(He's used to being talked about. From the moment he first became alive and gained awareness, he was aware of his beauty because it had always been a topic of discussion; one of the most beautiful swords in Japan, beautiful enough to rival Mikazuki Munechika, a perfect example of craftsmanship, a highly desirable treasure.
So at first, he pays no attention to the flowers that whisper and gossip as he makes his way through. Even if it's bad attention, it's still attention, he rationalizes, and attention from insignificant things mean nothing to him.)
"— What a beautiful sword but being beautiful is all he's good for." "— Yes, that's right. How many masters has he failed?" "— The only thing he brings is grief and misery. "— Isn't he supposed to be like a crane? He can't even live up to his name." "— Perhaps that's why he—"
(The narcissus never has a chance to finish as Tsurumaru buries it under his heel, grinding it into the dirt until there's nothing but a yellow paste in the dirt. To those who know him, the way he looks down at the ground in uncharacteristically dark and unimpressed. His gold eyes seem dark and there's a sharp air around him, like if anyone got close to him, they might get hurt.
The flowers go quiet and pull back for just a moment. They whisper to themselves, their voices too low to really make out what they're saying anymore.
When Tsurumaru notices that he isn't alone, he looks over. For just a brief second, he looks different— older, more tired, and more miserable— but in an instant, he smiles perfectly, his eyes bright and friendly. It's like a different Tsurumaru and he waves,)
Haha! I've heard flowers have a language but I've never heard a flower really speak! I'm surprised...
Wildcard
Also down to have Tsuru fight with some flowers or overhear gossip about your characters instead!
I wouldn't know much about the language of flowers, but I'm fairly certain that these fellows wouldn't have much worth speaking about, no matter which language they chose.
[ Midnight grins in return, though. There are some things that go unsaid with a shift like that. Best to move on for now. ]
I'm much better company though. Perhaps we should spend some time together instead, mm?
[ Demon king tries to play the hero, a flower murmurs nearby. You can't change what you are, you know. This will never be enough.
Midnight ignores it. He's asking someone out on a date. Much more important. ]
(He's an old spirit. He's seen flowers used for all sorts of secret and not-so-secret exchanges but for now, he'd rather focus on his new and much more welcomed distraction.
A demon king? Well, this isn't his first demon nor his first king.)
"I love you." "I hate you." "I wish you would die." "I miss you." "I'm thinking of you."
(And he's practically skipping over towards Midnight now. All the while, the flowers continue to whisper. There he goes. Looking for attention. Acting out. He doesn't know what he wants. Closing the distance so he can stand in front of Midnight, he holds out his hand,)
I could teach you. Unless, you have something more interesting to share.
Ah... hanakotoba? I know nothing about it. I've been meaning to learn about flower language, but I haven't found the right teacher. How very serendipitous. Teach me.
[ Midnight laughs, takes his new friend's hand. If his new friend wants attention, he'll give it. He's the same way, after all. He understands what it's like. ]
Forgive me for a bit of selfishness. I am actually a fascinating person, with hundreds of interesting thoughts and stories to share, but I much prefer learning to talking. I promise I'll offer up something else in return.
[ He tilts his head, starts tugging his friend along.
Careful. Don't let him see too much. No weaknesses for Ma-ou. ]
(Long, delicate fingers wrap around Midnight's hands but he keeps his grip light, as if he could slip away at any moment.)
How eager.
(And here he thought most people were bored of the old ways in thsi new city.)
Service for service, then? (The thought of learning something new is exciting when you're an old spirit like him. Of course, he wouldn't mind a story, either.) If you could offer something new, I would be surprised.
(He's bored. He's so bored he could die. Is that what he wants? He doesn't know what he wants.)
That's right, that's right!
(And the flowers whisper and they gossip and he can only laugh it all off,)
I'm so bored! I could really go for a surprise right now!
Midnight suddenly stops, letting the stranger bump into him, then turns, catches him under the chin, and tilts his face up. He gets in close, looking intently into golden eyes.
The devil sells cheap, fake happiness.
Then grins, pecks that forehead, and lets go. ]
I'll let you have a real surprise when you're ready, love. Let's be off.
[ The kind of happiness that dries out and dies. ]
Anyhow, I still don't know what I'll give you... Do you like music?
(They come to a sudden stop and he does bump into him. He doesn't quite understand why because even if they're almost out of the garden, they're still in it. He can still hear all of the plants whispering around them. Before he can try to figure out or even ask why, he finds himself handled in a way he's entirely unused to (at least, in this form).
