november catch-all [open]

[reflexio]

WHO: (reflexio) & you!!
WHAT: November catch-all and obligatory "where tf am I" log
WHERE: Everywhere (Welcome Diner, your an apartment, city park, etc.)
WHEN: Early November
WARNINGS: adjusted as needed






a. diner.

[ Wandering about proves to be fruitless. Instead, Yi Sang retraces his steps to the station.

Only then does he notice the flyers with their bold headlines. "LOST? NEW?" Yes, those two adjectives certainly describe him. He glances at the message posted on the flyer, memorizes the directions printed on it, and follows them to --

He inspects the building before him. Definitely a diner, though he's not sure what he'd expected given the flyer's notation of "The Welcome Diner."

It's difficult to tell whether anyone's inside, but the restaurant gives off a warm vibe. It's just enough of a nudge to encourage him into pushing the door open. After all, a lead is a lead.

...something warm to eat would be nice too. ]

Excuse me. Is this The Welcome Diner?

[ The flyers said it would be The Welcome Diner. The sign outside also reads "THE WELCOME DINER." Ergo, this must be The Welcome Diner, but one can never be too cautious given the bizarre city. ]


b. your an apartment.

[ The first door he'd opened revealed an empty living room. Its white walls and freshly-vacuumed floor are welcoming, but there's something terribly unsettling about the empty room too.

Yi Sang shuts the door to avoid thinking about it too hard.

He leaves the building and tries the one next to it. Just like the previous apartment complex, there's no trace of a soul in the lobby. He wanders to one of its doors, slowly turning the door knob and it's... unlocked?

Perhaps there has been no need to install locks on these apartment doors.

He steps into the living room and, immediately, it's apparent someone lives here, or at the very least, someone had lived here. Should he have knocked? Well, too late for that. He spies a picture frame on the coffee table, lifting it into his hands. There's... nothing in it. Odd.

Something shifts behind him. The sudden noise catches Yi Sang off guard, picture frame slipping through his fingers and shattering on the hardwood floor. ]

...my apologies. The door was unlocked.

[ Which isn't really a proper excuse, but it's the truth. ]

... Do you live here?


c. city park.

[ The expanse of lush green feels a bit out of place compared to all the buildings Yi Sang passed on his way here. And despite all the life contained within the flora, the lack of birds chirping is troubling.

Nevertheless, he's developed an affinity for the park over the past few days. It's peaceful for the most part, allowing him to recount what he's discovered so far: City Hall's record rooms? Empty. Tourist Center? Nothing of note. Greenhouse at the poison garden? Bad. Stuffed full of carnivorous plants.

A bound notebook lies open in his lap, a pen resting in its spine to mark his spot. Yi Sang uses one of his hands to keep the notebook flat. The other one, bandaged a bit haphazardly, rests in his lap.

Perhaps if one were to yell, he would lift his head to see who is calling for him. Otherwise, he appears deep in thought, a pensive frown on his face. ]


d. wildcard.

[ if none of these work, feel free to hmu for something more tailored! A PM is good or you can lmk here o7 ]

Comments

[reflexio]

[ A familiar face peers out from the tower's window. He recognizes this princess' words. "Please come and save me," is, in fact, correct. Yet Hong Lu's following questions give Yi Sang pause. He studies the tower, noting there is not an entrance to be seen. Nor does it seem like anything hostile could climb all the way up to the single window. The building's walls are smooth, save for the occasional stone jutting out, but it's not nearly enough for anything to scale the surface. ]

...presumably, you are to be rescued from the tower itself.

[ If there were stairs or any other means for this princess to leave the tower, surely he would have done so by now?

And... as for what he killed on the way, how did he -- ]

Ah.

[ Yi Sang glances down, quickly surveying his blood-soaked clothes. They no longer appear princely at all, but he supposes nothing can be done. His physical appearance will not affect the script. After all, it's the characters who are confined to the parameters of the story. They have no means of impacting its outcome.

He shakes his head apologetically. ]

There were some Abnormalities nearby. I have ensured they will not cause you any trouble, though... it does not appear they could reach you at the top of your tower. And I hope that you may accept my apologies, as I failed to consider whether you might wish to slay some too.

[ This princess must be terribly, terribly bored if his idea of fun is going Abnormality hunting. ]

Perhaps if you join me, we may be able to seek out additional entertainment for you.

