(Tsurumaru has enjoyed tea for almost a long as he can remember but he's never seen tea like this. It's different from the smaller and more intimate tea ceremonies he's used to observing and taking part in. This looks like it's more for a party.
It isn't in his character to stick strange food into his mouth but suddenly, there's a feeling in his mind. It's like an electric signal urging him to try a cup and objectively, he realizes how careless that is, even for him. The impulse is too strong to fight off even if he knows better and he pours himself a cup. Even when he brings the tea cup to his lips, he keeps thinking this is a bad idea but he can't seem to stop himself.
Black tea is more bitter and stronger than the green teas he's more accustomed to drinking but he doesn't dislike it. He thinks something like this would go well with something sweet and rich. When he sets his cup down on the saucer, there's a delicate clink…
… and a small chip of something falls onto the table.
Maybe it's the sound that makes Tsurumaru flinch and bring a hand up to his face. His fingers trace something on his cheek and his first instinct is that he's some how been cut but then he feels that tiny, little piece that is missing. It's so small, it's barely noticeable but he knows what's wrong. He isn't cut. His skin is cracked and has begun to shatter just slightly.
On the table, the chip flashes in the light— a piece of not flesh but metal.)
Unaesthetic Repair (cw: body horror)
(After the tea party but before finding the antidote, Tsurumaru can be found in the city proper. He's going through the shelves of a convenience store or a pharmacy until he finds a packet of bandages. When he tries to open it, he drops the package onto the floor and looks at his hand.
It looks like his hands are covered in scratches but the cuts are too straight. A closer look reveals the cuts are shatter lines. Some of them are shallow but others look quite deep but there's no blood. In fact, it's almost like it isn't really skin but something more inorganic— like ceramic, perhaps? It's minor but one of his nails just broke trying to undo the seal. Maybe it's because he has to use his hands so much… the shattering is much worse on his fingers than it is on his face which still remains shallow.
He picks up the package very gently and looks over to you,)
Could you help me open these? (And he smiles naturally, totally light and perfectly relaxed, the cracks on his face obvious for anyone to see,) I can't use my hands well.
Wildcard
Also happy to play around with other effects or deal with other people's suffering. Come at me!!!
[Shinjiro Aragaki is having a terrible day. That's nothing new of course; he's rarely had particularly good days in general for the last couple years, let alone at this time of year or this day specifically, but his attempts to find a quiet place to sit with his thoughts have thus far led him past a creepy tea party and gossipy flowers, and he rather preferred it when this place leaves them to their own devices in all its abandoned glory.
He may or may not have punched an ill-advised wall at one point after the flowers incident, though, so he's in said convenience store looking for ice himself when Tsuru approaches him, and -- sorry, the eyebrows are going up, disappearing into his beanie.]
(Oh it's the guy he indirectly attacked with a ping pong ball.)
Yo.
(He can still be polite. He can still great him casually like he isn't chipping and cracking in places.)
Are you surprised? I was, too.
(He's fine. He can act normal... which means acting as whimsical as ever but there's definitely something off. No one can really be fine when they're like this, right?)
Maybe it's stress.
(And that's why he's cracking. This is a joke. Maybe.)
[If this were happening to him he'd find the nearest hole to crawl into and die rather than act normal about it, so ... excuse the visible and teenage eyeroll at the joke, Tsuru.]
What, this town not all it's cracked up to be? Tch.
[His own hand could be in better shape but he'll deal with that later. It's not bad enough that he can't open a cardboard box. He huffs, loudly, and stomps forward to close the distance between them before .... taking the box very gently, actually, so as not to hurt him worse. Don't tell anyone he gives a fuck, Tsuru, that'd be rude.
The box is instead the one viciously savaged like a wild animal--which is to say he missed peeling one of those little bits of tape in one corner and just ripped the thing in frustration instead when it refused to open but it's fine, not like he was going to put it back anyway.]
(He will not ignore it because he definitely sees it. In fact, if it didn't worry him so much to move his face too much, he'd smile more at it. Shinjiro may the edges of his mouth raise a little more but he raises one cracked hand to his face to hold it in place.
Grateful, he holds his out hand out to him without causing more trouble. And almost like he's embarrassed, he looks away and down. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this but here he is, out in the open,)
For now.
