IC INBOX / BUSINESS CARD ( ARCHIVE AS OF 12/13 )

[manuscripture]

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[ Somewhere around town-- at the bookstore, the Tomoe-Kaname Bakery, attached to posts and notice boards --you find a small white notecard. On it is printed a little message and some numbers in ornate lettering. If you look closely, it reads the following: ]

Rohan Kishibe, Mangaka & Visual Artist
Owner Pro Tempore of Ebony Threads Tailor Shop
Highly Experienced.
Commissions & Advertising For Hire
Pay Negotiable.
Contact At: 512.66.730.91 for inquiries
Castle Lüvchaque - Directly North of Bavan per appointment ONLY.

(( feel free to use this as an action-based prompt too. any random interactions will MOST LIKELY take place in the form of walk-ins at the tailor shop unless it's pre-planned. just drop a starter in here! ))

Comments

[manuscripture]

Strange. Do you remember anything about it? As in what happened before you become petrified?

[operadiance]

Usually I'm on the roof of my building. I can watch the sunrise up until the sun rises.

When I'm myself again, it's sunset.

HE HAS MANY QUESTIONS

[manuscripture]

How do you get anything done like that? Or are all of your errands done at nighttime?

SO MANY

[operadiance]

In winter, when nights are longer, it's a lot easier to get everything done normally.

During the spring and summer, I'm usually really tired during the daytime anyway. If I have to, I can cover myself with clothes that block out the light and go out like that, but it has to be worth the effort. If it's something that has to be done during the day that I can't do, I make one of the guys I live with do it for me.

[manuscripture]

They wait on you? Interesting.

I have decided that I would like to meet you. You sound mildly worth the effort. I appreciate things which claim to be beautiful and unique. I will only know for sure if I see it myself.

[operadiance]

[ They know better than to not.

And while his tone leaves something to be desired, it's better to chastise a guy like that in person. ]

When and where should I meet you?

[manuscripture]

You may come visit my apartment whenever you please. I have Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays off from work. I live near Pandemonium at [ BAVAN ADDRESS HERE ] with my roommate.

He stays relatively out of the way when I am working, so pick a day and a time. Nighttime does work for me.

[operadiance]

The sooner the better, since I don't know how long the "before" stage is going to last. How does Wednesday night sound to you?

[manuscripture]

Wednesday night is fine. I will pencil you in.

If someone who is not a snake answers, tell him you are looking for me. I am probably napping.

SHOULD WE JUST ACTION THIS SHIT HERE or u wanna log or what

[operadiance]

Thank you. I'll see you then, Mister Kishibe.

knock knock we action now

[manuscripture]

[ Wednesday comes and goes and with the nightfall comes the impending company he is expecting. Rohan has shooed Jotaro away for the time being under the pretense that he has work he needs to do without any interruptions. It's true and if there is going to be a gargoyle in the house again, he has to assume that he needs more space than usual. Thirty feet of snake, a man the size of a small bus, and a gargoyle woman in one apartment sounds like a tight squeeze and the beginning of a bad joke.

Cleaning here pretty much consists of making sure there are no stray scales lying around and that his glasses of ~Mystery Liquid~ are not strewn about the front room. Works both complete and incomplete are placed to the side and a fresh canvas and all the fixings are set up beside his favorite window. It's just the wait now.

At some point, Rohan yawns behind a scaly hand and goes to peek out the door. ]

She had better not be late...

[operadiance]

[ Wednesday sunlight fades into shadow, and Yuzu rises in its absence. She double-checks the date, gets herself cleaned up and checks her appearance for any new changes, double-checks the address, and makes her way over. She'd scoped the general area in nights previous, so she could at least head the proper direction. Better vision in the increasing gloom gets her over the correct streets, and eventually she descends to the sidewalk in front of the proper building.

She's not expecting that he'll be waiting for her on the roof. That's more of a second or third meeting kind of thing.

Checking the address on her scrap of paper one last time against the building she's found, Yuzu takes a breath, settles her wings and her nerves, and raps her scaled knuckles against the door.

