worldbent | GOLDEN PEACOCK: INBOX+OVERFLOW

[Matoba Seiji would not call himself a lover of nature, but having grown up in the rural mountainsides, he was more than used to it. It was certainly far more a creature comfort than the opulence and manmade nature of the rest of the resort, and so somewhat reluctantly, he finds himself wandering the paths of the Vale one day.]

[The birdsong here was pleasant. There was a lack of trailing monsters, eying him as enemy or predator in the trees (comparatively). He finds his thoughts distractingly wanting to trail towards that subject lately- of being eyed as a piece of meat in a different sense than he is used to, of being ever more suspicious of all those who cast a glance at him.... but at least he's alone in them.]

[... Or, he was. He found himself a comfortable little gazebo tucked away at the end of a path, but before long, his thoughtful peace and quiet is interrupted by a lumbering, stinking presence he now finds himself exhaustingly familiar with.]

Hungry for more? [Maybe if he's annoying enough, he will go away immediately, and Matoba will not have to examine the strange, comforting serendipity in his presence.]

[ The more days he goes without encountering someone in an intimate manner, the darker his suit becomes. One can’t even say it’s been too long since the last, mark below his navel a faint gray at best, and yet his mind has kicked with racing thoughts that inspire the need for movement. So, he walks, wanders aimlessly, ending up deep in the belly of the vale where vines fall in thick curtain.

A familiar scent catches his attention and gives rise to vivid memory that curls an itch in the back of his mind. Not of the sweaty grind and not of the violent choke of throat, but of the soft moment in afterglow when he had laid himself on the body beneath his and had relaxed.

Inspiration that has him draw closer to the source. He hasn’t forgotten the sharp tongue of this exorcist; Rokurou snorts, stepping up behind him and sliding strong forearms down around his neck and over his chest. It feels good, touching, establishing contact, as that sudden urge had promised. ]

More what?

[ As if he doesn’t know. ]

[Oh. How interesting.]

[He tries to think of it only clinically, but the kneejerk reaction is barely suppressed, and obvious under Rokurou's weighty embrace: a flinch of shoulders, a spike of spiritually energy, only kept from being the sort of blast that once sent him skidding across a shower floor by the grace of slow and reluctant familiarity.]

[It feels nice. That's what his strangely buzzing brain informs him, before he quashes it like a bug under his proverbial thumb. Shut the fuck up, Clubs.]

Not this, [He answers dryly, but somehow allows the contact to continue. His head bows forward subconsciously; it bares the nape of his neck under his kimono collar, his ponytail slid down the side of his shoulder.] What are you doing here?

[ High prey drive triggered, mismatched eyes slide to study that pale peek of nape. Oil black strands fall across offering start contrast, a charming sight that has the daemon’s gut knotting with some unfathomable feeling. Before he can think better of doing so, his own head bows forward, the tip of his nose a light brush along the slant skin before he presses his mouth down.

A kiss that isn’t quite a kiss. More like resting his mouth against Matoba’s nape to enjoy it, without the snap of teeth he’s made well known he’s so happy to share. The gesture has his chin pushing down the collar of the other man’s kimono.

A soft breath in and a soft breath out. ]

I can be here just as much as you can.

Hmh.

[A sound not quite of skepticism, and not quite pleasure. Mouth plants down against his nape and it sends a warm flush through his stomach, strange and appealing. He expects the same bite that's been planted in the front, and it never comes.]

[That is the strangest of all.]

Chilly? [In the thick of the Vale, Matoba's natural incensed scent mixes with the trickling streams and heady soil; it feels somehow natural, in his element. His throat feels strangely tight.] I'm not much help for that.

[ He laughs, a low vibration and flush of warm breath against the exorcist’s nape. ]

Do I feel chilly?

[ Rokurou has always run warm even on the coldest of days. A daemon with a tough hide and a Rangetsu with steaming blood, not an iota of the body that presses up against Matoba is chilly. ]

I’m just leaning. [ a pathetic explanation as to why he’s pressed close, flattening his fingers over the front of the other man’s clothing while relishing the tickle of his hair, ] Why? Hate touching a daemon?

[If only, he thinks, derisively. Brutes of his sort always did run hot- thick, sweaty musk, the scent of effort and pumping blood, drenching every move. Disgusting. Intoxicating.]

[Matoba has half a mind to turn his head with an acidic glance, but that would remove the warm murmur from against the back of his neck. So he doesn't.]

Yes, [He answers honestly nonetheless, letting the annoyance leak into his tone instead. But it's barely clawed. He's doing nothing to stop it.] And you. Don't hate touching an exorcist after all, hm?

The smell is worse.

[ A quick return parry that likewise lacks heat. Rokurou’s eyes lid as he tips his head forward, forehead a brush against hair as dark as his own.

The sterile dusting of purification is a blight on an aroma that would otherwise be cloying enough to drown in. A shame. He wonders idly—would an extended stay here weaken that scent? It would be nice to ruin it. ]

I’ve already touched you enough, anyway. Did you forget?

I would love to forget, but here we are. [A pause, and his voice adds an arrogant purr,] Here you are.

[As if he could forget the staining influence of an ayakashi on his body. But it's becoming one of many. Background noise. No; there is something else that sets him apart.]

[Warmth settling even further into his bones the longer the man lingers, Matoba allows a comfortable pause of quiet before his silky voice goes on the attack.]

Who is the other survivor?

[ The languid lean over Matoba stiffens when he asks that question. Rough fingers curl, lightly gripping the front of the exorcist’s kimono. His lips purse—a gesture that the man can’t see but can almost certainly feel for how Rokurou’s mouth has tickled against his nape.

Standing upright again, his hands smooth up the length of clavicle to gently rest on either side or Matoba’s neck. A gentle touch as he strokes his thumb idly. ]

Why ask? You don’t care.

What is it that I don't care about, [The exorcist continues precisely, a surgical cut being made in the warmth and comfort between them. And yet despite that, despite the cool air with which he makes every move, there's a steadiness. It isn't warm, but it's unbending- a different kind of comfort, something that supports, but is not supported.] You? Them?

[He feels the man stiffen of course, and the slow leak of the warmth between them as he stands and leaves his place against him. He finds himself disappointed, confusingly, and thinking it's a shame. Silly. What exactly is a shame about fending off an annoyance?]

How did they die out?

Both.

[ He doesn’t answer the question—a mental note as Rokurou steps around the edge of the lounge couch to sit beside the exorcist instead. His weight sinks into the cushions and their shoulders brush; he stretches his legs out, once again a languid creature.

Languid only in body. He tilts his head, eyes sliding to catch Matoba’s profile as his mind churns. Why ask? What is he planning? How can this be used against him? Matoba has been a flighty and indiscernible entity from the moment they met. ]

How do you think? Killed. Is there ever another way? [ he sighs, now tilting his head away from the other man and glancing toward the thicket of thick trees and waxy leaves, ] Rangetsu don’t die of old age.

[ Going to make some snide comment about how his blood must be weak after all? Along those lines, Rokurou expects. ]

[Matoba's head tilts back and forth on his shoulders, as if weighing the verity of each answer. He'd argue it but, either way, it was a waste of breath. This man would believe what he likes, and that was exactly what Matoba always needed. The assumption; the accusation.]

[The gazebo cushions shake with the weight of the man plopping down next to him; with Rokurou sitting on his good side, he doesn't need to turn his head to look at him, but he feels the daemon's hot, ember-like glow on him first and doesn't meet it. He's looking at some of the brightly colored birds flocking atop one of the trees. Unlike Rokurou's catlike stretch, Matoba's seat is poised and elegant, legs tucked just beneath the seat and hands in his lap.]

Does any exorcist? [A slight huff of a chuckle, eye still on a point in the distance.] Will any of us......

... Probably not.

[The silence feels comfortable, despite the subject. The Vale has a sunny warmth, like a spring day, even in the shade of the gazebo.] How long have you been like this?

[ The daemon clicks his tongue at being considered any kind of exorcist. He isn't, he's argued this before, but Matoba is the same as him—believing what he likes. Even if the Rangetsu similarly disposed of daemons their urge to do so wasn't out of any obligation toward saving humans or other virtues practiced by the abbey. It was out of bloodlust, protecting their lands, and of a love of killing.

His lingering drift on the ephemeral nature of life is relatable in a more palatable way. It is a truth he is comfortable with, one Rokurou has known since young. There is no tension in the air between them upon touching it; Rokurou glances at him once more before likewise turning his attention to the birds in the trees. ]

You're so full of questions. [ he laughs, voice rich with a ripple of disbelief. not only had matoba not mocked, he had followed up with another inscrutable inquiry, ] Let me use your lap as a pillow and I'll tell you.

[He can click his tongue all he likes; what the man has said to him already has proven more than enough that his estimation was correct. Whatever he wants to call it- daemon-slayer, exorcist, hunter- it amounted to the same fate.]

[Ayakashi, certainly, made no distinctions. Their vengeance, too, was the same.]

[Matoba finally turns his head to look up at Rokurou, withering but thoughtful, and lifts his folded hands from his lap to wave him down. A strange but acceptable deal.] If you try to get inside my clothing, I will dump you on the ground.

[He's not entirely convinced Ro wouldn't like that, from past experiences, but.]

[ A laugh chokes up in his throat. He had fully been expecting a no, prim and disdainful, and while he is granted that withering look he's become so familiar with Matoba once again surprises him. It had been half a bluff; now, given the chance to do so, the overwhelming desire to take it blooms. Somehow, Rokurou's only managed to mess with himself here.

It would be too shameful to say no now, he decides. So, without any more ceremony, the daemon turns to rest the back of his skull into the cushion of Matoba's lap. The couch is long enough that he is able to kick his heels up and lay out long, making himself perfectly comfortable. With the smell of flora and the faux sky, the comfort of the closest they can get to outside, and the faint heat of the body pressed against his...

