[ One doesn't really expect to get lost when they venture out of the boarding house, especially when they know the way around. But whatever trip he'd been making to the clothing store is cut short by the howling wind and static in his ears, the bite more akin to sharpened icicles piercing his skin with every step.
It's a disorienting, painful slog, and when he finally shakes himself back into emerging clarity, his fingers are numb and shivers rattle his spine. He's never seen the building before, but it doesn't stop him from darting in the moment he has the ability to.
He's still cold, but at least it isn't as bad. Shinjiro lurches, without even paying attention to whoever is there, to whatever chair is furthest from the door to collapse as he lifts his white-tipped fingers from his pockets.
No, please do not pay attention to him nor the rattle of his lungs as he breathes in. He's fine. ]
[It is the thud of a body against a chair that draws Nala's attention and she jolts up, startled. It is easy to startle these days, with the extremely uncomfortable sensation of being touched, being grabbed with painful stabbing sensations against her skin]
Who--
[Her gaze drops down to Shinjiro and her eyes widen further in concern]
Shinjiro?
[She drops her book to the side and reaches out to grab his hands. Her hands are gloved, which does a little to muffle the pain, but not excessively so]
[ It takes him a moment to actually gather his bearings, disoriented from the wandering outside and numb from the cold, but the voice does manage to break through whatever fog he's got going on.
The voice, and then the sharp tinge of pain to his icy hands the moment the gloved hands grab it, causing him to flinch unconsciously. It's not too much, but it does make his fingers clench as a sharp hiss slips through his teeth. ]
'm fine-
[ He is not fine. He drags in another deep breath, clearly trying his best to tamper any sign of unwellness. ]
...It's just the cold. [ Evidenced by the fact his fingers are freezing. ] Didn't think we'd get hit by a goddamn snowstorm out of nowhere.
[ It hurts, an aching sharp pain that lances through the cloth. She winces, guilt adding to the bite and fusses about looking for a blanket of sorts. He can have a lavender jacket as an extra layer]
You should have gone to the clothing shop. What were you thinking?
[ There is little light, above. The stretch of trees, branches withering with their half-dead leaves, tries to blot out any attempt for life to seep through it's suffocating hold. But it peeks through, here and there, an ominous sickly green shade that brings with it only a sense of profound unease. The touch of the light won't harm you, but neither will it's guidance grant you any form of relief.
In the moments before everything changes, all you can hear is the sound of your own blood rushing to your ears, watching the twisting roots above circle and form their own nooses. They sink lower and lower, as if to offer themselves; the distorted ticking of a clock ruined by the way the hand seems stuck at midnight. It attempts to move, gears turning, but it always clicks right back.
( This is the Dark Hour. The Midnight Hour. The 25h Hour. The hour that ruins you, inside and out. )
Something draws you here, and keeps you. You feel unfamiliar in your own skin, standing outside and staring back in at something that disgusts you. Something writhes in your ribcage, angry and alive and trying to rib it apart to claim it for themselves.
Coward, it seems to hiss. Pathetic wretch. Will your body always be a prison? ]
[ The nooses hang lower. The air smells of rotting flowers and wisps of nicotine, the trees above and the garden below forming a sickly sweet cage. If the whispers bother him, he does not say; there’s a ringing of clockwork in his ears, a sensation of disconnection that makes it hard to hear it.
The flowers and vines twist and spread, forming things in the distance. Buildings wrought of decaying greenery rather than brick. The path beneath their feet is out of place concrete that stinks of cheap liquor. ]
…The last place I wanna be.
[ The ticking grows louder. His head aches, but he still turns to trudge over to her. She doesn’t belong here, and that’s why his gaze is weary, almost distant. ]
Then...we should leave. [ She pushes herself to her feet. There is no sense of physical pain here, only the ever pressing exhaustion and guilt. Who is that? What is that? She doesn't want to look too closely at anything but Shinjiro. She holds out a hand to take his] Together. [ The rotting scent mingles with the scent of a salt flat, crystals ringing gently]
[ He said he had been tired of everything the weeks before, but this one is REALLY hammering it in.
But he can hear, he can see, and that's...better than what he's had the past day and a half. That being said, he's spent the morning in disorientation when everything he'd touched hadn't felt right, a weird loss of sensation that had him stumbling and struggling to parse whenever his hands touched anything.
But sitting in won't do him any favors, so it's off to the same haunt. He's not quite expecting the familiar face, but he's also not surprised. ]
[ The lack of response has his eyebrows furrowing, especially knowing how chatty she can be. But, if he thinks about everything going on so far... ]
...Guess you got the shorter end of the stick, huh. [ Huff. ] Sorry.
[ His gaze darts at the grip on his arm, though, the disorienting lack of anything but the faintest pressure throwing him off for a second before he decides to skip past it to the more important thing. ]
If you wanna play, then play. I ain't gonna stop you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
WEEK 2. MONDAY
It's a disorienting, painful slog, and when he finally shakes himself back into emerging clarity, his fingers are numb and shivers rattle his spine. He's never seen the building before, but it doesn't stop him from darting in the moment he has the ability to.
He's still cold, but at least it isn't as bad. Shinjiro lurches, without even paying attention to whoever is there, to whatever chair is furthest from the door to collapse as he lifts his white-tipped fingers from his pockets.
No, please do not pay attention to him nor the rattle of his lungs as he breathes in. He's fine. ]
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Who--
[Her gaze drops down to Shinjiro and her eyes widen further in concern]
Shinjiro?
[She drops her book to the side and reaches out to grab his hands. Her hands are gloved, which does a little to muffle the pain, but not excessively so]
What happened?
