. under starless skies . closed

[shikomizue]

Who: Takasugi Shinsuke (shikomizue) & Others | CLOSED
What: Catch-All for July/August/September
When: July 16th - September
Where: Nadril, Olympia, Wyver
Warning(s): Alcohol Consumption, Sexual Content, TBA

[closed starters in the comments]

Comments

. solomon

[shikomizue]

[Somehow, even in a location that bleeds white from every edifice, Solomon still stands out among the crowd. Perhaps it's that the jeering bunch watching their sport on screen aren't exactly the cleanest lot (though they're pristine compared to the clientele at Takasugi's usual dives).

Or perhaps he's just been looking for that blanched visage, pale framed with pale.

Takasugi brings with him two drinks, held in one hand. His fingertips dip into the - fairly benign looking, considering the science experiment of a bar - liquid. A health code violation, certainly...

He greets Solomon with a hand to his back, sliding over shoulder. Nothing subtle about that intimacy. Drinks set in front of them, Takasugi turns his attention to the game. Neither of them gives a shit about how its played, or who wins, but he's been loitering around the bar long enough to have learned how gambling works here.

And daring one another, with how placid Solomon tends to be, is a game that tilts in his favor.] Where's your bet?

[semblant]

[Of all things he's watched Takasugi do thus far, watching his approach with his fingertips dipped into their dranks should be more bothersome than it is. Alas: That's Our Shinsuke. All in all, it's a far better setting than he's used to -- bearing his company in mind. The patrons all seem like scrubs and the bar's questionable in and of itself, however, the air isn't quite so thick with BO.]

Regarding?

[He'll scoot closer to the bar, a leg resting against Takasugi's; he's sidesaddle despite as he drafts a sip from what he can assume is his glass.

The Spoart Game is absolutely the talk of the bar, and must be what Takasugi's talking about, but he cares so little for it....about as much as he cares for this drink, but he won't complain about that. That's something that goes without saying.]

I haven't forgiven you.

[A starter that very nearly mirrors the fallout after he'd been forced to drink dragon blood and made a fool of.]

[shikomizue]

[He'll just have to get used to being made a fool of.

Warmth blossoming against his thigh, Takasugi shifts to mirror Solomon's position. Albeit more lax, shrugged against the bar, propping his head up on his fist as he sprawls his arm over the sticky surface. As usual.

A glance spared to the game on the screens around them, Takasugi assumes Solomon knows what he's talking about. But, it seems there's some other business to take care of first.

Tiresome.] For what? [Not innocently - because he's not capable of even a facade of it. Though, he isn't guilty in any measure, either. Willing to wander around in a swamp, hoping to splatter himself in giant bug guts, Solomon should be grateful he got to fight something that didn't die.

Something that comes to him with alcohol and listens to him complain.

Something that can fight him again.]

. mikazuki

[shikomizue]

[The charm around Takasugi's neck burns, chilled metal out of equilibrium with his skin.

Through the first night, he'd felt the wind whip around and through him, weaving between the threads of his layered, woolen yukatas. Chill settled in, numb fingers and face shielded from the wind only by a turned back. He hadn't stopped for sleep; he didn't feel any warmth from the sunrise. With light beating down as frigid as the wastes of the snow surrounding, Takasugi invoked the dragon-scale pendant's magic.

Imbued with warmth, he trudged on. With a pace that outstripped the procession of most - he'd been well aware of his time limit. Twenty-four hours until the warmth is spent.

A great creature, its fire surely once hot enough to turn an entire city to molten rubble, harvested for its skin and bones and marrow to keep those that seek to kill its brethren safe in their journey.

Irony that bites like the first gust of wind he feels when the spell fades. Clouded skies a barrier against both light and heat, night clings to snow-dusted hills and sleep tugs at his eyes.

The day drags, and time becomes obscured by the static, heavy grey above.

To stop is to tempt death. To wander through the snow that's begun to fall, thick and heavy and blinding, is to chase it. Takasugi ducks under a jutting edifice, not so much a cave as a rock broken into a crescent, and crouches.

Feels the chain of his pendant shift and prick his neck with chill.]

[sparsity]

[ Mikazuki is more fortified than most. In mind yes, which is easier to see in his reactions to what's around him, but in body also. Most of it his own making, every muscle and tendon forged as if dipped in fire, sinew tough and tight on bone. But there's more to it, his youth spent on the red planet beating a tolerance to cold into him with its frost and storms, its distance from the Sun that gave life to one planet, and barely tolerated its invasion of another.