(There's something almost... resigned in the way he replies,)
Unless you can repair me... the best I can do is keep things together.
[There's something weird about that wording, "repair me" when most people would refer to healing or treating an injury or illness, but only half-registers in the back of his mind, because the sentiment itself rubs him the wrong way and he's irrationally annoyed about it.]
Bullshit. If that were true, you wouldn't risk makin' it worse comin' out here tryin' to do this by yourself. You're hiding it.
[Which--if Tsuru wants to do that, it's none of his business. He's hardly about to meddle in this guy's relationships. But the resignation in his tone bugs him. Like he's just going to let this happen to him even if he doesn't want it to. Shinjiro had chosen his own self-destruction, had walked into it willingly; the idea of someone just suffering in silence for no reason save wanting to avoid worrying others feels infuriating.]
(His tone might be cutting but Tsurumaru is used to being cut. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even really seem to react much at all. Instead, he keeps his same, cool composure, )
Of course, I don't want to be seen like this. It's ugly.
(In more than just an aesthetic sense,)
And ugly things are scary. Especially to sensitive spirits.
It means there are those who would understand and those who wouldn't.
(And the result is still the same in the end. But of course, speaking in cryptic riddles isn't going to clarify anything.)
... And what if no one can fix it? (Then he might as well keep it under wraps and keep himself together as long as he can as far as he's concerned.) You know, this city has a way of making extraordinary humans more ordinary.
(Taking away their powers, making them weak and boring.)
If you want to surprise me, you should tell me you're a saniwa.
[He can see shades of his own choices in this; a problem that's too big to solve, so it's easier to run. Better not to worry anyone and fade away, right? Maybe that's why it pisses him off so much--they say you always resent the people you see yourself in most, after all. But more than that, he thinks this guy doesn't want to fade away, that he's embracing it only because it feels safer than getting his hopes up. Or maybe he's just reading too much into it, but--]
What if someone can? We've got demons and priests and doctors and all kinds of people around here.
[He doesn't answer the last bit; he is nothing and nobody, as he's ever been, but that's not the point.]
Anyway, before you can figure out out who can help, you oughta start with how this happened in the first place. That's gotta be the key to undoing it.
He doesn't know. He's only ever seen this sort of damage after taking direct damage to his sword. The only way it had ever been repaired was by repairing the sword itself. He can't sense it here and when he closes his eyes and tries...
... There's just a hole that shouldn't be there. An uncomfortable nothingness that somehow manages to fill him with unease. And still, despite it all, he covers it up. If he covers it up, no one will realize the hole is empty. No one will even realize there's a hole.)
I wonder...
(He can only wonder but he won't get his hopes up. If he expects nothing, the result will be a surprise. If he can receive a surprise, he'll be surprised. And if he's surprised... then he won't be bored. And isn't the opposite of a boring life a fulfilling one? It's best this way. )
In the garden, there's a tea arrangement. (A tea party,) When I saw it... I became overcome with a need to drink.
After I drank, I began to break. (and slowly, he reaches to touch his cheek, where just the smallest chip seems to be missing.) But I couldn't feel it happen.
[He's spent maybe an unreasonable amount of time in it for how much he hates it, but he extra hates it now. Shinjiro supposes that one guy is entitled to an "I told you so" about how things were going to get worse eventually. He really hopes he gets the opportunity to punch whoever is behind all this sometime.
The last part stops him short, though; he tilts his head slightly, squinting closer at the other man like he'll figure something out if he does.]
What do you mean, "this" body? You got another one somewhere?
[Shinji's seen so much weird shit at this point, his reaction to the possibility is pretty much just this. There's a planet where some humans are descended from chickens, a person who used to be a ghost and is no longer, and apparently literal demons from hell so, why the fuck not.]
(He says lightly and cheerily, a sudden change in tone from his calmer and more resigned one before. He's really able to switch his mood at the drop of a pin. It's like one minute something is heavy on his mind, weighing him down, then next, he's normal. He's just a silly guy even if he's breaking. )
Hm... Not here. I don't think I should.
(And he goes quiet for a second, looking like he's thinking about something when he's just trying to see again if he can sense anything. He couldn't before but wouldn't it be a surprise if he could feel it now?)
