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

a....

[wordchain]

[ Once again, new residents are brought to this city, and Yesod reports to The Welcome Diner as a substitute information kiosk, alternating between the establishment and City Hall Station — with the intention of providing genuinely useful information, as much as anyone can here, unlike the kiosks that have since vanished. On this day, too, he's stationed nearby to supplement the written resources compiled for newcomers to peruse. (Ostensibly, he's also greeting people, but others have that handled with a more welcoming manner.)

What he isn't expecting is this particular newcomer's need for additional confirmation of something that would have been mentioned on multiple flyers, as well as the sign outside. That said, it's possible that the stranger only learned of this location by word of mouth, in fact illiterate. ]

Yes. This is The Welcome Diner.

[ Welcome, Yi Sang. Even if Yesod continues to stand there with his arms crossed. ]

How can we be of help?

[reflexio]

[ Good. The confirmation is certainly welcome, even if it's coming from a rather stern-looking man. ]

That is good then. ...I had observed the diner's notices and followed its directions.

[ Not to worry, Yesod. Yi Sang knows how to read.

He falls silent, considering the man's question. In truth, he'd simply searched for the diner because he was, in fact, both "NEW" and "LOST." ]

I... have not determined how you may be of help.

[ He didn't think that far ahead. Should he have arrived with a list of questions prepared?

Before he's able to drown further in his thoughts, his stomach lets out an agonizing growl. Seems like someone hasn't eaten since his arrival at the City. ]

[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?

[wordchain]

[ These are pertinent questions to ask. While the green tea can be made for anyone then and there, soup requires some time to prepare, but the different options are presumably kept at the ready, in the event that someone requests them. Anything left over at the end of the day is easily distributed between other interested parties, if need be.

Yesod steps away to investigate the current status of the diner's menu, not only in writing, disappearing behind the counter. Several minutes pass.

Eventually, he reemerges with a tray carefully balanced between both hands, bearing a bowl and a cup upon it. Steam rises from both vessels as Yesod crosses the diner's floor to return to Yi Sang's side, where he holds out the tray within the other man's reach. As requested, the bowl is filled with a serving of minestrone soup, while the cup contains green tea. A serviette and cutlery sit beside the bowl.

The diner's usual staff would undoubtedly present Yi Sang with his order and an accompanying smile, but Yesod lets the items arranged on the tray answer the earlier questions. After all, it's unnecessary to state what is clearly visible in front of their eyes. ]

As the flyers mention, this city has no currency. All menu options are provided free of charge.

[ Which would be the case regardless, in keeping with the diner's aims, Yesod imagines. ]

[reflexio]

[ Yesod returns with his requested items arranged neatly on a tray. Given the oddities of the City, there's a part of him that's a little surprised to see the diner did, in fact, have the soup and tea available. He takes a moment to inspect the food and drink with a cursory glance, as though checking to ensure his eyes were not deceiving him. Eventually, he accepts the tray with both hands before wandering over to an empty table. He sets the tray down on it before returning his attention to Yesod. ]

A world without currency. That is... quite unusual.

[ It's absolutely unheard of to someone from a place where capitalism was alive and well.

Yi Sang takes a seat and lifts the hot tea into his hands. He allows it to warm his palms for a bit before taking a sip. The tea tastes fine -- good, even. He takes a few more sips, draining it of a third of its contents. He returns it to the table with a thoughtful look. ]

This city -- does it lack a name?

[ "Home" was The City, but it seems here, too, was The City. Which City is which? ]

[wordchain]

[ Yesod assumes that the hungry stranger would prefer to eat his soup and drink his tea in peace, once seated, and so he only acknowledges the man's comment for the lack of currency with another nod. Yes, it's quite unusual indeed, even in a place that collects people from many diverse worlds. But then, this is a decidedly unusual city for a number of other reasons as well.

Watching Yi Sang sample the tea, Yesod stays on standby not far from the table, silent and still until the other man speaks up again. One more nod begins his next answer. ]

If this city has a name, it remains unknown to us. Is that also unusual?