Knock knock. It's religion. ]

[manuscripture]

[ When she knocks on the door, he is already clear across the room poised to complain about it to his gallery of silent monsters. He is the kind of person who likes things met to the second-- though they never specified a time. 'Wednesday night' was a pretty open window. Whoopsie.

Rohan gathers himself up and heads right on back to the door he had just closed. If he was letting in someone who had the intention of killing and eating him? Well, he was pretty boned. What he is greeted with when he opens the door is--... She's definitely something. ]

Yuzu Hiiragi, I presume? [ He asks of her with a flat affect and a cant of his head. The silly little dangly pen nib earrings shift with a left tilt of his head. ] Come.

[ He holds the door open for her in a strangely polite gesture that is sure to not last very long. She has about three seconds to get through before he closes it in her face. The front room is clear enough but smells heavily of paint, ink, and something sweet that isn't necessarily a pleasant sweet. The window is open but artists are going to smell like artists and that will never ever come out of the walls or the couch. Leaning up against the walls all around are a variety of canvases. Some are covered in black sheets, others are left open for her to look at as she passes through. Yuzu will see many pictures: A large, proud lion manticore on one, a flowy gray and white mermaid on another. One more boasts a gargoyle leaping from one canvas to a second one, colors changing from black to brilliant purple-toned pearl. A sorts of monsters. Maybe she will recognize one or two? Who knows!

A desk nearest to the hallway has stacks upon stacks of papers and way too many pens and inkwells littering it. He's a busy guy and it shows. Rohan remains aloof as ever as he shuts the door. ]

Rohan Kishibe. Thank you for showing up.

Do I need to feed you?

[operadiance]

[ Though she was expecting a Naga, the overall presentation of this guy is really nothing like Yuya, all bright candy-colors and cartoon-like friendliness. This Kishibe with his newspaper, zebra-print, prison-jumpsuit monochrome scales strikes a very different mood, and she finds herself a little ill-at-ease. Still, she nods at the sound of her name and enters when invited, curled tail swaying narrowly out of being slammed into the door frame. Touchy...

Still, living with a Naga for as long as she has keeps her stride through the room without hazard; she's able to focus on the arrangement and the other paintings rather than overthink how much floor space his tail will need. She recognizes the types of monsters, if not the specific people, but more impressive is the way they look on the canvas; there's a great deal more vibrancy and life to them, compared to the way this guy spoke online. Her attention's a little divided when he asks, so her answer— ]

No, I'm still fasting.

[ —is a little unusual. But then, she clearly isn't the usual type of gargoyle, either. Aside from her scaling, red and black in varying tones, almost gravel-like over her limbs and shoulders, the most "lizard" parts of her appearance are her feet and her eyes. That's all. Her tail belongs on sheet music, and her wings in the orchestra. Her scales don't even cover her completely — toes to thighs in solid coverage on her legs, but in spirals up her arms to connect her covered hands and covered shoulders. Her back—mostly exposed by her dress for the sake of her wings—is balanced between flesh and scale. Still, despite her height, she's clearly quite young in the face. ]

How long have you been painting?

[manuscripture]

[ The secret to keeping tail space and the like maximized? Careful, careful luck. Snakebutt causes problems on a daily basis. It's never pretty. Speaking of the ever-troublesome Snakebutt, Rohan has noticed the amount of heat the girl gives off. He staves away from coiling up the way he does with Jotaro. There is a chance that she won't be so okay with him curling his tail around her legs.

That might come off as a little overzealous upon meeting one. It's already warm enough from how he slams all the doors shut to keep the extraneous heat in. Even in warm weather, he is always cold.

Rohan had been skeptical of her self-description through his network. However, she has delivered. She does not look at all like he imagined. Her "theme" is right out in the open, and he hadn't thought designs could get so specific. He makes no direct comment about how exquisitely put-together he is, slithering instead over to his canvas and picking up his pencil before anything else to begin jotting down what he sees. She isn't even asked to pose. She can move freely about the room.

Where does he start?? Those harp-shaped wings? The swirling pattern of her scales? The Kaleidoscope eyes? ]

I have been doing art for most of my life. I am a manga artist by profession, having been published when I was sixteen. I have been dabbling in every medium for most of my life. Painting is not my preferred form but I have a knack for it. It seems to be what people in Ryslig enjoy looking at the most.

