and zip! Take you to different places throughout the city, super quick, meow!!
I came here cuz that guy said he was gonna look around in the tunnels, but I can't find him, so I guess I'll just head back outside...
[He rubs his chin, thinking, and then snaps his fingers.] Why don't we ask the fortune-telling sage!? I'll bet she'll knyow what to do!
no subject
He sighs in disappointment in tandem while rubbing his forehead. The hell, he's really just going to have to search every nook and cranny for it, huh... that sword is his life. What it means is too heavy to forget, too important to disregard. Without its weight on his back, the past breaks fragments behind his eyelids. Too light, as if he'll be lifted from the earth from those old memories, from that feeling that cursed night—
—focus.
Steeling himself once more, Rokurou glances back and forth along the track and nods at Nansen's explanation. A train station, huh ... he adds the information aniki has so generously imparted to his mental library for future use. All of this is foreign; he's seen places like this before, but they were always ruins and dungeons filled with beasts and daemons. Looking around now, aside from lacking people, there aren't any creatures either.
Really a strange place. ]
There's a fortune-telling sage? [ that, at least, sounds like something that would exist where he's from, ] Where are they? Also here in the "train station"?
[ Man, he got really lucky meeting up with someone who knows so much! And a fellow swordsman, too. ]
Wait. Do we have to pay? I don't have much money.
no subject
[He thinks. Not exactly a reliable judge for that, this thousand-year-old tsukumogami, but he's lived through modern times, too! Surely he can judge these things.]
...It's weird. [Nansen hesitates after a moment and frowns to himself, leading Rokurou towards the stairs that led up from the subway station,] This whole place doesn't need money. There's always food ready to eat in the restaurants, and supplies in the shops, and nothing seems to run out, even though........
[Even though the humans- the ones that belong here- have all disappeared. It's troubling, and unnerving- and worse, an object once beloved by humans, he can think of a few reasons why that would be.]
[But he keeps them to himself as they emerge into the too-bright daytime, the sunlight cast between the long, overbearing shadows of office buildings and skyscrapers.]
[It's a concrete jungle- but Nansen seems unaffected by its majesty, simply sticking his hands in his pockets as he glances around to find his bearings, and then starts strolling down a street.]
...By the way.... "Stormhowl", who's the smith of that sword? You know, nya?
no subject
It isn't something he gets to mull over long. Dumbfounded, the daemon stares out at the expanse of buildings. Yes, he's been to the capital back home and isn't a stranger to ornate buildings and roads, but this is ... massive. A blend of concrete and metal, where asphalt sits strong in his nose and the gleam off of windows forces his eyes into a squint.
Rokurou follows after Nanase while digesting the sights. Forget the size, there are so many things he's never even seen before. ]
Huh? [ he's still kind of stupid when the other asks his question; after a few blinks, ] I don't. The forger ... he's always been shrouded in mystery. It's a great name though, right? Every swing is so mighty that it makes howling winds that can level mountains, or so the legends say.
[ The more they travel, the more he notices—no people. It's strange, so much like the nights of the scarlet moon back home. Nights when daemons would flood and people would be ripped from their beds if they were unlucky. Everything left in a state of lurch. ]
—how long have you been here?
no subject
[So, no family to guess by, either. Maybe that's a good thing, though- if the former master of someone they knew was here, that'd be trouble. Nansen glances back at Rokurou, but it's just a quick glance. If this guy was human. He's got a real youkai look to him, doesn't he...?]
How long? ...Mrow.... Not that long at all! In fact, I feel like I just got here! [What's a month or two to a spirit, though?] This place is full of great napping spots, so I've been taking it easy, meow! Especially since nothing has really happened since we got here.
But when time is "stopped", I guess that makes sense.
no subject
[ Even having just arrived, it isn’t difficult to glean that this city is a strange one. Plenty of buildings that residents would normally frequent but nary a resident to be seen. This would be less strange if there were monsters, or any indication that the locals were scared off by something. There aren’t any bloodstains, no corpses, not even the smell of an old battlefield—as a yaksha, he would notice.
