asobuu

[asobuu]

     "Now, now~."

     So dramatic.  Upon the desk chair seated midway into the living room, Izaya spins in idle thought while a smile slips across his face.  What a ridiculous notion!  A traitor?  Towards Shinra's love affair with that monster?  As if he cared.  "Celty asked for a job.  Oh, and she told me to tell you not to go through her belongings while she's out because she'll know."  He laughs then, a mocking sound, and rolls just a bit closer to the couch.  "But I won't tell if you do."

     Shoulders straighten, dark gaze seeking out Shinra's spectacled one.  Izaya is an uninvited guest in a home shared by an illegal doctor and a fairytale come to life, and it's hilarious, isn't it?  He thinks so.

movement halts, dumbfounded expression crossing his visage, and he blinks. His eyelids flutter, as if the other was a hurricane blasting his way — and with Orihara Izaya it might really be the case — ( ah! ) Shinra’s lips start to tremble, a stutter spills like liquid, volume crashes to maximum like an ocean’s wave ”you sent her away y-you —-

                ——————-you abominable traitor!!”

Wailing like a child, it splatters from his lips “how could you! We were going to be lovey-dovey, and now, now I get to spend time with a man instead! You don’t have her perfect curves — ah — see, here she would’ve given me a well-placed punch in my solar plexus. It’s just not the same." A sigh absconds his nostrils ( signifies resignment ), and his head tilts backwards, so with a loud thud he’s soon nestled into the couch. “You won’t get too many friends with that attitude.”

[asobuu]

image source

███ “When you know what a man wants, you know who he is, and how to         move him.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords ███

           Izaya    Orihara   from   Durarara!!

♔ player is 18+ ♔ 13 years roleplaying experience ♔ para preferred ♔ crossover and oc friendly (selective) ♔ looking for partners

       ALLUSERSPROFILE=C:\Documents and Settings\

[asobuu]

     A pawn; a toy; a game -- Mikado was easy to wind up.  He was a quiet force, an unexpected one, but capable of demolition in droves.  Izaya had seen it long before the boy himself had acted upon any inkling of destruction, but before that, he had needed a nudge off of the cliff.  Now, skydiving through a foggy course, he could likely feel the ground creeping closer.  Would there be any cushion at the bottom of the fall?  Mikado had seemed so sure of himself once upon a time, yet as each new twist blindsided him, he had expressed a growing fear.  Was this out of his control?  And oh, Mikado did so love control, didn't he?  All the more reason the fun seemed never ending, because wherever the boy went, a new storm approached.  It was quite the enjoyable disaster to watch.

     With a slow smile quirking his lips, dragging across his face in sluggish delight, Izaya's eyes grew pointed.  "I only provide accurate information to my clients.  If I were unsure, I'd say so."  A hummed giggle escaped him as he quirked his head. (People passed them by and the city went on.)  "Of course, this information is free.  Consider it a gift to keep your little escapade afloat."

     Afloat, but not enough alone to catch the conspirator.  No names, no further details; no, just enough to offer insight.  How many Blue Squares were there?  Few, very few, which should, in theory, have made it less difficult to pinpoint a wandering eye.

     Still, who could Mikado trust if not his own elite gang?

     Izaya hoped to pull a thread of doubt and, perhaps, paranoia with this drop of information.  No place was safe, after all.  Wasn't he just doing the boy a service?  You can thank me later.

      Now it should’ve been expected that anything that came out of Izaya’s mouth possessed the ability to throw anyone a curve—as contradictory as that sounded. (Expect the unexpected?) Granted, most people that didn’t know of Izaya and his attributes went unsuspecting of his little deceptive games. Ignorant and unaware, they too would inevitably slip into the pitfall that he’d set up for them. Of course, there were also those who found the adult two-faced on the spot. It didn’t take much to figure that one out given the shady way he presented himself. (Not like he really tried to hide it, anyway, for once.)

      Ah, but Mikado Ryugamine was not one of those people. Or rather, not exactly.

      Why he continued to play along in this game that’d lead him to an inescapable disaster, no one—no, not even Mikado—really knew. Was it the endless curiosity? The thrill and excitement of wondering what’d be around every corner? Or merely the shift in his dull, simple life? Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mikado knew he should’ve escaped while he still could. Somewhere, he knew that relying on Izaya would get him absolutely nowhere.