[ Something nags at the back of Yi Sang's head. No, that's not correct. The princess in the tower shouldn't be joining him down here. He's the one who should be going up there, even if he's not really sure what that would accomplish. Would that not result in both of them being stuck there? The realization weighs heavily on him, already feeling weary while imagining what it will be like trying to clamber up the tower.

If he doesn't, they will be stuck here forevermore. Yi Sang sighs, tilting his head up again to meet the hopeful princess' big, round eyes. ]

I believe you must lower your hair, forming a means for me to reach you.

[ A pause. That's not quite right, something whispers in Yi Sang's ear. That's not romantic at all. They need to do this properly.

The princess' name finally takes shape upon his tongue. ]

Hong Lu, Hong Lu, let down your hair.

[ A pause. ]

...please.

[reflexio]

[ Yi Sang stares at his own reflection in Hong Lu's mismatched eyes. He listens to his companion's rationales. It all sounds very reasonable to him. He does not think he'd mind being dug up in order to respond to any of Hong Lu's questions. He does not think he'd mind being roused from his sleep to bend his ear to Hong Lu's words.

It's nice to know that Hong Lu would offer him the quiet of an unmarked grave.

Yi Sang would gladly share that space with him. ]

It could.

[ It's easy to imagine what it might be like while lying here next to Hong Lu. Yi Sang feels the other's hand curl more securely around his own. It doesn't feel like Hong Lu will let him go anytime soon, and he finds he doesn't mind that at all. ]

I do not believe either of us have met their demise just yet, but perhaps we may call this room our shared grave.

[ If the living room is about the size of one of Hong Lu's closets, then surely it is plenty of space for a coffin they might call their new home.

He pauses for a moment, gaze drifting away from Hong Lu's as it falters with some uncertainty. Even after the picture Hong Lu painted with his words, Yi Sang would not wish to impose himself on the other Sinner. ]

...only if you might allow it, of course.

[yyds]

[ yi sang looks up. hong lu looks down. abnormalities, hong lu thinks, as very real envy paints itself over his countenance. yi sang had been downstairs fighting abnormalities, while hong lu had been sitting up here with nothing but the sky and a lit candle to keep him company. how unfair. then, hong lu thinks - that's when it clicks. that hong lu has been in this scenario before. every story must be a reflection of somebody's life. this story has been hong lu's life. there had been a window overlooking the seven vistas of an unchanging courtyard, the passing of seasons like the swapping of a coloured palette in full profuse bloom. there had been an unchanging young man sitting at the window watching the world go by. once, a little bird had alighted on the windowsill.

yi sang is bloodied. his cape is sodden. he is a bird, hong lu knows. it's in the way he wears his jacket, the way he picks at his food and the way he is as light as air when picked up. it's in the way he cocks his head when he observes the world, as if first seeing it from one perspective and then another, those delicate little shifts in countenance fun to observe and to predict. it has always occurred to hong lu that yi sang is most interesting when he is in motion, a dark streak of a dagger coming down in an deadly arc toward his opponent. after all, birds only look like birds when they're in flight.

then, outside of hong lu's window is a bird. yi sang is that bird. it all seems very understandable when put this way. hong lu smiles. ]

This story is strange, isn't it? If you climb up here, then won't you also be stuck with me? How can you rescue me from the tower if you're also stuck in the tower?

[ but, hong lu - thinks, he's never been rescued before. how fun. he turns. the long, wending heft of his hair is unwieldy, but at some point in his boredom, hong lu found its end. he takes it and drags it to the window. mismatched eyes peer down as he waves. ]

But alright - I'm throwing down my hair. Catch!

[ and then something like an entire magic hellboat's weight in hair comes flinging out of the tower in an unceasing waterfall.

anyway, good luck. ]

[yyds]

[ another new thought: that anyone would ask hong lu for permission for anything. hong lu, who has never been asked if something could be done to him, looks. for a moment, he doesn't know what to say. what is it like, being able to accept or deny something at your own choosing. there had been many things that hong lu hadn't wanted to do throughout his life. he had always wondered what it would be like to say 'no', and have that thing stop. what a marvelous feeling it must be, to be able to experience such a thing.

