inbox | somnia

[hallowedly]

MURMUR | ENCOUNTERS

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[trashblaze]

[ Hours later! After this conversation. Using a private space on the Murmur, Caelus attempts to communicate. ]

Mr. Sakurazuka? I found some promising locations near Central Park.

[ Then, Caelus will provide mental images for the following clinics: Bond Vet (77th Street), Westside Veterinary Center, and Gotham Veterinary Center. ]

I also found preserved eggs!

[hallowedly]

( Intrusion, violation, an act of aggression —

...ah, but it's the young one, after all. )


Why, isn't that productive. Thank you! And they all seem, ah... suitably lacking in local wildlife?

[trashblaze]

Don't worry, I took care of them— I had to lure them out.

[ Caelus led the mutant creatures to get lost somewhere in Central Park. ]

It should be fine now. Do any of these catch your eye?

action-ish.

[sacral]

[ Not tethered but with ties yet unbroken, it's not words or the wraith of his presence that feeds the connection. Rather — a wonderment, sharpened to a point.

Where do you want him to go? For the wards, of course.

It's not a date. ]

be still, my heart

[hallowedly]

( My, what sharp teeth Sumeragi Subaru's attention has.

The response is staggered, mulling. He trusts, he trusts not. He trusts, he trusts not. He trusts...

And then, the inevitable mental image of Westside Clinic: a remarkably green establishment operating at a high window pane and/or human life deficit. A miracle of the post-apocalyptic economy, helpfully located by street indicators.

It's not a date — but the next mental image is of Aventurine's questionable candy ♥ )

[sacral]

[ It's not the likewise gleaming edge of a firm decision that he expects but the low pendulum swing of a lush moon. Wax, wane, wax, wane... and finally, muted darkness pulled back over the location by light.

It certainly is. Green.

He doesn't wait for further invitation to set off, though the questionable candy slideshow does evoke something like in Murmur-vision.

It isn't as though he needed the bribe for a not-date. ]

murmur;

[salaryman]

[ A casual, gentle tap on his "shoulder" ]

I found a few things out that are quite interesting.

[hallowedly]

( This... had better not be Kigai's code for bosom of creatures of the gentler persuasion. )


Good day, Yuuto. Oh?

[salaryman]

I had a chat with Sleep.

I was told she has no reason to lie to us so I asked a few questions.

coming in hot and eating a lot of crow -

[salaryman]

[ Aaa -- is that how much Sleep wants to give? He'd rather not. He understands now what Seishirou meant, and he balks at the idea. Giving up his life is one thing; giving up as much as One did is another. His pretty face is nice, but if what's beneath it is hollowed out -- he shudders. But he shudders with a lot of emotions that aren't his. ]

I don't hate to say but I must... you were right.

[hallowedly]

( And this, the most marrow-husked, fatigued, depleted, entirely and unreasonably warped: )

...is that so?

as far from an encounter as one can get.

[sacral]

[ Do they even know what day it is in these long moonlit hazes that only barely follow the laws of the cosmos, let alone time? Hard to say! So it may be for no reason at all that Sumeragi Subaru, having set his humble wards on Sakurazuka Seishirou's veterinary clinic, breaks them via sophisticated, unbranded shiki to deliver:

2x packs of Mevius cigarettes. One has been opened, but with only one stick removed. Probably the one Subaru lit, only to realize what the scent of its smoke meant —

and

1x bag of assorted starlight mints. There may be a few lollipops mixed in. Nonperishable under the heat of the Blood Moon; to take the edge off when the cigarettes deplete. ]

[hallowedly]

( Ah. The discordant notes of an anonymous winged interloper, slinging to Seishirou's rescue like the birthday cavalry.

His first gift for the occasion in those delicate talons. Hah.

He borrows the decency to send the shikigami back with an unwarranted, ill appreciated pat and thank you. )

post handpaw incident.

[sacral]

Whose knife is this.

[hallowedly]

Whose hand was that?

Early Week 3

[trashblaze]

[ A few days after the Rat King catastrophe, everything is finally taken care of. At least, most of it. Either way, Subaru is settled back home, all nicely patched up and recovering properly. Caelus always made sure to visit the older man whenever he could, but he found it strange that some people never dropped by at all.

Some people, as in, Seishirou. Considering the fated relationship of these two, isn't it expected for this particular man to show up at some point? But he never did. Caelus considered asking Subaru directly, but he didn't want to cause him any potential distress, especially as he's the one still recovering. There's also a chance he wouldn't know even if he did ask.

It was safest and fastest to ask Seishirou himself. Feeling a responsibility over this, considering Caelus accepted the man's request to watch over Subaru for him, it felt right to approach him over the matter. So here he is, directly in front of Westside Veterinary Center. He enters shortly after a knock at the door, then heads toward the reception area. ]

Mr. Sakurazuka?

[hallowedly]

( Look at the boy, look at him. Slip of nothing like sun beams torn off a sky nuclear with radiance. He is too vast for any room, too bright for the cozy, studied claustrophobia of the clinic, sprawling.

Days on after the mad dash about the Host-swarmed town, Seishirou is — no worse than the average man's wear, battered and bruised and gaunt and carved off stubborn-pride resilience. Alive. Alive and therefore improved for it, early morning's desaturation painting the picture of his bloodless smile.

A casual Noh performance, the creak of his door, the easy, snapped, shine-shoed arrangement of Seishirou's posture, bright and rigid, hands pointedly idle over a set of five violently labeled medicine containers on a counter. To his right, a small scale clinks as he removes a measured portion catching light through the spiderweb cracks tickling a nearby window panel.

The migraine that inhabits the husk of his head is a universe, swelling. )

...ah? Caelus. ( Why are you here? ) Good morning. You're just in time. ( Laughter, shrill. ) I'm not sure what for, but just in time.

end of january

[merged]

So, what do I owe the good doctor [ beyond endless gratitude ] for all of his hard work keeping me alive? [ She just dives right into what's been on her mind—even if the memories are hazy and incomplete. ]

[hallowedly]

( Not, as it happens, his finest hour, week, month. Year. Is it still 1999 — )

I suppose I should say 'nothing.'

happy february!

[sacral]

[ Sometime when Manhattan's good veterinarian takes his leave of his clinic, forfeiting it in the name of good health, better sleep, more bloodshed, so on, Subaru pays it a visit. With his magic in full rupture, wilted and decaying following the fight in the subway tunnels, he must reset the depleted wards. And this... this must be first.

His wards were humble once, now more sophisticated. Long weeks of trial and practical application have allowed him to force it from the wilt stage back into blush.

Of course, he's been driven to a few extreme measures. Mostly that the wards he affixes to the clinic, a stellated prism burning fiery, its symmetry a calling card, a crucible for his magic. Holding it in place are a colorful wealth of familiar post-it notes: every smiling, bright-eyed little animal he could find, plastered with ruthless efficiency to all the pentagram's points and vertices. They smile, wink, wave. They funnel effusively, powering the barrier over the clinic in a magic that silvers, seethes.

This scaffolding is surely overdone, but he finds that it has the right look and feel for what he's set out to do.

A welcome home gift, as it happens. Courtesy of the 13th. ]

[hallowedly]

( I see awomann onmyouji may be made a fool
If she had not a spirit to resist.

Crude work, overwrought, uneconomical. The connubial pentagram hard at the Sumeragi devil's work. When he finds it, the inevitable first and readily abandoned attempt to unpeel one post-it failed, he changes tack — a pen mightier than Futsunomitama slants every damned animal's bright expression into a frown.

They tragically only look cuter for it. )

week 4 (cw: not mentally sound)

[opheliac]

The walls want me to tell you they want to be a little bit bad, but they never get enough servings.

:' )

[hallowedly]

What rate to take a message back?

week 2-ish

[salaryman]

[ It wouldn't do to have a whining voice when reaching out to his co-worker. So he does his best not to sound as strung-out as he feels. He straightens his posture, tugs at his clothes so they sit just right - and gives the sensation of someone walking briskly to lightly pat the shoulder of their companion. ]

Seishirou. I have to ask you something because my senses can't be trusted.

[ A cheery, weary smile follows: ] May I have a moment of your time?

[hallowedly]

( A subtle flicker of surprise, abating. He lets it settle, rest. )

Please go ahead.