( since his initial arrival, there have… inevitably been quite a few matters filtering through his brain. most of it, surprisingly, were recognisable forms of thought. ideas he’s circulated through a thousand times over. sometimes so frequently, it felt more like a natural motor response than passing consideration. the ideas were always bleak, of course. stark, even. but, yet, they still weren’t anything he was truly unaccustomed to feeling. actually, since he’s heard the word “war,” there’s only been one thought on his mind. a simple one labeled: destruction. the end of everything. an era, a universe…

it was actually enough to illicit a dark, higher pitched chuckle from the forefront of his throat. an almost alternate sound to the usual smooth tenor of his normal speaking voice. however, even that wasn’t… uncharacteristic of him. of how unhinged he was beneath the surface. even here, he wants nothing more than to turn this world upside down, if just to shut out the trembling shouts of the “black beast” that lay beneath the surface.

though. though. he knows better. he isn’t one to display all his cards out on the table, and more so, he was used to producing intricate plots. in seamlessly working out an actual plan. but, well, there was a certain order to things. melding in, for one. discovering more information, too. and of course— in peering at strange and ugly carriers!?!?

he stops in front of one… that’s particularly hideous. maybe a second coming of dolan. oh wait, that’s basically what elizabeth is. but, more importantly, he sees someone… who also looks equally entranced (is that the proper word???) with it. then, with a smug exhale, he speaks. languid and unrushed. ) So? Is that your pick. I suppose they’ve always said “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” ( what is this pa comment, and why is this dude with one eye talking about eyes or an eye, anyway?!

well, that’s for you to figure out. maybe... )

( there’s a measured distance to each and every one of his indolent steps. somehow, they seem purposely or even out of place. or maybe, the only thing that makes it appear so is the fact the person donning the uniform… is doing so rather haphazardly. barely buttoned up as he saunters along. disguises were crucial, he knows. but, really, this was a matter of necessity. as soon as he could afford to, he’d find something fitting to his yukata. or so he vaguely considers as he manages to stop upon a peculiar stall. fish scooping. it isn’t a practice he expected to happen upon in a place akin to this one. in a realm that seemed so far removed from his own.

hence, he ceases his steps. watches cautiously from the corner of his eyes as the person before him manages to… get the tips of their fingers against the fish in a poor show of proficiency. but, that’s not all either, he slowly watches as their … entire hand begins to change shades!? )

i. ( you are that poor loser with a blue hand…

and you’re about to get a really snide remark your way. ) I do appreciate a good festival. ( !?! )

ii. ( you may have simply been passing. you may have simply been minding your own business for the sake of securing your sanity, however, takasugi doesn’t exactly permit that sort of leeway. ever. with a hand reaching to gently resting against chest, his arm sticking into the opening he’s left in his top layers (he’s wearing it sleazy all right), he cuts through the bustle of the festivities. ) How confident are you in a gamble? ( aka, let’s see you be that person in prompt i. )

( as a man of fairly simple tastes and a… bleak palette, save for yakult (and even that theory hinged more on comedic affect than anything real and solidified), he hasn’t been particularly impressed with their meals. they’re not as strange as the culinary “treats” have been in distant planets, but still. he isn’t one to really enjoy his food. he wasn’t a certain space brawler, and so he can’t say he’s ever really that interested. for survival he does what he’s required, but…

today’s food is…


he stares it down. honestly, he wasn’t even really standing in line, but somehow… he’s already been offered a slab of mystery… something. honestly, that looks more like … crap than anything actually edible. which is precisely why he’s leaving it for someone else’s responsibility. … and sadly, today that person is you. ) … ( yeah...

bye. )

( if nothing suits your fancy, i’d be more than happy to write you something else! or in reverse, hit me up with anything! )