it's tempting to do so right now. hong lu would like to know what it feels like to say no, and have it listened to. perhaps even considered. what fun that would be. but hong lu considers the premise, that it's a shared coffin. he looks about. the room does seem small enough for a coffin. hong lu has ever shared a coffin with someone before.

but more than anything, it's yi sang asking, and yi sang, too, never asked for anything. what happens, hong lu thinks, if someone who never asks for something asks something of someone who has never had anyone ask anything of them? what happens then? the thing about someone who's never been able to say 'no' is that they have also never been able to say 'yes'. that, too, will be something new. hong lu realises that he wants to find out, the shape of this thing that's taking place. hong lu wants to try saying 'yes', and see what yi sang will make of it. ]

Why would I say no? [ is hong lu's laughing answer, ] So my answer is 'yes'. This will be our shared grave, then. Hm, it's a bit small for a closet, but maybe it's roomy for a grave? I've never been buried before, so I wouldn't know. But it's large enough for two people, and that's all that we need.

What should we do? Should we decorate it? A grave has flowers, right?

[reflexio]

[ It's true. Had Hong Lu told him no, he did not wish to make this place a shared grave, Yi Sang would have bowed his head in deference and accepted that response. Yi Sang makes his request wholeheartedly and earnestly because he would take Hong Lu's answer seriously. It is for that exact reason why Yi Sang's eyes widen, returning to meet Hong Lu's. Why would he say no? Perhaps he did not feel this apartment was large enough, given it wasn't even the size of one of Hong Lu's closets. ]

I... cannot provide an answer as to why I considered that might be your decision. Perhaps I feared that none would desire this taxidermied form.

[ Now that he has an answer, it's Yi Sang's turn to curl his fingers more securely around Hong Lu's hand. Perhaps it didn't matter that he'd been stuffed with others' wishes and desires, that he hadn't quite relearned what it meant to hold his own wants within his own skin.

Perhaps he is not lifeless, not taxidermied at all. If desire is the prerequisite for declaring that one is truly alive, then maybe he was never a stuffed genius at all.

If one wished to bury them separately, they would have to pry Hong Lu from Yi Sang's grasp.

His smile is not particularly wide, but his eyes glow, clearly relieved to hear he's been granted permission to stay. He is far too pleased by the response to feel embarrassed by the fact that he'd ever considered that the answer might be "no." ]

Flowers -- yes, perhaps a sprig of plum blossom if we are able to locate one. And... other items as well, so that those who may discover us in the future can discern what sort of paths we walked.

[ It would be ideal, he thinks, to call this place both a grave and a home. ]

[yyds]

[ it turns out, hong lu thinks, yi sang is as surprised as he is. what a funny thing, the two of them laying there in the living room the size of a small closet, looking back at each other in mirrored surprise. it feels nice, to know that hong lu isn't the only one who's finding out new things all the time. yi sang considers hong lu's question, and hong lu considers his response in turn.

a taxidermied form, hong lu thinks. ]

My grandmother would often taxidermy things so that she can keep it around. She likes to look at the things she keeps. [ hong lu muses. her collection rooms are sacred places, but she does like to look through them often. it had made sense to hong lu. things died very quickly, and they didn't often look presentable when they died. but when you taxidermied something, you take a snapshot of time. they were like that for the rest of their existence. but to hong lu, that had always seemed very boring. ] If you are taxidermied, it means that someone wanted to keep you the way you were, and that you are something I can look at for a long time, right? That's not a bad thing. Ah, but I like it better when you're moving, and can talk to me. Grandmother's collection is a very quiet one.

[ much like how hong lu's rooms were very quiet. they had been large, and filled with silence. this one, in contrast, is small, but filled with life and noise. hong lu likes it.

a sprig of plum blossom, huh... ]

Will we need a bus in this room, then...? [ hong lu looks around again. ] It's too small for Mephistopheles, though.

[ after all, the bus was part of the path they walked? but then again, they didn't exactly walk, since it's a bus. ]

[reflexio]

[ They can find out later, Yi Sang thinks, because he agrees with Hong Lu's assessment of the situation. What exactly would climbing to the top of the tower accomplish? There is only one way to find out.

Theoretically, Yi Sang should have known the sheer amount of hair from Hong Lu would result in quite the weight being dropped out the window. But seeing things with one's own eyes is very different from simply knowing things.

