[Several days after the festivities, Shinjiro finally gets a message: "I'm ready. Come over to the haunted house they were using for the witch hunt. I've taken it over. Don't forget the supplies and an offering."
It helps to get tasks done when you don't have to eat or sleep. Dara's spent all of her waking hours tidying up the house: the first floor has been completely swept and dusted, any junk she didn't care for went to the second floor, and she even managed to clear out the chimney. The whole process has been similar to her hobby back home: finding homes that have been spirited away, discovering items that have been untouched by time. Now that she's done all this work, maybe this place could be the kids' home away from home if they were to ever appear.
When Shinjiro arrives, he's met with the warmth of a roaring flame in the fireplace. The room is both large and stark aside from a small wooden table by a set of windows and the pile of pillows that Dara's managed to develop after beating the dust out of them. It's not a futon, but she works with what she's got. They're mainly there for him considering she didn't trust any of the rickety chairs she found. Last thing they need is for it to be breaking in the middle of writing the spell.
The god makes her appearance with a covered bucket of water and a clean towel which she deposits on the table. She's even gone out of her way to wear an apron while cleaning! Scavenged from the house, of course, and nothing else on top. She's a god, she does what she wants.]
Put the stuff here, then wipe down your chest. This may not be our world, but I'm not skimping on whatever ritual parts I can still maintain.
[At least there's nothing weird about the water itself? But she sure is jumping right into it.]
Just slam every CW in here from the very beginning I GUESS???
[It's only four sentences that he's been sent, but each one feels leaden and weighty. Of course he's apprehensive and half of him is asking himself if he's a fucking idiot for pursuing this. An arrangement with a Curse God he barely knows, based off the half-cocked idea that maybe things are similar enough across the worlds that she could seal up whatever part of himself his Persona embodied. But every time, he reminds himself that the stakes are too high to immediately dismiss any options.
Especially with people from back home here. Especially with Ken here. While the kid was older and no longer wanted blood spilled for blood spilled, Shinjiro still can't help but feel that he owes him. If he's moved on, he doesn't need things crashing back into the past or having to deal with Shinjiro and his shitty, barely-contained Persona.
A quick 'okay' is all Dara receives in response to her text. No going back or second guessing.
When he arrives, he's not startled to see her in her true form again- Lengths of snake coil, too many arms to keep track of. An apron, surprisingly. He sets down the small bag he'd carried in on that small table, leaning down to start retrieving the contents.]
--Just diving right in, huh?
[He'd gotten writing supplies, managed to make some deals to get a small pot of ink, and then pulls out a small woven basket. It's absolutely not warm anymore, but here you go. No needle and thread, though. He either forgot or didn't bother looking.]
You better appreciate this. I don't know what half the shit they sell at market is. [A rice base was somewhat traditional for a shinsen, right? And he'd managed a few other things he recognized, or thought seemed close enough, to put together some absolutely simple yaki onigiri. It's a bit-- off, sure. Oils and sauce blends aren't exactly labelled any way he'd expect them to be here in Aldrip. but whatever. You're a God asking for offerings, so you get what you get.
Despite her instructions, he doesn't jump right to it-- instead lifting his head to take in the recently-cleaned house, the fire, and the absolutely absurd way she fills the space-- taking it in, solidifying his choices here. Unless it kills him, this is already less destructive than what he'd been doing before. And so this is better than doing nothing. Right? ]
You just take this place over? [He says it while finally following a single instruction, walking over to her laid out supplies and starting to unbutton his coat. At least the fire going is nice.]
[They've just gotten back from the whole ordeal on the island, and of course Dara's been frustrated with letting the blight monster slip through her fingers. She needs to find it again, she needs to seal it and hopefully find answers as to why the world's spiritual nature seem so bizarre! Absent! It's been driving her nuts.
Whether walks into the scene or happens to watch the progressive change in her expressions from annoyed to disdainful as she types furiously on her charm-- well, it may or may not be a surprise when something snaps. The sclera of her eyes turn from white to black while her hair rises into the air all on its own. Dara opens her mouth suddenly splitting along the lines of her cheeks, displaying an impressive set of needle sharp teeth (far too many than her usual) as she lets out an enraged yell mixed with a hiss. At least her charm doesn't go flying, but a fist does end up being rammed straight through the nearest tree trunk while bark is stripped away by deadly, scrambling claws.