Even time “stopping” doesn’t hit him as weird. There are those with artes that can pause time or slow it back home. It’s the lack of signs that strikes him the most. ]
Well, at least you found a fortuneteller. She should be able to answer some questions, right?
[ Rokurou fully intends to pick the woman’s brain when they meet. Even if he doesn’t have a stake in this city or its fate but he is curious. ]
Speaking of … is this a beautiful woman? [ he taps his chin, ] Should we bring a gift?
no subject
[A heavy sigh escapes the blond. He walks with a slight slouch, shoes scuffing the pavement as he goes and bright red sash trailing like a tail behind him. Normally, a place like this should have them on high alert- either because the enemy would definitely be nearby, or because they should be trying to escape at all cost.]
[But so far, there had been no collapse of the fabric of time. No rampaging humans. And they couldn't even find any evidence of what might have caused this world to become like this... Something relevant to the history of this place.]
[Real weird.]
Hopefully so, [He replies to Rokurou's initial question, before going thoughtfully quiet at the second. Beautiful...?] Uuunnnnn.... I guess so, meow! [As far as puppets went; she had a lovely, painted face and gilded gold lettering that seemed as though it had been well taken care of by the humans that had made use of her. That made Nansen feel warm inside- and although she didn't seem to be awake when he had come upon her last, he thinks an offering would be nice.]
[He liked offerings. They were tasty.]
Yeah, why don't we find something nice to bring over! Like maybe... sweets?
no subject
So far this day has, to put it bluntly, sucked. Losing that sword is tantamount to losing a limb and the city is painfully empty, giving no leads on anything. The first bright spot amid the gray is the thought of meeting a beautiful woman. Seeing a charming face always heals the soul.
With a fresh pep in his step, the daemon nods in agreement. ]
Definitely sweets, women love them.
[ He nods while imparting this wisdom about the things women like before turning to head toward one of the grocery stores. Having walked around a bit, he’s grown more at ease with the lack of people—he’s already pawing through the goods left out without worry. ]
Chocolate is the best, probably … but candies are also a good choice. Even better if they’re in cute shapes. [ he holds up a box of candy cat faces, ] What do you think about this? Cute, right?
no subject
[Nansen knows he is. Look at all this stuff!!]
N-nyaaa... So tasty looking, mrow.... [Nansen stops in front of a case of frozen prepared foods, nearly salivating at the sight of the prepared chicken dinners on the covers. Wow, and they even have that 'ice cream' stuff here!!]
[Modern markets were a marvel.]
Chocolate, huh..... Mm, mmm... [Finally peeling himself off of huffing breath all over the poor freezer case (the guy stocking it down the aisle looks pretty annoyed), he follows Rokurou to the candy aisle.]
[The box of kitty-faced candy earns him a flat look.] ........Are you makin' fun of me? ..Nya... --D-dammit..........! [His hand snaps over his mouth again... This damn curse...!]
no subject
[ He watches Nansen with a bit of suspicion. He had thought this earlier, but the man is ... rather cat-like, isn't he? He just hadn't commented on the matter because of the sword issue. Now that they're out of the subway and hitting the town, though, he has a moment to better think about it.
Maybe he's a huge cat fan? So intense that he just makes cat noises sometimes? It doesn't feel like the right answer, but the daemon doesn't have much of a guess unless, ]
Are you a Katz? You don't look like one, though.
[ Frankly, it would be better if he were a Katz and not some cat obsessed weirdo. ]
no subject
[Annoyed, Nansen rubs the back of his head...] You know... My true form is way larger and scarier than this, mrow! I was terrifying! A powerful guy!!
...Then that stupid cat got itself cut in half and now I'm like this... [He sucks in a sharp breath, a wheeze of suffering as he grips onto the front of Rokurou's clothes--] HOW IS THAT FAIR, NYAAA!?
[He's causing a scene in the store now, but it's fine, cuz at least there's no poor minimum wage cashier to be enduring them.]
no subject
So you were cursed by a Katz? I didn't know they could do that, they're usually pretty gentle spirits. [ he sighs, patting the top of Nansen's head indulgently, ] I get it. That really is unfair, I understand.