The thick strands come careening down. Yi Sang hadn't been afraid when faced with those Abnormalities. Face-to-face with this endless stream of hair, however, does strike fear within his heart. He doesn't have enough time to get out of the way after underestimating the sheer volume of hair, leaving him caught in its midst. It dumps itself over his head, leaving him struggling to free himself from it all. He manages to crawl out from under it and shakes his ankle free.

Yi Sang straightens, surveying Hong Lu's hair. It looks... smooth. Well-kept. Difficult to climb. He frowns and gives it a careful tug, looking up at the window yet again. ]

Is there nothing within your room that might assist me in climbing? ...will it not injure you, supporting my weight with your hair?

[ No offense, but he's really not built for this task, and trying to support an entire human's weight by the strands of one's hair seems like a bad idea... ]

[yyds]

[ yi sang disappears beneath the onslaught. for a moment, hong lu wonders if he's killed him. if he has, would yi sang come back, or would he die simply because the manager isn't here? but people are supposed to come back in this world? but this is now a new world, and sometimes, in the stories that hong lu's nannies told him, people die for real in stories.

eventually, however, hong lu sees movement. it's odd, to see movement rather than feel it. after all, it is his hair, and it's connected to him, but it's so long that he supposes if someone set it on fire, he wouldn't feel it until it burnt all the way to his scalp. yi sang drags himself free of the unending waterfall. he looks up. hong lu looks down.

hm... hong lu considers this. ]

There's nothing here, though. [ there's never anything here. after all, it's only ever been hong lu and the scenery outside his window. hong lu and the bird at his windowsill. hong lu smiles. ] Oh, I know~ Hold on to the hair. I'll pull you up.

[reflexio]

[ Wings clipped and shuffled from cage to cage, Yi Sang understood there were those who wished to keep others unchanging. Hong Lu offers him questions and hypotheticals that allow him to think, to explore, to relearn how to work his pectoralis and supracoracoideus. ]

I do not believe a bus would fit here.

[ Which may be stating the obvious, but Hong Lu had asked. ]

...I suppose we may obtain a smaller one instead. A scale model of a bus, perhaps.

[ What else, what else? The gears within his mind begin to churn. ]

And -- other items that may be of interest to you as well. There is no need to procure them all at once, as it seems we shall have ample time to do so.

[ After all, no one seemed to know when they would ultimately return to their own City.

He recalls the glass scattered across the floor. They shall have to clear it away lest someone accidentally step on it and slice their foot open. On the other hand, it would be a shame to sweep it all up and toss out an item commemorating this moment. Hong Lu might prefer watching Yi Sang midflight, but Yi Sang has always been fond of moments captured in time. ]

Shall I clear the glass from the floor? Or... I suppose we could frame it. Shards of glass displayed within glass -- would that be odd?

[yyds]

[ a scale model, hong lu thinks. how marvelous. he wouldn't have been able to come up with a thought about that on his own. hong lu recalls the little models of mountains and sceneries that lined the hallways and the meditation rooms at the estate. he was never allowed to touch them. he wonders if he'll be allowed to touch the model of the bus - that might be fun.

still, it's a good question. as if for the first time, hong lu looks about and considers the strewn glass around them. it'd be nice if they could stay on the floor. they look like shattered stars, which are much more interesting than the stars that were so faraway in the night sky. the ones that you couldn't touch. these ones, you could. they could cut you open. they could leave a scar. you could be reminded that they existed, once. framed, glass, then... ]

Why would it be odd? [ asks hong lu, ] It's more interesting to look at than a framed Abnormality. [ finally, hong lu gives yi sang's hand a squeeze. he looks to him. ] I'll help you clear the glass. Do you just want them collected in the palm of your hand?

[reflexio]

[ That would certainly work. Hong Lu could pull him up, as one might do to cast an anchor aweigh. Would that count as obeying the script though?

Yi Sang supposes there is only one way to find out. He grabs onto Hong Lu's hair, fingers sinking into the mass of black. The window is quite high up. Should he accidentally lose his grip, he would likely not survive the fall.

At the bottom of the tower, he would leave a stain the same color that dyes his clothes.

Hong Lu looks down. Yi Sang looks up. ]

I am ready.

[ Or at least, as ready as one can be before being airlifted several stories into the air with someone's unrealistically long hair. He hopes this works. He hopes he does not have to actually climb up the tower. ]

[yyds]

[ hong lu grins. he waves his hand. ]

Okay! [ says he, in that sing-song tone of his. ] Hold on tight! If you fall, you'll die!

