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constellational) wrote2022-10-01 12:46 am
constellational) wrote2022-10-01 12:46 am
Entry tags:
nightfell inbox.
š š¾šøš²š“ | šš“šš | š°š²ššøš¾š½
š š¾šøš²š“ | šš“šš | š°š²ššøš¾š½
I have devised a rudimentary blueprint for a prosthetic arm, but I require measurements before constructing it. When are you available?
Oh, hey!
That was incredibly fast, wow!
I hope it wasn't too much of a bother
There's just uhm
One... small problem
That was incredibly fast, wow!
I hope it wasn't too much of a bother
There's just uhm
One... small problem
Yeah I've
I've been shrinking, to put it bluntly
It's probably not an ideal time to take accurate measurements
I've been shrinking, to put it bluntly
It's probably not an ideal time to take accurate measurements
āŖ BOTHERSOME?????? IT'S A TRAGEDY!! ā«
I've... no idea
It began a few days ago
approximately
I've yet to find a cure
I've... no idea
It began a few days ago
approximately
I've yet to find a cure
[ you're still alive! it's not the end of the world. ]
Have you been looking?
There is that medical person, Miss Sakura.
Perhaps she can assist.
Have you been looking?
There is that medical person, Miss Sakura.
Perhaps she can assist.
My friend has been asking around
And... I'd rather not bother Sakura
her plate's full already, and until I know for sure that whatever's happening to me is serious, there's no need to take a spot someone else might really need
Do you think... meditation could help?
And... I'd rather not bother Sakura
her plate's full already, and until I know for sure that whatever's happening to me is serious, there's no need to take a spot someone else might really need
Do you think... meditation could help?
Oh. I saw that question from your friend.
[ he'd assumed it was medical and not bothered to respond ]
Meditation might help. It certainly can't hurt. Have you meditated before?
[ he'd assumed it was medical and not bothered to respond ]
Meditation might help. It certainly can't hurt. Have you meditated before?
āŖ hopefully he also didn't bother to read because it was a trainwreck. ā«
I have
when I was really young
but I was never really good at sitting still
I'd be willing to try though
And maybe uhm...
Well
Think there are certain things you could teach me?
I have
when I was really young
but I was never really good at sitting still
I'd be willing to try though
And maybe uhm...
Well
Think there are certain things you could teach me?
If you want to learn something, ask. Don't mumble and act wishy-washy.
Right!
I'm rambling
I was wondering if you could maybe teach me... cultivation?
I'm rambling
I was wondering if you could maybe teach me... cultivation?
[ keith isnāt a psychology major. he isnāt qualified to take any sort of stance and start nitpicking the thought processes of one takashi shirogane, a man who, frankly, has a mind battered and bruised with too many traumas for anyone to fully understand. keith accepts him all the same and yet, he still canāt help but try to understand, if only to better help his friend. one would think being unintentional soulmates would help on that front: having access to shiroās thoughts and emotions should make it easier. in some ways, it makes it harder, because the bond is new, yet seamless, the ease of access so free flowing at times that keith often gets confused figuring out whatās his and whatās shiroās. thereās a learning curve, it seems, and keith is a few steps behind.
he thinks he gets this, though: walking by the bathroomās open door and seeing shiro, a little too short to see himself in the mirror above the sink, fiddling with a bottle of something. difficult to open it with one hand, huh? so thatās how keith finds himself helping shiro dye his hair black. initially, he found it to be a waste of time; shiro is shrinking by the unmarked day. they should be pouring every minute into finding the remedy before heā¦ heā¦?
but shiro wants this and keith, now minutes into this thing with his hands in shiroās hair, thinks he gets it. so much of shiroās physical anatomy has been taken from him. the missing arm, the shrinking, the beast-like traitsā¦ ā wanting to dye his hair isnāt vain. itās therapeutic. empowering. itās one of the few things he can control right now. the thought is soothing, albeit bittersweet; heās happy to help, he only wishes he could offer more. ]
Are you thinking of changing the style, too?
