aforerime

[aforerime]

A frigid air surrounding their person annihilated the bothersome mosquitos. Clouds of insect corpses fluttered to the ground, leaving a piles as Uraume uncharacteristically hummed along their way to their garden.

[aforerime]

Twenty fold whitened eyes rimmed with tears gaped at the heavens. The fluctuating cadence of grief muffled the sounds beyond the square. Dozens mourned; dozens laughed in bewilderment; dozens cursed; the remainder froze. Uraume witnessed the vast crowd rotate through the cycle, characteristically grinning.

Slowly, their palms rose, floating upward. Uncalculatable control left their motions smooth as if no resistance were to be found within and without. Glimmers of ice crystals followed their movements, gravitating towards their fingertips to shield each appendages with ice spires. The indignant dozens charged forward, arms and legs bending inhumanly in dementated half-sprints and half-crawls.

The young woman had warranted their interest thus far, and Uraume resolved to allow her to return home unscathed for today. Yet, her desire to abandon the course she desired to witness hindered their resolve.

"Do you fear the unreal?" Uraume called out to her as she made her escape. The distance between the Cursed User and the vicious mob shortened drastically. "Do you fear that you're powerless!?" Uraume's mouth yawned wider and increased in volume. "Have you caved before these delusions!?"

The hot breath of the berserkers misted Uraume's face. A blink later, glacial spires fractured the ground and penetrated the first line of offense. Blood seeped over the translucent, blue ice, mutilating the refracted view of the opposing mob.

Uraume's stretched mouth grew slack. "Death has no purpose here." A cacophony of unnerving scratching against the ice, rattling of last breaths, and desperate moaning suffocated the air. Uraume canted their head, one eye peering at the fleeing young woman. "When there is no death, there is no existence. This world is empty."

"Does the wool still hang over your eyes?"

At first, Cheryl thought only to laugh-- until, she remembered the nearby followers. She hadn't noticed them hardly at all before given the time of night, and had simply assumed the odd individual before her was only going to try and graffiti (or otherwise deface) the statue publicly. The destruction that ensued, and the outcry it spurred, however, was so unexpected that all she could do was stare at the statue's remains for a few moments.

This person's crazy, she finally thought, but at the realization that she was still smiling, Cheryl surmised she must be at least a little crazy, too.

(Well, she probably already knew that, but was now really the time or place?)

"Hah," Cheryl let out a sigh. "Jeez..."

"Well, duh. Do you want to stay here and get attacked by a pissed off mob?"

There was no time to ask about how or why anything was occurring, or what powers the person before her possessed. All Cheryl knew how to do now was live in the moment, so she pointed out a path behind the two of them, and began to run towards it.

"Come on!"

[aforerime]

The absence of death within Spirale resulted in an absence of life. Nothing in this city is impermanent, Uraume thought, everything persisted annoyingly, ceaselessly. Those people who met demise by their own hands breathed new life again, eliminating the purpose behind their offerings, and while this perturbed Uraume, the greatest offense were those who existed in this world through their own violation. Sickly, blissful ignorant in the desire to live forever. Those who met death gained nothing and lost less. Their death held no weight. Their life held no weight. The vain mausoleum served no other purpose than to garner the attention of visitors, and the Stars only proffered this useless and continuous banal life.

Uraume had paused their ministrations as they ruminated, but quickly relapsed into their pace. The ruddy droplets dribbled from the cloth. The spring babbled unintelligently, and slowly, the once worshipped force lost its appeal in Uraume's eyes. They resigned, however. Their purpose is not to reform the world, it is merely to serve their lord. The entire universe could erode, even Hansol and themselves could be naught more than dust, all in the name of Ryomen-Sukuna, and in that resolution, color in Sukuna's radius remained intact.

"I commend your resilience within this stagnant hell, my Lord." Uraume tugged the cloth tightly around their fingertips and etched into the deep crevices across the stony form. Shards of caked mud and blood flittered free and plopped upon the water's surface to be spirited away.

"I will perform a ritual in your honor to encourage the scared wind of the Land of the Dead to chill your soul and enrich your wisdom."