[ No. He does not understand at all, actually. How can a cat cut itself in half? What was aniki before? How was any part of this cute guy "terrifying" and "powerful"? At best, Rokurou can't help thinking that he needs to put on a proper sweater. ]
We don't have to get something with cats. Women will like anything cute.
no subject
[You'll rue the day.]
[Anyway, nothing Rokurou says is suspicious in a vacuum, so Nansen just nods along in agreement. That's right, he was cursed by those damned cats!!] Hmph, humans just think they're "gentle" cuz they're cute or whatever.... They're not, mrow!! They're fickle, and nosy, and they don't know how to not touch things or get into places they shouldn't be! Meow!!
[Nansen folds his arms over his half-bare chest and nods in sage agreement. Fellow cat-aggrieved.] ...........Anyway, how about the flower shapes? Women like stuff like that, I think? [At least, from what he always used to see, watching the noble ladies doing flower arranging...]
no subject
Good choice! Women love flowers too. So you have a little experience with girls, huh?
[ He turns over a few packages of chocolates, looking for any with floral patterns. If not, a bouquet of flowers would also work well. It is the thought that counts given they’re meeting her for the first time—at least, Rokurou is. ]
What’s your type?
[ A causal question as he browses the shelves, trying to find a treat that is both aesthetically pleasing and sounds like it tastes good. Bringing crap wouldn’t make a nice first impression. ]
no subject
Ummm... Well, I've never really had much chocolate before. Maybe the ones with the little candies sprinkled on them, meowr?
[Completely not getting what Rokurou is asking.] --Oh! This one!
[Nansen trots down the aisle and squats, picking up a bouquet of chocolate roses.] Haaaa... So expensive, nya!! Why is this kind of thing so pricey...? Is it that special?
no subject
[ He trails, rubbing his neck, wondering if he should clarify. It sounds as though aniki was a soldier that didn’t interact with women much—which does make sense to him. A normal soldier would not interact with a noble woman. So, only from a distance, huh? Does that mean he’s a virgin?
Better to not ask a virgin his type of woman. It might just make him sad. Chocolate is a safer topic of conversation. ]
Roses are expensive flowers, though I wouldn’t say they’re my favorite. Good chocolate is pricey too. [ he trots over to crouch beside Nansen, ] So naturally it would be expensive. No one is here, so I say we just take it. I bet she’ll love it and it’s free for us. We both win!
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[Ahhh, but nevermind that spider's web of a discussion. The Fukuoka Ichimonji doesn't have much of a problem with that! Nansen slaps his knee and stands again, tucking the chocolate roses under-arm.]
Well, anyway! We got our gift, right? Don't matter if it's expensive or not cuz we don't gotta pay, nyahaha! [There's no one at the register here, just like at all the other shops and restaurants... At first, Nansen thought it felt really weird to just take things, but there's no humans around to yell at him. Who cares!]
Ossu! Follow after meow, newbie! I'll lead you to the oracle, as promised!
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[ That is a spider's web of a discussion. Rokurou almost gears up to launch into a discussion on sword smithing, how they cast several models of the same blade, use of materials, replication, fakes... but it is not the time. Were there not a beautiful woman who he has become intent on hooking poor aniki up with waiting, he would. But his bro needs to hold a woman's hand. It is way past time for that. As a bro, Rokurou needs to make it happen.
True enough, there is no one around to force them to pay. Rokurou nods, satisfied, happily strolling out of the store with Nansen while making all sorts of wingman mental plans. ]
Alright aniki, lead the way!
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[With spring in his step, Nansen leads the way. Off the travel through the maze-like roads of the concrete jungle, passing by peculiar modernities such as the 24-hour laundromat, the seemingly endless menu pages pasted in the windows of the diner, even an open-air corner with a rare urban gas station, despite there being no cars driven in the streets. And as they march onward, even now, Nansen finds himself captivated by the bright colors and light of advertisements and signs in this age.]