[ shiro used to love his undercut. on the thought, keith lifts his gaze from the slickness of shiroās hair, one gloved hand a mess of black and the other holding the bottle upright as he pauses. first meeting his own eyes in the mirror, heās once against hit with oddity: it isnāt often he can see himself over shiro. never when heās standing, either. theyāve piled a stack of books on the floor, to boost shiroās height, but still, heās a short thing that keith has to drop his gaze considerably low to meet the gaze of. his stomach roils uncomfortably at that, again concerned that theyāre running out of time. ]
Because I can cut it.
[ doubtful of his skills? just look at keithās hair for reference. ]
he thinks he gets this, though: walking by the bathroomās open door and seeing shiro, a little too short to see himself in the mirror above the sink, fiddling with a bottle of something. difficult to open it with one hand, huh? so thatās how keith finds himself helping shiro dye his hair black. initially, he found it to be a waste of time; shiro is shrinking by the unmarked day. they should be pouring every minute into finding the remedy before heā¦ heā¦?
but shiro wants this and keith, now minutes into this thing with his hands in shiroās hair, thinks he gets it. so much of shiroās physical anatomy has been taken from him. the missing arm, the shrinking, the beast-like traitsā¦ ā wanting to dye his hair isnāt vain. itās therapeutic. empowering. itās one of the few things he can control right now. the thought is soothing, albeit bittersweet; heās happy to help, he only wishes he could offer more. ]
Are you thinking of changing the style, too?
[ shiro used to love his undercut. on the thought, keith lifts his gaze from the slickness of shiroās hair, one gloved hand a mess of black and the other holding the bottle upright as he pauses. first meeting his own eyes in the mirror, heās once against hit with oddity: it isnāt often he can see himself over shiro. never when heās standing, either. theyāve piled a stack of books on the floor, to boost shiroās height, but still, heās a short thing that keith has to drop his gaze considerably low to meet the gaze of. his stomach roils uncomfortably at that, again concerned that theyāre running out of time. ]
Because I can cut it.
[ doubtful of his skills? just look at keithās hair for reference. ]
[ that was definitely not what he was expecting! having people ask him to teach them is always complicated for chu wanning, quite flustering. As he reads the message, he can almost feel a shift, his shadow blossoming under the weight of emotions chu wanning prefers to ignore.
he's a terrible teacher. temperamental and grouchy and a perfectionist. unable to connect to people. he failed his students already, dying on them— even if he had managed to keep them safe, what kind of a teacher leaves disciples behind, especially in their prime, when they needed guidance more than ever? wouldn't they have all been better served by studying under someone else, someone nice and affable, who didn't terrify his students and who knew how to comfort them?
the quiet voice in the back of his head whispers to him about how he'll just fail shiro the same way he failed his disciples. self-loathing rises up, threatening to choke him, so much more intense than his usual brand of loathing that he has to put the phone down and walk away. he's lucky that it's habit never to talk to people about his emotional state and that it's easy for him to move through the day without expressing any dismay or vocalizing his doubts, even if he is slightly more snappish than usual. he's useless; why bother?
he wants to help. no one else besides mo ran could teach someone to cultivate, as far as he knows, and he won't put that burden on mo ran, not when chu wanning is the elder and a teacher already. will it help? he has doubts. but the place they're in isn't kind, and there's no telling what could help in the long run.
one more student wouldn't hurt, especially in this place where he has only one, and mo ran doesn't need his guidance so much anymore. he's useless, as his shadow reminds him, but maybe he can be of some help. even the tiniest bit.
he responds the next day. it's not... positive. but it's also not a 'no.' ]
Developing a core is an arduous process, especially if you are older.
he's a terrible teacher. temperamental and grouchy and a perfectionist. unable to connect to people. he failed his students already, dying on them— even if he had managed to keep them safe, what kind of a teacher leaves disciples behind, especially in their prime, when they needed guidance more than ever? wouldn't they have all been better served by studying under someone else, someone nice and affable, who didn't terrify his students and who knew how to comfort them?
