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Entry tags:
- ! mod event,
- arknights: shalem,
- bleach: grimmjow jaegerjaquez,
- bleach: jugram haschwalth,
- danganronpa: fukawa toko,
- encanto: bruno madrigal,
- ennead: set,
- fe3h: claude von riegan,
- fe3h: felix hugo fraldarius,
- ffvii: vincent valentine,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: the traveler (lumine),
- hades: zagreus,
- htwmho: rudbeckia de borgia,
- jjk: fushiguro megumi,
- jjk: itadori yuuji,
- naruto: uchiha sasuke,
- orv: han sooyoung,
- orv: jung heewon,
- shadow and bone: the darkling,
- stranger things: steve harrington,
- the last of us: joel miller,
- vld: keith
(no subject)
I. PUSHING UP DAISIES
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
III. TO THE RESCUE
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
III. TO THE RESCUE
As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!
ooc note
► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!
a.
but, it seemed like some sort of compliment?
he's about to open his mouth to speak, but instead??? she takes it back?? there's a second too long before he responds in tune. ] I hope you are aware that deception to royalty is normally a crime punishable by death.
[ naturally, he isn't serious. he wasn't that dissatisfied with her words if just because... he doesn't actually believe them. ]
no subject
[She turns in full this time, actually taking in her uninvited book buddy. Who, as fate would have it, is actually really, really, ridiculously good-looking? There is a dawning horror on Fukawa's face.]
R-r-r-royalty? [What, like, here? Is this one of the Hierarchy? Oh please no!] No! No! Forget it! F-Forget I said anything! Forget you saw me! I'll never speak again!
no subject
Hm…. [ he knows his title didn’t mean much in a place where his entire empire didn’t even exist or couldn’t even be perceived as it was, but he’s rolling with his words despite everything. ] That might be kind of hard. After all, my lady, my feelings were deeply hurt. [ they weren’t, but that’s not going to stop him from potentially milking this… ]
no subject
[SCREAMING INSIDE how do you appease royalty? She should have a handle on this, considering how often Byakuya-sama is cross with her.]
Did...d-did you want me to make it up to you? [Her hands together clasp desperately. Mighty king, hear her plea.] I can! I swear! I'll c-clean your bathroom! I'll give you my hair!
[Wait no! No!]
no subject
hence— ] Well, I admit, I am questioning your sincerity. You claim that "I look amazing" and yet I have only been met with harsh criticism. So it only makes sense that you should be expected to make it up to me as a test of good faith. [ insert frog emoji...
but, hm....
one of those things aren't like the others. ] Is that all?
i'm very sorry bijou she is a gross girl
B-but—t-t-test?
[This is so unfair. What does he want? What could he want? She doesn't have money (she's still judgmental of anyone using the soul-forged coins, filthy practice that is), and she's got nothing else on her to offer. And she's just a useless, filthy, homely twig of a girl, not even fit to scrub shit out of bathroom grout. What more could she put up for grabs?]
I'LL BE YOUR SERVANT!
[There is a deathly silence that follows. In it, Fukawa realizes the extremely dangerous terms she's setting for herself.]
F-for a week!
[Much better.
The mania dials down, along with the volume. She presses her fingers together as she locks her eyes to the pavement.]
Wh-whatever you wish, I'll obey your command...even if it c-compromises me...
[As said before, he is in fact very handsome, so. Um. Not ideal! But, not something she'd totally oppose.]
i'm crying... i love it...
...
so this is how it feels when something clearly spirals beyond your control. it's a sensation he admittedly hasn't felt too often in his life. not that it's all too negative an emotion. but, callisto definitely does stare a bit at that last part. ] ... [ still staring as he seems to eye her up and down. ]
Compromises you? Do you truly know what that means? [ his voice drops a bit lower, its tone more hushed as he steps in closer. ]
Should I demonstrate for you here? [ he's not serious for the record, more interesting in instilling fear one last time. ]
sobbing as i drench this thread in gasoline
He steps forward, she steps back. Her rear bumps against the shop stall. It's a dead end. He's very, very tall. Very regal. As mentioned above, very handsome. Fukawa's eyes blow wide enough to eclipse her glasses, a rosy flush dusting the bridge of her nose.]