Uraume's lips turned slowly upward and their heart pattered with excitement and admiration.

ㅤDespite how he could not see Uraume, he knew their movements well by sound alone--the plush rustling of their sleeves pulling back, the dusty shifting of knotting twine--and by way of those mundane, familiar sounds, an idyllic suggestion of life impressed itself on his mind-state. But the notion bounced off him before it could leave a substantive imprint, for in feeling the layer of mud slough off his body, the time spent during its accumulation, too, washed away wasted. Although wise enough to not assign such meaning on something so unremarkable, he found the implication stubbornly irritating.

"Nothing so interesting," Sukuna corrected, his gaze lingering distractedly around the surrounding woods. After a moment of thought, he continued, "... Time hasn't been of import to us here. However it's spent, the result is still the same. That's the unimpressive nature of this place." He fixed his gaze across the bank at a spring flower wilting within a bed of vibrant petals, his expression distant with preoccupation. "That said, I've recently noticed how that changes the way I should be waiting to die... rather, that I can't wait as I have been. It's an obvious conclusion, but more than that, it's an incomplete one. It's foolish to die without reason. Instead, I decided to seek a place to become closer to 'death'." 'Then I can grasp the essence of that premonition... the way I come to die.'

[aforerime]

The limpid springs assimilated to its visitor, taking on a russet hue. However, the polluted water lingered briefly as it was whisked further down stream. The permanent waterfall brought in clear water, washing out the taint. Uraume's head lowered enough for their bangs to conceal their expression and shrouded their eyes; they witnessed the clumps of bloody mud dissolve downstream.

Sukuna recognized the prolonged pause and motioned for Uraume to commence their duty. Uraume bowed in response and inched forward. They knelt at Sukuna's back and tugged off the sleeves of their kimono, utilizing a length of twine they kept at hand in their sleeve, they tied their sleeves at their waist.

Their choice on their vessel opposed their original form. The feminine bosom remained wrapped up in cloth to prevent the tissue from impeding on their daily tasks. However, they cared little for the physical gender of their body. They would always be Uraume, and their body did not pose a threat to the shape of their soul.

Uraume dipped a cloth into the water that returned to is limpid state and rubbed the hand soap bar into the cloth. They proceeded to scrub the remaining clumps from the curvatures off Sukuna's muscles.

"Did you find one worthy of your time, Lord Sukuna?"

ㅤSukuna did not bother challenging Uraume's urgency. He had long accepted their meticulous diligence to things unnoticeable to him, and while he normally acknowledged it as a natural benefit to their partnership, a moment's thought about the trajectory of his muddy footprints told him the honest reason for their panic. He blew a flat huff through his nose and strode back the way he came, casting his words over his shoulder as he went, "You want for less than you think. Speak your mind next time."

Water gushed from an open pore in the earth a short walk from the Hanok's grounds, the spring flowing until it churned over the serrated edge of a low cliff. Though visiting the location to bathe hadn't appealed to him in a while, his familiarity with it remained, and he shucked himself of his dirtied garments before sinking chest-deep into a hollow near the base of the waterfall that would rub him down with undertow.

By the time Uraume arrived, the current had carried away the top layer of grime and loosened the hardened blood, stripping his skin of the muddy clots which stoppered the cuts jagging his body. His back to them and his upper arms resting across the bank, he motioned for them to begin. "Go ahead. There isn't anything else worth waiting for here."

[aforerime]

The clatter of rubber soles against the cobblestone awoke Uraume's senses. Uraume shifted their head to appraise the newcomer, and much to their dismay, a teenager approached. Uraume's eye twitched. They expecting to hear the girl spout nonsensical morality, born from fictional stories. However, the teenager showed favor in the irreverent act. Uraume's head lifted, turning their maroon gaze upward to see anticipation drenching her expression.

"No, I do not."

The words of advise crawled to the edge of their mind, but Uraume held their tongue. Uraume predicted the impending backlash upon the statue's destruction and was prepared to protect their vessel. However, their mild interest in the girl had limitations. She was indeed unique, but her presence did not warrant protection.

Uraume stepped forward, palm open. The temperature sharply declined near the statue as Uraume's hand expelled mist as the warm water vapor morphed into crystalline structures. They touched the statue's stomach. The town center erupted in a deafening crack. Five large spires broke through the shape of the statue, severing the statue at its epicenter. The limbs of the marbled woman clattered heavily to the ground. Her head bounced upon the cobblestone and rolled to the edge of the crowd. Empty eyes peered up to its disciples and begged for mercy.

A shock of silence filled the air as followers looked on in horror at their deity shattered across the ground. Wide saucer eyes gaped at Uraume, and their horror mutated. A roar of demented screams and shouts slaughtered the silence.

"Do you seek the other side of this madness?"

Cheryl was one of the last people to directly seek out much akin to religious imagery-- no, she'd supposed she'd seen and dealt with enough of it for one (or even three) lifetimes. Even so, deep into the night, the young woman had made her way here; an area where 'an idol' was so well known and openly discussed that even Cheryl couldn't help but wonder what all the commotion was about.

Yet, when she arrived, all the blonde could think was...

'This is what everyone was making a big deal out of? An old, ugly statue?'

Cheryl was, obviously, less than impressed; yet, the sight of another person (and with what she presumed was an impressive dye job), was far more intriguing. The individual spoke, and a bemused smirk highlighted Cheryl's face.

"Seriously?"

"If you're gonna tear that thing down, be my guest. Mind if I watch?"

[aforerime]

"I am humbled that you've consider me, my Lord" Uraume uttered, waiting until they received their command. Slowly, they rose, porcelain hands sunk into the mud as dripped off their chin.

"If it pleases you, my Lord, to begin your trek to the spring further uphill. I will reunite with you in time after I have gathered the necessary supplies."

Less than twenty minutes later, Uraume rejoined Ryomen-Sukuna as promised at the edge of the natural spring that bubbled from underground. Shy, maroon eyes cast down from Sukuna's presence. "Whenever you are ready, Lord Sukuna."

ㅤA paste of dirt and blood clung to his body. Preoccupied by amorphous deliberations, Sukuna paid the grime little mind, intending to scrub himself clean once he settled other matters. On his way inside the Hanok, he felt Uraume's presence scramble after him, but he did not stop to acknowledge them until they begged him to.

He paused, turning to catch Uraume fling themselves into the mud he trekked. Though comical the sight, he merely crossed his arms.

"And what of you, Uraume?" Blowing a sigh, he waved another hand at them as though sweeping them off the floor. "I heard you, so raise your face out of the mud already."

[aforerime]

@bimeval

The colossal, muddy footprints stunk with blood. Uraume's terrified eyes traced the tracks, realizing its trajectory led to their kitchen. They gave sudden chase, quickly losing their breath as they sprinted to the source.

A monstrous creature covered in blood and dirt neared the kitchen's stone threshold.

"STOP!!"

Immediately, Uraume threw their body to the ground in repentance, slapping into the muddy puddle. "My Lord... I shall run you a bath... outside." The thought of their kitchen trekked with blood and mud ran a vicious shiver across their spine.

[aforerime]

@enflourish

"You ventured too far," a low voice spoke to the adventurer. Two miles west was the territorial border, marking the beginning of their garden.

Several rows of rolling mounds of dirt indicated a new season within their garden. Uraume stood in the center adorned with a heavy wolf skin over their shoulders, the snout draped across their chest. Uraume appraised the woman and sighed.

"Speak your purpose now, woman. I do not want to shed blood; bad omen for a new season." Uraume navigated closer.

[aforerime]

@renatusest

The woman's marbled face pierced the night sky. Her stoned eyes turned heavensward, seeking the beacon to which called her home. Her suspended arms showed signs of exhaustion, little cracks that marked her age and the desperation to stay upright.

In the short time between the burning descent of the sun till the sky littered with stars, visitors by the hundreds flocked to her feet and presented offerings. Some whispered in tongues, others stared in admiration. Among the few that drifted, only one sojourned.

Uraume anchored before the statue. They appraised the statue with a disgust-laden stare. A story that elevated false hope in the everyday people so far removed from the initial event seemed to sicken Uraume. Perhaps it was the mere idea people were foolish enough to grow attached to a false idol, or idolize anything but themselves.

Snowflakes yawed their fingertips as glistening, blue ice slowly formed. Destruction swelled in their chest, guiding the slow movement to raise their hand.

A hard clatter of rubber soles slowed their motion to a halt. Their periphery etched a taller and younger visitor. "If you have an offering or a prayer, act now; this idol will fall soon."

[aforerime]

@railheist

The frozen rabbit husks dully clattered with the frigid wind. Uraume turned, welcoming the whispering wind; their vibrant, magenta eyes fell upon the western adorned woman withstanding the arctic chill. Unbated by the freezing temperatures, Uraume scanned her attire, unimpressed by her laxity towards the weather.

"Death falls upon deaf ears in this world," they muttered, words stolen by the wind. "You need to eat a cooked meal if you are going to keep all your limbs." They rose the rabbit husks, "Obey my demands and you will be rewarded rabbit soup." They turned away, "Do not fret, my demands are less than normal." Unsurprisingly, winter weather puts them in a good mood.

[aforerime]

"Ah, Mistress Hansol, wait--"

The generic text chime echoed from Uraume's sleeve pocket. They quickly retrieved Sukuna's phone to see Hansol's request to turn off the oven. They showed the illuminated screen to Hansol.

"Lord Sukuna fails to use his phone... and a certain annoyance of a monk refuses to cease requesting his presence. Thus, I acquired the task to filter wanted and unwanted missives."

Uraume bowed, "Forgive my miscommunication, Mistress Hansol."

The issue of the lit stove remains unsolved...

"OH! SUKUNA!" Hansol is quick to shoot Sukuna a text. "Yahhhh, Uraume. You're a lifesaver!" Of course ,sukuna would be home to turn the stove off!

[aforerime]

"Oh. If the stove catches ablaze, it won't harm Lord Sukuna."

"I think..."

"I forgot to turn the stove off! Gah! I was so excited about hanging out with you, I forgot!!"

[aforerime]

"Mistress Hansol?"

"Oh, crap."

[aforerime]

january starter call for uraume. if i havent interacted with you and vice versa LIKE THIS PLS

cap at 3!

[aforerime]

The cascading weight persisted, unyielding to the insignificant being that threatened its maw. Uraume's body trembled, folding underneath the suffocating pressure. Their muscles bulged with self-perseveration. Sweat soaked the cotton fabric that slumped to the shoulder joints. A muted creak alerted their attention, and the leviathan's maw grew slack. Uraume abused the hinted surrender and thrusted upward; ice spires penetrated the palate, widening the gap that sought to silence them. Then, the monster convulsed. A piercing, agonizing groan erupted from the leviathan's soul.

The maw clattered shut.

Uraume's vision tilted. The sliver of light that signaled freedom inundated with darkness. Uraume saw nothingness. Felt nothingness. Heard nothingness.

Their body soared through a diluted realm, their soul throttled to catch up. Their flesh seared as its exterior composition frayed. Bloated muscles slackened and muscle fibers and sinew gradually peeled off. Clean, white bone shimmered in the darkness. The pores eroded and marrow streamed out as the body hurtled across the void. Systematically, the bones shrunk, eaten away by an unseen entity.

Uraume's soul witnessed the body deteriorate until decomposition eradicated all evidence of their existence. Then, the soul halted. Suspended in the void, it idled. A single concept existed upon its surface.

Ryomen-Sukuna.

The concept repeated, encircled the soul, sheltering it from the nothingness that threatened to deconstruct its essence.

A day passed. And another day passed. Then, three hundred sixty-five thousand, two hundred fifty days passed. Never moving. Never evolving.

Then, the soul convulsed. Rime sheered across its surface as a harsh, shrewd voice offered solace. A pact. Uraume swallowed the pact, engulfed it, and ignited the soul's purpose.

Ryomen-Sukuna.

Uraume's soul rapidly descended. Dull, white surface constructed in the nothingness. Hard shelled structure generated. Marrow poured into the spongey sections. Fibrous threads and tendons elegantly spun around the bones. Dry, white skin germinated across the ruddy flesh.