...
(Brows knitting together in concentration and he laughs,)
[Alhaitham sits in a chair pulled slightly away from the table, pen to the journal in his lap and watching as Tsurumaru approaches and regards the tea laid out. Alhaitham hasn't drank it--he's felt the urge, of course, and then compressed it deep down with the realization that if he's being tempted it is a manipulation into something he would not want.
He can't stop anyone else from giving it a try, though. Or won't. It's all the same result, which is him watching to record the consequences of other people's actions.
So he watches with intent as Tsurumaru picks up the cup, as he drinks front it, and as the light glints strangely and there's the subtle tink of metal on wood.
Alhaitham sits up and leans forward to see what's wrong.]
(He knows he isn't alone. He may not have the best vision at times but he isn't totally blind. He'd simply paid no mind to Alhaitham. In fact, he'd completely forgotten him when he'd been in whatever trance earlier. He becomes aware of the other man once more but he's more pre-occupied with other things.
With his finger, he presses down on the shard but instead of bending easily, he feels his whole hand go rigid and stiff. The joints of his fingers crack lightly and he freezes, studying it carefully. )
...
(It doesn't make sense, he thinks. If his true form isn't here then he shouldn't be able to break like this. That is, of course, unless something has happened to his true form. It's hard to feel when his sense is so dull in this city but seeing the cracks, feeling the way parts of his body feel a little more delicate... he feels his heart drop into his stomach but he has to stay cool.
He has to keep himself together.
He isn't the only one here. Nansen is depending on him. He's responsible for him, too. He can't break here. He has duties to uphold.
Remembering Alhaithm once more, he speaks plainly,)
If you want to surprise me, you should say you're a divine sage.
(Not a regular sage but a divine one. A priest or priestess with sacred powers.)
(Of course, he holds it well. He's had centuries to perfect his act.)
How boring!
(He sounds like he's whining and he lets out a loud and dramatic sigh. That's right. There's no point in despairing or crying right now so he holds his head up high, keeps his chest out, and turns to Alhaitham. On pale, white skin, the crack is a thin dark line, the missing spot like a freckle,
Though small, he wraps his fist around the chip, )
It's the least you can do after sitting back and watching.
(The last time they had met had been under similar, hadn't it? He'd been studying away, observing something in the city,)
Unfortunately for you, I can't develop such a skill in seconds. [He shrugs, feeling utterly blameless after he just sat and watched.]
I saw you drink the black tea. [And he starts to write as he talks, gaze drifting to the page.] Once you set your cup down, a small fragment of your face flaked off. Based upon the reflection of the light, it's a piece of metal. Since your fingers have also begun an abnormal creaking sound, it seems that the tea has caused some sort of alteration to your body changing it into another material.
(He doesn't know. He's never heard of humans learning to divine and sense spirits but he supposes it isn't beyond the realm of belief.)
Is that what you saw? (It isn't wrong. Not completely. In fact, it's quite accurate. In response, he holds out his fist to Alhaitham and opens it, revealing the piece of pale steel in his palm.) Would you like to feel it?
That's how it is for humans, isn't it? It isn't enough to just see things. It has to be experienced with your other senses or else it's just a curiosity; something not really understood.
[Tsurumaru offers the piece of himself that chipped off like old paint. Alhaitham, being Alhaitham, plucks it from Tsurumaru's palm to inspect it. To experience it by texture and temperature as if an affirmation of is sight.
Tsurumaru isn't incorrect, really.
That this is a piece of someone's body doesn't outwardly disturb him. It only inwardly disturbs him in that this theoretically could happen to any of them, were they slightly less cautious. Being unmade would be a terrible way to go.
He presses the piece between his fingertips, then looks up to Tsurumaru.] And are you human?
(No larger than a grain, polished at the surface but rough at the edges like a piece of broken finished metal... silver in color but dense like steel. Interestingly, when Alhaitham takes it from his hands, his hands feel warm to the touch as if it's a real body and his hands even feel soft like flesh... and yet, there's no doubt that he's shattering in a way that isn't organic.
He'll keep his hand out in case Alhaitham wants to study closer. If he does, he may notice the way his skin seems to change around the breakage. It's like the immediate area becomes cool and smooth, like a rough scar that then becomes something else. A strange mix of something living but not.