However, Chryse's storms were cutting more than they were suffocating. Rains red and sharp with ice and alloy. Snow is a whole different challenge, from its difficulty to walk in to the way that it surrounds, packing in its ability to purge life from its banks. They'll be among its collateral, if they're not careful.

He can trudge in it all he likes, but it's frustrating him to get nowhere fast, to allow the searing chill to affect his eyes and ears in comparison to the warmth still churning in his chest and throat. His tongue clicks against his teeth, looking out into this wasteland untouched by the dragon.

It's not the first time his nanomachines, the literal kinetics in his blood, have been his lifeline. ]

This is endless.

[ Underneath the rock that has brooked the weather's wrath, Mikazuki peers up from underneath it, up into the unbroken sky. Only wind howls back at him. ]

. vane

[shikomizue]

[Somehow, throughout the day and the better part of the evening, Takasugi has enjoyed his solitude in the compact accommodations. He's already bathed, changed into a single layered yukata, and made himself comfortable on the bed with his pipe dangling from his lips.

Being insufferable has its perks.

Until someone equally intolerable strides through the door. The space grows too cramped immediately. Takasugi can't quell the snarl of dismay that flashes across his face. He does resist his first urge to get up. Leave.

Sleep in a cave.

He won't be so easily dislodged.

Instead, he starts a fight he's sure Vane won't even notice. He's already manspread over the entire bed, and when he shifts, it's to somehow take up more space. The blonde can sleep on the floor, like a dog-]

Everywhere else is full? [Terse, teeth a millisecond from clenching.]

[defenses]

[ with everything appearing so compact and uniform, it was relatively easy to become lost with it all. hence, he's just been doing his best to choose a room that didn't seem to be too crowded. for once, this is the only room with just one other person. even for fortunate is the fact that it's a familiar face. ]

Wow, what are the chances of running into you like this, huh? [ probably not nearly as slim as he's making it seem. still, he's genuinely pretty happy to see him. honestly, a lot has happened and so it's nice to see that after all this time, that people managed somehow. not that he had his doubts seeing takasugi in action. regardless, vane doesn't seem to think much of how much room takasugi is taking on the bed. nor does he seem to read too deeply into his inquiry. ]

Hm? I guess so. Haven't had a full look around, but... you could say this place caught my eye.

[ he gives a small shrug, before— ] Are you comfortable in that? I've only seen something like that in summer...

. diva

[shikomizue]

[There has never been a place for him in Olympia. Grid streets, tall and featureless buildings - Takasugi doesn't care for the city. At best, it's dull. Much like the only inhabitant he imposes himself on. Solomon hasn't bluntly opened his house to Takasugi's whim, but he's let himself in regardless. Late at night, he hadn't bothered to announce his arrival. Instead he'd found dull comfort on the couch, his cheeks throbbing against the pillows. Drunk, he'd drifted to sleep easily. When he wakes up, he's curled, chilled without a blanket. Drearily, a young Takasugi opens his eyes- And bolts upright. Where the hell!? He leaps from the couch, stumbling as he cranes his whole body to look for the door. Bounding up to it, he flings it open to leave - only to be met with an even stranger looking street. A view left behind, door still open, as he retreats into the house to see if he can find anyone who lives there without being found, himself. But he's about as sneaky as any nine year old could hope to be, so when he peeks into Diva's room, it's pretty obvious.]

[colorature]

<sub>[He couldn't be sneaky enough to not be detected by her sensitive hearing, even if he tried, and so she's sitting up on her canopy bed even before he's looking through the crack of the door left ajar. She gives him a fanged grin, resting her chin against a palm as she waves to him, expecting Takasugi to appear (she can smell him, of course)...only to see a rather small boy instead.

Wait what? Hold up...did Takasugi have a son? It couldn't be!]</sub>

Hey! You know it's rude to peek on a Lady, don't you?

"""TANJOUBI OMEDETO"" 8/10

[semblant]

[The main reason anyone should venture within the cave of wonders (any of the cave of wonders this place has to offer ok) would be to hone their skills, test death -- something like that (though he's yet to personally run into anything meriting very much concern at all, this shit is nothing like the swamps...), adrenaline shit. There's a very important matter at hand, however, a party ontop of a hot date and the labyrinth of caves offers just enough privacy, enough of an illusion that they're capable of enjoying something amongst themselves on this godawful planet. He hasn't gone to any extremes -- the place hasn't been garnished, FESTOONED in trim or banners; there's no fancy setup, no music to be had. The ambiance is set by the cave alone; it's quiet, intimate. Soft variants of aquamarine light a natural path, something that unfolds into a sprawling garden, wild and unkempt but charming all the same (sound familiar...). In the midst of it, he's set up a small picnic area; a traditional blanket reserves their spot, in the center rests a basket containing various lumps (food, yet-to-be-revealed) as well as a more obvious wine bottle and some overturned glasses.