the quiet voice in the back of his head whispers to him about how he'll just fail shiro the same way he failed his disciples. self-loathing rises up, threatening to choke him, so much more intense than his usual brand of loathing that he has to put the phone down and walk away. he's lucky that it's habit never to talk to people about his emotional state and that it's easy for him to move through the day without expressing any dismay or vocalizing his doubts, even if he is slightly more snappish than usual. he's useless; why bother?
he wants to help. no one else besides mo ran could teach someone to cultivate, as far as he knows, and he won't put that burden on mo ran, not when chu wanning is the elder and a teacher already. will it help? he has doubts. but the place they're in isn't kind, and there's no telling what could help in the long run.
one more student wouldn't hurt, especially in this place where he has only one, and mo ran doesn't need his guidance so much anymore. he's useless, as his shadow reminds him, but maybe he can be of some help. even the tiniest bit.
he responds the next day. it's not... positive. but it's also not a 'no.' ]
Developing a core is an arduous process, especially if you are older.
āŖ he laughed when he started coughing. just another incongruity in a self-proclaimed afterlife, where even the common cold apparently persists. but then his throat started itching, no runny nose no nothing, only his constricted chest and a matching frenzy on the streets of stygia. he laughed harder. hysterical, even. almost unhinged, until tears trickled down his cheeks and he sat defeated at the foot of a willow tree, the pale light of his house faintly glowing in the distance.
his grandmother used to have such romantic views of the fictional disease. he might have entertained them, too, up until reality hit him hard across the head, no time for reveries. if he wanted to live, or even just survive, he couldnāt afford wasting time on fantasy. hard work made dreams come true, though in the end, maybe that was nothing more than deflection, escaping one reality after another.
well, no matter. this is real, a love unaddressed, transformed, light years from the vestiges of an old friendship turned more. he couldnāt tell when it happened, exactly, though he can sort of pinpoint a moment, after his first resurrection, when he looked at keith from the back of the lion and saw a man he knew and didnāt, and his pulse started doing funny things he refused to acknowledge. the first petal he coughed up in the morning reminded him, and here he is now, a firm grip on his breathing as keith dyes his hair because ah, yes, heās on the verge of becoming completely useless. regaining a modicum of control over his life feels a little like going to war, though in this case, aside from everything this world has delivered so far, heās his own enemy.
keith, as always, remains flawless. behind him, he works diligently, and his gaze on him hasnāt changed one bit. keith has all the reasons in the world to hate him. to fear him. he just never does, and sometimes, shiro really does wish that he did. the question pulls him out of his melancholy, and he blinks a few times until his sight is clear again. ā«
With a kitchen knife? āŖ he canāt tell whether itās just paranoia, but his voice seems to sound a little deeper. raspier, maybe. he very quietly clears his throat, careful not to trigger a coughing fit. ā« Iām not against the ideaā¦ What were you thinking? āŖ and thatās a conversation that feels oddly out of place, for how normal it sounds. ā«
his grandmother used to have such romantic views of the fictional disease. he might have entertained them, too, up until reality hit him hard across the head, no time for reveries. if he wanted to live, or even just survive, he couldnāt afford wasting time on fantasy. hard work made dreams come true, though in the end, maybe that was nothing more than deflection, escaping one reality after another.
well, no matter. this is real, a love unaddressed, transformed, light years from the vestiges of an old friendship turned more. he couldnāt tell when it happened, exactly, though he can sort of pinpoint a moment, after his first resurrection, when he looked at keith from the back of the lion and saw a man he knew and didnāt, and his pulse started doing funny things he refused to acknowledge. the first petal he coughed up in the morning reminded him, and here he is now, a firm grip on his breathing as keith dyes his hair because ah, yes, heās on the verge of becoming completely useless. regaining a modicum of control over his life feels a little like going to war, though in this case, aside from everything this world has delivered so far, heās his own enemy.