[ To Yesod, it's only somewhat inconvenient at times, specifically if he needs to distinguish between this city and the City he knows in conversation. ]

b

[nutkick]

[ well— this is not really the scene you'd expect to walk into as soon as you step out of the toilet in the privacy of your home. it's one of those moments that would catch anyone off guard and denji looked a bit taken back, staring at the intruder as he, slowly, locked the door behind him. a bit of steam from the hot shower escaped before it was sealed shut, now staring at the man down the hall.

his hair is soaked, a towel rests on his shoulders. he is (thankfully) modest in a t-shirt and sweats. a frown sobers up his features, straightening his back. ]

... Yeah. [ and now for the very valid, justified question. ] What the hell are you doing here?

[reflexio]

[ Indeed, it's a very valid, justified question. ]

...I see.

[ Yi Sang turns to face the apartment's resident, dipping his head in deference to the young man who's just stepped out of the shower. ]

My apologies, I did not intend to trespass. I had thought this apartment was unoccupied, much like the other buildings I came across nearby.

[ He glances at the broken glass strewn before him. This... certainly isn't the proper way to make a good first impression on someone. He kneels on the floor and plucks a couple of the shards off the ground, laying them in his palm. ]

...I shall take my leave once I have cleared all the glass, unless you would prefer that I do so immediately.

[nutkick]

[ there is something terribly off about this guy. his reaction is far too mellow for someone who is intruding and committing a crime in the most invasive way possible, which is breaking into someone's home. so, why is he acting like they are discussing weather updates over coffee? such an underwhelming attitude.

denji makes a face while resting a hand on his hip; muttering 'weird one' under his breath. if the intent is to de-escalate the situation, then it might work in yi sang's favor. he ends up staring the intruder down as he picks up the glass with his bare hands— not the best idea, it's one way to invite some minor cuts, but denji won't stop him. ]

I guess you're new.

[ he then tilts his head, pondering over something. ]

Or, are you looking for someone?

[reflexio]

[ He works methodically, carefully arranging the shards in his palm. Where is the garbage can to dispose of them? Not a clue. Yi Sang hasn't thought that far ahead just yet.

Only when his company observes he must be new does Yi Sang turn his attention from the glass to the recently-showered person. He nods in response. ]

I am. ...from my rudimentary understanding of this City, it appears new residents arrive approximately each month.

[ His hands refrain from returning to their work as he considers the posited question. He hadn't been actively searching for anyone, but it wouldn't hurt to ask whether this person's spotted anyone familiar. ]

Have you witnessed any clad in a similar coat as mine?

[ A question for a question. He knows not that the resident of this apartment finds him a bit strange, but it's a fitting impression for one whose name can mean "odd." ]

[nutkick]

[ boy, don't use fancy words on him he will get lost!

denji ends up squinting his eyes, trying to follow up and make sense of the entire dialogue so he can comprehend the summary of it; that alone requires some brain power. he didn't ask to be forced to think in his own goddamn apartment when he should be curled up in bed being miserable instead. he sighs, hunching forward. ]

I'll only remember the outfit of a sexy girl. You might as well give out a name and I'll figure out if I know them or not.

[ see how he specified 'sexy' — not any woman, but she has to be erotic enough to spark the attention of lonely men. does that sound like someone yi sang is familiar with? more importantly, watching that boy pick up the glass like this is getting sad. he does seem remorseful of his sins. hmm. ]

It's okay. Leave it. [ pardoned. ]

[reflexio]

[ Poor Denji, stuck with a man who has a geriatric soul...

Yi Sang shuffles through his colleagues' appearances in his head, just as one might rifle through a deck of cards. "Sexy girl" probably eliminates Outis. He can't imagine anyone describing her as anything younger than "woman." But -- oh, is that thought rude of him, unfair to her age?