He tenses from surprise and where most might instinctively pull away, he holds his ground proudly (stubbornly). Where he falters is in the eyes. At first, he meets his gaze, staring right back with bright gold eyes.
"He loves surprises..."
He's surprised. He's confused. He's excited.
"...because..."
(He's close.) ((Too close.)) ((He doesn't let people get close to him easily.))
"...it's better than..."
(((He hates it when people look at him for too long.))) (((He hates it when he doesn't know what they want.)))
"...being sad."
They say the eyes are a window for the soul. He won't let just anyone see into his and he looks away. He just wishes these flowers would shut up so he could really block everything out.
It all happens quickly and the next thing he knows, Midnight smiles and moves in closer. He raises a hand to his forehead to feel the spot where Midnight had just been and in that moment, he realizes what he's let happen. It's hard not to notice the way his face brightens and grows warm. No one! Does this! To him! He's the only one allowed to be a menace here?!
He's stunned. Totally surprised. It takes him a second to remember to move his feet again.)
[ But Midnight laughs the laugh of a man who understands that he is difficult, stubborn, intractable. He knows exactly what he did.
He pushes the door open, leading them both out into the open. Ah, blessed fresh air. No gossipy vegetation. ]
I could. I play a little guitar. Haven't got the mind for composition, but if you had a song in mind, I could give arranging it a go. I was being quite serious about being very interesting and full of stories, but I also have several skills to offer, and I don't mind picking up more if need be.
[ He's being perfectly serious! (Or is he?) (He actually is, but he doesn't have any way to prove that, so he doesn't.) ]
(He huffs. He doesn't have to thank anyone for surprising him in a way that makes him look silly. He has his pride, you know. He can still hear the flowers behind them whispering and snickering all the way up until they leave. Suddenly, it feels like a burden is lifted. Everything seems and feels brighter out in the open and he can feel his mood begin to improve already.
He looks back at the garden for just a moment and back at Midnight.
(The garden is behind him now. He doesn't have to bother with it anymore.))
... I sing. (He can offer that much as thanks for saving him from that miserable garden.) I often sang for my master when he asked me to.
(He would even dance for them. But the question is if he likes music, not if he can dance.)
[ A master, huh? Maybe he's some kind of servant. ]
Well, if you enjoyed that, perhaps I can commit to practicing a few songs you liked? We'll have to meet a few times for practice, of course... And also for the flower language lessons.
[ Midnight looks back at his new friend and grins. He is now committing to this. Now, whether his friend wants to commit to this or not will completely depend on if he wants to deal with more of Midnight... or how many opportunities for vengeance he wants. ]
My name is Midnight, by the way. What's your name?
( The implication doesn't pass him. So this guy-- Midnight-- intends to make this a recurring thing? How friendly of him. He smiles back and while Midnight is looking back at him, he makes a dash towards him... and runs right past so he can walk in front, his back now to him. )
It's been awhile since I've been able to listen to good music.
( Yeah, there was the strange jukebox in the ice cream parlor but that music had just played songs that seemed to tug at heart strings and run old wounds for most. He'd rather listen to music that makes him and others feel happy. )
I'll think of a song. ( It's an agreement. ) And a few lessons in turn.
( Now, it's his turn to look back, )
Tsurumaru Kuninaga. ( And since he can't bow like this, he'll wink, ) Midnight and the white crane, hm? What an image!
[ Midnight's eyebrows lift as Tsurumaru Kuninaga takes the lead. It's whimsical, very sweet. (Midnight can no longer see his face unless he chooses to turn. Midnight understands this. He doesn't mind.) ]
Striking, isn't it? What a painting... or a poem. Like something you'd read in an old, old book...
[ He laughs a little at the wink, looks down. Someone who likes surprises, fun.
(Someone who doesn't want to be sad, to be seen too sad. But that's cheating, and anyhow, Midnight is the same, so it'd be terribly hypocritical to bring it up.) ]
My days tend to be fairly free. Let's meet once a week, barring interruptions by discourteous plants and any other manner of unpleasantries this place decides to bestow upon us.