              But all the W A R N I N G S went dismissed,                                         and this is where his life began to further d e t e r i o r a t e.

      With an eager gaze and anticipation, Mikado watched as Izaya moved to stand closer towards the teen. Within quick, short seconds, an arm slipped around Mikado’s shoulders and a traitorous mouth was at his ear. There was a skip in Mikado’s heartbeat—ah, too close—and then it stopped. A…traitor? His eyes widened before he blinked incredulously, his focus returning to Izaya’s face once the latter pulled away.

      “You…can’t be serious," he managed quietly before his voice grew louder. "You’re absolutely sure about that…?!" And aah, if only he’d listened to all of the warning sirens S H O U T I N G at him not to trust Izaya Orihara, Mikado would realize that no—that couldn’t be true.

                                                              …Could it?

[asobuu]

Solestring:

"you know, who should get money, too? me for having to take care of you, when I’d rather spent my time with celty ( she’s so lovely ), but fortunately for you, or unfortunately for both of us, i don’t really care about money, and you do neither. so we’re stuck;

i am stuck with you, don’t interrupt my celty time! What do you need this time?” 

     "Oh~?  Did I interrupt?  Interesting, considering you certainly didn't seem to be enjoying your time with her -- you weren't even here when I arrived.  Too bad.  Your precious Celty is off making a living while you get to enjoy some quality time with me.  And, for the record, I don't consider myself stuck; I came of my own volition to enjoy some quality conversation with you, Shinra."

[asobuu]

Shxgun:

❝ No shit. ❞ He says candidly, the dead expression he usually wears alters in that moment, eye brows furrowing in sarcastic amusement as the informant speaks. His voice was like carcinogenic venom in his ears, each syllable burns the atmosphere and he deems the others voice alone, an annoyance. Eyes twitch, the glare of yellowish black rises from the fire and scorches the raven. He doesn’t care for honorifics, nor does he care to watch as the other investigates his yellow bandana. He already knows what he’s thinking.

A huff follows after the query was spoken, arms remained crossed as he speaks his answer freely, but the tense air still stands. ❝ More or less. Of course, you should know, you keep tabs on me I assume. ❞ He doesn’t assume, he knows. 

Dactyls tug on the yellow attire tied securely around his neck, his voice flares under the wicked bile, tasteless and worn, awaiting words that he is sure the informant would question him, or rather, speak of it as if it were a not a question at all. (So, you ran back to the scarves?) every fiber of his being wishes for that subject to remain unspoken, just like he had been ignoring the name given to him, since he is aware of it’s relevancy and unrelevancy. 

      Masaomi likes to play coy.  Observation dictates that it's likely a defense mechanism to create an impervious aura -- a barrier against the wicked world.  Each puff of arrogance to appear larger, higher, stronger; Izaya remains cosmically unperturbed.

     Masaomi is just another fish in the pond.

     "Oh, now don't get the wrong idea," the informant drawls in that purred, rich inflection that's freckled with bubbling toxin.  (Sink his claws into volatile topics because he finds it so fun, so...fascinating.)  "I don't follow you around," anymore.  "I just hear things."  With jovial kick in his step loaded with childish glee, he grins and allows his head to loll towards his shoulder; he keeps his gaze locked on the blond.  "Mm, you sure make a lot of noise for a kid who's been trying to keep his head down."

     His almond eyes fall to that splash of yellow the boy had so conspicuously tugged on.  "Of course, you really can't keep your head in the sand for long, and you and I both know that.  Staying safe and normal just isn't your way of doing things."

     Izaya doesn't laugh yet the gleam of amusement flickering in his dark gaze is undeniable.  "Hoping to leave the mundane behind?"

[asobuu]

    With a few right phrases and a nudge from behind, a chain reaction can occur. Dominos collide, knocking down one after another after another after another...

    What fun it is to be the one to  P U S H!

    -- and like anything, it starts as an idea. A seed impregnating the mind sinks its roots into the infected's frontal lobes, and there, in the darkest corners of the brain, it squeezes, ensnaring its puppet. It can't be ignored. Curiosity becomes a poison and the blinded are forced into action.

    Turbulent self-immersion.

