ʀᴏʜᴀɴ ᴋɪsʜɪʙᴇ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
manuscripture) wrote2016-03-28 09:24 am
manuscripture) wrote2016-03-28 09:24 am
Entry tags:
IC INBOX / BUSINESS CARD ( ARCHIVE AS OF 12/13 )
DO NOT REPLY TO THIS POST WITH NEW THREADS. TO START A NEW THREAD, REPLY TO THE NEWEST ONE HERE!!!!
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ROHAN KISHIBE. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 512.66.730.91 *** USER has joined 512.66.730.91 <AUTOMATED REPLY, DO NOT RETURN:> You have reached the inbox of Rohan Kishibe. I am currently away and unable to answer messages. Leave a BRIEF message with a subject line below. Messages will be replied to in order of importance and subject matter. Advertisements and junk mail will be ignored and blocked from this server. | ||||
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! ))
< mozart > ;; backdated a little because I'm bad at calendars (and also keyboards)
olesia pls
tarma please i was on mobile and google updated the keyboard and nothing's in the right place cries
LIKELY STORY...
SOBS A LOT
kinkshames aggressively
oh no not my kinks
i love how he's like aggressively interrogating her calm down rohan
srs dude she doesn't want your scales or anything please chill
dont tell this man u turn into crystal he's gonna want some
well too bad, he's not allowed this perfect cleavage
good thing he's not interested in cleavage of most varieties
eyy
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post-mitsuhide but before july 12 so i guess 7/11 ish?
Good grief, investing in a castle suddenly doesn't sound like so stupid of an idea.
It's time to go hassle Rohan, though, and see what's up. That means knocking lightly on his door, and trying to avoid the sunlight where it may be creeping through the windowpanes, since it's daytime and the last thing he needs right now is to start freezing up and interrupting his attempt.]
Rohan?
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<anotherface> | text
Ah. And sorry-sorry. I told Jotaro to tell you sorry, but I'm sorry, too. I bothered him a lot with some text. A LOT. I didn't realize I wrote so much. Hahahahahaha!!
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Action; backdated to late afternoon of the 1st
It doesn't take him very long to reach the place at least, even shuffling at a slower than usual pace. He'd been doing a good job of keeping his usual smirk in tact and looking like he's got everything together, but the truth of the matter is that he's dying inside. He's trying very hard not to panic and just leave, because what do you do when someone has not only offered you a job, but one that seems to be so...important?
He wants to feel important. He really does. But he wants to feel like he's a failure for trying far less.
Before he can talk himself out of it, Karamatsu slowly steps into the store with his shades hiding the nervous flick of his eyes and his hands buried in his pockets so his claws won't click together and give his shaking hands away. Of course, that doesn't hide the way the blue and black fur framing his neck trembles, nor does it stop his antennae from twitching at the ends beyond his control, almost imperceptibly.
He doesn't seem to notice, though.
There's no mistaking where he is, not when he's walked right into the part of the store that has that very art gallery that Rohan had been telling him about. Instead of venturing further, though, he decides to try calling out from where he is. He deliberately came later in the evening so maybe it's close to closing and there won't be that many people here...]
Hello? I...I am Matsuno Karamatsu. I am here to...talk about a possible job, here...?
[What is the protocol for this, he doesn't even know. Rohan might not even be here as far as he knows.]
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1/2 already im sorry
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Sometime prior to the August Fog;
Fortunately, he'd already worked things out with Vietnam a bit back before she'd unfortunately disappeared, and as loath as he is to remind Rohan of her again, the silver lining is that there are probably some things already made for him lying around Ebony Threads somewhere, so maybe he can just kind of swoop over and forage around a bit until he finds them.
There are two problems with this. One is that he has to wait for a night when Rohan's working particularly late, since he's usually back at the apartment before or very soon after sundown and that's always a Problem for a gargoyle. The other is that having clothing malfunctions means not necessarily having clothes that fit well that he can wear for the duration, so for once he's actually missing his gakuran and just wearing a tank top with the upper part of the back ripped out, which also coincidentally means that even though the sun's not out, the guns sure are.
Eventually, though, the stars align, and he heads over to the shop as soon as it's dark enough for him to do so, landing smoothly outside the door and peering in through the glass while he waits for Rohan to notice him.]
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<purplerain>
tell me it's you and you're just making a very tasteless joke
please
< snakepunhere > AWWWWWWWW HERE IT GOES
<purplerain>
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josuke just said he was right about something sound the alarm
history has been made
CHOO CHOO ANGST TRAIN
Deep down, he's known all along that this day would come. He's been having twinges of hunger for months now, and for the past several weeks it's been growing increasingly more difficult to ignore. Where once it had been simple nagging, idle dissatisfaction with the other meals that only mostly succeeded at filling him up, now all of a sudden it had escalated into something more insistent and impossible to set aside entirely. At dusk he wakes up hungry, and spends the whole night with his thoughts repeatedly invaded with intruding urges to hunt for prey. At dawn he lets the sunlight hit him, because at least it's a guarantee that he'll have a respite from having to hold himself off until sundown.
He steals drinks of Rohan's smoothies to stave off the edges. He tries not to let himself think about the man he carried up the apartment stairs on Rohan's behalf, how his organs had turned to mush inside his skin before it started to sluice off his bones.
It's worrying about Rohan and Josuke that does him in. Too much worrying, too much possessiveness, too much gargoyle. Rohan and Josuke are his, his his his. It makes it too easy for instinct to take over, and the primary instinct right now is to feed.