While it's an absolute fire hazard, he's also set up some candles here and there, scattered haphazardly though as far as lighting goes...it's excessive. It was between candles and rose petals, however. The latter seemed too intimate for a birthday celebration. Especially when there are candles to be rid of...]

Here we are.

[He's lead Takasugi on foot, guided him with a hand, even. Initially, he thought instructions would be enough, but he wasn't in the mood to draw up Cave Directions. Plus, he wanted to ensure Takasugi's presence for all of his effort. He's even wearing the yukata Takasugi gifted him with some short-ish while back. If he were a no-show, it would devastate him beyond repair...........

jk he would be mad tho.]

If you'd like to move closer to the lake, it's just past here. [There's a vague motion toward a lefthand fork; he'd like to remain as is, personally. Close enough to hear the water lapping distantly, but not close enough to smell the ??? emanating from within.]

[shikomizue]

[There's a beast dwelling in the lake that lies under the caves, they say. Takasugi had bought drinks in exchange for tales of it, folklore and horror stories not so different in the gleaming eyes of locals enchanted by its legend. All of the details differ, of course; it isn't a creature anyone has seen and lived to describe.

Takasugi had wondered if Solomon would go after the monster in another misplaced attempt to sate his bloodlust.

But their venture into the caves isn't quite so carnal. It's almost disappointing, but that the locale is home to such a creature makes it a charming choice of venue. Telling Solomon his birthday had been nothing more than an attempt to see what the man would do to impress him.

So far, it's going well.

Donning the yukata he'd been so reluctant to wear months ago, Solomon could easily look out of place. Too white, blanched in the light pattern just as he is in his suit - but Takasugi prefers this. Seeing the man clad in something that's his.

From head to toe, inviting Takasugi to indulge.

Holding hands isn't a physicality he's considered, but he allows Solomon the lead. Runs his thumb over knuckles, an idle caress as he walks just one step too slow to match Solomon's pace. He can't surrender everything-

Reaching the garden, he reclaims his hand to light his pipe. Fire hazards abound...

In the moment it takes to ignite the embers in its bowl, Takasugi lets his eye wander. A brief, but full appreciation of the garden that surrounds them. Glimmering lights, both organic and flickering flame, abate the stillness of it all.

He smiles. It's still shitty, too sharp too dishonest - but maybe that's just how his face is?] Later. [Maybe. He doesn't care.

For the moment he steps past Solomon to sit on the blanket, legs sprawled into the grass and hands spread behind him to prop him upright. He's taken up more than half of the thing, another section taken up by the food and wine.]

Have you heard about the monster in the lake? [If this was just a lucky coincidence, he's revoking the brownie points he'd given you.]

. solomon

[shikomizue]

[The woman who lives here is absolutely crazy. Takasugi's reconnaissance to the second story of the house had yielded that and only that. A waste of time, and he feels like he's barely escaped with his life, somehow. And yet, he can't bring himself to run out into the streets. Partially because what if everyone here is that batshit, and partially because... He's hungry. After managing to sneak away from Diva, Takasugi ventures into the kitchen. He stays crouched low behind the cupboards, rooting through things as quietly as possible. Which isn't that subtle, but at least he's trying. All he finds are pots and boxes of food that looks dry enough to make him choke. The fridge is next, a foreign appliance intimidating and enticing... He takes what he thinks is yogurt from inside, and proceeds to gulp it down. The taste is strong - more tart than he's used to. His throat constricts, a cough sputtering from his mouth. So much for remaining hidden.]

[semblant]

[In the not-so-faraway-distance, a toilet flushes, water runs, and quiet footfalls can be heard leading away from the main restroom. There's a commotion that momentarily settles on his subconscious -- Diva getting into shit again.

Only, that doesn't really sound like a Diva-sputter? More importantly, Diva hadn't been home to his knowledge. He looks up from his cell phone, tucks it into a rear pocket and casually makes his way into the kitchenry like a person on the way to scold their dog for knocking over their food bowl.

And not, like, potentially coming face to face with a robber.

What he discovers, fortunately, is nothing more than something treading the line of Golden Retriever Problems. It's a kid -- unfamiliar, but a kid (maybe Diva's friend?) rifling through his fridge.