    It's almost too good to be true! Except that, no, it isn't, because people are predictable. They can't drown out the white noise of doubt or the prickling anxiety; they can't help but wonder over possibility. They're all the same. The fun, however, lies in where they differ. What move will they make? Who will they take down with them?

    Why not find out?

[asobuu]

Kuromakuu ~

      Mikado was, what most people would call, an easy target. He was desperate for abnormality in his horribly normal life and Izaya’s rather formative syntax could almost influence even the most suspicious of people. Having been so naïve and gullible, despite all the CAUTION signs f l a s h i n g in every direction, it was no wonder how Mikado was so easily swayed and wrapped around Izaya’s little finger.

               Hook, line, and sinker —                            you’ve completely fallen into his T R A P, kid.                                                                     There’s no escape now.

      Gray-blue orbs focused attentively on Izaya’s face as Mikado waited for said informer to deliver the news. His ears perked up at the confirmation and, unconsciously gripping the strap of his messenger bag tighter, he tipped forward just a tad with growing interest. Of course he was interested.

      “Gossip?" he parroted softly, curiously. There was always gossip—but what was it this time? If it was coming from Izaya, then surely, it must’ve been promising. (Or so Mikado thought.) And throwing caution to the wind, much like he always did, Mikado nodded with prominent inquisitiveness “Sure! I’d be happy to listen.”

     The body language displayed by Mikado suggested wonder even before his victim opened his mouth. Oh, Izaya had him, and more, what he had was a piece in his game that always spelled F-U-N for all.

     "Well," he started without missing a beat, his pleasant expression shifting into a minor smile while those mischievous eyes glittered in the midday sun. A step forward and a pivot found him beside Mikado, an arm snaking around the boy's narrow shoulders to draw him nearer. (Mikado smelled of teenage musk and an earthy deodorant.) With his lips hovering beside Mikado's ear, he murmured what he knew. "You seem to have a traitor among your 'special forces.' More specifically, a follower under Aoba Kuronuma seems to be trying to uproot the two of you."

      Humming, Izaya stepped back and grinned a loaded smile. "As you can see, I don't have many details, but their numbers are small so it shouldn't be too difficult for someone like you to figure out, hm?" Was that a compliment or a jab?

     His hands slid into his pockets as he observed Mikado further. The web was spun, casted out across the surface of the city -- but Izaya wasn't lying. No, trust was gained with accurate information and he? Well, he was the best at his job.

[asobuu]

Kuromakuu ~

      It wasn’t exactly unusual to receive a message from a particular information broker right out of the blue. Lots of people received certain details that only one Izaya Orihara was capable of providing, whether or not they asked for it—this included one Mikado Ryugamine. Nevertheless, the action always seemed to greatly tug at Mikado’s curiosity (and his suspicion, of course).

      What— what is it? What does he have for me? What does he want with me? When it came to Izaya, Mikado never knew and it only made him more curious, more interested, and that in turn made him more excited and more fascinated—

      —And somewhere inside him, he knew he should be more wary about god damn Izaya Orihara and Mikado knew he shouldn’t go and seek him out and accept whatever help and information he could get from this guy. But he didn’t listen to the clarity that dwelled beneath his gradually crumbling sanity, to the warnings from everyone around him telling him to “Stay away from Izaya Orihara!" Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mikado knew not to go near him.

                                    But he did it anyway.

      The sound of his name drew the teenage boy out of his thoughts and he jumped just a tad from surprise. Ah, that’s— “Izaya-san." Unexpected as ever. "Oh, yes, well." Mikado let out an awkward chuckle before shaking his head. "Ah but so, you said you had something for me?”

     Information was never free, and although his words didn't always require payment of the monetary sort, there was a price. Mikado would have been wise to listen to the murmured warnings of the choir but chose instead to heed his sable curiosity. What toxicity it was, though, tugging him straight into the spider's web?

Trust me. I won't harm you. I won't eat you, little insect.

     "I did," Izaya's arms spread wider in theatrical flourish. "A little bit of gossip from the grapevine, if you're interested." He then bounded off the ledge to land in front of Mikado, sporting a devil's grin as he purred, "although, you could say it's a word of caution." A long finger extended to point at the center of the naive teenager's face. (Bang!) "Wanna hear it, Mikado-kun?" 

     But what would be the price? Each trickle of preventive knowledge dripping from those fangs was charged, and that debt continued to gather with each transaction. It wouldn't be long before he came to collect.