keith, as always, remains flawless. behind him, he works diligently, and his gaze on him hasnāt changed one bit. keith has all the reasons in the world to hate him. to fear him. he just never does, and sometimes, shiro really does wish that he did. the question pulls him out of his melancholy, and he blinks a few times until his sight is clear again. ā«
With a kitchen knife? āŖ he canāt tell whether itās just paranoia, but his voice seems to sound a little deeper. raspier, maybe. he very quietly clears his throat, careful not to trigger a coughing fit. ā« Iām not against the ideaā¦ What were you thinking? āŖ and thatās a conversation that feels oddly out of place, for how normal it sounds. ā«
[ so little faith! there may very well be some legitimacy to the insult that keith is part feral, but even this desert gremlin knows better than to take a chef knife to someoneās scalp. too long. too wide. the blade isnāt easily maneuverable, so of course he isnāt going to butcher shiro with that. if keithās hand wasnāt covered in junk, heād flick shiroās ear for insinuating as much. or not, truthfully, because the heaviness to shiroās voice sobers him.
doesnāt matter what i think, is what he wants to say. this is about what shiro wants, what shiro needs. why should he care to hear keithās take? because heās shiro. not even two beats spent and keith already knows how the conversion would go; doesnāt matter, yes it does, no it doesnāt, yes, no, yes, no. inevitably, keith would fold, so might as well save shiro the breath. ]
I was thinking that your hair looks great, no matter what happens to it.
[ black, white, mixed ā keith is still of the mind that there wasnāt anything wrong with his bleached hair. itād been pretty in its uniqueness. otherworldly, almost. it looked particularly nice in twin moonlight. he gives one, tiny clearing of his throat, making the next swallow easier and then puts the dye bottle on the sink counter. ]
But if you want it a certain way, I can make it happen. [ and then, with no regard for his hand, tugs off the throwaway glove. loose around his much thinner fingers, it hinders his movement. so, glove thrown in the sink, he combs his fingers through shiroās hair, dye still setting. by the way? that whole knife thing? he quirks a small, private grin. ] Iām not called a blade for nothinā.
[ donāt worry. he has a razor. clear upgrade from a kitchen knife. ]
doesnāt matter what i think, is what he wants to say. this is about what shiro wants, what shiro needs. why should he care to hear keithās take? because heās shiro. not even two beats spent and keith already knows how the conversion would go; doesnāt matter, yes it does, no it doesnāt, yes, no, yes, no. inevitably, keith would fold, so might as well save shiro the breath. ]
I was thinking that your hair looks great, no matter what happens to it.
[ black, white, mixed ā keith is still of the mind that there wasnāt anything wrong with his bleached hair. itād been pretty in its uniqueness. otherworldly, almost. it looked particularly nice in twin moonlight. he gives one, tiny clearing of his throat, making the next swallow easier and then puts the dye bottle on the sink counter. ]
But if you want it a certain way, I can make it happen. [ and then, with no regard for his hand, tugs off the throwaway glove. loose around his much thinner fingers, it hinders his movement. so, glove thrown in the sink, he combs his fingers through shiroās hair, dye still setting. by the way? that whole knife thing? he quirks a small, private grin. ] Iām not called a blade for nothinā.