That leaves Faust, Don Quixote, Ryoshu, Ishmael, and Rodion. Each was attractive in their own way, but could he describe any of them as sexy? He hadn't considered any of them in that sort of light --

Yi Sang blinks, realizing Denji's thrown him a lifeline by letting him know he should simply give names. Banishing his earlier thoughts, he repeats all their names: ]

Faust, Don Quixote, Ryoshu, Meursault, Hong Lu, Heathcliff, Ishmael, Rodion, Sinclair, Outis, and Gregor. ...others would include Vergilius and Charon.

[ He glances down at the shards he's already gathered in his palm. Though he's loathe to leave the mess, given how he still feels responsible for it, Yi Sang obeys. Carefully, he slides the small pile of glass in his hand onto the floor, ensuring he leaves it gathered neatly. ]

...I am sorry about your picture frame.

[ Perhaps offering his name would be an appropriate olive branch. ]

Oh. I am Yi Sang. Your graciousness is appreciated, especially given that based on your... current state, it seems I have intruded upon your moment of respite.

[ Fancy words, sorry Denji. ]

b.

[yyds]

[ guess who has two thumbs, is currently lying in the centre of the apartment floor that yi sang's just walked into, and is smiling like a wayward sunbeam when he walks in? yes, this thing. this thing over here.

in truth, hong lu had known it was yi sang. it's not difficult to. once you've been on a bus with strangers for a good part of your journey in the outside world, it's not difficult to notice such things. hong lu has always been good at telling footfalls apart. after all, back at the estate, that was often the only way to differentiate people from one another, and hong lu had, in his boredom, gotten used to listening to the footfalls outside of his room. the quick pitter-patter of the servants, gossiping as they go along. the butler's stately steps as he makes sure that the perimeter is clear and that hong lu's door was properly closed. the light heeled steps of his mother, the heavier, angrier footfalls of his second aunt. the careful dance of an assassin's slippers.

it had been a game. hong lu played with himself, so of course he always won. yi sang has footfalls that remind hong lu of a bird. less nervous in the sense of fear - rather perched so tenuously upon this earth that hong lu wouldn't be surprised if he took flight. but that was only after yi sang had gone through his memories and resolved that knot in his heart.

today's yi sang is like so. light-footed, with care born not from an abundance of caution but of a need not to disturb. hong lu, who can't be disturbed, lifts a hand to wave at him. ]

No, but I could. Yesod said that you can simply choose one of these apartments. Are you sure they're an apartment, though? They're a little cramped.

[reflexio]

[ He'd been far too distracted by the furniture's bizarre furnishings to notice the other man sprawled on the floor.

"No, but I could," says Hong Lu, which means this apartment doesn't belong to him either. Surely, this doesn't mean they're both trespassing on someone else's home? After all, this place certainly looks lived-in.

Yi Sang acknowledges his colleague with a quiet sigh. ]

They appear sufficiently spacious for one person.

[ In fact, it seems like there'd be enough space for two people.

Without wasting anymore time, Yi Sang bends to one knee and sets to plucking broken shards of glass off the floorboards. This could have ended rather poorly, he thinks, and he's lucky that none of the fragments ricocheted in Hong Lu's direction. He cradles them carefully in his palm. Their edges press against his callused hand, worn from years of piecing his inventions together gear by delicate gear.

He pauses in his work to cast an inquisitive glance at his current company. ]

Why do you lie upon the floor, Hong Lu? Surely, it is not for lack of a proper bed?

[yyds]

Really? [ asks hong lu, even though it's yi sang saying it, so it must be true. he peers around again appraisingly. the walls are bare, the window is a person-sized thing gazing out onto the world. the world looks very small from here, and very far away. ] Oh, I've heard of people living in small, blank closets in order to feel more at peace. I think it was around this size?

