pawnstorm | ( open & closed. )

[I've no idea if I want them on a job, training grounds, or music room or cafe so I'll leave it up to you ♥]

( music room prompt is a go!

it isn't often that he frequents places like these. if anything, even the word "frequent" itself was an oddity. he did things on simple whims. on biting inclinations that fought beneath the surface of his skin. that forced him to action in all his impulsive desires and wants. even today, he traverses further down the row of halls than he normally did. this time, even deciding to step into the room itself. it's interesting, he thinks. how this place was full of so many useless rooms. between art studios and gyms. he half-wonders what skills were really meant to be polished here?

he's heard of wars and it's clear strife was only natural in any world. in his own it was between the precarious balance of life and death; of malicious energies and those possessed by them. for here? well, he supposed now wasn't the time to think of it. if anything, the concept of it entering his thoughts in the midst of his leisure time... struck him as little more than obnoxious. this paired with the fact that he still wasn't granted a viable route home...

maybe, that's precisely why he falls victim to these sentiments. though, instead of expressing them in his usual aggressions. instead, he recites a poem?? ) Is that not the moon? And is the spring not the spring of a year ago? This body of mine alone. Remains as it was before. ( a narihira poem, of course. it's one that expressed the sorrow of everything changing in light of losing one he loves. it's one he recites verbatim. looking uncharacteristically listless. that is, before he turns... and sees.

he isn't alone. )

( cue awkward pause... like he's been caught in some sort of act??? )

You have some nerve to eavesdrop on this Kurenai-sama!?

( he spits these words out before he can really register who it is.

oh, shit. it's someone he knows which is somehow 1000x worse??? ) ... Caren.

( there's some... contempt to his saying her name, somehow!? as if this was all her fault. )

( though masked, it wasn't like a wide variety of the heroes present there were impossible to identify. kurenai always had a relatively discerning eye. one that was well-trained, not just for combat, but for ... everything else that managed to fit in between of that. unfortunate for rin, it seemed to apply even in things of questionable artistic value. he's encountered something that's been plaguing him for quite some time. perhaps, even more so considering how their initial meeting went. blows thrown (by her), drinks splashed (by her), and whatever else managed to follow.

hence, he was quite certain she had quite the aversion for him, and yet... some evidence seems to suggest otherwise. it isn't like he exclusively believes carnal desires, or in this case... delusions, to define everything. nor does he think that doing something intimate with a person suggest actual affection. he's given amorously to his own minamo. girls he had no feelings for. girls he would protect, despite the odds, regardless— the point still stood.

the comic he found probably meant something, even if he couldn't actually procure a legitimate rationale behind it. it's why he's been seeking her out for sometime. while contacting her privately probably would have been more ideal, he isn't about to miss out on any chances. ... and that "any chances" happens to be now. she's adjacent from him in a crowd. her hair being the biggest indicator from the masses. he immediately runs, and reaches out. seizing her forearm in his grip. ) Stop right there, woman.

I think you've got business with this Kurenai-sama, don't you? ( or what he thought was her forearm. look, they were from a distance and.. at least he just reached over at a leg? stocking? ) ... well, you did owe me for last time. ( unapologetic... inb4 he gets hit. )

[Hello I am here now gimme something]

[Ready to ruin Hakuno's dream of never seeing him again?]

[She hadn't meant to come in while Kurenai was...reciting poetry? It does sound vaguely familiar, but only just. There's so much she could have covered for her education before coming here, so she can be forgiven if she has a gap or two.

She had been watching from the doorway, but seeing that he was startled, and seeing her...she rolled her eyes, and walked in. Past him, to the piano where she can lightly place her fingers onto the keys.]

Caren Ortensia.

[Since she didn't tell him that last time.]

I'm not eavesdropping on you, child. I've better things to do with my time then to see you become depressed. Or acting depressed.

[She starts to play, glancing over her shoulder. She needs to warm up. Doesn't matter if he hears that, not really.]

Having troubles adjusting? Poor, poor Kurenai-chan.