..... It's not bad.

He looks up at the other man from beneath drooping lashes, eyes squinting in the pleasure of it. ]

[Ugh, he's laughing. Matoba's eye rolls spare seconds before the hulking weight of his skull plops down into his lap, nestled nicely between his thighs. Thank goodness he's not face-down. How does his head manage to be so heavy when he's so brainless, anyway?]

[Glancing down with limpid distaste, slit red meets squinted gold, and in the comfortable quiet of birdsong and rustling trees, they simply look at each other. Matoba's hands take a few seconds to determine where to go, but one tucks across his waist and the other... comes to land atop Rokurou's head.]

[From past experience, one might expect him to begin yanking out every hair on his head- and while his fingers do initially rake into it- rather than clenching down, his nails merely scrape light at his scalp, a languid, repeated stroke through messy spikes, as his eye tears itself away and back to the birds.]

Well? [He is still waiting for that answer.]

[ Given all of their past experience, Rokurou almost expects a hard yank once Matoba combs one of his claws through his hair. Yet pain never comes. The light scratch runs across his scalp draws a shiver of pleasure, a tingle of delight down his spine, and his eyes crescent in enjoyment of it. Like a cat stretched out in a patch of sunlight, for a moment, Rokurou Rangetsu is the picture of contentment.

So contented that he drawls out an honest answer, ]

Mn, three years. [ his eyes squint to near close as he nudges his head against Matoba's fingers in encouragement. keep doing that. ] About that long, I think...

[ The daemon yawns, content to fall asleep like this. For the first time in a while his mind finally seems willing to calm, all the racing thoughts and restlessness biting at his nerves settling down. Is this too the power of an exorcist, or just Matoba? A question he'll never know the answer to because he'll never ask it. ]

[Three years.]

[Matoba gazes down at him, at his face, the youthfulness of it.]

[Three years.]

[It happens slowly. First his stomach, a flinch with a quiet snort. It continues, a movement that rocks his entire core, with snickering breaths. Then his shoulders join in as the laughter bubbles out more clearly, and soon Rokurou's peaceful resting place has turned into an earthquake simulator, jostling his head about freely while his arms grip his sides.]

[A childish, free laughter. No one will ever believe him when he claims to have seen it from the silky, collected Matoba Seiji.]

[ ...

.....

............ ]

What's so funny?!

[ His eyes finally snap open again as that sweet moment of contentment is cruelly snatched away by Matoba chortling like he's just heard something hilarious. Frustration digs itself into the normally genial lines of the daemon's face; not only had the beginnings of his nap been thwarted, now he's being laughed at? It's sheer spite that keeps him from sitting up off Matoba's lap; he opts to glare up at the other man, lips thin. ]

Haha, ah-- hahaha, oh, nothing.

[So he claims, shoulders still shaking. A chuckle continues to bubble out as he raises a fist to his mouth, a mockery of concealment.]

Three years. Looking at you, we're around the same age, probably.........? You really are just a man who's gotten a little cursed, aren't you.

[There's a strange fondness in his eye. His fingers comb back into Rokurou's hair, admiring that acidic sulk. A warm flush of attraction filters through his bones.] Why are you in such a hurry to be hated?

[ A little cursed? A little cursed? Rokurou's jaw drops at the absolute audacity of this man. He sits up onto his elbows, remaining half prone as he narrows the distance between their faces to add emphasis to his point: ]

I'm a daemon. A little cursed? Are you kidding me? [ obvious frustration deepens; rokurou's brow furrows and his lips turn down, looking every inch a young man kicking up a stink he isn't getting his way. ] And I'm twenty-two. What are you? Twelve?

[ ............... said in the pettiest and bitchiest way. How dare his lack of humanity and journey as a daemon be mocked? It's natural for someone like him to be hated. Natural for an exorcist to hate him. Ah, ah, aaaah? ]

[Rokurou raises up on his elbows and he nearly reaches eye to eye with Matoba; the easygoing smirk on the man's face doesn't diminish in the slightest as he grasps wildly for retorts, for justifications, none of which do much of anything to change his mind.]

Oh, so we are the same age. Splendid.

[Truly an infant. In fact--] In demonic years, I suppose that would make you something like an infant, hm? Even a cat does not become a bakeneko until it has reached a hundred years, yes? So you are something like the sparkle in the eye of an ayakashi, right?

[He can keep going. His beaming smile promises it.] You can't have even forgotten what it is to live, much less die. Do you really take yourself for something inhuman, like that?

I lost my humanity. [ he remains stalwart in trying to persuade this truth while staring right into that red eye, ] So yes.

[ The rest can't be denied. Daemons can live for a very long time, upwards of hundreds of years, if they aren't killed. Three years is nothing more than a blink to long-lived creatures; some may so nothing but slumber for so long. Even the fact that they're the same age (annoying) is brushed away in the face of this indignity. Were it anyone else he might just shrug and roll it off his back—the fact that it's this exorcist, that threw evil soap at him and burned a mark onto his chest, is maddening.

Annoyance so rife that color flushes across his cheek and chests. A rare sight; even when fucking he doesn't normally take on color, naturally warmer undertone often obscuring it. ]

Who cares about a cat? I'm a Yaksha. Yaksha.

Did you, [Matoba replies, sounding bored.]

[In his short life, Matoba Seiji has encountered many ayakashi, from those who had lived for decades, to those who had lived for thousands of years. To them, he is but a grain of sand; a blink of an eye. And that was what was so infuriating about them. After hundreds of years all of the scenery, all of the life in the world blend together as one; unremarkable, unchanging.]

[That was what separated humans and ayakashi, and why they could never understand one another: knowing what it was to be alive, to be born and to die. A lifetime of experiences, living vibrantly, and dying vibrantly.]

[Indignant fury builds in Rokurou's throat, in how it reddens attractively. The gold of his eye seems watery. Matoba's demeanor has changed completely from the standoffish prickliness of an exorcist regarding prey; now, he is simply teasing a fellow.]

Yaksha... like the Buddhist spirits, hm...? [He reaches up, and taps Rokurou's forehead, a mimicry of circumstances some weeks ago.] They are benevolent spirits, you know.

I don't know any—augh?

[ He doesn't know any Buddhists. Before he can defend his pride of being a Yaksha, a war daemon and certainly not a benevolent force with the way malevolence drips out of every pore, Matoba has the continued audacity to tap his forehead. Rokurou's mouth drops open in surprise before another flash of indignation has him do something stupid—snapping a hand up, he grabs Matoba's wrist and lurches forward to bite that finger.

It isn't a genuine bite. A snap of teeth, nothing more. He offers a resentful look while doing it, spitting the digit out of his mouth a moment later before slamming the side of his head back down onto Matoba's lap. He turns on his side so that he can look out into the vale and not at Matoba's stupid face.

He may be annoyed but he paid for this pillow, thank you very much. ]

I'm malevolent.

[ Harumph. ]

[How strange.]

[Matoba's hand nearly jerks away as it's grabbed, but confusion strikes him lame as teeth close down upon it in the gentlest pinch he thinks he's received from the man yet.]

[It leaves him baffled, watching the man drop back into his lap in a sulk, processing. Well. He certainly doesn't disagree with that assessment; yaksha he may be, but what benevolence had the man bestowed upon him so far?]

Yes, I suppose you are a little, [He agrees, placid, false flattery to soothe an aching ego. Just why the man held ego for something so hateful, he could only guess from his own experiences.]

[And, if it was anything like his... It was necessity. From what did the Rangetsu distance themselves, he wonders?]

[After a few moments of Rokurou being mercifully left to sulk, fingers trail in his hair again, soft. They're more idle than before, but if he bothers to glance up, Matoba is watching the birds again with a small, content smile.]

[ With absolutely no idea how one sets up a date even when not in a weird porn resort, Kai had left the planning up to his supposed wingman with just a touch of apprehension. Sure the entire profile thing had been awkward at best, but when he's still trying to find his way around how bad could it be? Besides, if it's something neither of them pick then it's one less thing for Matoba to be smug at him about. Hopefully.

So Kai slowly approaches the door he's been directed to, he's got absolutely no idea what he's going to find on the other side. And finds himself staring nonplussed as he steps inside to find a number of feline eyes suddenly fixed on him. A cat cafe. Hilarious.

A few of the cats in residence pause to give him the narrow-eyed look of judging a newcomer onto their territory but when Kai just eyes them back they return to whatever they were doing without much issue. Regular cats do tend to find him a little strange sometimes, but the ones here seem largely unimpressed with his presence. Maybe they're used to weird.

So he has no problem picking his way over to an unoccupied table and dropping himself into one of the seats to wait for Matoba. And definitely not worrying about the next issue--namely that he still doesn't have a lot in the way of money. He can just deal with that problem as it comes. ]

[There is one benefit to these troublesome phantom strings that have suddenly begun to sprout from Matoba's fingertips, and it's that they only seem to be perceived by him. Otherwise, having a long trailing yarn thread attached to your finger could end up quite disastrous in an establishment full of kitty-cats. At least the bright red of the string currently trailing along his path to the meeting location wouldn't be visible to their little hunting eyes, so long as he keeps it still....]

[...Scratch that, he thinks, when he arrives to the cafe to find that the string leads right up to his unfortunate "date". He pauses for a moment with a raised eyebrow, raising his hand up to be sure that it's his own string, really, and then meets Kai's stare, which could give any of the other unimpressed felines a run for their money.]

I am not going to squeeze those beans, [He declares resolutely, with no sense of public-facing shame. The couple other patrons and staff in the cafe glance over, but mostly they're ignored in favor of the fuzzy friends throughout.]

[It takes exactly three seconds for this resolve to falter, as he considers the cuteness of Kai's feline form, and adds,] ...However, should you wish to dedicate yourself to becoming my servant, I will see to it that you are fed three square meals and receive an adequate amount of treats and toys for exercise. Ah, and I suppose you would require more space than my current suite. I will have to see about my accommodations...........