[ Midnight tilts his head from side to side. He's vaguely steering them toward the last place he saw to get drinks, but he's in no rush, especially if Tsurumaru is as keen to create surprises for them as he says. ]
I've been here... Well, almost three months now. As these things seem to come and go on a monthly basis, I don't know if we have enough information for anything to be sure, besides new arrivals tending to arrive at the beginning of a month and petering out by around the middle. District expansions tend to reveal themselves then, too.
[ He sighs, sticks both hands in his pockets. ]
I'd say... if we have another odd event near the end of next month as well, we'll have the makings of a pattern. Until then, we just don't know enough to be certain.
[ Unfortunately for Tsurumaru, Chesed's heard enough to realize there are plenty of woes riding on the sword's shoulders. But everyone carries a skeleton or two in their closets, so he merely offers the other a small smile. ]
Indeed, there are plenty of peculiarities about this city.
[ Behind him, the flowers begin to whisper: "Coward." "A shameless traitor." "He couldn't even save a single person." "Maybe if he tried hard enough, no one would have had to die."
Chesed, however, doesn't appear to mind. They speak the truth; he has nothing to say for himself, no words to refute any of their claims. ]
Hm. I've seen a sentient flower or two in my time, but these ones are certainly much chattier.
(That moment when Tsurumaru can't tell if the flowers are talking about him or the other person. It makes his mood feel more rotten but in front of someone else, he does the same thing he always has: keep it together.)
It sounds like you're from a curious place!
(He's never seen a sentient flower.)
Which do you prefer? The ones you know or these?
(He's just looking for a distraction. This sounds familiar. Remember how they sang before they died? Remember how he led them all?)
(He looks down at his heel, at the crushed flowers beneath his foot and at the flowers around him that now seem to go silent as if sensing his thoughts. He's considering it.)
If we plucked them, they would die slowly. (Withering up bit by bit each day until they die pitiful and ugly. And would they keep talking after being plucked?) It would be boring.
[ He's not really opposed to grinding any flowers under his foot. It does, however, seem like an unnecessarily extreme manner to dispose of them. ]
Hmm, no, I don't think there's anyone for me to offer one of these flowers.
[ Chesed moves to join the other man near the flower bed. He crouches down by one, scrutinizing all of the plant's features. One by one, the flowers begin to whisper amongst themselves again.
"He threw away all the comforts of his life and has nothing to show for it."
"His family was right for rejecting his decision."
"You were in charge of employee welfare, but you let everyone die."
Chesed can only shrug in response. None of it is wrong. ]
Then, what would be more exciting compared to plucking them one by one?
[ He doesn't mind providing a distraction at all. ]
[She laughs softly, talking flowers? That's a first, especially for a place that seemed so very quiet. And to be making what appeared to be pointed jabs at someone... well, it seemed there was still ever so much more for this city to offer!]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
open: poison garden
So at first, he pays no attention to the flowers that whisper and gossip as he makes his way through. Even if it's bad attention, it's still attention, he rationalizes, and attention from insignificant things mean nothing to him.)
"— What a beautiful sword but being beautiful is all he's good for."
"— Yes, that's right. How many masters has he failed?"
"— The only thing he brings is grief and misery.
"— Isn't he supposed to be like a crane? He can't even live up to his name."
"— Perhaps that's why he—"
(The narcissus never has a chance to finish as Tsurumaru buries it under his heel, grinding it into the dirt until there's nothing but a yellow paste in the dirt. To those who know him, the way he looks down at the ground in uncharacteristically dark and unimpressed. His gold eyes seem dark and there's a sharp air around him, like if anyone got close to him, they might get hurt.
The flowers go quiet and pull back for just a moment. They whisper to themselves, their voices too low to really make out what they're saying anymore.
When Tsurumaru notices that he isn't alone, he looks over. For just a brief second, he looks different— older, more tired, and more miserable— but in an instant, he smiles perfectly, his eyes bright and friendly. It's like a different Tsurumaru and he waves,)
Haha! I've heard flowers have a language but I've never heard a flower really speak! I'm surprised...
Wildcard
no subject
[ Midnight grins in return, though. There are some things that go unsaid with a shift like that. Best to move on for now. ]
I'm much better company though. Perhaps we should spend some time together instead, mm?
[ Demon king tries to play the hero, a flower murmurs nearby. You can't change what you are, you know. This will never be enough.
Midnight ignores it. He's asking someone out on a date. Much more important. ]
no subject
(He's an old spirit. He's seen flowers used for all sorts of secret and not-so-secret exchanges but for now, he'd rather focus on his new and much more welcomed distraction.