Shinjiro gets to see the true monster that dwells in the mountains...if only for a few seconds. Somehow, Dara manages to pull it together; trying to catch her breath with her forehead stubbornly pressed against the tree, but all the sharpness of her vicious features begin to fade away.]
[You know, he'd been coming out to check on her and maybe give a thanks for her help through the whole 'stranded on Hell Island' thing, but....
Well. Maybe right now was a bad time.
His eyebrows lift as her fist goes through a tree- wood splintering and cracking, sap slowly leaking, bark being clawed out in her fury like a creature tearing apart a termite nest. The truck creaks and leans, and he just.... steps around a bit. If it falls, he'll be on this side of them.]
[ The video opens to Mitama, though just like in her recent post, she's wearing her "disguise". She's here on an important business, after all. ]
Ho, ho, ho! Thank you for joining our Secret Santa event~ It's time to find out what ─ or rather who ─ your assignment as Santa's Little Helper for this year is! Drumroll, please...
[ She makes a pause for a dramatic effect, her hand slipping into a Santa hat she's holding and pulling out a small piece of paper with a name on it. ]
It's none other than... Ryoji Mochizuki, who I'm sure is a perfectly normal high school student!
Remember, you should present your assignee with a gift of your choice until December 25th! Good luck, and remember: your main task is to spread joy, happiness and the spirit of Christmas cheer!
[give him an entire second here because like. isnt....
Isn't Christmas gifts and shit for like..... Lovers?
..... Or is this kind of like that secret gift giving thing he got roped into?? Did Ken get assigned him for it? This is so much. He's gonna assume that's the case for his sanity.]
You don't have to get me anything. Nothing I really need, anyway.
DIRECTED TO: SHINJIRO ARAGAKI LISTED CRIME: LOITERING.
The Council has selected you for sentencing to atone for the above-listed crime. You are directed to turn yourself in within two (2) hours of receiving this message, or you will be forcibly detained. You are to meet the Council's representative outside of City Hall in order to respond to this summons.
(he's not a smoker, but his house swims in packs, hidden in every drawer, in shinichiro's room, even in his shed there are packs upon packs. manjiro never dared to move his late brother's things, but there's something about the smell of burning nicotine that is calming. affective memory that calms him when he needs the guidance, reminds him of a presence that manjiro can only dream to be like.
so, here he is, attempting to find comfort in the smell as he drags the smoke into his lungs, right outside the city hall. he needs to fucking think-- he does not want to do this. he doesn't even know how to do this, not in the way that it is asking of him.
... and that's when he sees shinji exiting, too. they are never on perfect terms, but this shit's hard. so, wordlessly, he opens the pack, as to offer the boy to take a stick for himself.)
[His head is swimming a bit after exiting. He's used to short periods of sort-of-amnesia, sure-- plenty of the Shadows he fought would have mind altering abilities, and it was usually tough to really remember afterwards. But this feels different. More exact and precise. Like he has only the information the Council wanted him to retain and nothing more.
Wild.
His head tips up at the motion ahead of him, though. Manjiro- Mikey. Shinjiro hasn't run into him too much in person, but he can at least recognize the guy and see the offering for what it is.
Silently he takes the offered cigarette, slipping it between his lips and pulling a lighter out of his own pocket. It clicks once, twice, three times, and then he throws the useless hunk of plastic down the steps.
He tips his head, taking the unburnt smoke from his lips to ask:]
.... You got a light? Mine ain't worked since getting soaked in Rumpitur.
[He's sure Manjiro is stopped out here for the same reason Shinjiro would be. Sorting his thoughts, clearing his head, trying to process what the hell just happened. Probably finding the annoyance of another presence a welcome distraction from the thoughts in their own heads.]