[This is. a sort of 'confession', Hearts. It's the best you're going to get?]

[ The unexpected speech is met by a long moment of absolute baffled silence, during which Kai is so still he doesn't even seem to be breathing. After a good few seconds of this, he finally breaks into motion with a single blink. ]

Ah. No...thank you?

[ Putting everything else to the side, agreeing to become the 'servant' of someone who has been extremely vocal about hating spirits seems like nobody's idea of a good time. Which is why the whole thing is even more puzzling.

At least until he glances down to find the string of red pulled taught between their hands, at which point several things click rapidly into place. Kai lets out a long breath as something sardonic settles over his expression. ]

At least I know what to expect with you. Usually. [ And that is very much not any kind of romantic anything, but he can try working up to it. In the mean time, he tips his head in the direction of the empty seat across from him, assuming Matoba doesn't decide to just cut his losses now. ]

[Kai's impassive stare is quite impressive. Ah, befitting of a cat-like ayakashi, Matoba muses, in the space of silence. His own stare back is as unblinking and perfectly serious, as though truly awaiting the reply to some extremely important, matter-of-fact declaration.]

[As it happens, Kai is not wrong with this most obvious of estimates. It's simply that even Matoba Seiji has biases.]

Hmmm.

[Is he being rejected right now? He's used to that sort of thing, given his blood, but the context is usually a little... different. No, but really, this wasn't that different at all, was it? A contemplation crosses his face as his mouth turns to a small frown, humming in response to the second assertion.]

[Yes, well. He will admit that much. When it comes to cats, he is predictable.]

[Unperturbed otherwise by the state of things, he meanders to the seat across from Kai and plops himself down into it, drawing his ankles up cross-legged in his sporty sweatpants while slipping off his sneakers to the side. Ideally, this would be getting comfortable and prepared to entertain some kitties, but the moment he entered the cafe, all the cats nearby had suddenly gone hackles-up and wandered to the other side of the room. Except Kai, of course.]

Have you ordered anything yet? Their cakes are quite delicious. [Said knowledgeably; he has... been here.]

[ Well at least this whole thing hasn't crashed and burned before it even started. He can't quite read Matoba's expression, but the fact that he's still here says something, doesn't it? He finds himself absently tracking the man as he makes his way over to get settled, though he can't help but notice the reaction of the other denizens of the room. Before he can focus too much on feline body language, Matoba pulls his attention back. ]

No, I just got here. What do you recommend?

[ It's a sort of rote politeness in acknowledgement of the fact that they're apparently just going to move right on from that declaration, but the moment it's out of his mouth Kai has to pause. Is a suggestion of food enough to count as an offering to his stupid fortune-telling binding? Hopefully not. He doesn't quite make a face at the thought, but the hesitation is probably noticeable anyway.

Oh well. That's what they're here to talk about, right? Maybe he might even get an answer or too in return. Kai's eyes flick towards the pile of cats that has formed as far away from them as possible again before settling back on Matoba and his complete lack of surprise with it. ]

It seems like you know this place pretty well.

[So, does this staring contest count for the Hearts game............ Probably not, but there's surely more staring to be had?? Matoba glances down at the thread hanging from his pinky as he gets settled, contemplative.]

The cheesecakes are good, [He comments, turning his hand over back and forth.] Very sweet. Don't expect much from the tea.

[Matoba glances back up again. His preternatural ability to simply gloss past antisocial behaviors and expectations allowed him to be comfortable in any situation; he folds his arms over his lap and glances past Kai towards the smatterings of cats playing on the cat towers and toys.]

Oh, yes. I have been here a few times already. It's a good space for killing time. Watch some kitty cats roll about, drink mediocre tea.

I'm sure you'll blend right in. [He waves to a staffmember so they can place orders.] Can you speak to them?

The same way you can. [ That is to say, without much hope of getting a direct response.

Which is true in the literal sense, if not the entire truth. The nonverbal cues that make up feline communication he can manage just fine, even if he can't respond the same way in this particular shape. It's nothing so simple as talking to them, but it's not nothing either.

Kai may not be good at these kind of word games, but being able to keep even inconsequential edges on Matoba seems like a good idea. Also he can be petty in his own way, sue him. ]

They don't seem to like you very much.

[ Not hard to miss that one, communication or not. ]

Oh. [Matoba's mouth falls again to a tiny frown.] That is unfortunate.

[He turns as the staffmember approaches and orders himself a strawberry shortcake and a cup of darjeeling tea. He waits for Kai to make an order and for the staffmember to leave again before answering- addressing what is, perhaps, the great elephant crowding the cats in the room.]

Yes. A consequence of my hereditary state. [Matoba's hand raises to the spell covering his right eye- from it, there is always an unsettling vibe, like the thread of something connected to it by fate that could bring ruin at any time.] There's a curse passed down through all heads of my clan. Quite the nasty one at that. Perhaps you will come across it, sometime? It comes to take a swipe at me once a month. Oh, but it has already come this month, so you will have to wait until the next time.

[He glances across the room at the gathering of cats being enjoyed by other attendees.] Cats are but one of the beasts in the world with a heightened sensitivity to the supernatural. It grants them a certain self-preservation instinct. I don't blame them for it one bit.

Although, I wish it weren't so. [He allows himself a tiny sigh. But, there's nothing to be done about it.] I very much like cats. You have taken an excellent form.

[ Kai puts in his own order for black tea with the kind of distracted air that says he's not actually paying much attention to whatever it is he's asking for. Food's never been much of a concern, much as he appreciates it from time to time.

Besides, anything else he might have had in mind is very quickly overtaken as Matoba starts talking about curses. Kai's gaze immediately narrows in unblinkingly on Matoba's covered eye, though there's something thoughtful in his expression. Is that what the weird feeling he gets from Matoba comes from? He'd thought it was just an exorcist thing, but what does he know.

It probably says something about his own self-preservation instincts that he's not on the other side of the room with the rest of them, but maybe that's his own misfortune aspect at work. He's been called a curse himself before, hasn't he? And, well. He's already here, and he does owe Matoba something, doesn't he.

With a sigh of his own, he allows his human form to dissolve into smoke, vanishing under the table for a second before his black cat shape pops back up next to Matoba's seat, primly settling within petting range. ]

Thank you. I think. [ Not that he'd exactly chosen this form, but he'll take what compliments he can get. ] Why come here if you know they're going to avoid you?

[A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B.......... Matoba's aura was rife with its own red flags, the dryness and scathing heat of purification, the chilling cut his hatred for ayakashi chief among them. But it and his biases warred with each other.]

[Never is that more apparent than when Kai decides to make the first overtures. Disappearing is abrupt and alarms Matoba initially, raising a sudden and equally alarming spike of his spiritual energy: mistrust, deep and fully rooted in him, is the first instinct. An ayakashi thinking his guard down, and ready to strike. No sooner does Kai climb himself up on the cushy arm of Matoba's comfychair than the exorcist, breath held and at the ready to cast a repelling spell, stares down at gleaming feline eyes with his own hardened and opaque against a perceived threat that never comes.]

[A long moment of silence and an uneasy release comes to that kneejerk aura. It peters out like warm wind, enough to tousle Kai's long fur. He doesn't reach out, not yet, fists balled in his lap. He's still eying the ayakashi as though trying to perceive his intentions, and it takes him a long moment to answer.]

Because I enjoy watching them.

[From afar.... like everything else. He frowns at Kai for another moment.] What are you doing? I'm sure they will see right through you, too.

[ The sudden rush of energy sets his fur on end, but Kai just waits through whatever Matoba's instinctive reaction was going to be, watching with the patience of a creature who's never really had to fear much. Though that might be because he's never really come into contact with exorcists before and doesn't know what he should be afraid of. Disquieting, sure. But if Matoba actually wanted to hurt him, he'd have done it by now. Right?

Either way, it earns a quirk of amusement once the man settles again. ]

I know. [ And it has earned him a few feline side-eyes, though no more than Matoba had already prompted. Kai doesn't seem particularly bothered by it, but his attention is pretty firmly on the man in front of him. ] But we had a deal.

[ Information in exchange for touching toe beans, was it? Kai holds up one paw, flexed to show off the pads, just in case Matoba has somehow forgotten what he bargained for in the first place. ]

[Surely he would have. Right?]

[Well. As far as Matoba is concerned, not without antagonism. If he were to exterminate every ayakashi he came across indiscriminately, even he would tire himself out. There wouldn't be enough hours in the day to accomplish it- not without some benefit, of course.]

[And luckily for Kai, there has yet to be any benefit to harming him. And if he's smart, in Matoba's eyes, he won't give him one.]

[That is all perhaps the grandstanding of a human. Casting his glance out across the cafe, the cats have mostly relaxed and resumed their normal sleeping and rolling about, content that the two bothersome presences across the way don't seem intent on coming near. When he glances back over, he's being offered toebeans.]

[Oh.] So you remembered my offer. [His smile, thin and mild, considers Kai's beans for a moment. Ah, but he must make sure before he reaches out--] What is it that you wished to know about this place? [His fingertips brush the velvety soft of a footpad. Uwah... lightly, he prods it with his fingertip. Squish squish.]

[ He can't quite help his toes twitching in response to the poking, but Kai just cocks his head and keeps still otherwise. If this is really all Matoba wants, it's not exactly a hardship. ]

I owed you for last time.

[ Which isn't to say that he doesn't still have questions, more Kai isn't quite sure where to start. A lot of the basics have been made much more clear, but from the sound of things most people aren't entirely sure what's happening here. Some seem to have adjusted better than others. ]

I think a lot of it I have to see for myself. [ All the questions in the world won't help if he doesn't understand the answers, and Matoba doesn't exactly seem like the direct type. That's fine, he can work with that.

His eyes do narrow slightly, though. ]

You had questions for me too, didn't you?