[a garter.

that's what his fingers snag around: the strap of a garter belt.

it's richly pink and the stocking it connects to is covered in hearts, elegantly all done up with bows on the sides... clearly some sort of valentine's day surprise lingerie, but it fits the shocked girl who turns to look at him, her twintails held together with similar ribbons. for the moment, it appears she's so perplexed she's speechless. mm, she's the same girl. she could be... more alluring, however, subtly, drawing his eye with every twitch of her lips or batting of her lashes.

that—tug on her clothing is hard to ignore, and her eyes drop, staring at her skirt (and his hand beneath it), moments before a deep red color climbs her neck and fills her cheeks.]

A-Aah...?!

[she pushes him away, her hands thudding on his chest!]

Back off! Seriously?! You pervert!

[all this will do is drag her along with him by her leg if he doesn't let go, though...]

( the fact that he's being, quite easily, passed and forgotten in light of her own objectives... is actually more grating and mortifying than her actually giving some equal reaction. hence, he falls a bit silence. silent for longer than he intends. when she reveals her full name once more, he's almost stumped... as to why??? until, it sort of clicks. ) .... you're only getting to that now? ( it's a quiet complaint.

one that's soon replaced with the same abashment or sense of affront he carried moments prior. ) I-I wasn't depressed! Don't be ridiculous, you cheeky woman. For what reason would this great Kurenai-sama have to be depressed. ( he repeats. but, maybe this sounds oddly like he's ... reconfirming it with himself. more than anything else. still. )

Either way! If you're going to add anything to the end of my name, nothing short of -sama fits. ( or so he's saying between distracting him from the sight of her practicing on the piano. is she purposely trying to drown him out, or??? rude af. )

( they've become relatively acquainted in their brief time here. or rather, in their collective moments together. if one thing solidified a bond, it was partaking in something that was potentially life-threatening. he could apply the same concept to his minamo, and so... he supposes, they've forged something. nothing worth writing about, maybe (something he'd be firmly against, but... whatever that vague designation meant, he suspected the labels weren't nearly as crucial as the details. moreover, kurenai wasn't one for sentimentality and so, its drowned out in everything else about this place he finds incomprehensible. in the drudgery of everyday life, which incidentally happens to align with lapis.

he happens upon her. she appears to be shopping? perhaps, simply looking around or browsing at things at the market? either way, he thinks to surprise her. he pulls a thin paper roll from one of the shop shelves. .... and lightly hits her from behind with it. hits her where you ask?

...

look, you knew this was going to be a filthy thread. he's p. much that schoolboy bully on the playground. )

Where the heck are you looking? ( he seems to find humor in it somehow, as he pulls up beside her. )

( is that not my personal mission?

or, one could potentially wonder. since their initial encounter, kurenai had been doing his part in piecing apart her identity. in wasn't in light of romantic overtures or even in relinquishing the rest of his pent up yearnings, but more so, out of pride. out of a self-instated service to himself, and the damage dealt in the knowledge of someone having fled his embrace (basically, call it self-obsession). it's unprecedented. unheard of. unseen.

it was... something that weighed on his mind. not heavily enough to affect his daily activities, but it hung there. hung in the corner like peeling paint. or the first beginnings of cobwebs forming between the spaces of a cabinet. except, this is all far too fresh and new. it sticks to him occasionally when he sees a blow of brown hair captured in his peripherals. but, usually something tips it off. the body type. the height. anything, really.

he was the type who was quite observant and so those were things easy to pick apart. kind of like how he sees such a person now. he's probably going out of a whim here, but he's also not the type to shy away from bold extremes. of belligerence and roguishness. hence, he's purposely walks ahead of her.

then, when she enters whatever doorway she's looking to go past, he's there. he pushes a leg out, successively blocking her path.

the bottom of his feet against the other end. before, he starts with: ) Hey, deep kiss woman.

[It would be a lie to say that she hadn't thought of him at all since the ball. She has been busy, yes, but despite the lingering embarrassment in the light of day, it's an overall pleasant memory. A handsome masked man, the chance to be daring, a kiss that wasn't stolen but knowingly given exactly how long as she wanted it to be... For somebody whose normal attitude towards the romantic was passive at best, out of inexperience of nothing else, feeling in control even for one short evening was nice.

That said, she's also been dreading meeting him again, ever so slightly.

She had clung to the hope that he was a VIP; that her uncommonly daring dress would be a disguise; that the masks themselves might actually accomplish their intended purpose. But, Hakuno isn't one to let herself be ruled by either fear or dread, letting the matter—the man—simmer at the back of her mind as she goes about her daily routine. When that long leg blocks her from entering one of the kitchens, she doesn't flinch. When that deep, familiar voice calls out to her, she doesn't try to flee.

But she does look up at him, wide-eyed in surprise for the span of a breath, before she blinks and her expression smoothed out.]

...that's a bit long for a nickname, isn't it?

[She might have done that on purpose, maybe. Because she's just being that mean or...really, she doesn't care. She offers a shrug, and a glance over her shoulder.]

It really didn't matter before. But I see you're still here.

[In Caissa, in the room, all of it, really. But...well. She makes a soft sound at him, turning away.]

I'm not going to call you sama or dono, even if you are reciting poetry. That's a little too much to applaud some education.

( there's absolutely no single shred of remorse on his features. not even a hint or a ghost of an apology prepared on the tip of his tongue. though, despite none of these sentiments readily being available on his features... something else is completely visible in its stead. his initial shock, and the pleasant smirk that manages to plaster onto his lips soon after. he knew she was bold, but evidently.... she was far and vastly bolder than any of his initial considerations.

unfortunately, his fingers seem to be caught at an awkward angle, perfectly attached within... its delicate confines. hence, when she pushes, all she really gets is her leg... slowly rising with his hand?? as if being pulled like a marionette on strings. ) No one told you to wear your AV costume under your clothes, idiot! Don't blame this on me! Besides, aren't you the one seducing me in broad daylight?

( though, her hands thudding on his chest is actually kind of cute? kind of comical too? he's on the verge of laughing tbh.

serves her right for stepping on him the first time they met. )

( their second meeting might have been what most would label— commonplace. mundane. merely just a motion in both of their mutual lives, and yet... his dramatics probably make it impossible for it to perceived that way. he viewed this no less than a convention of fate. she could have been anywhere. not that she could have escaped him... but, still, to think she was simply under his nose. all under the guise of being undetectable and untraceable.

it's poignant, if not poetic of a scenario in its own right. still, he doesn't ponder over it longer than he has to. he leaves his thoughts all up to selfish impulse. to bare inclinations. sort of like how he still keeps his leg wedged in place. keeps her at that same distance. then to her retort— ) Is it? I suspect it's not any longer than the amount of time you locked lips with me.

( it's hard to define where his teasing begins and where the seriousness takes place. was this an actual serious rejoinder? perhaps. at any rate, he restarts his words. catering towards his main point. ) You have some nerve to have left this Kurenai-sama hanging.

[It is a fairly warped version of Cinderella, yes, but she can't quite figure out how he pinned her down without a suitably identifying object. Perhaps, she muses, it's the hair. She should have let the maids twist it up that night or something, instead of letting it fall to the small of her back as always.

There's no use crying over spilt milk, though, and she centers herself in the here and now. She has a feeling this isn't a man she can afford to be absent-minded around.]

Do I? I pinned a flower for you, and we kissed. I think I was very nice?

[Her mouth pulls into a discontented moue.]

I don't see what the problem was.

( ...

still that same attitude. he kicks a wooden music stand that's been placed in the room in advance. letting the forgotten scores fall off in a flurry. that is, before turning back towards her. ) Shut up. It isn't about education, it's about... ( he shakes his head. ) At any rate!

.... play me something. You're capable of that much, aren't you? ( honestly, being alone with his thoughts was probably infinitely more unpleasant. besides, they say that music soothed people, didn't they? he wasn't the type to believe in that bs, but well. it was worth giving it a shot. ... and if she was going to play, anyway. )

[Still that same attitude, and he's still acting like a big kid. She doesn't watch as the paper falls; it's not for her to clean up. Or for her to watch as he indulges himself in his huffing.]

I'm capable of many things little one.

[She knows his name well enough, but it strikes her fancy to call him these things so he'll huff and pout. She's pretty sure she has a handle on him, thanks to her Servant.

Her fingers go lightly over the keys, still warming up for her practice. She's not bad for someone who basically self taught herself, but she's not about to be taking part in any classical music competitions any time soon.]

But I'm also not here for your entertainment. I thought you said I'd be begging for your favour, next we met?

( despite how brash he appeared on the surface, he was quite sensitive to the delicate nuances of conversation. expression. non-verbal cues. it's clear that she was being genuine with her reflective words. completely earnest in her eventually concluding that their encounter was a... pleasant memory. one to be preserved and thought of amiably. but, perhaps, that's where he derived fault in.

being thought of nothing more than a recollection somehow got on his nerves. it lacked culpability. had no shred of working responsibility. it was no different than shirking away from his passions. while he may have not been the more acute judge of this stern moral binding— he just didn't like the idea of someone being so willing and eager to permit him to slip from their proverbial grasps. or, vice versa. instead, he grits his teeth, and slams his foot down.

with that, he approaches her unceremoniously, and without a shred of grace he grabs her arm and leans in. almost close enough to secure contact between the two of them, but instead— ) I'm saying, I won't forgive you for thinking you could run away.

Make it up to me.

Isn't that the point of a masquerade?

[She doesn't even jump at the snap of his boot against the tile. She's dealt with half-crazed semi-divine women with massive claws and blades for legs, with Assassins and all sorts of people aiming for her life through all sorts of means. For all that he is obviously riled up, for all that he stalks towards her with prejudice and possibly predatory intent, she can't bring herself to believe that violence is on his mind.

And, as it turns out, her instincts are on point. She tilts her head to one side, her hair slipping over the hand anchoring her in place.]

Well, I had other things to do that night. Do you... want a date or something?

[She had said something about companionship that night, hadn't she? She's note entirely sure why he's so insistent about this—or if it's really something that needs to be forgiven—but she can spare an afternoon to smooth his ruffled feathers. ...probably. A not insignificant part of her stomach is fluttering nervously at the thought of being alone with him for any length of time. She can still feel his mouth against hers, if she focuses on the memory.]

[if he's on the verge of laughing, she's about to cry. it isn't that she hasn't been expecting her new "magical weapon" will draw a few eyes, even more than her usual wardrobe, but when kurenai labels it as part of an "av costume" it just brings it home...! terribly.

her leg hangs between them, the edge of her skirt rumpled up higher than is appropriate in common company. of course, she can't fully extend it because his fingers are caught within her stocking—and the sensation of his bare skin against her thigh is forbidding. the touch already establishes a bond of mana transference. she's blushing, but she's learned from her little outburst and now stands beside him in regret. rin looks away—anywhere instead of at him—and perhaps her embarrassment crosses into humiliation. no, she isn't crying, but it seems like she might. he's so close—]

I'm not seducing you. What are you talking about? It's not like just because I'm wearing what you think is "sexy" clothing that I'm yours...

[ i hope i'm not too late! she can be found training (alone), shopping for clothes (alone), kicking a ball (alone) or people-watching while sighing wistfully into a cup of tea (she's a friendless loser), but i'll be happy with whatever you come up with. they can do jobs, too! ]

( her statement garners little more than a quiet huff and the perpetual frown that plasters itself onto his features. his teeth are grit momentarily, before he releases. permits them to slip away in light of the sound of piano warm-ups. that is, until she speaks. her voice naturally rouses him from his own inner considerations, and he turns her way briefly.

that is, before looking back off. ) Be quiet. I said you're mine so of course you're here to entertain me. ( he waves her off absently. instead... eying the space beside her on the piano. at that, he at the edge of the bench. his legs off the other end, and his back directly aligned with her shoulder. still, he leaves the gap there. ) That was my plan , but I decided to let you off for a bit longer.

Aren't you lucky? For now, you can survive without shaming yourself in front of me.

[He's determined, she'll give him that much. But then again, those who were weak willed would not last long around here. At the moment she's enjoying in her own way how he seems to be flustered, but trying, trying so hard to regain control.

It won't work, she knows, no more than for a time.]

Ah yes. I'm so lucky because I don't have to worry about your considerations and concerns.

I was going to lose sleep over it.

[She being sarcastic? Oh yeah, she's completely sarcastic. She doesn't so much as twitch as to having him so close to her personal bubble.]

Though I don't remember you claiming me.

[All the while, she lets her fingers dance over the keys. And as her fingers warm up, her attention shifts before she starts playing a particular song.]

Nor the reasons why you would.

( open & closed. )

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done!

( ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ. ) rin tohsaka

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