           The problem was, no one could know when and how.

[asobuu]

[asobuu]

mendacii replied to your post:

[ You do realize that talking like that is exactly why no one ever believes you right? And we may not be able to conclude with 100% certainty we can get pretty close.. ] [[ You really are perfection o.o ]]

( Close by what standards of measurement? Truth is mathematics. Truth is conclusive. However, until we can crack open a mind and unravel each secret and string of congruent thought, we'll never know Truth where people are concerned. Isn't that part of the fascination? So while you claim you know the truth about my apparent impurity, can you say so with 100% certainty or are you making judgements on my character based on deductive reasoning? Straightforward logic has no place in Truth -- there's too many chances for oversights in the arrogant nature of assumption. )

[asobuu]

mendacii replied to your post:

[[ Yeah you go on. Sip your tea all innocent like. We know the truth. ]]

( But to know the truth, we must first understand the nature of Truth itself. What is truly Truth? Our perceptions of reality may differ between minute to vast, and thus what seems irrevocably true to you, for example, may not be so to, say, me. Ergo, I conclude that we cannot conclude what is or isn't Truth. )

[asobuu]

mendacii replied to your post:

[[ Playful jabs from Izaya can still kill >.> ]]

[asobuu]

    A flip of his phone to send a quick message could summon one unwitting gang leader right to his doorway.  S p e c i a l   d e l i v e r y !  It was tempting to watch the boy jump at his call like an overly eager child seeking praise from a stern parent, but Izaya chose another option: a much more interesting option.

     Seek and destroy!

     Standing atop a ledge, he extended an index finger at Mikado Ryugamine's absentminded figure. "Bingo." A malicious grin twisted those pale lips, yet fell into something so pleasant not a moment later. (Target sighted!) With his arms outstretched for balance, he tightroped across the thin stretch of brick beside the sidewalk towards his approaching victim. Had Mikado noticed? Unlikely; the boy was as much of an airhead as he was hellbent on surmounting the masses.

     "Mikado-kun!" he called in his frieeendliest voice. "I see you're as observant as ever!"

[asobuu]

I've been absent for quite sometime and for that I apologize. That said, I'd like to announce that I'm back, should you remember me.

If you don't: My name is Killian (Kills) and I'd be happy to roleplay with you. I've done a bit of housekeeping on this blog, as well as added a personality section to Izaya's profile. Maybe that would interest you?

Hope to play soon!

[asobuu]

    A master puppeteer isn't a liar. Truth propels more results; fractions of the truth birth curiosity. It's that very wonder flickering in Mikado's eyes that produces a smirk. Ill intent glistens beneath Izaya's darkened gaze.

    Mikado had taken the bait.

    "Well, it is my job to know," comes his ambiguous response. His tone is conversational, airy even, while he tips into the boy's personal space. "Unfortunately, information isn't free and I've already given you so much without even asking for a thank you." Izaya's delight is a vibrant glow and so close is he now, bent at the hips and towering over his prey, that he could easily strike; a cobra hypnotizing a field mouse. "I know how much you love uncovering the truth. You have all the tools at your disposal, so I recommend you see for yourself." He straightens, offering a wink as he backpedals one, two, three steps and a bounce. "You'd be amazed by the secrets you might just find!"

    If the trust between Masaomi and Mikado were to break or even wane, it would leave Mikado susceptible to infection, and Izaya is just the disease to inhabit those brittle, brittle bones.

    Another pawn to swallow whole.

    Eyes narrow, gazes were locked after Izaya positioned himself in front in an almost dance, and now it’s as if no escape— the pale iris pierces through the other’s white orb, losing itself and the immediate surrounding. Mikado remains mute, his presence seems questionable and yet a twitch of fingers betrays him.

   He’s tracing a line of sight in Izaya’s eyes, follows the informant— lost— he gets on the way.

    Planted now, is a seed of doubt; an irritable aching nestles, and latches onto a teenager’s skin— he is calm in the current event, but it’s like the kindled flame in a forest, soon to burn and devour everything if left alone untended ( unattended. ) cradling in the wind.