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The voice, and then the sharp tinge of pain to his icy hands the moment the gloved hands grab it, causing him to flinch unconsciously. It's not too much, but it does make his fingers clench as a sharp hiss slips through his teeth. ]
'm fine-
[ He is not fine. He drags in another deep breath, clearly trying his best to tamper any sign of unwellness. ]
...It's just the cold. [ Evidenced by the fact his fingers are freezing. ] Didn't think we'd get hit by a goddamn snowstorm out of nowhere.
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You should have gone to the clothing shop. What were you thinking?
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[ But he doesn't protest or stop her from adding it to his pile. Truth be told, he's grateful for the extra warmth, however meagre. ]
That's what I was doing. [ A pause to cough into his icy fist. ] Then I just got...turned around. Felt like I was dazed or something.
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[Just...trying to see if she has any tea or snacks left. Help!!!]
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[ Like, he knew about the different worlds thing, but they don't even have snow?
That's enough to distract him, idly rubbing the warmth into hands beneath his little jacket blanket. ]
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[She does not count movies or photographs]
If I had known it was this cold and icy, I never would have dreamed of wanting to see it.
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[ Not too much, though. Typhoons are more likely than snowstorms, which is why this shit sucks. ]
...Nice to look at, but not much else, huh? I get it.
[ Especially right now, with that bone-deep chill that ebbs away slowly. This would be easier if this place had a heater or fireplace... ]
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[Nala looks around, wishing she could have something...it is frightfully cold here but]
Do you want another blanket?
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[ Now who's scolding who...
Shinjiro opts to shake his head. Getting fussed over is weird. ]
I'm fine like this, don't worry about it.
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The hats are so itchy though...I don't think they're made for curly hair.
WEEK 3. MONDAY
In the moments before everything changes, all you can hear is the sound of your own blood rushing to your ears, watching the twisting roots above circle and form their own nooses. They sink lower and lower, as if to offer themselves; the distorted ticking of a clock ruined by the way the hand seems stuck at midnight. It attempts to move, gears turning, but it always clicks right back.
( This is the Dark Hour. The Midnight Hour. The 25h Hour. The hour that ruins you, inside and out. )
Something draws you here, and keeps you. You feel unfamiliar in your own skin, standing outside and staring back in at something that disgusts you. Something writhes in your ribcage, angry and alive and trying to rib it apart to claim it for themselves.
Coward, it seems to hiss. Pathetic wretch. Will your body always be a prison? ]
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Nala opens her eyes and finds herself in a half rotting world. She is suffocating , the whispers shaking her to the core.
She is no prisoner. Her body is her own.]
Shinjiro...?
[She murmurs, her voice heavy with exhaustion as she yearns to hold someone. Anyone.]
Where are we...?
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The flowers and vines twist and spread, forming things in the distance. Buildings wrought of decaying greenery rather than brick. The path beneath their feet is out of place concrete that stinks of cheap liquor. ]
…The last place I wanna be.
[ The ticking grows louder. His head aches, but he still turns to trudge over to her. She doesn’t belong here, and that’s why his gaze is weary, almost distant. ]
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The smell of rot mingles with the iron tinge of blood. He's heard this all before. ]
I couldn't leave if I tried.
[ Something brushes their ankles, waxy and cold. Finger-like. If they don't look, maybe the hands will disappear. ]
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[She shudders, and without waiting, takes Shinjiro's hands in her own]
You'll leave me here to fight on my own?
[if it is guilt Shinjiro is suffering from, she can weaponise an entirely different form if it means she can pull him out of this mire]
WEEK 4. TUESDAY
But he can hear, he can see, and that's...better than what he's had the past day and a half. That being said, he's spent the morning in disorientation when everything he'd touched hadn't felt right, a weird loss of sensation that had him stumbling and struggling to parse whenever his hands touched anything.
But sitting in won't do him any favors, so it's off to the same haunt. He's not quite expecting the familiar face, but he's also not surprised. ]
...What, hanging out here again?
[ Pot calling the kettle black?? ]
Re: WEEK 4. TUESDAY
But rather than responding, she runs over to grab him by the arm and points at Prance Prance Rebellion. Play with her??]
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...Guess you got the shorter end of the stick, huh. [ Huff. ] Sorry.
[ His gaze darts at the grip on his arm, though, the disorienting lack of anything but the faintest pressure throwing him off for a second before he decides to skip past it to the more important thing. ]
If you wanna play, then play. I ain't gonna stop you.
[ He Doesn't Get It. ]
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Then she grabs his hand and presses it to the start button, bouncing in place
Play.
With.
Her!!!]
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Oi, what're you, a kid?!
[ Shinjiro is dragged, however, over to the machine, and stares as she slaps his hand on the button.
And proceeds to stare. ]
No way. I don't dance, alright? [ Headshaking!! ] Forget it.
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Together!
She slaps the other button, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Then she makes a gesture for him to choose a song.
Too bad, they are dancing together]
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Which...does not really help his disorientation. ]
Knock it off. No means no.
[ He's trying very hard to be firm, here!!
But he looks at her excited little bounces, and finds himself wavering. Just a bit. ]
...You really don't got anyone else to do this with? Someone who knows how to dance?
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'F U N'?
Come on. She's bored. Play with her]
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He is not a weak man. He does not cave easily. Shinjiro Aragaki does NOT do anything he doesn't want to.
That's why he's making the conscious choice to heave a sigh the size of Japan itself before picking an non-obnoxious, easy mode option. ]
Just once. It ain't happening again, so don't ask, got it?
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She beams and puts in a song herself for the first stage.
It is absolutely not a knock off butterfly or anything like that. Nope]