He'll observe for a second. It's like those guys who just sit and watch baby turtles race down the beach as random predators pick them off, motherfuckers.]

Can I help you?

[A belated ahem, not a true offer of servitude. Before the kid can respond, he is at least moving to fix him with a glass of water.]

mopemopemope open to whatever taka you wanna play with

[pachintoki]

[They say that what a person does when nobody is watching is a good measure of their character. When someone is under duress, when they face times of adversity -- that's when their true nature shines through. When you can truly see who they are deep down inside.

Which is why, after fully understanding that he's stuck on this shitty planet for good - probably without some people very important to him - Gintoki finds his way to some of the seediest corners of Wyver, gets drunk off his ass, probably gets in a stupid bar scuffle -- and then ends up passed out drunk, filthy, lightly bruised, with barely a silver to his name, in the corner of some hovel in the old city slums. At least he seems to be sleeping peacefully enough.

Well done, protagonist.]

[shikomizue]

[Takasugi expects to face adversity, coming to consciousness in the middle of a foreign street covered in elder roots and slick with humidity. It's nowhere he recognizes, but the war has driven them to all sorts of places- Though, as unrecognizable as everything is, the stars above are the most foreign of all. He can't pinpoint one to follow, constellations a garbled mess that elicit foreboding, rather than celestial tales. He's left in an aimless jog, wandering the streets until he catches sight of something familiar. A bright stain on the night. Welcome, even though he hardly regards Gintoki warmly as he approaches. How is the idiot sleeping, at a time like this!?] Oi. [Sharp kick in the ribs! Before crouching and drawing close - discerning the scent of alcohol on his breath from the stench of the jungle.]

. diva

[shikomizue]

[Fingertips brush against the embroidery lacing along the couch's arm like veins. Takasugi feels the sensation throb in his arm, as if the threads could wind up his muscles, laid in immaculate design. Instead he wears pale, risen skin.

Scars that ache, each one of them - the ones he remembers, the ones he's forgotten - a searing reminder of the parts of himself he's lost.

Flesh and bone and the bits of him he'd given to others.

Memories that play out against the smoke that rose in plumes from his mouth, hanging heavy around his head. Takasugi had the decency to inundate himself with opium elsewhere, but he doesn't spare the ornate Olympian home the smell.

He's ripe with it when he enters, slides along the couch but doesn't sink into it.

Because he's forgotten what comes next, in the dark of night where the hand in front of him is indistinguishable from his own and a ghost's.

Light drifts, its source unknown, and Takasugi follows. Up creaking stairs, his body heavier with each step, until his forehead presses against a cool door. There are worse places to sleep...

Except it hadn't been entirely closed; when he leans against it he slides forward, a single stumbled step taken into Diva's room before he regains himself. Squints, sight blurry in space pervaded by white.

But he manages to locate a bed, and that's where he finds himself, knee then hands leading his crawl over the sheets, coiling around the body within.]

[colorature]

<sub>[She smells him before she sees him. Usually Takasugi keeps to his own devices - if he does decide to bother her he has the decency to knock. This though is different. It's not like she hasn't seen him blitzed out of his mind before, but this is the first time he's dared to make her his cuddle buddy in her bed.

He's going to make everything smell weird, like smoke.

It isn't awful, but it's not entirely pleasant either.

If it were anyone else, save for a few she could name on one hand, they'd find themselves on the floor, sucked dry, for daring to enter her space. She's like a black widow sitting in the middle of her web. Diva wasn't expecting prey to make its way to her tonight and yet here she is, finding arms sliding around her.]</sub>

...Shinsuke you smell like smoke.

<sub>[Solomon's scolded him before about it, but it isn't as if he changes or seems to care. Whatever weird friendship they have between each other it's none of Diva's business.

Even though sometimes she's curious.]</sub>

Are you feeling well?

[semblant]

[Simulations are typically not his favorite thing to indulge in; they've not meant anything to him in the first place until arriving here, but a feigned situation -- it isn't any better than allowing oneself to be overcome by poppies. There's more control involved, obviously -- the whole point is to take control of the reproduction...something like that. He's more or less giving it a try to clarify that these things don't suit him, that he has to venture out to vent such things. Be it a swamp among centipedes or a friendly spar...

The simulation mixes past with present; old memories do nothing to affect his senses. He doesn't mourn the losses of over a hundred years ago. He will intervene in a halfhearted method, only at times to defend himself. Never to save a would-be comrade.