I...um...I...
[Here? Right now? But that's so bold, there's people everywhere! She's going sweaty already. Not that she's totally against exhibitionism, but she is in no way ready to take on such a feat without some preparation. Does he prefer filthy women?
Air is no longer entering her lungs.
Her heart has stopped beating.
At last she hurls her head to the side and surrenders, hands held high for the taking.]
G-go ahead! I — I won't resist you!
there is no turning back even if it were in flames
admittedly, while there were a wide variety of characters he's met upon his arrival here— all in no way measured up to the woman in front of him. though, whether or not it was a positive... was up to anyone's interpretation. but, it wasn't unoriginal, at least.
he makes sure to keep some dramatic flair in his own movements and even in the footsteps he makes heavy enough for her to hear him shuffling ever closer. when her hands come up, he then bends his back slightly, reaching down.
that is, before he just barely place his book on the top of her head. ] I would advise putting those impure thoughts away. ... and being more careful as to who you promise your body to. [ but, with that said, he continues. ]
Can I choose a different punishment?
no subject
A hardcover balancing on her skull?
Fukawa opens her eyes. They roll upwards, spying the tome-made-hat at the very top of her peripherals. Her hands drop an inch.]
Ah?
[She collects the book and blinks up at him with disbelief. Is he...is this a rejection? Already?
Fukawa chokes on her own spit. Clenches her teeth, throws her gaze to the side. She's hot with humiliation now, muttering low.]
Y-you're right...there's no use offering s-something so worthless...
[The curse of being the ugliest girl in every room. Even if there were no other girls, the men all would turn to each other before considering her.]
Fine. What is it?
no subject
Don't be so obviously disappointed. I am sure a time for you to use that body of yours will arrive soon enough. [ though, probably not for this specific intended use? he doesn't actually know, and to be honest, perhaps...
that was for the better.
once she seems to have calmed down, he self-assuredly hands her his device. what he was saying isn't at all inaccurate as: ] Make it so I may contact you freely. When I have something I require, I will call upon you. You are not to make me wait. After all, I am not a very patient man. [ he recites this as a crown prince would. as if were simply his right to ask of this... but, beneath it all, he genuinely seems to be deriving some sort of enjoyment from it.
but it wasn't a bad thing to have a favor in the bank, and something tells him it may be a nice way to pass time. ]
no subject
Not that she's heard that one either.She accepts his phone with a befuddled frown. Contact him?
Wait wait wait—]
...You m-mean I'm going to keep living in debt to you?
[HOW? HOW IS THIS HAPPENING AGAIN?
She's already in Yoo Joonghyuk's pocket after that fiasco with Puck, and now she's got another guy lined up to ring a bell and beckon her over. She still doesn't know what the first man wants, now she's got to balance the demands of a second?
Fukawa grumbles low as she obediently keys in her contact details. The last thing she needs is some kind of higher power breathing down her neck, be it supernatural or monarchist.]
Th-there. I'll come when you call. But it b-better not be anything weird! [Rich words coming from her filthy mouth. She peers at him cautiously, pushing his phone back into his hands.] Who are you, anyway?
no subject
is what he would genuinely want to ask were he privy to this information. but then again, with her behavior and willingness to "correct" her wrongs, he supposed it wasn't an impossible prospect nonetheless. honestly, he should feel bad taking advantage of someone who simply said he didn't look good, but...
he sadly feels zero remorse. ]
You say that as if you aren't dying of happiness. [ which, he likes to think is the appropriate action for such a case (it isn't and he genuinely doesn't believe this), but it's an act he keeps to. if anything, being the "tyrant" people expected was a lot easier than people thought.
that said: ] Is that a threat? [ he leans in. ] Isn't this where you simply refer to me as "Your Highness"? [ but, after a pause, he sighs. ] Should you not introduce yourself to me first, my selfish lady?
no subject
There's an air to him that catches her off-guard. It's the same effortless command Byakuya-sama exudes: the certainty of privilege. That the greatest imposition will be received as the most gracious generosity, and those they cast it upon will tremble with the need to obey.
Is she dying of happiness? Perhaps not literally, but to bear the full breadth of a stunning man's attention quickens her heart.]