[ donāt worry. he has a razor. clear upgrade from a kitchen knife. ]
āŖ heās watched and read enough wuxia to know that he doesnāt exactly qualify, but eh, what the hell. heās dead. for the second time. aside from his sanityāwhich is teetering at the edge of a precipiceāthere isnāt much else to lose. his dignity, maybe, but even that has seen better days.
chu wanningās cautious answer doesnāt deter him. ā«
Ah, Iāve been through rigorous training before
Disciplineās not a problem
āŖ SO BRING IT. ā«
Unless youāre telling me thereās zero chance of success
Otherwise, Iām all in
chu wanningās cautious answer doesnāt deter him. ā«
Ah, Iāve been through rigorous training before
Disciplineās not a problem
āŖ SO BRING IT. ā«
Unless youāre telling me thereās zero chance of success
Otherwise, Iām all in
āŖ shiroās hairline could be catastrophically receding and still it wouldnāt deter keith. heās always seen him through lenses that nobody else ever really bothered to use, beyond physique and reputation, even if he did put him on a pedestal when he barely deserved it. itās one of the many great things about him, though; he doesnāt feign niceties. whereas most people juggle white lies on the daily, keith delivers truths unwrapped and unpolishedāwhatever he says, you can trust, and the fact that he can see past shiroās mangled and changing body is a potent balm on his many wounds.
heās considering his options when keithās throat makes a little sound, and shiroās attention immediately refocuses there, a thud against his ribs. impossible. and way to jump to conclusions. squinting, he allows his gaze to slowly drift from keithās reflection in the mirror, a sour tang on the back of his tongue. he makes no effort to silence his shadow; whatever it says isnāt anything shiro hasnāt already told himself. ā«
So thatās what you guys did, huh. āŖ one corner of his mouth lifts up for good measure, faintly reaching his eyes. ā« You never got stuck on a whaleā¦ admit it. You went out there to make a name for yourself. āŖ and cut alien hair, obviously. shiro takes a moment to look at the dark mess on his head, keithās fingers soaked black, and nods appreciatively. ā« Hey, I guess it paid off. āŖ you hairstylist you. heās mostly messing around, but the color really does please him, lips stretching a little wider. ā«
heās considering his options when keithās throat makes a little sound, and shiroās attention immediately refocuses there, a thud against his ribs. impossible. and way to jump to conclusions. squinting, he allows his gaze to slowly drift from keithās reflection in the mirror, a sour tang on the back of his tongue. he makes no effort to silence his shadow; whatever it says isnāt anything shiro hasnāt already told himself. ā«
So thatās what you guys did, huh. āŖ one corner of his mouth lifts up for good measure, faintly reaching his eyes. ā« You never got stuck on a whaleā¦ admit it. You went out there to make a name for yourself. āŖ and cut alien hair, obviously. shiro takes a moment to look at the dark mess on his head, keithās fingers soaked black, and nods appreciatively. ā« Hey, I guess it paid off. āŖ you hairstylist you. heās mostly messing around, but the color really does please him, lips stretching a little wider. ā«
[ give shiro an inch and heāll run with a joke. keithās grateful for that. he may roll his eyes or scoff from time to time, but deep down, he cherishes every shitty joke shiro utters ā except, perhaps, the ones centered around his mortality ā because it means the universe didnāt destroy him. every horrid thing thatās happened to him. from a disease to captivity to death to vampiric tendencies to shrinking, hasnāt numbed his drive for bringing joy to others. hell, this awful place even has the annoyance of cold congestion; so thatās one more thing that shiro will be dealing with. probably. he hasnāt heard shiro with the tickle in his throat that keith is currently plagued with, but considering keithās stunk up their whole house with germs, itās likely he wonāt escape.
heās sorry in advance.
he tries not to focus on that or how standing over him, breathing on him, will only transfer the sickness sooner, and instead, forces a smile, voice hitting the adequate notes to pass as playful. ]
Itās good planning to have a fallback career. [ you know, in case the space assassin gig doesnāt pan out like how being a paladin didnāt. or how becoming an officer for galaxy garrison didnāt, either. wait, actually, this is a pretty dismal joke, isnāt it? he twirls his fingers in the awkward beat that follows, playing with the thickness of shiroās floof. ]
But you canāt say that yet. You havenāt even seen the end product, you dork.