He meets Alhaitham's eyes and smiles perfectly and while his eyes are bright with awareness and intelligence one would expect from another person... there's something not quite human. The kind of look an animal gives when it observes a person. Like a bird watching someone from a high branch; from a different perspective.)
From a biological perspective I would say no. From a social or spiritual one... well, that would depend how human is defined to begin with. [He looks between the shard between fingers and Tsurumaru's hand, as its unnatural blending of the organic and inorganic, and then returns the piece that broke off to his palm.]
But I have no interest in defining the latter two, so tell me for the first one. [Not that he can't guess the answer, but it's an invitation to elaborate.]
(He takes the piece back and is careful when he closes his fingers around it.)
This form is quite human. (Stiffly, he holds out his arms as if to show himself off,) It gets tired, it needs to eat, it gets sick, it bleeds, and all other human things.
(And yet, there's that lingering "but" in the air. Like there's more to be said,)
But this isn't my true form. I'm not human; just a thing in human form.
Are you a thing made of metal, or something else? [Because that begs the question, then, if the tea is meant to reveal a true state or if it's meant to twist you into something else. The second is safer to assume, if only because most people here are probably as naturally human (or whatever they are) as he is.]
(He raises a hand to his chest, right over his heart and he bows stiffly, )
Forged in the Heian era and passed down from owner to owner. I'm quite renowned where I'm from... (And he studies Alhaitham's expression to see if any of those names mean anything to him. Seeing nothing, though--) ... As a beautiful sword.
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open: tea party (cw: body horror)
It isn't in his character to stick strange food into his mouth but suddenly, there's a feeling in his mind. It's like an electric signal urging him to try a cup and objectively, he realizes how careless that is, even for him. The impulse is too strong to fight off even if he knows better and he pours himself a cup. Even when he brings the tea cup to his lips, he keeps thinking this is a bad idea but he can't seem to stop himself.
Black tea is more bitter and stronger than the green teas he's more accustomed to drinking but he doesn't dislike it. He thinks something like this would go well with something sweet and rich. When he sets his cup down on the saucer, there's a delicate clink…
… and a small chip of something falls onto the table.
Maybe it's the sound that makes Tsurumaru flinch and bring a hand up to his face. His fingers trace something on his cheek and his first instinct is that he's some how been cut but then he feels that tiny, little piece that is missing. It's so small, it's barely noticeable but he knows what's wrong. He isn't cut. His skin is cracked and has begun to shatter just slightly.
On the table, the chip flashes in the light— a piece of not flesh but metal.)
Unaesthetic Repair (cw: body horror)
It looks like his hands are covered in scratches but the cuts are too straight. A closer look reveals the cuts are shatter lines. Some of them are shallow but others look quite deep but there's no blood. In fact, it's almost like it isn't really skin but something more inorganic— like ceramic, perhaps? It's minor but one of his nails just broke trying to undo the seal. Maybe it's because he has to use his hands so much… the shattering is much worse on his fingers than it is on his face which still remains shallow.
He picks up the package very gently and looks over to you,)
Could you help me open these? (And he smiles naturally, totally light and perfectly relaxed, the cracks on his face obvious for anyone to see,) I can't use my hands well.
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unaesthetic repair
He may or may not have punched an ill-advised wall at one point after the flowers incident, though, so he's in said convenience store looking for ice himself when Tsuru approaches him, and -- sorry, the eyebrows are going up, disappearing into his beanie.]
Shit. The hell happened to you?
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Yo.
(He can still be polite. He can still great him casually like he isn't chipping and cracking in places.)
Are you surprised? I was, too.
(He's fine. He can act normal... which means acting as whimsical as ever but there's definitely something off. No one can really be fine when they're like this, right?)
Maybe it's stress.
(And that's why he's cracking. This is a joke. Maybe.)
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What, this town not all it's cracked up to be? Tch.
[His own hand could be in better shape but he'll deal with that later. It's not bad enough that he can't open a cardboard box. He huffs, loudly, and stomps forward to close the distance between them before .... taking the box very gently, actually, so as not to hurt him worse. Don't tell anyone he gives a fuck, Tsuru, that'd be rude.