[ and then hong lu will have to find a place to bury him. there don't seem to be any plum blossoms here, however, which is a shame. and this world isn't very interesting, so if hong lu is stuck here for the rest of eternity, he'll need to bury himself with yi sang sooner than expected. all in all, hong lu thinks, all of a sudden, that isn't a terrible outcome.

still, he begins to reel in his hair. it's not difficult work. yi sang doesn't weigh a whole lot, and in truth, hong lu thinks that his hair weighs more than yi sang ever could. hong lu, whose used to pulling and lifting things far heavier, makes deft work of the process. the hair goes up. yi sang goes up.

at the lip of the window, hong lu holds out his hand. ]

Phew. [ hong lu says, not at all winded. ] Was it fun being pulled up by my hair? Yi Sang.

[ ... and he can say it, yi sang's name. hong lu beams. ]

[nutkick]

[ that was a lot of names, but one — or maybe two — sparked a reaction out of denji. his eyes widen for a fleeting second before his lashes lower once again; less tired and more mischievous now. of course this guy is one of those dynamic bunch, and that explains a lot. ]

I don't know what the fuck 'respite' means, you keep talking weird, but you did interrupt a super intimate moment. What if I decided to walk out naked? I'll never be able to forgive you.

[ that would be awkward for yi sang as well, but who cares? he tugs on the towel around his shoulder, finally making some use of it as he starts drying up his hair; ruffling those blond curls. ]

I'm totally avoiding that Vergi dude. I owe him a favor and I don't trust what he might ask of me. He's kinda bizarre. As for Don— yeah, we know each other pretty well.

[ dramatic pause. ]

She's my girlfriend.

[ is he serious, or is he joking? truly one cannot tell. ]

[reflexio]

[ One did not typically frame glass within glass. On the other hand, Yi Sang supposes he should have known Hong Lu would find no issues with the suggestion. ]

Yes, I believe that should work.

[ Collecting them within the palm of his hand would mean letting go of Hong Lu's. It is only temporary, he supposes as he squeezes Hong Lu's hand back before sliding it out of the others' grasp. They have plenty of time to learn the shape of one another's hands, to count the calluses nestled upon each of their palms. So he nods and pushes himself up to sit on the floor before reaching into his coat's pocket. There, Yi Sang withdraws a leather bound notebook. He opens it in his lap, flips to the back of the notebook, then tears out a sheaf of paper. Yi Sang sets that on the floor as well in between the two of them. ]

Once we have gathered the shards, I will set them on this paper to ensure we do not lose them.

[ Each sheet of paper must be put to good use, but Yi Sang doesn't seem to have any qualms with handing them away. Though the notebook is precious to him, filled with lists of things he holds dear, he readily repurposes those sheets when he comes across a proper purpose for them. On the other hand, he's never hesitated in giving pieces of himself away.

Yi Sang sets to work, picking each piece of glass off the floor all over again and dropping them into his palm. ]

[reflexio]

[ If he died here, would he come back? Would his body return intact, just as it might with Dante's abilities?

Yi Sang is not quite as adventurous as Hong Lu. His tolerance for experimentation only goes so far. Perhaps death would force them to repeat this cycle. It may entail him having to battle his way through those Abnormalities again, and that would be rather troublesome.

So he clings onto Hong Lu's hair for dear life, and only when he spots a hand does Yi Sang let go with one of his own. He grabs onto that familiar hand. It pulls him securely over the edge of the window. This princess has quite impressive arm strength, he thinks to himself. This does not seem like a princess who needed rescuing at all.

Yi Sang straightens his clothing out, racing pulse recovering from the fraught experience of being hoisted several stories into the air. ]

It was... certainly an experiencing, Hong Lu.

[ He takes a moment to inspect Hong Lu before glancing at the sea of his hair. And then, his gaze lands on the rest of the empty room. There's not an exit to be found. How on earth did Hong Lu manage to get up here?

It must be terribly dull sitting up here day in and day out.

Yi Sang wanders back to the window and peers over the edge. A fall from this height would certainly be fatal. He glances over his shoulder, frowning despite Hong Lu's radiant smile. ]

...I believe we are both trapped here now. Does this count as a rescue?