A demon king? Well, this isn't his first demon nor his first king.)
"I love you." "I hate you." "I wish you would die." "I miss you." "I'm thinking of you."
(And he's practically skipping over towards Midnight now. All the while, the flowers continue to whisper. There he goes. Looking for attention. Acting out. He doesn't know what he wants. Closing the distance so he can stand in front of Midnight, he holds out his hand,)
I could teach you. Unless, you have something more interesting to share.
no subject
[ Midnight laughs, takes his new friend's hand. If his new friend wants attention, he'll give it. He's the same way, after all. He understands what it's like. ]
Forgive me for a bit of selfishness. I am actually a fascinating person, with hundreds of interesting thoughts and stories to share, but I much prefer learning to talking. I promise I'll offer up something else in return.
[ He tilts his head, starts tugging his friend along.
Careful. Don't let him see too much. No weaknesses for Ma-ou. ]
no subject
How eager.
(And here he thought most people were bored of the old ways in thsi new city.)
Service for service, then? (The thought of learning something new is exciting when you're an old spirit like him. Of course, he wouldn't mind a story, either.) If you could offer something new, I would be surprised.
(He's bored. He's so bored he could die. Is that what he wants? He doesn't know what he wants.)
That's right, that's right!
(And the flowers whisper and they gossip and he can only laugh it all off,)
I'm so bored! I could really go for a surprise right now!
no subject
Midnight suddenly stops, letting the stranger bump into him, then turns, catches him under the chin, and tilts his face up. He gets in close, looking intently into golden eyes.
The devil sells cheap, fake happiness.
Then grins, pecks that forehead, and lets go. ]
I'll let you have a real surprise when you're ready, love. Let's be off.
[ The kind of happiness that dries out and dies. ]
Anyhow, I still don't know what I'll give you... Do you like music?
1/2
He tenses from surprise and where most might instinctively pull away, he holds his ground proudly (stubbornly). Where he falters is in the eyes. At first, he meets his gaze, staring right back with bright gold eyes.
"He loves surprises..."
He's surprised.
He's confused.
He's excited.
"...because..."
(He's close.)
((Too close.))
((He doesn't let people get close to him easily.))
"...it's better than..."
(((He hates it when people look at him for too long.)))
(((He hates it when he doesn't know what they want.)))
"...being sad."
They say the eyes are a window for the soul. He won't let just anyone see into his and he looks away. He just wishes these flowers would shut up so he could really block everything out.
It all happens quickly and the next thing he knows, Midnight smiles and moves in closer. He raises a hand to his forehead to feel the spot where Midnight had just been and in that moment, he realizes what he's let happen. It's hard not to notice the way his face brightens and grows warm. No one! Does this! To him! He's the only one allowed to be a menace here?!
He's stunned. Totally surprised. It takes him a second to remember to move his feet again.)
(Let him regain his composure.)
I'll make you pay for that.
(It's a threat. It's a promise.)
no subject
Are you offering me a song?
(He loves music but now that he knows this guy is a menace he isn't going to let his guard down easily. What kind of music is he offering!!!! )
no subject
[ But Midnight laughs the laugh of a man who understands that he is difficult, stubborn, intractable. He knows exactly what he did.
He pushes the door open, leading them both out into the open. Ah, blessed fresh air. No gossipy vegetation. ]
I could. I play a little guitar. Haven't got the mind for composition, but if you had a song in mind, I could give arranging it a go. I was being quite serious about being very interesting and full of stories, but I also have several skills to offer, and I don't mind picking up more if need be.
[ He's being perfectly serious! (Or is he?) (He actually is, but he doesn't have any way to prove that, so he doesn't.) ]
no subject
He looks back at the garden for just a moment and back at Midnight.
(The garden is behind him now. He doesn't have to bother with it anymore.))
... I sing. (He can offer that much as thanks for saving him from that miserable garden.) I often sang for my master when he asked me to.
(He would even dance for them. But the question is if he likes music, not if he can dance.)
no subject
Well, if you enjoyed that, perhaps I can commit to practicing a few songs you liked? We'll have to meet a few times for practice, of course... And also for the flower language lessons.