[ nice recovery? somewhat. heās got one side of his mouth lifted, half-cocked on a smile. he doesnāt let that sit long, however, and quickly continues, gaze on his hand ā hands, as the other joins to twist his floof upward, combing through the dye. ]
Anyway, you donāt have to decide now. I can cut it some other time. Maybe when youāre back to normal, so you can get the whole picture.
heās sorry in advance.
he tries not to focus on that or how standing over him, breathing on him, will only transfer the sickness sooner, and instead, forces a smile, voice hitting the adequate notes to pass as playful. ]
Itās good planning to have a fallback career. [ you know, in case the space assassin gig doesnāt pan out like how being a paladin didnāt. or how becoming an officer for galaxy garrison didnāt, either. wait, actually, this is a pretty dismal joke, isnāt it? he twirls his fingers in the awkward beat that follows, playing with the thickness of shiroās floof. ]
But you canāt say that yet. You havenāt even seen the end product, you dork.
[ nice recovery? somewhat. heās got one side of his mouth lifted, half-cocked on a smile. he doesnāt let that sit long, however, and quickly continues, gaze on his hand ā hands, as the other joins to twist his floof upward, combing through the dye. ]
Anyway, you donāt have to decide now. I can cut it some other time. Maybe when youāre back to normal, so you can get the whole picture.
Your chances of forming a core are slim, and it will take time to accomplish even small tasks.
But if you are willing, we can start with meditation.
But if you are willing, we can start with meditation.
āŖ pffft, cheeky bastard. itās a semi-joke-slash-deflection that earns keith a noise resembling a snort, and even if shiroās own sense of humor is often questionable, itās always a bit of a victory when keith plays along. itās easier with him. even in spite of this whole flowery ordeal, shiro canāt really think of anyone who truly ever allowed him to beā¦ well. himself, really. fully. in keithās vicinity, he remembersā¦
ā¦but then again, heās not exactly that, either. who he is, who heās supposed to be. who he wants to be. watching keith towering over him, hands greasy black, is one of the many oddities of the afterlife, and ānormalā sounds soā¦ out of place. it gives him pause as he quietly observes, ponders if thereās such a thing available for him. and yet keith still has so much faith.
he gives a small shrug, pensive as he blinks his doubts away. ā« You think thatās possible? āŖ he did say when, and not if. from someone who used to have such a defeatist, suspicious view of the world, it meansā¦ well. a great deal. ā« I mean, how much smaller could I possibly get, really? āŖ his mouth twitches, half-apprehensive, half-hopeful. ā«
ā¦but then again, heās not exactly that, either. who he is, who heās supposed to be. who he wants to be. watching keith towering over him, hands greasy black, is one of the many oddities of the afterlife, and ānormalā sounds soā¦ out of place. it gives him pause as he quietly observes, ponders if thereās such a thing available for him. and yet keith still has so much faith.
he gives a small shrug, pensive as he blinks his doubts away. ā« You think thatās possible? āŖ he did say when, and not if. from someone who used to have such a defeatist, suspicious view of the world, it meansā¦ well. a great deal. ā« I mean, how much smaller could I possibly get, really? āŖ his mouth twitches, half-apprehensive, half-hopeful. ā«
[ shiro. please. donāt tempt fate. the combing doesnāt stop; hands keep moving, keeping tugging at his floof before smoothing it back to join the rest of his slicked hair. ]
Some people were saying pocket-size. [ in his disaster of a netherwork inquiry. never let him do that again, okay shiro? though, as much grumbling and dead-eyed staring heād done throughout the initial postings, it wasnāt an entirely lost cause. he has come out of it with a few helpful tips. the library, mostly; thatās what heās putting most of his faith into. the other suggestionā¦
he still doubts itāll work. it sure would be nice though, huh? if it was that easy.
putting a pin in that thought for now, his hands finally pause, resting lightly over shiroās crown. and here, the smile has dimmed, replaced by a firm pinch of his lips and a determined spark in the eyes. ]
Doesnāt matter. However small you get, Iām gonna figure out how to reverse it. [ so no more of this is it possible ridiculousness. of course itās possible that shiro is going to be back to normal. ] Youāre gonna be fine, Shiro. Weāre not out of options. We still have things left to try.