[Ohhh, but the twitching is just part of the cuteness...! Matoba, mesmerized, reaches with both hands to take Kai's paws gingerly in his hands, and uses his thumb to lightly stroke and squeeze at the pads of his paws. The squishy palm, the soft toebeans, the fuzzy fur inbetween...!]

[He is certainly much too distracted to be properly listening to Kai the first time around, which results in a good long minute of awkward silence hanging in the span of his question. The man finally realizes after it's been a little while that Kai was staring at him expectantly, and that's when he looks up from his enjoyment to level a surprisingly business-like gaze of his own.]

Oh? Do you mean the, ah, "memes"? [It's said so aloofly that Kai might as well assume he's mocking him. Or just sounds like some out-of-touch oldtimer. But he goes on right away,] Ah yes, I did a little research after you told me, and I think that I have seen something like that when looking at pictures of kitty-cats.

It seems the trendy thing is to put jokes on the pictures of cats. Although I don't quite understand what the connection might be to an ayakashi.

[ The paw petting is tolerated with quiet patience, Kai seeming more amused than anything as Matoba apparently loses himself in it. Who knew all he needed was to let himself be a living stress ball? Honestly he'd be perfectly willing to let Matoba just do what he wanted and not have this conversation at all, which is of course when the man's attention focuses properly again. Figures.

Even still, the idea of cat macros being 'trendy' sparks even more amusement. Though in retrospect, he doesn't actually know when Matoba comes from. Interesting thought. ]

It's not just jokes. Memes can also be...rumors. Ghost stories. Folktales. Call them what you want. [ He won't patronize the exorcist by assuming he doesn't know what stories can do to a spirit. But the sheer scope of it is sometimes hard for even Kai to wrap his head around after years of practice. ] And they get repeated. Over and over. All over the world, sometimes.

[In his rhythmic, calm squeezing, Matoba pauses as Kai's explanation sinks in. He looks up into his little kitty eyes, unafraid as many humans would of staring into an ayakashi's eyes. His own reflect nothing, the opaqueness of a human whose heart has been sealed off of any gaps.]

I see. You are...... a manifestation of those forums and internet postings, are you? Chain letters and message boards and the like are indeed rife with that sort of thing.

[It's thanks to Shinobu that he knows much about that... She had always been more interested in keeping up with what occultists were up to, the fantastical rumors and exaggerations of the Sightless. Collecting and fanaticism both, he supposes, was the prerogative of those that could not Do.]

Modern-day folk pamphlets. Haha, to think that even electronic stories could accomplish it, but then- human hearts have generated them all the same.

[He gently releases Kai's paw, patting the top of it for good measure. So fuzzy.] But that would make you quite the young thing, wouldn't it? Unless, I suppose, you are from very far beyond my era. [His smile tilts up a little.] You don't feel like something that has only just manifested.

Are you still open to additional negotiations?

[ let it never be said tseng doesn't get to the point... ]

Good evening, Tseng-san. I'm amenable to discussion. Last I recall, the current offer was dinner? How is that pasta dish going?

Good evening, Matoba.

I did manage to perfect the recipe. If you're still interested, then I would like to invite you for dinner and drinks.

That's good to hear. Then, dinner and drinks it is. I'll bring along some of those desserts I mentioned. But just that alone wouldn't do, would it? I'm sure we'll find something else to satisfy my end of the exchange. I can find your room among the Jack suites, I presume? I'll be by in about three hours.

[A nice, precise timetable.]

I'm sure we can manage to come to an agreement, certainly.

When the elevator reaches the Jack floor, turn left. My suite is the second door on the right.

I'll see you then.

Did you order something from the bakery?
It’s a big box…
You can’t be planning to eat this much alone.

Oya? Nothing that I requested to be sent room service. I typically only eat my treats at the cafe. You are certain it is meant for me?

Yes. Addressed to you. Should I open it? Maybe they made a mistake.

I suppose there is no harm in opening it. It might be good to know if it needs refrigeration.

…
You’re sure you didn’t order this?

Why would I order such a large box of pastries to that little room when I can simply walk down to the cafe in a few minutes? What is it?

“Customer appreciation for our top 100 customers in the entire resort”

So many boxes of cake shaped like penises
Candy thongs… who’d even wear that?
Icing lube
Nipple donuts
Limited edition cake flavored condoms
A cat tote bag that says “I love cream”
Limited edition sex chocolate truffles

I’m sending this back

Don't you dare.

[And just to be extra sure, one of Matoba's shiki wriggles itself out of a spell tucked into the clothes he's left in Ro's room and tries to lumber over and snatch the box away from him.]

[(Don't think too hard about the fact that he's definitely set other traps in this room.)]

[ Holy shit!? He grabs the box and runs in circles around the room to avoid the shiki’s grabbing out of pure spite, moving from pure text to talk to text to complain, ]

Why was that in the laundry!?!?!?!?
Call it off!!

The laundry? Oh. I must have forgotten to take it out of the pocket.

[An idle reply. Yakkity Sax intensifies as the hapless shiki trips over the leg of a desk, dashes over the bed, and extends its noodly arms after Ro as he hops around the (still rather small) suite in a mad dash to escape.]

[In the meantime, Matoba calmly makes his way up the (still haunted) back stairwells, dispelling the poor lonely ghost with the effortless flick of a spell. Goodbye, poor ghost... Someday your prince(ss) will come, and so will you.]

[No promises, for the man clutching the box of illicit treats in his arms when the shiki turns the door handle and Matoba SLAMS inside, crushing the poor thing against the wall. There's no time to worry for his shiki, because he's set his beady eye on the bastard gripping his cakes.]

Now, now, Rokurou-san. There's no need for things to get messy. [He smiles unpleasantly.] Put them down.

[ The box is comically large for carrying around; the top of the daemon’s head peeks over the top as he glares at Matoba, stubbornly refusing to give up the treats now that his contrary nature has been stroked. Sorry, Shiki-chan, no one is concerned that you’re squashed. ]

You sure came fast with cake on the line. I’ll have to remember that. [ does he sound bitter? maybe a little. ] They were sent to my room so I should be the one to eat them. Right?

[ Does he want any of these? No. But he does want to make Matoba jealous, so he’s willing to try—which is why he sticks a hand into the box and pulls out a particularly decorative box with a specially decorated cake. Huh… why does it look like a birthday penis? He hadn’t studied the designs on the cakes before. ]

Aaaaaaall for me.

Going to buy me more to make up for it? Thank you for proving to me that I can't leave you alone for one hour without you causing some unnecessary disturbance.

[Ro is leveled with a very familiar expression of disappointment and scathing judgment; it's a face he gets a lot from Matoba, now that they're spending so much time around one another. Sleeping in the same bed, sharing idle time in the same room, even accompanying one another now and then on outings for food and entertainment.]

[But it doesn't mean much. It's just a much better room than his own, currently ransacked by the resort and idle newcomers.]

[It does, however, mean that he has to put up with this obstinate brute. There is quite a bit of Rokurou's nonsense that Matoba will tolerate, but theft of his rightfully-earned treats?? Matoba hasn't filled up those 118 point cards at Great Tit! for nothing, you know, and he intends to claim his rightful reward.]

[Matoba takes another, threatening step after Rokurou as he digs into the box. That's his penis cake.]

Is that right, Mister "I don't like sweets"? Do you think you could stomach them all?

Don’t underestimate a daemon. [ he rolls his eyes, turning his body 3/4ths so that he’s blocking the exorcist from lunging forward and onto the goods. nyeh nyeh. ] I can tolerate them. Besides, do you really think you can eat this whole box alone? How much did you order this year to get all of this for free, anyway…?

[ Sticking a toe over the line, he picks up that blue box and cracks it open. He’s really going to do it just for the sake of pissing Matoba off.
What’s domestic bliss without some spice?

After lifting the cake box lid a melodic tune springs out cheerfully: Happy Birthday to Youuuuu 🎶 Happy Birthday to Youuuuuu 🎵 May Your Day Be Sweet and Creaaaammmyyyy 🎵 Happy Birthday to Youuuuuu!

Rokurou looks up, dumbfounded. ]

Is it your—?

[ Before he can finish, however, cream shoots from the tip of the birthday penis and splatters all over the side of Rokurou’s face and throat. He is silent, expression stony, as thick, rich, deliciously fragrant cream drips down his jaw and collarbone. ]

I assure you, you have certainly given me cause not to underestimate,

[The dry, backhanded retort comes as exhausting thoughts fill Matoba's mind to a brim- the quaint insistence towards the Earth being flat; Ro's revelation that he hadn't even glanced at Matoba's name in his profile in 6-odd months of intermingling; his utterly puppy-soft blindness towards him as "Misa".]

[And yet here he is, with boxes addressed to him being sent to the man's room. How vexing.]

[He makes another furious lunge forward as Rokurou begins to rifle through the cakes and unboxes one, but as he lays hands upon a thick arm to try and wrestle his sweets free, the sing-song twinkle from the cake stops him in his tracks, dumbfounded, just as it does the daemon as it suddenly shoots all over his face.]

[Oh. Better him than Matoba, he supposes.]

Ahh.... That explains it.

[Matoba leans forward, Rokurou's scent and the sweet aroma of cream mingling as he runs his tongue in a stroke up the sinew of his throat, flicking away at the corner of his jaw. He leans back again and considers the taste with an indulgent expression.]

Not quite yet, although this is a pleasant surprise.

[ The daemon narrows his eyes, staring daggers at Matoba after that tongue sweeps up some of the cream from his jaw. Frustrated—not because he’s annoyed at Matoba, but because he’s annoyed at himself for getting turned on by that. Especially when he knows that Matoba would lick sweets off of anything; we can’t forget how the man guzzled fudge from a shared hot tub.

Rokurou decidedly closes the top of the cake box. While he hadn’t really wanted it in the first place, getting a creamshot to the face has more or less killed the desire to harass Matoba via mass cake consumption.