[At long last they reach a completely nondescript, tiny little shop, a doorway shoved inbetween two much more substantial doorways to office buildings. Nansen stops short in front of it and opens the old-fashioned shop door with a faint ringing sound that seems like a bell on the door, but the sound somehow comes from deeper inside the shop, somewhere impossible to locate.]
[The musty wood shelves of this shop were filled to the brim with cannisters of herbs, bottles or supplements, strange crystals, bones, plants and books. It was like an apothecary and a fortune teller's shop all at once, a vitamin store and a mysterious shop of wonders, and at the back center of it all, she sat:]
[Toward the back of the shop is a glass case that holds the bust of a woman. As you approach, your movement triggers a light inside the case to illuminate the woman's face–or where her face would be, if she had one. The normal human features of her face are smoothed out until they barely resemble a face at all, with slightly hollowed divots for eyes and a faintly raised bump for a nose. The closer you get, though, the more strongly you feel that despite the absence of eyes, the woman is indeed watching you.
The lettering at the top of the case states FORTUNE TELLER, and a sign affixed to the front of the glass says, Ask for anything, but be careful what you wish for.]
Afternoon', fortune teller-auntie! [Nansen cheerfully calls out, and kneels with reverence in front of the machine's front, laying the chocolate roses upon the wood paneling like an offering to an altar.] I brought someone new, so maybe you can help him out a bit? Ahh, I hope this'll do as an offering.........
[Come on in, Ro! Have your perceptions shattered!!]
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What he expects is a slender figure cloaked in silks and scarves to greet them with a flicker of candlelight and incense. Reality is quite different: his footsteps stop altogether when aniki greets the creepiest doll Rokurou has ever seen. It is trapped inside a box, dripped in a drapery of backlight and shadow, shades that embellish features gone uncanny with weathering.
The way aniki offers the gifts to it is too genuine. Rokurou’s excited expression melts into a withering look, directed at the back of Nansen’s head. How often has he said “Who am I to judge” before? Now, now he’s finally someone to judge. Aniki, this is not a woman! It doesn’t even have legs!!! He’s a leg man, damn it!
Pain cuts across Rokurou’s chest and he swallows back to urge to cough up blood. Is his poor bro so desperate, so untouched by a woman, that he can even get it up for a weird doll with no face? Aniki, bro… Rokurou rubs his chest, pain refusing to abate as his ‘understanding’ of Nansen’s ‘plight’ deepens.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, he clasps a reassuring hand on Nansen’s shoulder. ]
Don’t worry, aniki. [ his voice is a little rough with emotion, ] It’ll be alright … I won’t abandon you.
[ Not until he makes sure that Nansen can at least meet a fine woman in person and breathe the same air she does. Ideally a dark haired beauty, fair skinned, mysterious, with a bit of an edge. Surely he’ll see the error of his ways and will realize that a creepy as fuck doll is no object for his undirected lust. ]
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[And it is. Sort of. From one ancient, imbued object spirit to another: respect.]
[Rokurou's grip and reassurance have Nansen glancing back with a confused blink, and then a laugh.] Hahaha, don't worry about meow! The sooner we find both our blades, the sooner we won't gotta worry about lookin' out for each other, right?
Anyway, let's see what she can tell us! Nya!
[He claps his hands together in a quick prayer before he eagerly presses the button on the front of the machine, setting it into motion- whirring gears and lights, all the pizazz and showmanship of a cheap carnival machine sure to impress and delight children ages 3 to 8. And after all of that, eventually, a fortune. It prints out with a clicking chucka-tacka-tack, fresh ink on paper, and Nansen tears off the stub and holds it proudly in the air like a prophet holding aloft commandments from his god.]
[The fortune telling machine was "just" a machine, and yet it felt like it was watching them. And somehow, someway, its fortunes always seemed to be more accurate and ominous than they ought to. Maybe there really was a spirit asleep in there, somewhere.]
[He hands it out to Rokurou.]
Well, what'sit say, gorogoro!?
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