The box is instead the one viciously savaged like a wild animal--which is to say he missed peeling one of those little bits of tape in one corner and just ripped the thing in frustration instead when it refused to open but it's fine, not like he was going to put it back anyway.]
You just gonna cover that shit up?
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Grateful, he holds his out hand out to him without causing more trouble. And almost like he's embarrassed, he looks away and down. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this but here he is, out in the open,)
For now.
(There's something almost... resigned in the way he replies,)
Unless you can repair me... the best I can do is keep things together.
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Bullshit. If that were true, you wouldn't risk makin' it worse comin' out here tryin' to do this by yourself. You're hiding it.
[Which--if Tsuru wants to do that, it's none of his business. He's hardly about to meddle in this guy's relationships. But the resignation in his tone bugs him. Like he's just going to let this happen to him even if he doesn't want it to. Shinjiro had chosen his own self-destruction, had walked into it willingly; the idea of someone just suffering in silence for no reason save wanting to avoid worrying others feels infuriating.]
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Of course, I don't want to be seen like this. It's ugly.
(In more than just an aesthetic sense,)
And ugly things are scary. Especially to sensitive spirits.
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[Sensitive spirits? Is that a weird way to refer to people, or something more specific? Ugh. It doesn't matter.]
If you wanna go off and die on your own, whatever, that's your business, but if you're actually lookin' to get anything fixed, hiding it's stupid.
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(And the result is still the same in the end. But of course, speaking in cryptic riddles isn't going to clarify anything.)
... And what if no one can fix it? (Then he might as well keep it under wraps and keep himself together as long as he can as far as he's concerned.) You know, this city has a way of making extraordinary humans more ordinary.
(Taking away their powers, making them weak and boring.)
If you want to surprise me, you should tell me you're a saniwa.
(A "sage." A "diviner." A "sacred judge." )
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What if someone can? We've got demons and priests and doctors and all kinds of people around here.
[He doesn't answer the last bit; he is nothing and nobody, as he's ever been, but that's not the point.]
Anyway, before you can figure out out who can help, you oughta start with how this happened in the first place. That's gotta be the key to undoing it.
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He doesn't know. He's only ever seen this sort of damage after taking direct damage to his sword. The only way it had ever been repaired was by repairing the sword itself. He can't sense it here and when he closes his eyes and tries...
... There's just a hole that shouldn't be there. An uncomfortable nothingness that somehow manages to fill him with unease. And still, despite it all, he covers it up. If he covers it up, no one will realize the hole is empty. No one will even realize there's a hole.)
I wonder...
(He can only wonder but he won't get his hopes up. If he expects nothing, the result will be a surprise. If he can receive a surprise, he'll be surprised. And if he's surprised... then he won't be bored. And isn't the opposite of a boring life a fulfilling one? It's best this way. )
In the garden, there's a tea arrangement. (A tea party,) When I saw it... I became overcome with a need to drink.
After I drank, I began to break. (and slowly, he reaches to touch his cheek, where just the smallest chip seems to be missing.) But I couldn't feel it happen.
I still only feel this body.
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[He's spent maybe an unreasonable amount of time in it for how much he hates it, but he extra hates it now. Shinjiro supposes that one guy is entitled to an "I told you so" about how things were going to get worse eventually. He really hopes he gets the opportunity to punch whoever is behind all this sometime.
The last part stops him short, though; he tilts his head slightly, squinting closer at the other man like he'll figure something out if he does.]
What do you mean, "this" body? You got another one somewhere?
[Shinji's seen so much weird shit at this point, his reaction to the possibility is pretty much just this. There's a planet where some humans are descended from chickens, a person who used to be a ghost and is no longer, and apparently literal demons from hell so, why the fuck not.]
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(He says lightly and cheerily, a sudden change in tone from his calmer and more resigned one before. He's really able to switch his mood at the drop of a pin. It's like one minute something is heavy on his mind, weighing him down, then next, he's normal. He's just a silly guy even if he's breaking. )
Hm... Not here. I don't think I should.
(And he goes quiet for a second, looking like he's thinking about something when he's just trying to see again if he can sense anything. He couldn't before but wouldn't it be a surprise if he could feel it now?)
...