Besides. It wouldn’t be right to eat another man’s birthday penis. ]

Fine. I won’t eat it all, since it’s going to be your birthday. [ he gives up and slides the large packing box in front of Matoba so the man can explore his new gifts, ] But try to pace yourself. You’ll get sick if you eat it all at once.

[A quietly victorious chuckle bubbles in Matoba's throat, delighted with the glare he gets from Rokurou in its wake. But so predictable was this man; he's leaning against his body, already feeling the blood rush downward.]

[He might have tasted the fudge from the communal tubs once, yeah, but he also fucked him into a cake. There's surely no rock bottom to his perversion when it comes to sweets! He can't escape now.]

Oh, what a gracious early birthday gift, [He rolls his eyes as he leans away again and grips onto the back to whisk it away from Ro as quickly as possible, like a toddler snatching up his ball and stomping off.] I'm not a child, I know my limits.

[He drags the box over to the part of the apartment he's claimed for his own little pile of clothing and things and sits it there with a note of finality. This is his box of dicks!! See? Not a child.]

It's in about four days, so this should last plenty until then.

[ Rokurou watches disdainfully as Matoba snatches up the box in his grubby paws and scuttles away to protectively hoard his new goods. ]

Four days is not enough for all of that.

[ That box is full?? There are a few cute novelty items, like the kitten tote bag and a special cake fork, but the rest of the box is all dessert. A disgusting amount of dessert. He can only stand there (🧍‍♂️) and wonder just how much Matoba has spent at the cafe to have earned this. And, puzzle over how the exorcist isn’t extremely fat by this point.

Rolling his eyes and unable to look at Matoba lusting over his baked treasures anymore, Rokurou busies himself with folding the clean laundry. ]

Four days, huh… did your clan ever celebrate it? We didn’t do things like that, in mine.

Of course not all of it, [Matoba scoffs,] This will be my supply of sweets for stay-in snacks.

[You know, different from when he actually goes to the bakery! Where he will continue to spend his chips. Now Ro knows where all the fucking money goes that he earns by being in his bed.]

[For a moment in the span of Ro's musing, Matoba is quiet. With Ro's back turned to him, he doesn't see the way the man is looking at him, recalling his "birthday bash".]

Of course. It's always been an overwrought affair with plenty of local exorcists and all of our clan's connections of note sending their well-wishes, even back before I inherited leadership of the clan, [He replies, but his voice is distant and distracted.] ...What do you mean, you don't celebrate your birthday?

[ Really, this explains so much. What he had thought were cum stains on Matoba’s clothes when scrubbing the laundry were actually cream stains. Rokurou isn’t sure how he feels about this revelation.

He hums, keeping his eyes down on the clothes as he meticulously folds each article. Every corner must be sharp. Every inch must be smooth. We do not abide wrinkles in this house. ]

A big affair, huh? Sounds like a sight to see. [ he huffs, ] I mean exactly what I said—I never celebrated it before coming here, and wouldn’t have if the house hadn’t set something up on its own. Being born isn’t an accomplishment, and we were servants for a lord. I usually forget all about it…

[ He leans back on his haunches, looking up at the ceiling. ]

Most of us die young, anyway. My other four brothers are gone now. Life and death, it’s all the same… huh, you know, I don’t remember when they died either.

"Not an accomplishment" ...is it.

[...Well, things were quite different, in the past.]

[Matoba knows this. Children were not considered as being relinquished by the gods until they were well past toddler-hood; that Rokurou was only number 6 and he and his 5 brothers made it to any sort of adulthood at all was a wonder. Perhaps there were others, daughters or sons that didn't even make it to being numbered.]

[Quite a far cry from the modern comforts of being one of two siblings, and moreso than that, the spare that succeeded. For the Matoba, surviving to adulthood was especially worth celebrating; he can't understand that way of thinking from Rokurou. To survive this long ought to be a miracle, for someone like him. It explains more and more and more about his outlook- of his clan's survival, of his own. An utter lack of instinct to it, just a tool and nothing more.]

[Mouth settled into a frown, Matoba's hands fidget over his penis cakes as he closes the box back up. A shame, all these cream cakes won't fit in a refrigerator, anyway... Hopefully, they're not a fresh cream.] If it's so rare for you to survive this long, then that is more reason to congratulate than not, hm?

...When was it? [He knows quite well when Rokurou's birthday was.]

Haha, you think so? Anyone who might have wanted to is dead now…

[ He doesn’t sound particularly depressed when speaking about the deaths of so many of his clan members. It’s detached and clinically spoken, as if merely discussing the fake weather in the vale or what the new menu items at Birdbucks are. All things are fleeting. Moments, relationships, life. Loss and loneliness feel natural.

He finally looks back at Matoba, giving the exorcist a crooked little smile. ]

Ah? It was one of the summer months. June… 15th? No, 16th. [ he snorts at the frown on the other man’s face before gently teasing, ] What’s with that look? Tools don’t need birthdays. Precious clan heirs, on the other hand—should I try to plan a banquet for you? It wouldn’t be filled with exorcists though.

Is that so.

[When Rokurou looks back, Matoba is watching him. His face isn't smiling, nor is it serious. Instead, there's a lucid watchfulness- as though he is looking through Rokurou to something much deeper than the weak grin he wears which barely covers anything.]

[Not half as elegant a lie as even the paper-thin mask he is accustomed to looking through. Another poor liar.]

[It's practically child's play to prod through that one when he already knows all the holes, but he's had to take a lot of time to learn the weak points in Rokurou's armor. Even with the gaping one the resort had given him from the start, there was more yet to uncover. This time, it's Rokurou himself who hands it to him. But this far in, he doesn't strip it away to toy with prey like a cat. He has a different aim, now, which he has only half-acknowledged to himself.]

[He cocks his head as Rokurou goes on blithely lying- blinking, and considering him more openly. He ignores the man's answer to his question, largely irrelevant and mostly a way to keep him talking, and the rest of the deflection, to instead aim truer.] Heeeh............. [A small smile, unreadably playful. It is not.] Do you think that would make me happy?

I think that box of penis cakes makes you happy.

[ As for a large banquet filled with colleagues and clan members? He’s less certain. Matoba hadn’t seemed especially nostalgic when mentioning it earlier. But he won’t even try to guess, having made so many incorrect judgements about the exorcist in the past. ]

As for banquets and grand affairs, I don’t know. What would you want to do for your birthday, if you had a choice?

[ Funny, how the similarities in their familial structure give him a special kind of bird’s eye view. When it comes to the head of a clan, even one such as Rokurou’s, attending to overwrought affairs is an obligation of the seat. His mother had, and his brother had. Neither had enjoyed it.

He continues to keep his hands busy, primly tucking the folded clothes into their place in the dresser drawer. ]

[At last, a small smile- a real one- breaks forth on Matoba's face. His eye softens, imperceptibly.]

Well, you're not wrong about that.

[Even if he doesn't think Rokurou understands why. That's fine. He doesn't vie for it. It's easier, always, if they don't.]

[He glances down at the box, finishing tucking the edges into each other to keep it shut, and leaves it to another day. (That's a lie. He'll be busting that thing open again by tonight.)]

How I'd choose to spend my birthday, huh............... [He hums a long, quiet sigh out as he thinks on it, strolling over to sit on the edge of the bed. No matter how he thinks about it, he can't consider it any different from usual: to do whatever he can manage to do, from the position he's in.] Of course, I'm going to eat all the sweets I like, but that isn't much different from usual, is it?

[Because every day that he survives is a miracle. It's as much of an answer that someone in his position can give. And as always, there are too many desires he can't voice.]

[ That smile makes the daemon’s chest feel—stuffy. He glances away, ignoring the strange way his heart sputters like an engine trying to start. Turns out that even Matoba can be cute sometimes, huh. ]

It isn’t. [ satisfied with the clothes neatly put away, Rokurou sits beside Matoba on the bed, leaning back on his hands and rolling his neck, ] But if that’s what you want to do, you should do it.

[ Rokurou shrugs, turning his head to lazily look at the man beside him. While consuming sweets at the rate he’s going will end up with Matoba fat and diabetic, who is he to judge? A daemon like him can’t judge anyone. ]

Alright. Let’s say you spend four hours eating sweets. What do you want to do with the remaining twenty? It’s a whole day.

[Rokurou comes to sit next to him, and Matoba turns to look. The man has a strange look on his face as he catches the glance away. Disgust with his sweets again, Matoba presumes, oblivious to the way his smile might make the man feel.]

Hmmmh............. Well, one of those hours is with the bow, [Matoba drawls easily, thinking of his typical day on autopilot.] And no matter what day it is, I have to at least glance over what job requests we have received, to root out the ones we can do and the ones we will not.

[Work that only the head can do, responsibilities he can't just put aside.... The more he thinks on those hours, the more he thinks of another responsibility that he can't just set aside, but he's sure a rogue like Rokurou, who has made his feelings about responsibilities to his family clear, doesn't want to hear that.]

[The truth is, he does not know what else he might do with himself besides the things he knows how to do. He doesn't think about what else he might do, because there has never been any reason to do so.]

...Perhaps I would take a walk about town, [He tries after a few moments of quiet, struggling to find an answer,] Go to a ramen stall, see what is in the claw machines at the arcade, and greet the kitty-cats.

[Simple pleasures, things he can do without putting too much of himself into them. But, still, these answers feel somewhat hollow. He's coming to realize that he doesn't much feel that a day spent like this would be very fulfilling, even shirking his usual workload.]

[Perhaps there's simply nothing special or useful about time wasted, alone.]

Edited (don't look at me I saw a typo) 2024-12-10 23:34 (UTC)

[ Rokurou is quiet while Matoba muses over how he would spend his birthday. There are questions, mostly around how the exorcist plans his day around work when there is no work to be had here, but Matoba isn’t thinking about his impeding birthday at all. Even now, a year in to being stuck in this hole, he’s thinking about rote and routine while acting as head of his clan. As if a wide open birthday isn’t days away.