Some people were saying pocket-size. [ in his disaster of a netherwork inquiry. never let him do that again, okay shiro? though, as much grumbling and dead-eyed staring heād done throughout the initial postings, it wasnāt an entirely lost cause. he has come out of it with a few helpful tips. the library, mostly; thatās what heās putting most of his faith into. the other suggestionā¦
he still doubts itāll work. it sure would be nice though, huh? if it was that easy.
putting a pin in that thought for now, his hands finally pause, resting lightly over shiroās crown. and here, the smile has dimmed, replaced by a firm pinch of his lips and a determined spark in the eyes. ]
Doesnāt matter. However small you get, Iām gonna figure out how to reverse it. [ so no more of this is it possible ridiculousness. of course itās possible that shiro is going to be back to normal. ] Youāre gonna be fine, Shiro. Weāre not out of options. We still have things left to try.
āŖ ayyy. he doesnāt look half-bad like this. he could even gain some respect in a film noir, probably. slick and smooth. two things he isnāt in real life.
or what if he just. shaved it. that tuft of bleached hair has seen more than itās ever asked for. maybe itās time to give it a well-deserved break. is it what keithās hinting at? semi insisting on a cut. he has optionsāhair-wise, anyway, but keith claims he also has options size wise. his face changes when he mentions his potential pocket fate, a wary glance skyward. youāre gonna be fine shouldnāt ever follow that kind of prediction, not when heās already picturing himself with a trail of fairy dust in his wake, a tight green skirt around his hips. but. keith rarely ever says anything if he knows he canāt deliver.
lashes momentarily flit, a little shiver down his spine as fingers hit just the right spot. ā« Like what? āŖ he asks innocently enough, but then he tries to remember what he read andā¦ ā« Didnāt they jump to conclusions a little too fast? Do we want to test whatever advice they gave?
or what if he just. shaved it. that tuft of bleached hair has seen more than itās ever asked for. maybe itās time to give it a well-deserved break. is it what keithās hinting at? semi insisting on a cut. he has optionsāhair-wise, anyway, but keith claims he also has options size wise. his face changes when he mentions his potential pocket fate, a wary glance skyward. youāre gonna be fine shouldnāt ever follow that kind of prediction, not when heās already picturing himself with a trail of fairy dust in his wake, a tight green skirt around his hips. but. keith rarely ever says anything if he knows he canāt deliver.
lashes momentarily flit, a little shiver down his spine as fingers hit just the right spot. ā« Like what? āŖ he asks innocently enough, but then he tries to remember what he read andā¦ ā« Didnāt they jump to conclusions a little too fast? Do we want to test whatever advice they gave?
[ he has to wonder if curiosity won out and if, after their pillow-bunny war and subsequent parting of ways, shiro inevitably went back to read through the netherwork. keith being the social media newbie that he is, frequently neglects to put things on private, so it wouldnāt take any digging for shiro to see. to know. so is this shiro subtly shutting down The Suggestion before keith can embarrass himself by mentioning it? keith chews at the fatty tissue of his cheek, making shiro wait an extra tick, two, as he absentmindedly scratches at his scalp. he has a bad habit of chewing at his nails, so there isnāt much to begin with, but the little bit of underneath is going to be stained black for days. ]
Probably not. [ he peeks at shiro in the mirror. ] The library is a good suggestion, but the other oneā¦ itāsā¦ wellā¦ [ his gaze wavers, as does his confidence, and then heās back to staring at his hands, which have, again, paused.
one beat, two beat, three, and he pulls in a deep, steadying breath, committing himself with a firm: ]
Okay. [ he lifts his hands and sidesteps, being careful not to brush against shiro as he hunches over the sink to wash his hands. the water runs dirty, filling the porcelain with black gunk that slowly tapers off with time. all the while, keith keeps his focus on his hands as his mouth runs. ] You know that kid fairy-tale with the prince who shrinks down into a frog? Obviously your curse is missing the frog part butā¦ you shrunk and people were saying, maybe, if you got a kiss, itād break the spellā¦?