[ sort of like a meditation room, though hong lu has never been in one of those himself. he's never liked closed off, little spaces all too much, and had been contemplating such before yi sang walked in. funny, however, that the space right now seems even smaller - but it also doesn't feel so bad.

yi sang begins picking up broken glass. hong lu observes, before he lets his smile curve once more. ]

I was looking at the ceiling. [ hong lu gestures up. the popcorn ceiling stares back down. ] The little dots on the ceiling seem like they're moving, but I don't think they are? It's so funny. Yi Sang, do you know why it's like this?

[reflexio]

[ What? This living room is the size of a closet to Hong Lu? Yi Sang blinks owlishly at that information. The intricate details of each Sinners' lives were a mystery to everyone seated on Mephistopheles. All that was known of Hong Lu's background was that he hailed from a Nest and spent his days in a lavish estate, and that his older brother was intent on killing all of them.

...perhaps his closets truly were the size of apartment living rooms.

Yi Sang pauses in his work once he begins to consider Hong Lu's question, allowing a piece of glass to tumble from his fingers into his palm. ]

There are several answers that come to mind. Perhaps it is your vision that ails you, causing those dots to appear as if they are moving. If you have failed to consume a meal within a reasonable amount of time, the fatigue will cause your sight to blur. However, the likeliest explanation is that your eyes are attempting to focus on different targets, and each image perceived by each eye has overlaid itself. Your brain repeatedly attempts to seek a dot to focus on. That cycle is, I believe, what you are describing to me. The ceiling remains still, as do you, but you may feel as though the dots on the ceiling are shifting.

[ ...there must be a more succinct explanation. ]

Your eyes are... becoming confused. That is all.

[ Yi Sang's hands move again, dropping another shard into his hand. ]

Has that answered your question?

[yyds]

[ hm... hong lu considers the answer. as if your eyes are trying to track different targets, and it's getting confused... huh. the world is much like that, hong lu thinks. there was so much in it, so many new things to learn and to explore. you would need a lifetime to learn it all. most people had a lifetime to learn it all. but hong lu - he wanted to learn everything, experience everything, and so the world seemed ever in motion in his eyes. perhaps his eyes were getting confused trying to focus on more than one thing?

hong lu closes his one cyan eye. he endeavors to focus on just one of the dots. the ceiling swims. he laughs. ]

It does, it does. And it seems like I can't focus on a single dot after all.

[ cheerfully, hong lu holds up his hand to yi sang. ] Yi Sang.

[reflexio]

[ Yi Sang almost always has an answer prepared for all of Hong Lu's questions. If not, he sets down whatever task is in front of him to go and search for a response. Thus, having answered his companion's question, he'd returned to his work.

It seems Hong Lu is not yet satisfied.

Plink, plink go the pieces of glass that trickle onto his palm, joining the rest of their brethren. He doesn't notice the hand stretched to him, far too engrossed in his task. Only when he hears his name does he lift his head, gaze hovering on Hong Lu's smile before shifting to the outstretched hand.

He gives Hong Lu a curious look as he reaches out with his empty hand, resting his fingertips within the other's palm. ...it's soft and nothing like his own. ]

[closed: hong lu] i felt sent here from another world

[reflexio]

[ Two keys had mysteriously appeared one day in the apartment Hong Lu and Yi Sang called their home. When Hong Lu insisted they determine what room these keys unlocked, Yi Sang simply could not say no.

Rarely can Yi Sang find it in himself to decline Hong Lu's suggestions.

Ultimately, they'd found themselves in the university dorms with both their keys matching the same lock. And upon opening the door, Yi Sang realizes this must be intentional, given the dorm room appears large enough for both of them.

His gaze lands on one of the beds. An old, leather bound book lies nestled on the blankets. His fingertips itch; the tome calls to him, and before he can wrest his focus away from it, his hands have already flipped it open.

The walls around him bend out of shape, twisting as though they were crumpling sheets of paper. Yi Sang glances over his shoulder, prepared to call for Hong Lu, to apologize for his carelessness and to warn him of the room's twisting dimensions. But Hong Lu is gone, nowhere to be found as the room continues to warp.

And then it stops.