Ugh. Unfortunately, he doesn’t dislike that kind of commitment and sense of responsibility. Not that he’ll admit it. Instead, the daemon hums. ]

Okay. We’ll train in the morning and then go for a walk around the resort to see what’s going on. Red Cardinal makes a pretty good ramen so that can be lunch. Then we can go to the arcade and… [ he stalls here before sighing in defeat, ] … find some cats afterward.

[ All in all, that sounds like a good day, cats aside. Of course this guy would be a cat fanatic… are all exorcists obsessed with felines? ]

But if any of them piss on me, we’re leaving.

[Perhaps no orthodox 'work', but Matoba very much considers his investigations into the various mysteries of the resort to be a part of his work, his duties, as Matoba. After all, escape and returning back to his clan was all a part of it, too.]

[That is what occupies the majority of his time in the resort. What time isn't spent "socializing"- as, after all, making and keeping connections is also a part of his duties as the head- or in the small, personal time he takes to eat and enjoy the dalliances that he allows himself. But they are few.]

[It isn't that Matoba lacks things he enjoys, but that he has never had the freedom or opportunity to think about goals for himself that don't tie back to his position.]

[He blinks up owlishly, then, as Rokurou goes on and plans a day for... them. Normally, he might make a prodding comment about the man inviting himself along. But moreso, he is surprised that he does so willingly.]

"We" can train? [He settles on instead, amusement tinging instead of sarcasm.] Do you even know how to draw a bowstring?

What do you take me for? I may be a swordsman, but I have familiarity with most weapons. [ he opens his eyes and looks back at the other man, eyebrow hiked in vague amusement. ] No doubt you can out-shoot me but I can hit a target or two. Or you can shoot and I’ll strike them down with a sword. That’s training too.

[ He seems eager, even. Even after a year of having all of the pleasures man can enjoy shoved in his face, Rokurou still enjoys training and working out the most. Especially when it’s with someone strong; he knows first hand that Matoba is skilled. ]

What about the evening, though? Cats would be sometime in the afternoon. How do you want to spend your birthday night?

Hohh...? [Matoba's eyebrow lifts, but he seems skeptical.] ...In that case, I will have to put you through the paces to test your ability.

[Now that sounds like fun.]

[Thinking about entertainments comes far less easy to him. Ah, but perhaps for two exorcists, killing would naturally come more easily. Matoba tilts his head back slightly in thought. Monsters still roam the halls of the resort, the plague that moon has set upon the resort still a threat. Now there's an idea.]

Night is when the ayakashi roam. Isn't that plenty to keep us busy?

H’oh.

[ Correction: an exorcist and a daemon. Don’t lump him in with you smelly exorcists. Rokurou smiles, once again amused by this man. The clear opportunity to have a completely normal birthday isn’t taken when it’s right there; growing up in environments like theirs really does breed a certain type. ]

Training in the morning, food in the afternoon, and bloodshed at night? We do have similar tastes after all.

[ He reaches a greedy claw over to curl a lock of Matoba’s silky hair around his finger. An idle gesture where he rubs it between his thumb and index finger, enjoying the slide against his skin. ]

I’m looking forward to it.

[Never............... He knows the truth about you, Rokurou Rangetsu....]

[Anyway, what even is normal?? Seiji is aware of such things; it isn't as if he hadn't watched classmates in school have normal birthdays with normal birthday parties, with friends and games and great fun. That was the sort of life that the powerless should lead. And he was different. He had power, and responsibility to that power. A responsibility to solitude.]

[It makes these interactions strange. Here he is, sleeping in this man's bed and eating the meals made for him, treating him at times as more of a servant or a keeper than anything. Stained by malice and by his own admission no longer a candidate to inherit his bloodline, Rokurou could be nothing else to him. But then, these strange softnesses come between them. They can enjoy them, in their own way.]

[They've made a good plan between them, simple as it is, so the few days that pass until Matoba's actual birthday arrives require no further planning. And yet, in the late hours where All Hallow's Eve passes into his birthday and the spirits' mischief hits its peak, something suspicious arrives from the knock of a bellhop: An unmarked, gold box, containing a set of adorable kitty-cat chocolates. Of course, Matoba ought to have expected some manner of trick on his birthday, but what comes doesn't seem... too bad, he thinks... In fact, it seems sort of fun.]

[He sits on the bed, Rokurou snoozing beside him, and reads the instructions over and over. Glancing sidelong at the man, and back to the box....... Well. It is his birthday. Shouldn't he be allowed to have a little fun?]

[Matoba was usually quite the solitary sleeper, preferring to be settled on one side of the bed on his lonesome, and not at all cuddled up to the daemon. But by the time Rokurou awakens, there's a warmth settled unusually half-over his lower half, with the occasional flick of soft fur against a hipbone, against his legs. And, he'll come to realize with more and more lucidity, a pleasurable warm wetness over his cock, flicking back and forth, and sinking over him. Just a little more than the usual blood-thickening throb of morning wood....]

[ It’s a normal morning. Rokurou stretches an arm out lazily and Matoba isn’t there—standard. They don’t cuddle or spoon when they sleep because they like their own space. The bed is comfortable and he’s feeling quite good, very warm, and the blankets must have been stacked high last night because they’re heavier than usual. He’s on the cusp of a dream, between wakefulness and sleep, where pleasure begins to slowly mount. Waking up to a semi-wetdream isn’t all that unusual either.

The daemon sighs and rolls his head. Then, slowly, his eyelashes flutter and his lids begin to crack. At first he doesn’t see much with his vision blurred by sleep. He happily and blindly grasps down toward his hips for a lazy morning masturbation session. What he grabs instead is, ]

Haa—? [ a sharp exhale of surprise as his fingers curl against hair, ] Matoba?!

[ His eyes shoot open at the lurid scene of Matoba greedily sucking his cock. It would be sexy as hell to wake up to this if it weren’t for, ]

Why the hell are you a cat again!?

Hfff,

[The slight spitting of a hiss at the back of Matoba's throat is comically muffled over the wet blockage of a cock at the precipice of his throat. Paired with a glare and earned by the sudden grab of his hair, the (cat?) exorcist quickly seems to get over it and continues along his merry task, relaxing his jaw again to burgeon lower. The tip tickles at the back of his tongue, and he draws back again, lips sealing around the head to nurse eagerly as nails knead in the meat of the daemon's inner thighs.]

[Seeming quite proud of himself, he doesn't see fit to give an answer to Ro's question. How silly. He simply half-lids his eye in that judgmental way he does when Rokurou has said something he finds insipid, and nurses eagerly at the tip of his cock.]

[Does it matter?]

[ Yes!! Yes, it fucking matters!!!!!! Why is his nightmare manifesting in reality?!

Before Rokurou can spit out another word, Matoba clamps around his glans and sucks, drawing a strong shiver from the daemon. His breath hitches and toes scrunch in pleasure; precum beads, with heavy drops smearing onto the exorcist’s tongue. The pinch of pain from the nails digging into his thigh goes straight to his balls—Rokurou’s face and throat flush faintly as his breathing quickens.

Turned on and annoyed, the demon yanks Matoba’s hair like a leash. Brat. He has half a mind to roll away and deny the man his dick, but that would be a double-edged sword given the state he’s been brought to while asleep. So, Rokurou’s brow furrows, and he thrusts his hips to shamelessly fuck Matoba’s mouth. ]

[He can be yuor angle... or your sleep paralysis demon....]

[Most of the time it seems to be the latter, but surely it'll pay off one of these days, right? ~~In a fancy dress.~~ Unfortunately for Ro, but Matoba knows what he likes. Being nursed, unrelenting and cruel suction that demands all of him, bids him to empty over his tongue. What Rokurou likes is pleasure and pain. He feels the tighten of Ro's sack just below where his lips surround him and he sinks downward, meanly rolling him to the base in his lips and pulling at the skin at the joint of his thighs, stretching at his taint without giving kind relief to the muscle tensing between.]

[Feeling his hair gripped, another, louder growl builds in his throat before it's interrupted by the sudden slide of Rokurou's cock further down the bed of his tongue and into the tender clutch of his throat; his eye widens, pupil going narrow, and then he hisses harshly at the back of his throat as he tries to yank back again. Rokurou's hold is harsh, but not quite enough to keep him from yanking back again, and a messy smear of pre darts across his cheek as he drops Ro's poor, spitty cock right back onto his belly in a sad and sudden loss of that sweet warmth.]

Stop that. Why are you so difficult, [He demands like a put-upon mother, reaching up to dig one hand's blunt "claws" into Ro's wrist and wrench it away. He tries to do something nice, on his own birthday, and this is what he gets!!]

[ How good it feels to freely fuck Matoba’s throat for a few blissful pumps is worth the man’s hissing irritation. The daemon cocks his head and smirks, eyes lidded, too enamored with the smear of pre-cum across Matoba’s cheek for his own good. It’s always fun to frustrate him, even better to get him riled up and bothered… a small laugh finally escapes the daemon’s crooked smile.

He doesn’t bother to answer the question—Matoba knows the answer, why bother—instead lurching forward to grab the exorcist-turned-cat by the nape and crash their mouths together in a heated kiss. He can taste himself on those lips, salty and thick, as he forces his tongue forward into the man’s mouth for a greedy sweep.

When he allows the kiss to break, it’s only to speak against Matoba’s lips. ]

Hey, Seiji. [ a tickle of warm breath and a voice gone husky, ] Happy birthday.

[ Why the fuck are you a cat ]

[He is not appeased. ...Okay, he is not fully appeased by the kiss he's dragged up into, but mostly by Rokurou's usual, flippant attitude, even this early in the morning. He was enjoying himself and treating this idiot lug and what does he get for it??]