[ by the end of it, nothing else is coming off his hands, black as they continue to be. still, he just keeps rubbing at them, gaze never wavering. ]
Probably not. [ he peeks at shiro in the mirror. ] The library is a good suggestion, but the other oneā¦ itāsā¦ wellā¦ [ his gaze wavers, as does his confidence, and then heās back to staring at his hands, which have, again, paused.
one beat, two beat, three, and he pulls in a deep, steadying breath, committing himself with a firm: ]
Okay. [ he lifts his hands and sidesteps, being careful not to brush against shiro as he hunches over the sink to wash his hands. the water runs dirty, filling the porcelain with black gunk that slowly tapers off with time. all the while, keith keeps his focus on his hands as his mouth runs. ] You know that kid fairy-tale with the prince who shrinks down into a frog? Obviously your curse is missing the frog part butā¦ you shrunk and people were saying, maybe, if you got a kiss, itād break the spellā¦?
[ by the end of it, nothing else is coming off his hands, black as they continue to be. still, he just keeps rubbing at them, gaze never wavering. ]
āŖ okay so. beyond the repetitive innuendos, shiro apparently missed quite a few things. he canāt shut down an alternative heās yet to hear about, though he was definitely right to be cautious; keith says kiss and shiro sputters, inwardly, careful to keep his face as straight as possible, lest he starts blinking in disbelief. but keith isnāt looking, not at him. keith is extremely focused on washing his hands, and shiroās gaze prudently swivels back and forth between the running water and keithās mop of hair, which conveniently hides a bit of his face.
maybe shiro should grow out his own.
he doesnāt even say, like, one person, either. no, itās people, which implies multiple persons suggesting the same thing and shiroās forehead ultimately creases dumbfounded, huffing on a rush of air struggling to leave his lungs. well then.
if he got a kiss, maybe itād break the spellā¦ ā« Or turn me into a frog. āŖ as keith said, itās the only missing part, though shiroās attempt at humor falls flat, the same way he forces out a little laugh, only to promptly close his mouth shut. a kiss. he could have just brushed it off as another mockery the netherwork so kindly offered, but with the taste of blood on his tongue and the bittersweet, powdery texture of a crushed petal between his teeth, his whole brain elects to grapple with the idea, refusing to let go. ā«
Did theyā¦ suggest anyone? āŖ itās such a silly thing to entertain. the netherworld is no fairy tale, but then again, he is shrinking, coughing up half-formed petals, and craving blood. his hand stiffens on his thigh. ā« An actual princess, orā¦ Keith. āŖ stop. shiro cuts himself off, brows pinched. ā« Your hands.
maybe shiro should grow out his own.
he doesnāt even say, like, one person, either. no, itās people, which implies multiple persons suggesting the same thing and shiroās forehead ultimately creases dumbfounded, huffing on a rush of air struggling to leave his lungs. well then.
if he got a kiss, maybe itād break the spellā¦ ā« Or turn me into a frog. āŖ as keith said, itās the only missing part, though shiroās attempt at humor falls flat, the same way he forces out a little laugh, only to promptly close his mouth shut. a kiss. he could have just brushed it off as another mockery the netherwork so kindly offered, but with the taste of blood on his tongue and the bittersweet, powdery texture of a crushed petal between his teeth, his whole brain elects to grapple with the idea, refusing to let go. ā«
Did theyā¦ suggest anyone? āŖ itās such a silly thing to entertain. the netherworld is no fairy tale, but then again, he is shrinking, coughing up half-formed petals, and craving blood. his hand stiffens on his thigh. ā« An actual princess, orā¦ Keith. āŖ stop. shiro cuts himself off, brows pinched. ā« Your hands.
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