    Confusion strikes him and leaves him battered, and certainly, he was never made for this, or possesses yet the experience to deal in expert manner. He takes time to answer, questions whether to answer at all or give— perhaps— a polite bow and leave? But Izaya is here, here to answer still, here to answer now, Mikado leaves a thought: 「… you… know something of Masaomi, I don’t, do you… Izaya-san?」 Tone is more seeking ( hidden elevation to someone you look up to. ), than it is accusatory.

[asobuu]

    Mikado attempted evasion. A sidestep, a misstep, and Izaya was already calculating scenarios. One thousand and one images flickered behind his mind's eyes -- a fight; failed intimidation; successful acquisition. Which wound was from which attack?

    In the dark of the night, what fun was Mikado Ryugamine having?

    -- yet Izaya knew. He knew of the goals and the internal conflicts housed in the gangs Mikado orchestrated. To think, this was the same naive boy who spoke to Izaya late at night from his home in the country. Impressive; some would say that this was a prime example of the genius that could come from boredom!

    "My work never stops," he purred. "And although you might say it's nothing to worry about, from where I stand, it looks like yours doesn't, either. Tell me, is it enjoyable? No, rather, are you satisfied in your current position?" How long before it wasn't enough? Until Mikado's insatiable hunger drove him further, devouring what friendships remained, and extending to reaches of the city he'd yet to eclipse?

    Give a push and let the chips fall where they may!

Mikado’s expression remains unchanged as the informant spoke. Silent curiosity nagged at the edges of his thoughts. What did this man do to cause that tiredness? He knew about the stabbing, of course. That had been on the news and all over the message boards, but the teen knew there were pieces he was missing.

             Pieces he would have to look into later.

     Confusion grew as he followed Izaya’s movements, his mouth opening slightly as if to interject, but he remained silent until the other finished. He tugged the sleeve of his coat over the brace, shrinking into himself at the comments. “You must have been really busy? Was it work…?” He murmured the question, not very interested in discussing his own state.

     “Ah…” He glanced down, looking for a way to explain. “It’s not really…” Something they should be discussing even if other ears couldn’t hear them. Even though Mikado sincerely doubted anyone had overheard Izaya’s comments, or would pay them any heed Mikado would have preferred anywhere but in public. “It’s nothing to worry about I mean. I’m alright.”

[asobuu]

    ...a greeting that was much expected yet no less comical to behold. Masaomi Kida was a boy who desperately leapt to what hung just beyond the reach of his arm. A leader; a follower; a loner; The Desperate -- a constant source of entertainment for a lecherous existence.

    The bottle blond never vanished for long and Izaya was always there to once again curl a spindling hand around his throat.

    "Masaomi-kun," came the purred reply. "You don't sound so happy to see me! I'm hurt." The grin across the informant's face was pointed, lined with jagged fangs and ashen intent, yet he revolved around Masaomi to stand before him like an old friend. (A companion, but that was what he'd once been, hadn't he? A trusted ally who could be depended on?) Those razor eyes flickered to the yellow bandana, familiar and worn, and oh, did that smile only widen. "Staying out of trouble?"

    The perceptive glow he emanated spoke volumes.

    "Not that I'd expect aaany less from a rehabilitated de~lin~quent." His head tipped as he observed the boy he'd watched rise and fall, fall, fall. What a sad life for such a powerful spirit, but wasn't that what made him oh so much fun to chip away?

a cold breath spews from cracked lips, a free hand moving to brush his own hair out of his face. a thought given to himself as he continued wondering about ‘bukuro, (with his yellow scarf tightly wrapped around his neck after returning from a meeting), pondering to why he maintained to return to the gang he yearned to escape even after succeeding in leaving them, promising to never return— yet here he was, coiled into a web of loathing & stuck to them like a morsel of chewed gum on the bottom of your shoe. no matter what he undertook, he always seemed to crawl back to them—— to him like a lost puppy; and he despised that aspect about him. (silence overlapped, besides the roar of the city noises around him as something caught his attention. speak of the devil.) 

a timbre reached his ears, an all too familiar chime that he loathed so much. hearing the voice was enough to coax a small growl from the bottom of his throat, similar to an enraged canine bellow as he ceased walking entirely. dark, cold honey tinted hues would gaze over his shoulder, directly at the informants general direction as the grimace on his face grew more sour, hostile & cold as a winter blizzard. utterance resonated with a harsh tone, acid cracking from a fierce tongue. 

                ❛ izaya …. ❜