[The low hiss sounds again from around the gaps of their mouths as he's kissed, and the unimpressed, cat-like stare Rokurou gets as he pulls away earns only a disgruntled sound at the greeting.]

It could be, [He sniffs,] If you would behave yourself. [His tail flicks behind him in irritated twitches, and he soon shrugs himself free of Rokurou's embrace in another cat-like motion, ears quirking as he tries to groom his poor chin clean.]

Lay still. I wasn't done with that.

Stop, I can’t look at that.

[ At Matoba grooming himself like a cat… even if he is one, right now. Rokurou reaches out and rubs Matoba’s chin himself, ]

Lay still, lay still? You know I’m no good at that. Now, tell me, what happened to you? Did you make some kind of twisted birthday wish?

[ At least when there are obvious weak points, Rokurou can take advantage. After cleaning Matoba’s chin and then wiping his hands clean with a tissue, he reaches forward to knead one of those velvety ears. ]

You don't want your cock sucked?

[Sullen and disappointed, Matoba is only mildly appeased by the rubbing of his new ears, though his eye goes half-lidded and his breathing evens out. The ear flicks to and fro in his fingertips, enjoying the rubbing at the base the most.]

I did not make any wish. But I did receive something interesting.

… it’s not that I don’t want it.

[ He focuses kneading at the base of those feline ears, watching as Matoba’s expression softens beneath the attention. It’s… admittedly, kind of cute. Even if he’s still offended that he’s woken up to a cat in his bed. ]

What did you get?

Then you are simply being difficult for the sake of it,

[Matoba huffs as if to confirm to himself, turning his head away mid-scritch in defiance. Cat, indeed. Not that he actually stops Ro from that rubbing......... It feels good.]

[Eye having gone lidded with pleasure, he slowly opens it again to cast a disdainful glance back towards Ro's question.]

That isn't your concern. [You know.. even though it obviously has something to do with being a catboy.] Hmph, I've lost my appetite now. You can finish yourself.

[ It absolutely is his concern!? If Matoba suddenly has the power to change into a catman at will, the person that’s going to be plagued the most is himself.

But both cats and Matoba Seiji are contrary creatures. Pursue and they’ll run. Avoid and they’ll haunt you forever. Which is why Rokurou snorts, drawing his hands back and turning his nose up, as if he no longer cares about the cause of this sudden cattening or Matoba’s skillful mouth. ]

Okay.

[ Shifting to ignoring the other man, Rokurou grasps his cock and closes his eyes, reclining his head back in lazy pleasure as he begins jerking himself off. His lips move wordlessly as pleasure builds, the tip of his cock gleaming with a fresh bead of precum as he generously strokes himself. His eyebrows furrow and a sigh escapes his lips as his pace quickens and the smell of precum deepens.

Actually, jerking one off alone isn’t so bad every now and then… feels good… ]

[Rokurou's eyes close and he sets back to do just that.]

[So, it must be no surprise at all when, in a minute or two, the sensation of a warm tongue joins, tasting pre over his cock and fingers.]

[Greedy and mean, Matoba's teeth nip at Rokurou's fingers when they get in his way, trying to wrap his lips back over the source of that sticky prize he'd been working at himself, thank you. Refused and bothered and refused again, Matoba won't lose, whether it's at domination or in petty arguments. And, as long as he's getting what he wants, he hasn't lost.]

[Lips sink down over Rokurou's cock when his grip falls down to the base, leaving the head free to be captured. There Matoba nurses- no rough kitty tongue, just his usual, ruthless, insistent pump of lips, waiting to receive what is his.]

[ This time Rokurou allows the exorcist to do what he wants. His hand is bullied away in the end, and he allows it to go easily, resting back against the pillow to enjoy. The daemon's breath hitches when that mouth sinks over his cock, lips and teeth nursing over the glans in a way that beats sensation over his head(s).

Rokurou finds a new home for his fingers in the sheets. Gripping them, he sighs again, looking down at the other man from between his eyelashes. Happy? He's being nice and obedient, giving Matoba freedom of that sticky prize he's so hungry for. There's really no point in fighting against him on this one, because in the end, Rokurou benefits as well.

Precum continues to bead. The daemon swallows, crawling again toward climax, but not quite there yet. That's what he gets for some denial-play, huh... ]

[That's right. You belong to him, says that vicious, slanted eye that watches from Rokurou's lap. Even when he is the one bowing his head, with cock in his mouth, Matoba's imperious nature lets you know that he is the one in control here. Kitty-cat enhancements or no; that is just his own personality at blame.]

[In the lazy warmth of morning wakefulness, it isn't a surprise that arousal is slow to climb in Rokurou's body, but that makes it all the more soft and sweet as pre smears over the bed of his tongue on every downstroke, vehemently working his lips over the shaft. His own blunt claws plant against meaty thigh and hip, keeping him anchored in place for rough fucking over his lap. He is determined to keep his pace, breaths flaring from his nose, even if it forces into his throat a little too much on a stroke downward- that is his own technique, and not Rokurou's, who is forbidden from interfering.]

[Greedy, he swallows the tang of spit and pre that mix in his throat. His own thighs spread against the bed, grinding the awakening of an erection against the sheet. Whatever he's gone and done to himself, it certainly hasn't stopped at some fuzzy appendages.]

[ It’s only because he’s such a brat!! Somehow a bigger brat than the sixth son of an insane family!!!

Matoba is also a brat that knows how to work Rokurou too well. Or perhaps the man’s style has become that familiar to him—breathing quickens as tepid warmth rises to a boil. Rokurou shifts beneath that damned mouth, hips pressing forward, seeking more. The tight clutch of his lips and the insistent suck and grind, the teasing grip of throat… Rokurou groans, voice hitching as pleasure hooks its fingers and strangles. Fuck, it does feel good-…

And, maybe, Matoba has become just as familiar with him. His precum is thick, and the way his hips move and his voice breaks between breaths is telltale of his impending climax. Muscular thighs tense, relax, tense, relax. Even so, he brushes his hand over the crown of Matoba’s head in warning—as much as he’d love to cumshot right down the exorcist’s throat without a heads up, it isn’t worth the headache afterward. ]

I’m, ah…

[ There, assuming Matoba doesn’t grip his balls and deny him. ]

[Maybe that's a sign that Ro just likes that, huh!?]

[Matoba still won't let him thrust or have his way completely under his mouth, and the pressure of his blunt claws sunk into thigh make sure of that- but what little rocking motion Rokurou does get into his mouth is followed with eager rolling movements following his pace, hungry swallowing of every thick, pre-drenched gulp of saliva built up at the back of his tongue. Breath flares against his lap as Matoba keeps pace, watching the flutter of muscle and pleasure in the daemon's body and how his expression of relaxation twists up at the teetering of climax.]

[Purrs vibrate over his cock, excited when Rokurou warns with the touch to his head. Matoba bumps his hand slightly, soft ear flickering against his wrist, eager for stroking as he works his cock a little quicker, a little more voracious for that last climb over the edge of climax. His lips draw back half-way and throat clenches shut ahead of his cocktip, avoiding the hazard of being choked on an unexpected load, but Rokurou surely knows by now his greedy love for swallowing down once he's been fed.]

[ Instead of doing something like gripping him by the balls, Matoba is strangely and unexpectedly… cute…

Rokurou swallows as unfamiliar heat prickles in his chest. It’s a feeling that he steadfastly ignores, trying to focus instead on the hot clench of Matoba’s mouth. Fingers twitching, he catches that flicking ear between his pointer and thumb to gently knead, endeared despite himself. It’s while in that strange emotional place that his orgasm grips. Dry heat sparks flames that run the course of his system, bleeding him of sense from head to toe.

Thick semen spills into Matoba’s waiting mouth. The daemon twitches and then goes pliant, breathing shallow, a light sheen of clammy sweat clings to his cheeks and forehead. Fuck, it feels good… and he marinates in that satisfaction, allowing Matoba do whatever the hell he wants as he sinks into the mattress like a limp puppet. ]

[ on the morning of december 25, which hua cheng has come to understand is christmas day, a knock on the door will herald the arrival of a gift. it's nestled in a box and wrapped in paper of his signature crimson and tied with a gold ribbon, both very auspicious colors for such an auspicious(?) holiday!

when opened, matoba will find that the box contains a paper talisman imbued with a single use of hua cheng's cum cleanup spell, which he used in front of matoba back in october during the full moon ghost situation.

the box is accompanied by no note—hua cheng is confident matoba will know who sent it. :) ]

[ It takes a few days into this whole mess for Broca to message Matoba, but without powers of his own it takes a few days into this whole mess for Broca to realize that he might need to reach out to someone who does. ]

Hey.

[ Unfortunately, Broca is bad at starting conversations. ]

I am not particularly in the mood to fuck, but make it worth my time.

[ He actually needs a couple of minutes after reading that to just sit and stare at his watch.

... Like it's fair though... given their own personal history it's fair.................. ]

It's not about sex.

[Likewise, Matoba has to scrutinize his watch for a few moments. He has quite the headache, so perhaps his vision is just blurred??]

What did you do?

[ He feels like he's getting dragged so much, and all he said was one word to the guy??? ]

I didn't do anything.

I don't believe you.

[Not least of all because Broca's definition of what constitutes a sensible risk is unacceptable, but after a moment of a deep sigh he decides he isn't in any shape to engage with that, so,]

What do you need from me, Broca-san?

[Words that are not intended in the pressing and bothered tone most might take them in, but in their most literal sense. After all, if one was coming to Matoba for something, it meant you had little choice.]

[ He regrets this a little already...

He is also reading the text tone very wrong here, but petty irritation will not keep him from answers, so he presses on. ]

You can sense spirits and things like that, right?

[Ah.]

Do you understand what it is you are hearing? Perhaps this is the best time to strike, if only I could find it.

Not really, that's why I'm asking you...

You don't know where it's coming from then?