[ Midnight looks back at his new friend and grins. He is now committing to this. Now, whether his friend wants to commit to this or not will completely depend on if he wants to deal with more of Midnight... or how many opportunities for vengeance he wants. ]
My name is Midnight, by the way. What's your name?
no subject
( The implication doesn't pass him. So this guy-- Midnight-- intends to make this a recurring thing? How friendly of him. He smiles back and while Midnight is looking back at him, he makes a dash towards him... and runs right past so he can walk in front, his back now to him. )
It's been awhile since I've been able to listen to good music.
( Yeah, there was the strange jukebox in the ice cream parlor but that music had just played songs that seemed to tug at heart strings and run old wounds for most. He'd rather listen to music that makes him and others feel happy. )
I'll think of a song. ( It's an agreement. ) And a few lessons in turn.
( Now, it's his turn to look back, )
Tsurumaru Kuninaga. ( And since he can't bow like this, he'll wink, ) Midnight and the white crane, hm? What an image!
no subject
Striking, isn't it? What a painting... or a poem. Like something you'd read in an old, old book...
[ He laughs a little at the wink, looks down. Someone who likes surprises, fun.
(Someone who doesn't want to be sad, to be seen too sad. But that's cheating, and anyhow, Midnight is the same, so it'd be terribly hypocritical to bring it up.) ]
My days tend to be fairly free. Let's meet once a week, barring interruptions by discourteous plants and any other manner of unpleasantries this place decides to bestow upon us.
no subject
(A crane is rescued by a passing stranger. At night, a woman appears on his doorstep. She later returns the favor but at a price.
Tsurumaru looks ahead again. She had wished to be unseen too, right?
Hm.)
Once a week.
(He nods. He can do that.)
Do you think this garden is enough for now? That school has been quiet for some time...
(Does Midnight think they're due for something else this month? Or will they get to practice in peace???)
no subject
I've been here... Well, almost three months now. As these things seem to come and go on a monthly basis, I don't know if we have enough information for anything to be sure, besides new arrivals tending to arrive at the beginning of a month and petering out by around the middle. District expansions tend to reveal themselves then, too.
[ He sighs, sticks both hands in his pockets. ]
I'd say... if we have another odd event near the end of next month as well, we'll have the makings of a pattern. Until then, we just don't know enough to be certain.
no subject
Indeed, there are plenty of peculiarities about this city.
[ Behind him, the flowers begin to whisper: "Coward." "A shameless traitor." "He couldn't even save a single person." "Maybe if he tried hard enough, no one would have had to die."
Chesed, however, doesn't appear to mind. They speak the truth; he has nothing to say for himself, no words to refute any of their claims. ]
Hm. I've seen a sentient flower or two in my time, but these ones are certainly much chattier.
no subject
It sounds like you're from a curious place!
(He's never seen a sentient flower.)
Which do you prefer? The ones you know or these?
(He's just looking for a distraction. This sounds familiar. Remember how they sang before they died? Remember how he led them all?)
no subject
Oh, I prefer these ones by far. The ones I'd known in the past had a penchant for making people's heads explode.
[ It's much, much cleaner to deal with these flowers in comparison.
Chesed's gaze strays to whispering flowers; there must be a heavy burden weighing upon his company's shoulders. ]
I wouldn't mind assisting you in plucking a few unruly flowers if that would put you at ease.
[ Sorry, Tsurumaru. He totally saw you crushing some talking flowers under your heel. ]
no subject
(He looks down at his heel, at the crushed flowers beneath his foot and at the flowers around him that now seem to go silent as if sensing his thoughts. He's considering it.)
If we plucked them, they would die slowly. (Withering up bit by bit each day until they die pitiful and ugly. And would they keep talking after being plucked?) It would be boring.
Unless you have someone you want to gift.
(That would be exciting.)
no subject
Hmm, no, I don't think there's anyone for me to offer one of these flowers.
[ Chesed moves to join the other man near the flower bed. He crouches down by one, scrutinizing all of the plant's features. One by one, the flowers begin to whisper amongst themselves again.
"He threw away all the comforts of his life and has nothing to show for it."
"His family was right for rejecting his decision."
"You were in charge of employee welfare, but you let everyone die."
Chesed can only shrug in response. None of it is wrong. ]
Then, what would be more exciting compared to plucking them one by one?
[ He doesn't mind providing a distraction at all. ]
no subject
[She laughs softly, talking flowers? That's a first, especially for a place that seemed so very quiet. And to be making what appeared to be pointed jabs at someone... well, it seemed there was still ever so much more for this city to offer!]
They seem to be quite rude as well.