Guh— no! [Not a threat! Haha, look at her, she is so small and meek! The least threatening!] I'm s-sorry, Your Highness!
[Deep breath. He called her his "selfish lady", is that a term of endearment or disdain?]
I'm F-Fukawa. Fukawa Toko...
no subject
but, at least she seemed receptive enough to his demands. it's an easy favor to receive over simply being called ugly. those were not her exact words, no, but he tended to be dramatic even in his own mind, and it wouldn't be the first time he's put words in someone's mouth.
that said, he mouths her name once to himself, before speaking. ] Then, I suppose you'll just have to look forward to having me in the future, Fukawa. [ having me = having him contact her as if she had actually ever owed him anything.
but, with that he does suddenly return the gesture. ] If your lips ever get tired of calling out "His Highness," Callisto will work just fine. [ this is what happens when he feels enabled i guess... ]
no subject
W-well...I shall...[oh boy oh man oh wowie zowie] I'll d-do my best to see that these lips never tire...Your Highness.
[God, she needs to be home with a pen and paper, stat. She already has eight new scenarios she wants to write. A clumsy girl meets a handsome prince in the market, and finds herself suddenly ensnared in his service.
It's a premise ripe for the picking.]
Is there anything I c-can do for you now? Or should I await your call?
no subject
a weird woman for sure.
but, it's nothing he decides to dwell on. despite how her emotions seem to be fluctuating, she does seem to be rather earnest? he isn't sure if this simply comes from a sense of responsibility or conviction to her words.... maybe something else entirely, but he decides he'd take it. ] Be a good girl and wait.
[ ah, but if she's offering some service for now... ]
Why don't you show me what you were trying to read? [ obviously, being in a bookstore, she must be here for something? ]
no subject
For example, being called a Good Girl puts an extra shoujo sparkle in her eyes and has her nodding with great vigor. I regret to inform you that you've recruited an irredeemable masochist.]
Hehe, of c-course! Whatever you w-wish, Your Highness.
[As for the books?]
Oh! Um, I was — th-there's a lot of work I haven't heard of. [She pulls up the hardcover she'd been eyeballing: The Lying Life of Adults, Elena Ferrante.] I was a writer b-back home you see, so I want to collect as m-many as I can.
[Pay no mind to the second book she'd set aside. Fifty Shades of something? She's edging herself in front of it, as if to purposefully block it from view.]
i'm sorry....
especially, as she shows the books she has. part of him expected something... risque considering her prior expectations, but this seemed oddly innocent all things considered? almost scholarly considering her occupation at home. if anything, he does respect it for what it is.
that is.... until his eyes do zoom in on fifty shades... of?? he looks behind her, as if trying to see the full title. maybe even trying to reach behind her and grab it. ] And what's this book? Are you already hiding something from me?
we must reap what we've sown my dear beej
No! [Squirming on the spot, hands-a-flailing, whoops almost dropped the other book.] I j-just glanced at it! It's nothing! It's trash! Vile garbage unfit for r-r-royal eyes!
[DO NOT LOOK]
we've committed, it's true....
"... and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him." [ which he genuinely looks kind of puzzled to. ] Why is she into a man like this? Is this your personal preference? [ ...
would this explain her attitude? ... nah. ]
SURE HAVE. also i'm slowly winding down things for new logs, good to head to an end in a few rounds?
Meanwhile Fukawa's soul would be leaving her body if she weren't (theoretically) dead already. The horror on her face can only be matched by those facing Lovecraftian abominations.]
Wh-wh-what? No! No, of c-course not! I — I don't subscribe to trash like this! [And with a seething aside:] Especially n-not when it's written by an illiterate troglodyte...
yes! sounds gucci!!
but, those...
sure are some expressions. his smile is almost bright as he seems to be savoring every second of her ... fairly loud exclamations. maybe it's fortunate this is a bookstore and not a libarary? ] Troglodyte? [ that is... a unique insult for sure. ]
All right. I will believe you this time. But, just in case... [ he places the book on the highest shelf. reaching over and behind fukawa as he does this. ] Let's consider it confiscated. It wouldn't do to put any more ideas into my lady's head.