What do you think of them?

[ Don't mind him, he's already picking and choosing what he wants emblazoned across his new portrait. ]

[operadiance]

They're amazing.

[ There's a touch of awe to her voice, as she leans a little to look at them more closely without standing to close to them. She's not really sure what type of paint it is, but the last thing she wants is to get too close and accidentally melt the pigment from the canvas or catch the material on fire from proximity.

Those strange extra limbs shift position to keep her balance — even when her wings shift to come in closer, or to curve, they still keep that harp-like look. There is damage, though: black scarring around the root of one wing, where it connects to her back. ]

You said you were published at sixteen? [ Called back, distracted, still looking over the other paintings. ] That's incredible. You must have worked very hard for it...

[manuscripture]

[ All the little details are going to be there. If he can see the scarring, he will have it on paper or committed to memory should he choose to draw her again. Which he might considering what he is seeing. ]

The talent came naturally. I was not a busy child and I stuck to one hobby. My art is all I have and I all I care about in the entire world... [ His tone is focused, concentrated on flipping his gaze up from the little sketch and back to her. His logic is pretty sad if you read between the lines. The only thing he cares about. ]

Pink Dark Boy has been circulating in JUMP ever since I submitted it. [ He is very proud of it. His tail shifts in one sweep across the floor, beginning to coil himself up as if to "sit" atop his own body. ]

How long have you been here in Ryslig?

[operadiance]

[ She's slowly moving from one painting to the next, keeping a cautious distance from each — curiosity has her distracted enough that the fact she's meant to be the subject of one of these has slipped her mind for the moment. The detail in each is really exquisite — the time he's spent on his craft really shows.

She doesn't recognize the name of the work, but she knows the magazine; at least that much seems to carry between dimensions, somehow. (At least, she doesn't think he's from hers, but it's not like she knows everyone in Maiami City — how could she know every person in the entire country?)

At the question to herself, she finally stands upright, turning to finally speak to her host. ]

A little over a year, now. I got here last April.

[manuscripture]

[ The advantage is that he is making no attempt to make her stand still, leaving her free to move about the room all she wants. He would rather see her move than have her sit still for the next hour. She will continue to find bits and piece of work. If she heads over to the desk, she will find the comic book he has been toiling over, piece by agonizing piece. ]

You may be the one I have met who has been here the longest. [ There are a handful of others he can't remember because he does not care much for them. They didn't make a splash, so he cast them aside. Yuzu looks promising. A grand sweep of his hand makes the arc forming one wing-- he's got it now. The skeleton of what he wants.

One question is hot on his tongue-- ]

Are you a musician? [ It comes out of nowhere. ]

You have a theme. Don't you? Whatever made you this way had something in mind. It had a plan.

[operadiance]

[ She hesitates at the question. She knows how to play, taught in school clubs; she plays now, something to occupy her time when her head's too cluttered with thoughts she can't sort out — she could say yes. It is an answer, but it's not the right one. ]

... Sort of? It's not quite that, but you're pretty close.

[ She ambles a little closer to the desk, but arcing away — without giving it much thought, she tries to maintain some distance between them. ]

I'm a duelist. Where I come from, Duel Monsters is a really popular game -- duelists are the players. Each player has their own deck of cards, and each card represents a monster, or a spell, or something like that. You and your opponent use your cards in a 'duel' and battle until one of you's the victor. The decks have themes.

[ She turns to face him directly, wings splaying a little for display, and she stands in clear show; the firm posturing betrays the performative nature of the game. ]

My 'monsters' look a lot like this. For the most part! [ She scrunches her hands in the air, drawing attention to her trimmed claws. ] They're a lot less scary!