He knows what he's doing even as he launches himself into the sky and feigns denial. He's only flying, he tells himself, like he doesn't already know what he's looking for or how his stomach feels like it's growling so insistently that he's going to be sick. Maybe he's going to be sick for other reasons, he doesn't know, but he's hungry, and the gargoyle is unnerving him the way that Star Platinum used to when he was still just an evil spirit that Jotaro didn't understand, fighting on his behalf in battles he'd never asked for assistence in.
At least Star had only ever put people in the hospital. The gargoyle is going to put someone in the morgue.
It's the middle of the night. There's no chance the sun will rise and prevent him, but still he wishes for it anyway. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want to be a monster, but he isn't going back home even though he knows that he should. He's so hungry and soon the lights of Bavan at night are below him and his too-keen eyes are searching the streets, hunting hunting hunting.
His tongue feels thick in his mouth, and he realizes it's because his mouth is watering.
Please, he thinks desperately, and has no idea who he's addressing it to. Please, at least let it be someone who deserves it.
He stays in the air, hovering around bars and erotic theaters and speakeasies, hoping for a respite. Something, anything — some sleazy guy, a group of punks hassling a girl. Anything, anything. His ability to hold out on principle isn't going to last for long.
In the end, it's a laughably stupid offense that earns a man his death. A single, middle-aged guy in a tiny suburban home. It has a yard. He has a dog. He's outside on the back step in an undershirt and sweatpants, yelling into the night. There's a beer in his hand and dirty brown shoes on his feet. The dog is afraid of him; it's hunkered down and bristling, huddled a few feet away and refusing to obey its master's commands to come inside.
Mistreating a dog shouldn't carry a death sentence. But tonight, it does.
By the time he's done, he's covered in blood. It's on his mouth, his face, his hands. It feels like it might be in his eyes, until he realizes that they're damp from something else. There are bits of flesh sticking under the claws on his fingers and his talons. The backyard reeks of death, and all of his scales up to his elbows are tacky and stained under the moonlight.
For a while, then, he just sits there, crouched on a dead man's back stoop with meat in his mouth and fullness in his belly, breathing. In and out, in and out; his mind seems so uncharacteristically blank, in comparison to the hurricane it had been just hours before. He doesn't want to think of anything. He certainly doesn't want to think about what he's done. Even moreso than that, he doesn't want to think about this makes him, now.
The first real thought he has, then,is: what's going to happen to the dog?
Two hours later, he's home. Back to the castle, back in through the window to the room he's claimed as his own, where he shuts the door to seal it off and deposits the dog and its food and its toys on the floor, and then exits through the window again. At first he thinks he's going to sit on the roof and wait until dawn, the same way that he's grown accustomed to doing lately.
He's up there for five minutes before he realizes that he hasn't washed the blood off his face, and that he really doesn't want to be alone. In a way, it doesn't really feel like he deserves to do either.
He goes to find Rohan anyway.]
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<osopine> the 1st!
please dont treat my brother shittily because of it okay this is his first job
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<purplerain>
yes/no
< snakepunhere > WE CAN JUST THREAD IT HERE SINCE WE'RE BEING DIRECT
THUMBS UP
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action because we're too lazy for fucking log posts
Already, a smashing good start.
She enters an unoccupied storefront, which is continues the trend. The door falls shut behind her as her wings tuck in tight along her back. The box she carries — wider than it is tall, a pristine white tied with a cyan ribbon — is braced against her hip in getting her through the door, and at this first opportunity she leaves it on the front desk.
With that safe out of her hands, she takes a moment to look around at the displays, the decor. Aside from the sound of the door for her entrance, she's silent, still wondering if this is a good idea at all. In fairness, their other meetings may not have been made sour by the parasite that had poisoned so many of her thoughts, but they were assuredly more contentious than strictly deserved.
(Except the curtains. Those deserved it.)
But really, she wouldn't know unless she saw that man again — if he were even here. ]
will we ever change
why the fuck would we change
i will drink to that
spikes some frappuccinos tbh
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<coolguy02> Sept 23, prior to his post to the forums
I am formally writing you to explain that Lorna and I were kidnapped and replaced by impostors for the duration of last week.
I can only speak on my behalf, but I apologize for anything out of line I may have said or done while my impersonator was working for you during this time. It was not me.
They skinned our faces and used them to impersonate us, similar to that radio host. We just recently managed to break free from our prison and escape.
I am not sure when I will be fit to return to work. Perhaps within the next few weeks, but as of right now my face is severely injured. I leave that up to your discretion; I will return whenever I am needed, and by month's end at minimum.
I again apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.
Matsuno Karamatsu
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leaves this here in case you need some lighthearted shenanigans
i think you are because it's the middle of the day but it's not like i can check obviously considering
i woke up which is probably obvious because i'm texting you
this is jotaro
oh alex <3
<3
that's so much paper
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[ Starting with a disclaimer, but that does sound like he's going to voice his thoughts. ]
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< nevercrywolf >
it's about fashion
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on november 3rd!
Everybody is already suffering from his curse!! Send this to ten people to break the curse, or to avoid getting cursed, or you'll be stuck looking freakier than usual for the rest of your life!!!!!!!!!!
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<purplerain>
[TACTFUL AS FUCK]
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so uh
i guess if you hear somebody shredding from halfway across the castle that's just me
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< anotherface >
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< IBUKISAYS >
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we can swing this right into an action thread here if u want!
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1/2
2/2
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