Down they fell, splintering through the nothingness. They bare body streaked across a colorless, cloudy sky. They pierced the misty clouds in their wake, and crashed.

A shock of liquid violently woke their senses. They drowned in murky water; salt water deluged their mouth and they coughed, attempting to once again, survive. Uraume saw everything. Felt everything. Heard everything. Their pale, naked arms treaded the tumultuous waves that shoved them across the vacant, ocean surface. They twisted in the depths, head swiveling for the concept that allowed their soul to endure.

A large wrist partitioned with a two tattooed lines hovered over the surface, groping for purchase.

"SUKUNA!"

Uraume threw out an arm to close the distance. A mysterious force propelled them further away from their loved one. Then, from the depths, the leviathan breached the surface. The monster ascended its head gaping maw severed their sight of Sukuna. A single, large, empty eye stared into Uraume's.

The vast, idling void struck their soul, and they froze.

Abruptly, the whale descended. Its shadow cascaded over their insignificant body. Powerless, they waited for impact.

Waves exploded from the surface, clattering droplets like shrapnel across the sea. Then, the water's deserted surface leveled.

ㅤBlood poured from the torn stomach wall and pooled around his feet, the torrent gushing with each yank that pried the fleshy hole open wider around the dislocated organ. He felt the quickening pulse of the veins popping beneath his fingers, the frightened heartrate of a creature awakening to its pain. Knowing the whale's reaction to be imminent, he fortified his grasp on the liver, condensed the energy in his muscles, and heaved the bleeding mass into the cavity.

The acrid smell of the meat singeing in the stomach acid clogged his lungs, and his oxygen-choked muscles felt thick and bloated where the rippling of the liquid sloshed against his ankles. Stale air, he distantly recalled, would wring his body long before hunger or madness had their chances, but the traces of himself who only knew how to revere the whale for it's village-sustaining meat and oil and couldn't acknowledge the greater importance of its fall lacked the stature to weigh his life against the creature's existence, thus ultimately submitting to his humanness. Though the evolution he achieved as a result of his forfeit to the goliath would empower him for eons, he transcended the stagnation inherent in human ideals, so rife with comparisons and ambiguities they were, and instead committed to the unequivocal truth of nature, where all had purpose -- if a whale were to fall, its death would fundamentally alter history, just as his did.

As the whale began to writhe, Sukuna dug his nails into the stomach wall and allowed his body to be lifted by the tilting gravitational force. A spray of rushing blood, sea water, and acid poured passed his hanging body, followed by the shuddering slap of the liver colliding against the muscle wall. He waited for the creature's motions to position his body over then into the hole he made, then unhooked himself.

Although Hida laid a considerable distance from the ocean, he would travel to the coasts to bring back seafood when the harvests failed, his years of doing so yielding him the rare luck of observing a beached whale's anatomy from skin to marrow. The people of the local villages had fled from his presence when he brandished his spear and knife and gutted the creature for days on end, giving him the time to both scavenge and learn. Now, even without his eyesight to guide him, he could trace the mammal's internal structure in his mind's eye, his hand extended to find purchase in the solid spaces he remembered -- and he caught a bar of the animal's massive ribcage, his nails digging into the porous bone to fortify his grip on the slippery surface. Jutting his feet against a rib below him, he steadied himself, readied his free hand, and gouged the pulsating mass cupped beneath the ribs with his nails. Veins spurted, and he ducked his head away until the blood pressure tapered, then inhaled deeply--breathable air.

His lungs fed from the whale's, he released his grip and dropped toward the heart.

[aforerime]

@einwish

A flickered wisp stole their attention from the toiled earth. Slowly, their eyes trailed upward and met the pair of vermilion eyes. The moment they locked eyes, their brows winced; the creature posed its elegant body upon the divide that secured the Hanok's garden from the outside world. Uraume's lips moved to speak and yet hesitated. The creature's stare felt unnatural. Round, dead eyes bore into their skull. Despite the creature's apparent emptiness, the curved feline mouth offered mischief. They slowly came to a stand, eyes locked in motion.

"Do you speak, Creature?"

[aforerime]

"Ah, I forgot to forage for the mushrooms."