[manuscripture]

[ That sure does sound pretty grade school. Card games. Gimmicky card games. He would roll his eyes but refrains. ]

So you... Look like these monsters from your card game. [ That makes him pause. He furrows his brow with an incredulous pursing of his lips. He was right about the theme business. Hers just seemed way more simple than Schoolyard Monster Card Game. ]

I would have thought that you were in an orchestra. [ A beat. ] Disappointing. [ Rohan scoffs and gives his cute little crate of paint bottles proclaiming DO NOT TOUCH a passing glance. Does he even have a pink that will work for her? He has to get ~Creative~, doesn't he...

Her color scheme gives him a ton of artistic liberties. He has that on his side. ]

Did you come here by yourself? My roommate and I washed up at the same time. Just... He is roughly thirteen years behind where I know him from.

[operadiance]

Maybe someday. [ She shrugs — wings following the motion of her shoulders — before they drop, forcing herself to relax. She caught that barb, and her voice is made a little tighter for it, but she knows she can't expect him to understand. ] But I think I'd like conducting better.

[ Easier to boss people around and hit them when they mess up. These are solid priorities. ]

Behind...? [ That's a weird way to put it — but she throws off the semantic confusion with a shake of her head, frowning a little for thought. ] No, I 'washed up' at the same time as one of my friends. It was... hmm. As bad as this place is, it was kind of a relief to see him. The way things were going, we didn't know what was going to happen to me, so...

[ She looks away. ] It's easier when you're not alone.

[manuscripture]

[ He motions with his hand to the couch-- once ornate and old-chic, but now having clearly gone through some redesigning with patchwork snakeskin upholstering. Yeah. That happened. ]

Sit if you want. Don't knock anything over. [ It is said in passing. She can't just trot around forever... As long as she knows what to do with her wings. He leans right off of the lump of his coils to begin sorting through his box. ] Jotaro is far younger than the age he is when I am home. Our mutual acquaintance [ Josuke, that is. ] Is from a short while before when I was taken.

It's a timeloop. Something you see in science-fiction stories. All of us from a different point in time. [ His eyes shift to spot her looking away. ] I would differ if that hadn't been the case for myself. I could have gotten along fine without Jotaro.

[ Ehhhh... ] I just knew better than to squander an advantage. It did work out in the end.

Have you ever wondered why you were chosen?

[operadiance]

[ She's had them for half a year, she should know what to do with them — and it is a little relieving to get a little further away from that guy. He hasn't done anything, not really, but there's something about him that leaves her feeling a little ill at ease. She's still willing to sit for these portraits (thought to herself as she sits, settling on the couch, tail sweeping in front of her scaled legs and her wings angling properly), still willing to talk, but still, there's something...

And with the story he tells... Yuzu's not sure how much stock to put into it. Her and her comrades from those connected universe, their memories all stop at different places at times, but then they remember... and knowing the Fog God will steal their memories as she pleases, amnesia is a lot easier to buy than time loops.

But then again, thirteen years...

Lost easily in thought, the direct question pulls her back out again. ]

Chosen? [ A beat, too long. ] Oh, you mean, why was I brought here? [ As opposed to— ] I guess... at first I thought I just ended up in the wrong place.

[manuscripture]

[ He still doesn't understand it himself. With Josuke having brought up that he was not aware of some very important, very key events they had all be a part of.

It didn't add up. It doesn't even now. They seem to have set that aside after a short briefing. Not much more needed to be said about the Reimi thing or the Yoshikage thing. Still, Jotaro's situation is particularly unique. ]

Don't you find it a little bizarre? I have met people from hundred of years ago who are here, fresh-faced as if they were no older than myself. [ He plucks up a bottle of vibrant, doctored candy red and holds it up in the light, peering up through it from the bottom. ] What did we do that made us prime candidates? Are we special? [ There is a twinge in his voice that may be unsettling. He is focused and falling into what might be a smooth trance. It's melodic. ]

There may be no pattern or reason at all. Why we are here, which creature we end up becoming, why we look the way we do... Or who moves the pieces on the board. [ He lets the bottle slip from his fingers, dropping it into his other hand with a thump against his scaly palm. ] It's very beautiful if you look beyond the surface.

Like a fairytale. Just one that we have to live drenched in the macabre sea of what is real. [ He holds the bottle up at eye-level, comparing the color and her hair. ] We just can't turn the page and make it end.