[ Is... this the true direction of their script? ]

[yyds]

[ yi sang removes his hand from hong lu's grasp. hong lu feels its loss like an inexorable loss in a chain. how funny, hong lu thinks. he doesn't remember ever thinking of loss this way, that it was something to feel, and notice, and take in. hong lu doesn't think he much likes it, the idea of it. but yi sang's hands are nearby. hong lu can take them into his again later.

so hong lu gets up from his place on the floor. yi sang tears a page from his notebook. it's that notebook, hong lu thinks - the letters, the half-drawn wishes. the cry for help. the torn page is like a photo removed from its frame. hong lu smiles.

he reaches for a piece of glass. he sets it on the page. between the two of them, they collect the shattered pieces of a fallen star. ]

Your notebook is a book, right? Yi Sang, does your book have a title?

[yyds]

[ hong lu considers this. yi sang stands there, resplendent in blood. hong lu sits there by the windowsill, in red and gold. he is wearing the robes of a young, unmarried woman from the qing dynasty. the red is supposed to symbolise purity. hong lu thinks, the red dyeing yi sang's clothing is far more interesting. ]

Well, didn't you just rescue me from boredom? I didn't like being all alone up here; there wasn't anything to do. [ his mismatched gaze rests on yi sang. he looks a little flushed, he thinks. was the way up really that exciting? the first thing hong lu does is reach out with a hand. he clasps his hand around yi sang's wrist so that he can feel for his pulse. it's racing, hong lu thinks. rabbit-quick. hong lu has never seen a rabbit before, not a real one, but it must be a little like this.

hong lu brightens. ] Now that you're here, maybe I can go to the bottom, and you can pull me up by the hair. It looked like fun.

[ and if he gets dropped, will he die? lots to think about. ]

[reflexio]

[ Yi Sang places another piece of glass in his palm. It hits the surface of another fragment, bouncing off of it but ultimately landing in his hand. He repeats the motion, plucking another piece off the floor. This time, he places it down within the small pile gathering within his palm.

Only when Hong Lu speaks again does he raise his head. ]

A title...?

[ The notebook in his lap does not contain any defining features. Its covers are a plain dark brown, and its pages are marked with black lines. Sometimes, Yi Sang does not write with his letters sitting on those lines, and instead, allows his letters to fall all over the page. Others do not even contain words, but they hold little scribbles and sketches of the things he has seen, of the people he knows.

A book that contains so many different things -- how could he distill its contents down to a single title? He shakes his head in response. ]

It does not. Perhaps an appropriate title will spring to mind someday. Once its pages are full, I may be able to summarize its contents in an appropriate epitaph.

[reflexio]

[ "Exciting" is certainly one way to put it. Yi Sang's pulse in his wrist continues to thrum, speeding in tempo as Hong Lu closes his hand around it. Or, perhaps it's Hong Lu's following suggestion that has it racing, not because he's eager to find out what would happen, but instead exasperated. ]

I... believe there may be better means of keeping you rescued from boredom.

[ Namely, means that didn't risk Hong Lu becoming a splatter of red at the base of the tower. ]

Now that we are both up here, it surely expands the variety of potential activities for you.

[ Rescuing Hong Lu from boredom doesn't seem so bad. It's much better than having to climb up the side of a tower. Yi Sang's gaze returns to Hong Lu, clad in crimson. By now, the blood staining his own have faded to a darker brown, dull in color compared to his current companion's robes. ]

[reflexio]

That... would result in a rather unfortunate situation.

[ It is good that Denji had walked out fully clothed. Yi Sang agrees that he would never be able to earn Denji's forgiveness had that been the case.

He lifts his head to observe the boy with a curious gaze. Avoiding Vergilius is, in his evaluation, a very fair reaction to the man. "Bizarre" isn't quite how he would describe their Guide, but the man did have something of an oppressive aura when he felt like exerting it.

It's Denji's comments about Don that have Yi Sang's eyes widening with surprise. He is not shocked that Denji is Don Quixote's girlfriend -- rather, it is the thought that Don had found herself a boyfriend that makes him raise his brows.

He completely, wholeheartedly, buys Denji's claims. He recovers quickly, a genuine smile making its way onto his face. ]

I see. It is good to hear that Don Quixote has formed bonds and connections with others.

[ He dips his head in deference to Denji. ]

I... would ask that you watch over her. Has she been well?