Our host. No, unfortunately In a sense, you could say it is everywhere. But there is always a core. A weakness.

Any ideas where?

Not for another of your reckless charges.

I didn't say I was going to rush in to find it.

[No ... But Matoba might.]

Why do you want to know if not?

[ And yet here he is giving Broca a hard time!! ]

Dunno yet. I need to figure out what it's doing and why, and what we can do if we even find it.

This isn't a concern for the Sightless. This sort of chaotic aura is too dangerous. Simply try to bear it for now.

No.

If you're not going to answer questions, I'll just have to find someone else who can.

Those with power must do their part for the whole. And those who cannot do anything useful should stay out of the way. You are going to get innocents killed with this stubbornness of yours someday.

Vaffanculo. I have my Arts.

No one needs to be involved with what I do unless they want to. You don't want to, so I won't ask anything else.

If they are are not techniques made for the dealing of spirits, what do you hope to accomplish? [He doesn't speak PASTA CAT]

If they want to and you allow them, that is even worse. Do not drag the weak into the fray.

[ Please! It's pasta wolf! ... The cat language is like fish and chips, and beans on toast. ]

I'll figure it out if I have to.

Who says I would be? You're assuming you're the only one with this kind of strength here. Don't.

[No he hates this]

Haphazard and foolish. Is this supposed to convince me that you will not run headlong into danger? No. I am not the only. I will join forces with others capable of handling such matters, but I will not allow needless sacrifice. Yourself included, Broca.

I'm not planning to, but I'm not going to sit back and wait for someone else to figure things out for me.

[ This, he figures, addresses both parts, and lets him say the least number of words possible. ]

[sasuga]

Everyone has their use. Defend. That is your skill.

[Not because of what he's told Matoba about his past- but because of what he has observed, with his own eyes. That's his job to learn, as one who leads others.]

You haven't really seen me in combat. You don't know what my skill is.

[ Snatching Matoba away from a weird blob spirit does not count. ]

No. I know your nature.

[Hmph it kinda does :T]

Good. Then you already know I'm not going to sit down and ignore this.

[Unfortunately. He does.]

You were warned.

[It's still the stirring before the storm. Perhaps he has time to stop this before everyone else wrecks themselves (narrator: he won't)]

[ Looks like Matoba does understand enough to spare himself the effort then. ]

Got it.

Take the warning yourself too, and don't do anything stupid. Things here aren't necessarily going to work the same way you're used to.

[ He's not forgetting Matoba literally just talking about striking first. ]

I have a clan to run, Broca-san. I will not take any uncalculated risks.

[Which is still not none! But he has responsibilities to temper him. Kind of.]

[ Yeah, he's noticing that. He's also not who you go to if you want to be talked out of risky choices though. ]

Right...

Tell me if you actually figure out anything more, and decide you actually want to share.

[ Until then, looks like he'll have to hunt down some other people with spiritual powers to get some real information out of them. ]

I will do so, if it is prudent. For now, be cautious. These fluctuations in spiritual energy are similar to when a seal is about to break. A shockwave would be the least of it- and could affect more than just those of us who can feel it now.

[ Something useful to know. Looks like this somewhat frustrating conversation still had a point to it.

When a seal is about to break, huh...?

I'll keep that in mind.

["Let me know when you are checked in," Matoba had said. Natori had planned to wait a few days in a fit of pique, but that was before he found his, uh. Gifts. In fact, the makeshift doll that finds its way to Matoba appears to be made out of the label off a wine bottle? Natori's scribbled his room number on it, plus:]

They gave me cake.

[The flutter of paper almost takes Matoba off-guard, in the sense that it takes him a split second not to regard it as one of the many pests of the resort and for the ally that it is.]

[Well. "Ally", insofar as a fellow exorcist could be counted.]

[He holds out his palm for the-- wrapper?? --to land in, lips pursing in disapproval as he reads the simple message. Ahh. Retrieving a brushpoint pen from his sleeve, he writes an equally simple return message:]

What flavor?

[It's only after he sends the doll off again that the numbers sink in. 3rd floor??? ...Down in the dregs nonetheless, but that leaves a bad taste in his mouth.]

[He will have to wash it down with cake.]

[The response is on a fresh doll made out of another (different) wine label.]

I'm not checking all of them. Come see for yourself.

[And he doesn't even need to come inside to see-- Natori's gifts are literally stacked up to the ceiling in the hall outside his room.]

[Hmph. Leave it to Natori to not be able to do what needs to be done!! (read his menu of cakes)]

[It does not take very long at all for Matoba to arrive to the very obvious pile of gifts in the 3rd floor hallway, but rather than make any attempt to knock on the door beside them, Matoba simply helps himself. It seems as though he might not be the only one; Matoba sees the remnants of chocolate wrappers among the pile, certainly not partaken of by their rightful owner.]

[(That's him!!)]

[Natori will have to simply step outside his room and nearly trip over Matoba, primly seiza on the floor as he sorts carefully through boxes of cake, to make any sort of contact.]

I suppose a receptionist's salary can't buy anything much fancier, [He comments idly when found, setting aside a single-layer buttercream.]

Edited 2025-06-04 01:09 (UTC)

[Natori doesn't care that someone else has been at his comically oversized pile of presents. He's been sifting through for the stuff he could actively use (some of the less embarrassing clothes and books, mostly) to stash away in his awful little room, and otherwise will let the rest fall where they will. He hasn't spotted anything really useful yet, but it would be just his luck that there's a nice pot or incense hidden in the center...

When he steps back into the hallway, it's to do another pass through the pile for anything he wants to keep. He does, in fact, nearly trip over Matoba, and takes a moment to be annoyed that he didn't knock like a normal person.]

...They bought this with their own money?

[Not comped from the hotel, but personal gifts from the staff? That makes him feel very slightly guilty, until he remembers the note that came with the rest of it.]

So I guess this sort of thing happens for everyone?

Perhaps, [Matoba comments off-handedly, in a way that conveys how little thought he gives to Natori's prattle.]

[Upon the second, however, he pauses to tilt his head.]

No, [He replies, and then adds,] I have not heard of something like this. That, I imagine, is all you.

[Whether that is meant derogatorily or matter of factly is.. unclear from his tone.]

[Natori just takes it as a given that it's derogatory-- Matoba has certainly never shied away from expressing his opinion of the other trappings of Natori's day job, including earlier in this very hotel.]

Apparently I have fans among the staff. [He'll just leave it at that rather than risk Matoba hunting down poor Ellie, whoever she is. He tilts his head towards the crappy room behind him.] Though not big enough fans to swing for an upgrade.

[...Matoba had implied that he'd had guesses about which suit would 'claim' Natori. He leans back against the dingy door jam, watching Matoba pick his way through the sweets.]

...What was your guess? About which one I'd get.

[A quiet scoff escapes Matoba. Of course he does; some things do not change, even trapped in ayakashi realms populated by ghouls and spirits.]

Haha, no. Even playing favorites does not dissuade the pecking order instilled by the house.

...Or the suits. [Matoba smiles, knowing and conniving, and the instead of answering Natori's question, holds out his hand expectantly.] Your Watch?

[So "the house" isn't the staff who manage the facility, but something else entirely (or, of course, he just doesn't have fans in high enough places). And the suits are something separate from that.

Natori knows how Matoba insists on having conversations, so instead of arguing he plops his wrist into Matoba's waiting hand like he's a certain celebrity offering it to a supplicant to kiss. (He does still roll his eyes in annoyance that Matoba continues to be so Matoba, but what else is new.) He is of course going to keep asking questions, though.] "The house" is the hotel itself? The one whose heart you all found recently.

[See, he can do a little poking around too!!]

[Matoba glances at the Watch face offered to him, his mouth in its neutral half-smirk unmoving, but his smugness isn't dimmed in the slightest, so it's clear that he's seen something he expected.]

Elusive Spades... [He hums thoughtfully, releasing Natori's wrist back to him and then opening a box of cookies. Oooh, toffee chip. There is no inch of the concern that clouds him visible on his face, now that he has seen that mark.] I wondered on which side you would fall. Now I have my answer.

[Not Clubs. Not conniving enough for that, naive Shuichi.]

[Matoba lets another pause of quiet pass, considering how much he should say. Then he picks up that box of cookies and finally stands, smoothing out his haori with a flick of wrist and tucking the box under his arm. He nods his chin towards Natori's doorway.]

No. Inside.

[You have warded your room already, right, Natori...?]

It would be more impressive if you'd named it before you looked... [Natori mutters to himself, even though he knows that Matoba is probably telling the truth about having guessed. Not that Natori knows anything about what might entice one suit over the other; maybe if he acts ignorant enough about it Matoba will enlighten him to rub it in. Or he could avoid giving Matoba the satisfaction and find someone else to share some theories... even if chances are that they won't look at it in quite the same way that he and Matoba would.

Their perspectives may differ, but they were still closer to each other than they were to the average person.

Anyway, he can take that hint. He sighs, then gets the door.

His room is warded, thanks... though Matoba can see that it's been done in a somewhat jerryrigged fashion. The talismans positioned on the walls look suspiciously like they were made from pages torn out of a cheap paperback romance novel (Natori received three copies of something called The Time I, An Introverted Receptionist At A Luxury Hotel, Saw My Movie Star Guest Changing?! and gladly sacrificed it to secure his room) and written out with eyeliner. There's also barely any room to navigate, even moreso than most rank 3 rooms; the small amount of walking space available is taken up by piles of books and clothes that Natori cherry-picked out of present mountain, and it's still already spilling over onto his small bed. Natori sits on it, because it's not like there's anywhere else to go.]

If you're going to complain about it, you could get me some real supplies.

GOLDEN PEACOCK: INBOX+OVERFLOW

[action] Dumb cuddling nonsense

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[action] date time!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

@tseng » @matoba

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Text | un: swords -> @matoba

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject