good day to read some tarot cards, ft. kaiphi
Nov 12, 2019 8:47:14 GMT -5
Post by haru on Nov 12, 2019 8:47:14 GMT -5
Time to run.
Flinging that door open was a sore reminder of whose ground he still trod on, who ultimately owned the roof he slept under, owned his life. Kaito on any other occasion would have stopped to ponder sourly more on the subject, but he had a new motivation tugging at his heartstrings. Time to run. Spider-like fingers grasped the lapels, fluttered them over a loose shirt that hung half-tucked into dark pants. Unostentatious. How devastatingly plain. His lip curled to meet the pinpoint of his teeth, and all of a sudden - a warm, metallic rush over his tongue.
Squinting into the drab early morning sky, faint rose blooms blossomed behind his cheeks where the nip of the air had just kissed. He breathed on his hands, touched his tender face, then breathed on the spindly five-fingered contraptions again. Contraptions- he would have artfully drawn up a diagram for all of it, tracing the ridges and dips and cuts from where he had been careless while handling the scissors too many a time, and his sister would have watched half-filled with wonder. The house missed her spirit. It was stiflingly cold from the first floorboard outside his bedroom to the door.
"Stop moping, big brother. I'll be in the academy." She leaned in for a swift kiss to his cheek, and even as he half-swatted, half-howled his disgust she had only laughed and slipped on her shoes. Poor shoes that did have holes, but she never did have the intention to replace them.
He took a different route that morning. By some grand stroke of luck, Niina had left a stray slip of paper on her desk and on it, inked an address that would have led him right to the heart of the district. Kaito stood right at the foot of the little building that moment, acutely feeling a myriad of expressions writhe their way onto his features with that very piece of paper clenched in a fist. What in the-
To say the least, he didn't trust Niina not to be fraternising with some strictly forbidden rebel establishment, and in some way this would have been greatly relieving, had it not seemed so alarmingly out-of-place in a district such as Six. A slightly squashed looking shophouse that would have appeared much more at home in gaudy One, a fine curtain of heavy beads that shuttered the recesses of the building from prying eyes. The long tendrils undulated. Beckoning. If he had slunk closer for a better look, he would have espied the name 'Fox' branded by the door. But Kaito was already considering a backtrack.
Perhaps some spontaneous, absolutely mc-effing absurd part of his brain decided that today was the day to break character, for he found himself striding up to the front door, feeling suspiciously and increasingly like a criminal setting foot upon private territory. Kaito adjusted his hood between thumb and forefinger. Stumbling upon an exquisite fifteen-year-old was of no use to adults, Ma had said, yet that didn't stop the unsavoury kind from trying something awful. Even as he pushed himself through the said curtain (it was like stepping into another dimension) the boy kept his head firmly down.
Darn it, breathe!
Too cramped for comfort, Kaito felt his breath hitch in his throat. The thickly-laden musk of incense - a herb of some kind, or perhaps a whole mixing pot of herbs - and if he tilted his head right he could see a bunch of those sticks burning in a cluttered corner, yet again a lot of things could have been burning in the same corner. Thick rugs thrown over every square inch, tiny flickering points of candles that did seem rather pointless in a room so flushed with light. Pot after pot of succulents and leafy organisms sweeping long arms along shelves, down shelves, against his ankles. Dull crystals, gleaming crystals, bottles of something, what looked like vibrantly painted cards stacked haphazardly and fanned across a clothed table.
He knew what this was and yet his feet weren't carrying him back out.
He suddenly became aware of how the fall's chill was no longer clinging to his skin. This room had an odd, mystical cloud of effect somehow, one that he was still lost in, as if hovering in the space between time and reality. Human instinct demanded a presence, but- (this was quite alright, too. Alone and surrounded by intricate thingamajigs all juxtaposed together and with no evident organisation, even though it was quite a bother trying not to knock over anything he shouldn't with that coat of his on.)
And perhaps, if he had been a little more observant he would have noticed the new presence come in, not that he was looking.