When it ends, he comes out of it and uh....he's left waiting for an extended period of time. The whole thing's gone dark and the clarity of day (or at least, the room) should come to. It does not, and he's left shrouded in darkness -- testing, rubbing his eyes. He's absolutely awake, nothing even slightly covering his face...

Still, he won't panic. It doesn't suit him. There must be a glitch, something's affecting visual information from reaching him. He'll shake his head once, twice...a small (annoying, stalkerish) AI beeps to life at his side.]

𝙷𝚒! 𝙸'𝚖 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚢! [Solomon's alread aware.] 𝙸𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎! 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗:

• 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏.
• 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.
• 𝙴𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

[Why can he hear the bullet points out loud? This is the worst, the paperclip guy is the worst.]

I'd like for you to refrain from further intervention.

[Solomon's stubborn, as is his AI-friend. He'll be making his way from the simulation room, arms extended, honing in on his other developed senses to prevent himself from making a complete ass of himself as he's tailed by a paperclip that's currently letting him know that that isn't an option, repeating the ones that are.

He does consider having it contact Diva, but she...she would be of no help. If anything she'd start making a huge fuss, nothing conductive to anything helpful. She's likely still in mourning anyway, he'd rather not intervene. Clippy reads him his options about six more times (even as they've left the simulation; he thinks about choosing that just to make him shut up, but he's not willing to sacrifice another sense.]

Contact Takasugi Shinsuke, if you'd like.

[Maybe he'll take this opportunity to end him -- likely not, as he's one to prefer fairer fights, but he can dream.]

Let him know to meet me in my quarters -- at my house.

[Chyeah right, the paperclip's just gonna send out a distress beacon reading his current coordinates.]

𝙼𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝! 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑?

No, thank you.

[Not entirely truthful; he could request the directions back to his house like a GPS system, but he doesn't...want to...plus, Takasugi probably won't be rushing to see him there.]

[shikomizue]

[All through the evening, Takasugi's communicator has been inundated with distress signals. There's no muting it, only willful ignoring of the blips that ring an obnoxious tone in his head every thirty fucking seconds.

Last time he'd shown up to actually address an issue, he'd left a door in shreds. That'll keep it from locking shut, right? Right.

Since then, Yppilc has been mostly silent. Intimidated into submission? Takasugi likes to think so, but it's probably just a glitch.

Interrupted by yet another plea for help - one he's intent on ignoring.

Until he realizes who it's from.

There's no way Solomon would cry out for him in a desperate moment - he can't even imagine the man feeling urgently about anything except perhaps some overstepped line of decorum.

Did someone spill their wine?

Takasugi doesn't rush, but he takes a direct path to the coordinates indicated. Reaching Solomon with his hands outstretched, he can't help but feel a sense of familiarity in the way the man's walking.

He's done that awkward shamble before - though only alone.]

Did you get lost?

[He won't assume such a severe disability without a little more investigation - but the memory of bumping into quite a few tables is fresh in his mind.]

. iskandar

[shikomizue]

[The locale isn't anything particularly ornate. Decor that's decidedly dated makes a small space appear smaller, intimacy clearly the focus of the venue. A bar without seats, and tables low to the ground surrounded by pillows, every inch of the establishment is somehow built into a nook.

Which means the massive man may look a little bit awkward, navigating through the narrow spaces between tables and the low wooden ceiling. But Takasugi intends on settling in for a long night - they both wear enough scars to tell stories through until dawn.

He's sprawled comfortably at a table by himself, a few bottles of liquor condensing, already purchased. One is opened, two glasses poured, and Takasugi's already half empty. Pipe lit, he doesn't particularly look like he's expecting company, but when Iskandar enters the din of the parlor quells.

A hand raised casually beckons the man over.] Yo.

Get comfortable.

[conqueredhearts]

[It's terribly easy to spot Iskandar in a crowd. Not only does he tower over basically everyone but he also has a shock of bright red hair along with a booming voice for when he laughs as he passes by people.

When he sees who he's come to meet, he waves before coming in. It means a lot of ducking and scooting but soon he's flopped himself down and already helps himself to the glass of alcohol. In the span of a few seconds he has it completely drained and is already filling up to have some more.]

Ahhhh. That's delicious. I appreciate a man who offers alcohol to me.

[Which should shock...no one. So yeah, he's definitely making himself at home here. Honestly he looks as if he belongs there with how settled he is, even despite the fact that the place is clearly too small for the likes of him.]