The dorm room is no more, and instead, the sounds of leaves rustling and birds chirping fill Yi Sang's ears. He's... outside? Immediately, he realizes his shoulders feel lighter because his coat is gone, vanished -- in fact, he doesn't recognize his his new attire at all.

But it's rather kind of whatever entity's responsible for magicking him here to have given him a sword, considering the stampede of Peccatum Luxiriae and Peccatum Irae galloping his way. The blade is heavier than his saingeom, and he's not used to its length at all. Nevertheless, his body knows precisely how to wield it, and he manages to cut them down, albeit unable to escape from being soaked in gore.

Yi Sang sheathes his sword and presses onward. There's no time to question where he's landed, nor is there any time to clean his blade. He needs to find that tower; he needs to find Hong Lu the princess.

He pauses. Tower? What tower? What princess? But his feet press onwards, depriving Yi Sang from contemplating this strange turn of events.

Fortunately, his feet do carry him to a tall, stone tower. He gazes up, noting that there's only one window all the way at the top. Yi Sang stands at the base, craning his neck to see if he can get a better view of what might be there.

He cups his hands and calls out to the top of the tower: ]

Princess Hong Lu, can you hear me?

[ Yi Sang blinks. He could have sworn he'd shouted Hong Lu's name, but his tongue seems to refuse to cooperate.

...hopefully this is where Hong Lu ended up, and hopefully Hong Lu would realize who's calling for him. So he waits patiently at the base of the tower, soaked in Abnormality blood and not looking very princely at all. ]

[yyds]

[ enter: the princess.

or rather, hong lu has never really understood it, the intricacies of calling stage exits and entrances the way they were. in a story, the characters on the stage are supposed to have always been there. you couldn't enter or exit a world. you couldn't step into or outside of a life. and wasn't that theatre, the most pure representation of what a life could be? someone on the stage, then, cannot step in or exit without breaking the role. hong lu had once asked this of his theatre tutor why is it that actors were allowed to be different people on and off a stage, to which the answer was if hong lu wanted to play the role of an act for the rest of his life, and that he ought to stop asking silly questions and instead focus on memorising his next set of lines. but it seemed to hong lu that playing an act for the rest of his life seemed like a fine idea. hong lu would have wanted to be a general of an army, or the courtesan of a gold phoenix court, or the gossipy fishmonger, or the beautiful, graceful women that transformed into birds between sets. instead, he stepped onto the stage and forgot his lines, and stepped off the stage into a world where they didn't allot him any lines at all.

that is to say, being a princess is lovely. there had been a bit of a kerfuffle with the length of his hair, what with it having gone on and on, so much so that hong lu still isn't certain where the braid began and the tie ended, and there had been an entire incident where hong lu had dropped a still-burning candle into his nest of hair and had been disappointed that it hadn't all gone up in flames. but hong lu thinks - he had figured out this whole princessing thing, and it was terribly boring. he was supposed to wait here. there was a prince coming. somehow, somewhen, after the prince came, the story would end. if the story had been anything more interesting than hong lu waiting in a tower for whatever that was coming, perhaps hong lu would have politely thrown the frying pan he had out of the window with pinpoint accuracy, killed the prince, and happily lived as a princess. but it was tedious, was the thing. hong lu wasn't particularly good at waiting, the door was sealed shut, and the endless sky cast itself across a featureless land that made hong lu think a little of home.

so when the prince arrived - hong lu's gaze is bright as he casts its mismatched colour out over the tower proper. yi sang is a sight for sore eyes. hong lu brightens upon seeing him. of course he does.

yi sang - he says, and then stops. because the words don't quite come. for the first time in a very long time, something blank crosses over hong lu's face as he considers it. then, with a shrug, the shutter of his expression allows that smile to slip back into its place. with that same, airy wave of his hand: ]

Prince. Hello~ I think I'm supposed to say 'please come save me'? But from what? What did you kill on the way here? [ with the biggest, roundest of hopeful princess eyes: ] And did you leave any for me?

[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.

[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. ]

[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.