"Hello?" Kaito called, his voice a slight rasp from disuse, and then all he could think was, Niina comes here? Seriously?
Flinging that door open was a sore reminder of whose ground he still trod on, who ultimately owned the roof he slept under, owned his life. Kaito on any other occasion would have stopped to ponder sourly more on the subject, but he had a new motivation tugging at his heartstrings. Time to run. Spider-like fingers grasped the lapels, fluttered them over a loose shirt that hung half-tucked into dark pants. Unostentatious. How devastatingly plain. His lip curled to meet the pinpoint of his teeth, and all of a sudden - a warm, metallic rush over his tongue.
Squinting into the drab early morning sky, faint rose blooms blossomed behind his cheeks where the nip of the air had just kissed. He breathed on his hands, touched his tender face, then breathed on the spindly five-fingered contraptions again. Contraptions- he would have artfully drawn up a diagram for all of it, tracing the ridges and dips and cuts from where he had been careless while handling the scissors too many a time, and his sister would have watched half-filled with wonder. The house missed her spirit. It was stiflingly cold from the first floorboard outside his bedroom to the door.
"Stop moping, big brother. I'll be in the academy." She leaned in for a swift kiss to his cheek, and even as he half-swatted, half-howled his disgust she had only laughed and slipped on her shoes. Poor shoes that did have holes, but she never did have the intention to replace them.
He took a different route that morning. By some grand stroke of luck, Niina had left a stray slip of paper on her desk and on it, inked an address that would have led him right to the heart of the district. Kaito stood right at the foot of the little building that moment, acutely feeling a myriad of expressions writhe their way onto his features with that very piece of paper clenched in a fist. What in the-
To say the least, he didn't trust Niina not to be fraternising with some strictly forbidden rebel establishment, and in some way this would have been greatly relieving, had it not seemed so alarmingly out-of-place in a district such as Six. A slightly squashed looking shophouse that would have appeared much more at home in gaudy One, a fine curtain of heavy beads that shuttered the recesses of the building from prying eyes. The long tendrils undulated. Beckoning. If he had slunk closer for a better look, he would have espied the name 'Fox' branded by the door. But Kaito was already considering a backtrack.
Perhaps some spontaneous, absolutely mc-effing absurd part of his brain decided that today was the day to break character, for he found himself striding up to the front door, feeling suspiciously and increasingly like a criminal setting foot upon private territory. Kaito adjusted his hood between thumb and forefinger. Stumbling upon an exquisite fifteen-year-old was of no use to adults, Ma had said, yet that didn't stop the unsavoury kind from trying something awful. Even as he pushed himself through the said curtain (it was like stepping into another dimension) the boy kept his head firmly down.
Darn it, breathe!
Too cramped for comfort, Kaito felt his breath hitch in his throat. The thickly-laden musk of incense - a herb of some kind, or perhaps a whole mixing pot of herbs - and if he tilted his head right he could see a bunch of those sticks burning in a cluttered corner, yet again a lot of things could have been burning in the same corner. Thick rugs thrown over every square inch, tiny flickering points of candles that did seem rather pointless in a room so flushed with light. Pot after pot of succulents and leafy organisms sweeping long arms along shelves, down shelves, against his ankles. Dull crystals, gleaming crystals, bottles of something, what looked like vibrantly painted cards stacked haphazardly and fanned across a clothed table.
He knew what this was and yet his feet weren't carrying him back out.
He suddenly became aware of how the fall's chill was no longer clinging to his skin. This room had an odd, mystical cloud of effect somehow, one that he was still lost in, as if hovering in the space between time and reality. Human instinct demanded a presence, but- (this was quite alright, too. Alone and surrounded by intricate thingamajigs all juxtaposed together and with no evident organisation, even though it was quite a bother trying not to knock over anything he shouldn't with that coat of his on.)
And perhaps, if he had been a little more observant he would have noticed the new presence come in, not that he was looking.
"Hello?" Kaito called, his voice a slight rasp from disuse, and then all he could think was, Niina comes here? Seriously?