. solomon

[shikomizue]

[Drifting through the door of Solomon's abode in the middle of the night isn't a new habit. Takasugi has stumbled over the threshold dozens of time, wandering his way through the dark living room to fall on the couch. Asleep instantly, or left to sink into his inebriated thoughts while the dim light of the room swirls in his unfocused eye.

Tonight is markedly different in that he's sober when he opens the door, silent as he shuts it behind him (something he doesn't always remember to do). His hand aches, deep red, raised sores flecked over his knuckles and wrist.

It's been weeks since the injuries occurred, but when rot is built into the initial wound, there's no chance of fast recovery. Likely, every damn laceration is infected. He's running a low fever, though in the chill of Olympia's autumn night, he hardly minds.

Like a terrible boogeyman, marred face wrapped in bandages more than usual - the white discolored by puss and other gross stuff - Takasugi ascends the stairs. Slowly, because he's probably got some other injuries but the thread hasn't gotten that far so don't worry about it.

He passes into Solomon's room, not subtle, but not disruptive. Rousing the man is his intent, when that happens doesn't matter to him. If the lush is deep enough in sleep to not be disturbed by Takasugi's entry, he'll loom over the bed, one knee pressed into the mattress.

The thought to press a disgusting kiss (his lips aren't any better off than the rest of his face) to the serene forehead passes through his mind, but he forgoes it to simply stroke the hair around his ear.

Gentle, absolutely dissonant with the impatience in his voice.] Get up.

We're leaving.

[semblant]

[Solomon's gonna be knocked the fuck out because the Takasugi's being cute after initial entry thanks. He does stir at the added weight on the mattress and proceeds to wake with a start because holy fuck. It's got very little to do with his marred features, more to do with the sudden company.]

Shinsuke-!

[His touches are gentle enough that he wasn't prompted to train a blade to his throat or anything. Deceptively gentle. It's something he's not acclimated to, hence the twitchy awakening. An arm lifts, fingers traveling the length of his jaw. It's covered -- his face is largely wrapped by comparison to his normal makeshift eyepatch. His opposite arm's used for leverage, propping himself up.]

What's the matter?

[He can't smell smoke, no sign of hysteria beyond the cabin walls. No signs of urgency anywhere but in his company.

And even then, it's only in word-form.]

. gintoki

[shikomizue]

[When a certain white haired demon catches his eye, Takasugi's breath catches in his throat. As if he's excited to see him - and maybe there's some semblance of truth to that. He'd draw his sword, dive straight towards the asshole and disrupt whatever facsimile of a peaceful night he's drinking himself into, but his body isn't his own.

It's beyond frustrating.

Fluttering heart quickly overtaken by an attempt to tear himself apart, Takasugi's left with nothing but a hollow loss. Not even the most visceral of revulsions - not that he's approaching Gintoki, but that it's not him doing it - can disconnect him from the specter dwelling in his skin.

Ghosts have whispered to him many times, cried out for blood - pleas he couldn't help but indulge.

This isn't a favor to angry spirits, it's a battle with a demon that isn't his own.

Takasugi's hands slip gingerly around Gintoki's waist, his head settling into the crook of the man's neck. No words, only a soft hum as he nuzzles the frazzled hair against his cheek in greetings. Seems the haunt can't speak-

But it can offer a hug, thumb traveling into yukata to caress the man's abdomen gently.


Fucking disgusting.



Kill him.]

[yorozuya]

[The albino tips his cup to pass more alcohol beyond his lips. He's found a bench at an incline, with the perfect view of one of the lit streets of the Red Light District. Red eyes gaze upon the scene beyond as people wander through the warmly lit street below. Music and jovial howls ghost upward, drifting past. The smell of perfume rises in wafting air, the scent more noticeable at times before dying back down - dissipating into the night sky.

He'd almost wished he'd smoked at a time like this.

His ears prick as he hears the crunch of someone approaching him. His eyes tear from the spirits below only to find a specter closing in. He reaches for his bokken in habit, ready to combat whatever "greeting" the other prepared for him this time - even if there is some semblance of relief sprouting in his chest.

Gintoki doesn't have the time to register any of it though, instead being hit with confusion as Takasugi manages a gentle touch and dares to pull him into an embrace. The albino's eyes widen, as if presented with arithmetic that his very life depended on. His mouth opens just as a hand slips into his yukata-

The words die in his throat, but he does manage to put a firm hand against the other's chest - pushing them apart to given the other an accusatory look.]

The hell happened to you around here, huh? [He sneers, quickly demanding answers to help quell the violent confusion that churns within.]