(Brows knitting together in concentration and he laughs,)
Nope! Nothing! For better or worse.
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cw reference to depression/death wish/attempted murder
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Tea Break
He can't stop anyone else from giving it a try, though. Or won't. It's all the same result, which is him watching to record the consequences of other people's actions.
So he watches with intent as Tsurumaru picks up the cup, as he drinks front it, and as the light glints strangely and there's the subtle tink of metal on wood.
Alhaitham sits up and leans forward to see what's wrong.]
no subject
With his finger, he presses down on the shard but instead of bending easily, he feels his whole hand go rigid and stiff. The joints of his fingers crack lightly and he freezes, studying it carefully. )
...
(It doesn't make sense, he thinks. If his true form isn't here then he shouldn't be able to break like this. That is, of course, unless something has happened to his true form. It's hard to feel when his sense is so dull in this city but seeing the cracks, feeling the way parts of his body feel a little more delicate... he feels his heart drop into his stomach but he has to stay cool.
He has to keep himself together.
He isn't the only one here. Nansen is depending on him. He's responsible for him, too. He can't break here. He has duties to uphold.
Remembering Alhaithm once more, he speaks plainly,)
If you want to surprise me, you should say you're a divine sage.
(Not a regular sage but a divine one. A priest or priestess with sacred powers.)
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Alhaitham watches.] Then I'm not going to surprise you.
[He was an Acting Grand Sage, though? That counts for nothing.]
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How boring!
(He sounds like he's whining and he lets out a loud and dramatic sigh. That's right. There's no point in despairing or crying right now so he holds his head up high, keeps his chest out, and turns to Alhaitham. On pale, white skin, the crack is a thin dark line, the missing spot like a freckle,
Though small, he wraps his fist around the chip, )
It's the least you can do after sitting back and watching.
(The last time they had met had been under similar, hadn't it? He'd been studying away, observing something in the city,)
What did you see with those eyes?
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I saw you drink the black tea. [And he starts to write as he talks, gaze drifting to the page.] Once you set your cup down, a small fragment of your face flaked off. Based upon the reflection of the light, it's a piece of metal. Since your fingers have also begun an abnormal creaking sound, it seems that the tea has caused some sort of alteration to your body changing it into another material.
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(He doesn't know. He's never heard of humans learning to divine and sense spirits but he supposes it isn't beyond the realm of belief.)
Is that what you saw? (It isn't wrong. Not completely. In fact, it's quite accurate. In response, he holds out his fist to Alhaitham and opens it, revealing the piece of pale steel in his palm.) Would you like to feel it?
That's how it is for humans, isn't it? It isn't enough to just see things. It has to be experienced with your other senses or else it's just a curiosity; something not really understood.
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Tsurumaru isn't incorrect, really.
That this is a piece of someone's body doesn't outwardly disturb him. It only inwardly disturbs him in that this theoretically could happen to any of them, were they slightly less cautious. Being unmade would be a terrible way to go.
He presses the piece between his fingertips, then looks up to Tsurumaru.] And are you human?
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He'll keep his hand out in case Alhaitham wants to study closer. If he does, he may notice the way his skin seems to change around the breakage. It's like the immediate area becomes cool and smooth, like a rough scar that then becomes something else. A strange mix of something living but not.
He meets Alhaitham's eyes and smiles perfectly and while his eyes are bright with awareness and intelligence one would expect from another person... there's something not quite human. The kind of look an animal gives when it observes a person. Like a bird watching someone from a high branch; from a different perspective.)
It depends. Is having a human form enough?
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But I have no interest in defining the latter two, so tell me for the first one. [Not that he can't guess the answer, but it's an invitation to elaborate.]
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This form is quite human. (Stiffly, he holds out his arms as if to show himself off,) It gets tired, it needs to eat, it gets sick, it bleeds, and all other human things.
(And yet, there's that lingering "but" in the air. Like there's more to be said,)
But this isn't my true form. I'm not human; just a thing in human form.
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(He raises a hand to his chest, right over his heart and he bows stiffly, )
Forged in the Heian era and passed down from owner to owner. I'm quite renowned where I'm from... (And he studies Alhaitham's expression to see if any of those names mean anything to him. Seeing nothing, though--) ... As a beautiful sword.
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