[After the whole incident of being bullied, dolled up, and ushered into the event, Dara has no clue what to do with herself. Naturally, her lurking habits lend well to wallflower tendency. Skirting along the walls while trying not to step on the overflowing hem is enough to keep her preoccupied along with watching others dance and sway. It's a normal routine for her, at least; observing mortals live their life as she has done for many years. It's enough for her...or should be. The hours pass by with her nibbling and sipping on whatever she comes across, yet an emptiness begins to grow inside of her. Something that food and drink cannot despite the way it gnaws at her internally, like a bad craving that won't go away. People offering to dance or chat seems to assuage the hollow feeling, but even then she shies away. It doesn't feel right, they don't feel right...
Her eyes search the guests, and she gravitates toward a slouching gentleman seated at a table. The stench of booze hits her hard when she approaches, and for a moment she just stands there and squints hard at this man behind her mask. He slurs his words while asking her to drink with him, and Dara wonders why she bothered coming over. Back to the wall again. Yet her gaze keeps searching-- this time stopping on a guy leaning against the opposite wall, hands occupied by either scratching the back of his neck or being shoved into his pockets. Of course she makes her way over, but no, he's not right either: a dirty blond instead of brunet. ...Ah, wait, now she understands.
She's looking for Shinjiro.
The realization hits and makes her freeze at the very edge of the dance floor, only to be jostled back to reality by an overenthusiastic dancer. She returns to the nearest wall and needs a moment as to ponder why she's feeling this strange sort of loneliness. Could she blame it on indigestion? (ACTUALLY, yes, but it's been awhile since she ate all those toads that it's nearly impossible to connect the dots.) Maybe the answer lies in finding him first, which seems to be a feat right now. And it continues to be so as time ticks by. An hour left until midnight, and she thinks she's spotted him...with someone else. Good for him, hopefully he's been able to enjoy the party-- except the emptiness inside her grows. It expands, clawing at her from the inside of her chest...Such a terrible, suffocating feeling. Dara lets out a stilted breath, and a dark mist seeps out from beneath her mask. Her inhale makes the miasma dissappear, its only victim the now wilted bouquet that was nearby. This cannot continue.
She moves faster than she thought she could on her snake-made legs, and there's no polite greetings or excuses to break in on whatever conversation he's having with his date. Dara's hand clamps down on his wrist, and she proceeds to drag him away to the nearest door without stopping for any questions or complaints. The quiet of the empty hallway allows her to finally hear her own hyperventilating. But does that really matter now? Not at all.
Instead of being mindful of her breathing, Dara pushes Shinjiro to the wall before pressing against him. It's nothing like an embrace; her singular set of arms grabs at him, unsettled and searching for nothing in particular, taking only a moment to rip her mask off. It clatters to the floor as Dara's mouth opens up wide, barring fangs at his neck. If she devoured him now, then this void inside her would be filled? She was looking for him, so Shinjiro's life could be the solution if only she drink deep. This ugly feeling carving her from the inside-out would be extinguished. She couldn't exist forever with it. This can't continue. It's all wrong, so wrong--!
It feels like a curse.
...
Pause. This isn't right. A deep breath through the nose, stuttering at first then becoming fluid, and Dara closes her jaw for a slow release from her mouth. Eyes closed, she presses her face against his chest as she tries to find her self-control. The world seems to come back to her when she finds the thump of his heartbeat, and the sounds (including his voice) begin to filter through her mind again. Desperation drains from her muscles, and the god ends up leaning into Shinjiro rather than barring down.]
That's all he can figure out with the way she moves in such a fixated way, having grabbed his hand and started off. Regardless of his grouching and questions and that spiking of worry the longer it goes on. There's no response to him, the person in front of her, as she hauls them out and shoves herself against him-- something that in other circumstances would probably be flattering and exciting in equal measures. But here, with her heavy, needy breathing, lack of response to his sharp questions, the way her jaw splits and widens--
He feels like prey.
His own heart is hammering-- Hell, it had been all damn night. It seems like the longer he's out from his sentencing, the worse this restless energy and need to act gets. It itches in a way, and her pressing restraint, preventing him from doing only ratchets it up another level.]
-Dara!
[Possibly one of the first things she hears from him is a shout when she begins to calm, fangs and maw falling from where she'd been clearly considering taking a bite. There's a pinch of emotion in it-- though it's hard to say what. Concern, worry, fear, indignation, a combination of all of the above? And it isn't exactly soothed when she leans into his chest instead, though he still brings up his hands to her shoulders. He doesn't push or shove her off, though-- It's just another place of contact.]
i hope you're faring well in the middle of all this distress. if you need a way to escape the cold i am available right now. i'm sure we can find a way to work through it together.
I was wondering if you'd like to come and stay at my place, along with Mitsuru. There's not a lot of room, but I'm sure I can make you up something comfortable nevertheless... Sorry, if this is weird! Feel free to ignore me!
[what the fuck is it with people here thinking it's okay to just spontaneously call him 'Shinji'. At least Scott gets a pass because he's stupid and American.
...Well. Vash is stupid too. Whatever.]
how'd you know we need a place?
[....Wait 'along with' Mitsuru, did Mitsuru already agree???]
I can take a look I guess. what kind of place do you have
[He's not sure how much people remember about their real lives or the fake lives they were just stuck in. Was it abnormal for him to remember both? Things were weird. He'd try not to think about it, but he had friends in that fake life and he can't help but wonder how they're doing.]
[The message Shinjiro receives is NOT a text, because alas, Kotetsu is Old and that seems terribly impersonal for the situation. Instead, there's a voicemail. It starts out with some vague noises of fumbling and shuffling, and a single loud burst of static because he's not gotten used to the layout of the tablet-phone yet and definitely spoke too close to the microphone. Ahem.]
Hey, it's Kotetsu. Uh, just checkin' in how it's going and stuff. That whole thing was super weird, huh? I mean, not bad-weird--or, well, the memories weren't bad, anyway. Though discovering them being fake was pretty awful...
[Cough. Okay, he's getting back on track. He's got this.]
Anyway. Point is, hope you're doing alright, and uh. Listen. I said this to Sandry and Mitama, too, but just because we're not really related doesn't mean my door's not open if you ever need anything.
[He has to wonder, now, if that's how it is for Barnaby -- to be aware certain memories cannot possibly be real, but to remember how they felt nonetheless. Even though he hardly knew Shinjiro before, and has full clarity now that any connection they perceived to have was a falsehood, he still feels that urge to reach out to him.
All of which might have been embarrassing enough on its own, but the fact that he fails to properly hang up at the end and there's ambient noises for at least a minute afterward before he notices with an "oh crap!" before the message cuts out certainly puts it over the top.]
[...Welp. This guy is just as awkward in real life as he is in the fake world. Which.... makes sense. Shinjiro himself hadn't been too different except for how stupid and carefree he'd been, never having had to grow up like he had in real life. Which was embarrassing but whatever.
But discovering it fake being 'awful' sure is a take, and the comment he hones in on. Some adult offering him sympathy sure whatever-- but the possible implication that someone had preferred the pretty lies to reality is interesting. Maybe this guy was like Mikey, struggling to pick apart the real from the fake.]
What, you'd prefer them not be fake?
[it's deadpan and even devoid of judgment. Just an idly curiosity of if his understanding was correct.]
Thanks, but I still ain't really the 'vent it out' kinda guy. Besides, you shouldn't offer that kinda thing so easily: you might get in over your head real fast, especially with the types of people we got here.
[ok. Mikey has been mentally fucked and troubled and had mentioned possibly doing it, and apparently finally had the impulse and just fucking left. Shinjiro's done that before. He gets it. And so despite his easy, near-joking first text, he follows up with:]
Something happen or is it none of my business? Also will I run into anyone? Should I go at night?
Hey, I'm going to be away for a bit. There's unfinished business I need to handle. I give it 7 days max. Seimei-sama is helping me, so if it takes more than that you can send him a message if I don't text back.
[BYE, GOTTA GO TORTURE A CLOWN! ...Although a few minutes later:]
When I'm done, I want to talk to you about something important.
[Yes, she's going to set that expectation...for herself, really. Eventually the 10th of the month rolls by, and a new text pops up from Dara:]
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