[ Yeah. He completely buys it. ]

[nutkick]

[ oh shit. that easy, huh? denji returns the smile with one of his own, more mischievous at first but then it eases into genuine fondness. they did have their little date back then, and despite how utterly creepy and predatory the whole situation started as a concept, don remained kind to him to the very end. denji knew it would never happen, but maybe that's okay— she's someone who could be a good friend.

yet, pulling this stunt will probably repel her from returning the gesture. it felt too late to call his own bullshit, considering the other boy's reaction. he crouched down, meeting yi sang's level. this seemed like a better idea than inviting the other to a proper seating in his head— don't question his logic, you. ]

She's been great. Super! Having fun and planning parties, making friends, and living it all. Don't worry. I'll totally protect her.

[ in his defense, he's not fooling around with this one. don is one of the very few friendly faces in this shitty city; it would be a shame to lose her. he tilts his head, his mood is lighter now, finally warming up to the intruder. ]

Are you close to her?

denji..... my csm son.....

[reflexio]

[ Yep. That easy...

Yi Sang observes as Denji crouches next to him. Acknowledging it as the boy's acceptance of his presence, Yi Sang shifts to kneel on the floor before sitting on his heels. After all, if this is Don's boyfriend(???), he would like to get to know him.

He listens quietly to everything the boy has to say about Don. Yes, that all certainly sounds like her. Of course she's managed to find new friends here, he thinks, given her upbeat and unflappable demeanor.

And because he's familiar with Don, Yi Sang thinks the physical protection is likely unnecessary, but... ]

Don Quixote is familiar with combat, though she... can be a sensitive soul. Rarely do I see her without a smile on her face, but I am aware it is impossible for one to be enthusiastic at all times. ...I have attempted to do my best in providing company, yet I am but one person. Thus, it is reassuring that she has you as well.

[ He pauses upon hearing Denji's question. Hm. "Close" could be an accurate adjective, though all things considered, the shift from considering her a companion instead of a colleague has been recent for Yi Sang. After spending so long afraid to open himself up to companionship again, he'd nearly forgotten how nice it could be to have a friend or two. ]

We are colleagues, assigned to the same team. But... I suppose she has treated me with warmth more akin to a friend instead of a mere coworker.

[wordchain]

[ The clarification indicates that every piece of information identifying The Welcome Diner has served its intended purpose after all. In that case, perhaps the opening question was simply an attempt to covertly signal a request for further assistance while assessing the available resources and contemplating any gaps to address. Yesod accepts the answer with a nod, prepared to wait for the time being.

Then comes a distinctive sound, all too audible as it disrupts the momentary silence to convey its meaning on the stranger's behalf.

Yesod blinks. He turns slightly, loosening his stance to point out the diner's menu, though he technically isn't part of the kitchen staff. ]

...There is a selection of savory and sweet dishes on offer.

[reflexio]

[ It seems Yesod accepts Yi Sang's desire for clarification. Uncertainties lurk at every corner of this bizarre city, and Yi Sang's seen enough oddities where even if something walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it might not be a duck at all. Perhaps Yesod understands that concern.

Truly, nerd to nerd communication.

He follows Yesod's gesture, wandering over to the diner's menu posted on one of the wall's. Yi Sang scans each item's name; despite the menu's humble size, there's a surprising amount of variety between the entrees, desserts, and drinks.

Something hearty like minestrone soup would probably be best. Yi Sang glances left, then right, only to realize the front of the diner is empty save for himself and Yesod. And if Yesod is the one who's redirected him to the menu... ]

Is there any minestrone soup available? Perhaps with a cup of warm green tea?

[yyds]

[ hong lu considers this. a book without a title until the book is finished. then how, hong lu wonders, would anyone know what the book is about without reading it? what if the book is never finished. but it's yi sang - yi sang will always finish what he has started to write. he wrote those letters after all, the letters that were very much like a cry for help. anyone with the courage to write those, no matter how subconsciously, has the courage to finish their story.

hong lu thinks, suddenly, that he would like to see it. the title of that finished book. ]

I look forward to it. I want to read it when it's done.

[ hong lu smiles, and drops another handful of broken glass shards upon yi sang's page. ] So don't rip out too many pages. Otherwise, there's less space for you to write everything you want to, right? And there'll be less for me to read.