monogatcri

[monogatcri]

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#BUNGOSTRAYDOGSRPSERVER || A DISCORD RP server for a plot-based Bungo Stray Dogs centered experience. Come enjoy a chill server where the mystery of why your muses' abilities are now struggling to work and lives that were once snuffed out seem to be rekindled without explanation. Do you work together to solve the mystery of the mysterious [YUEI] or do you blame each other and resolve to fight it out?

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“Tired of struggling against destruction.”

— Anaïs Nin, from Fire: From “A Journal of Love”: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934–1937 (via virginiewoolf)

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this adrienne rich excerpt, always always

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━━ ˟ ⊰🍁FINGERTIPS BRUSHED THROUGH RAVEN LOCKS , a comforting gesture as the shorter explained their past -- the past that Niwa hadn't survived to experience. Despite his heart still in play, the actor had long departed the stage and would nigh be witnessed again (or so it was thought). If he were another person, perhaps there would be anguish over the mistreatment of his heart, but what had the other done but what is expected of betrayal? What Escher spoke to him, what he'd done had gone against the final pleas of Niwa Hisahide. Instead of producing the last message of a dying man, he twisted his words so tightly that they bound the hands of the Kabukimono, restraining him to the principles that had never been once thought toward him -- an evil deed done by one close to him...

        What had happened was not the fault of ward -- no, what else could Niwa have expected of someone whose innocence had been blackened by the ink of someone corrupted's mind? ❝ I don't blame you for believing what he told you, ❞ his voice lowered, eye betraying none of his voiced thoughts, pure as a spring burst forth to provide drinking water to a village. Every syllable is meant, everything down the final letter. The only betrayal is how his voice cannot hold its strength, cracking mid-sentence, fingers clinging tightly to form, afraid it might suddenly dematerialize and he'll find himself once more upon that wooden floor saturated in blood.

        Happy -- Kabukimono's happy he's here... Niwa is the one who should feel this sense of emotion. Knowing the idea that such joys could be produced when Tatarasuna is gone, so much time had passed, and -- and of the others...? They might be deceased as well, but there was still hope, a glimmer of it but still here in the form of his dear friend. Grip loosened, pulling back to showcase tear streaked cheeks, though smile is pressed upon it, pained but visible. ❝ Home... We'll rebuild it one day, won't we? It's wood and stone, but what matters most now is that you're alright -- that you're...not still in that man's possession. ❞ That man -- that disgusting man... Voice is held back, the anger that boiled inside wishing to distribute death upon him for what he might have done beyond the heart -- deceiving him is one sin but he knew there was more -- there had to be more...yet he's empathetic enough to hold back questioning him on such matters during delicate moments.

        ❝ I cannot thank enough gods that you're here -- that you're still here... ❞

Kunimitsu clings to Niwa with a hopelessness that echoes his own inner madness. The world around them feels entirely unreal ; like a dream woven from threads of yearning & heartache. Each second that he remains in Niwa's arms is a bittersweet torture : telling him that he's holding on to a flicker of hope in a sea of wretched twilight.

with an open palm resting above the man's chest — right above his heart, a confession escapes the wanderer's lips like an admission of sin ; words solemn with the burden of guilt & disgrace. ❛ I … I threw your heart to the ground, ❜ he stammers, his voice breaking with anguish. ❛ I held it in my hand : heavy, rotten and poisoned … and I assumed it to be someone else's. ⸻ I believed him so foolishly easily ... ❜ the memory of that moment in Tatarasuna haunts him like a relentless spectre. yet, the eyes that gaze at his chest now move upwards to look at Niwa's semblance. there's no trace of the expected wounds. no rivers of blood staining the man's clothes. this very moment defies reason, leaving him bewildered & tormented.

Niwa's apparent well-being is a contradiction, a wicked puzzle that refuses to yield an answer. ( could he be trapped in some nightmarish fallacy ? once again : a marionette manipulated by unseen hands ? ) he searches the blue of his friend's eyes for a glimmer of truth, for any sign that he's not alone in this surreal agony.

❛ I'm so happy ... because you are here. ❜ the sound barely a whisper of relief tainted with woe. — he'll allow this fragile moment of ease in the chaos. — but then, Niwa mentions Tatarasuna & Kunimitsu's heart clenches. ❛ Tatarasuna no longer serves as a home. It's … no longer what it used to be. ❜ the puppet's voice trails off, unable to complete the sentence. / words catch in his throat, a lump of grief & regret that he can't swallow. It's a silence pregnant with the weight of their shared history, a history marked by betrayal, loss, & now, an inexplicable reunion that defies the very laws of reality.

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i do not want to burn like some untamed wild fire doomed to grow cold when the wind dies

— lenee h. 

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“I feel like everyone fakes who they really are, when deep down we’re all equal amounts of screwed up. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others.”

— Colleen Hoover (via quotemadness)

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Roya Marsh, from dayliGht; “in broad dayliGht black thrivers look growth”

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sips my tea as i dish out two replies in a row.

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━━ ˟ ⊰🍁FAMILY NAMES SERVE THEIR PURPOSE : honor, glory, acceptance, lineage ... As he lived now, the Niwa family name would still thrive through its years, destined to reclaim greatness had it not already done so. Shrouded in mystery is the past that also entails his future; the unfortunate marks of Tatarasuna being the scorched remnants of home and those unfamiliar yet violent faces that mar its interior. Simply because the home no longer holds life within its walls doesn't foreshadow the fall of the clan -- no, he feels something in him that burns for it to not house this as its case.

        ❝ I wish I could return, ❞ he'd start, respectful to answer inquiry no matter how it causes chest to ache. They were simply curious and, not knowing his history, whole in innocence. ❝ However, I am but one man against a torturous situation transpiring inside its walls. Perhaps when I stand upon balanced feet will I obtain that ability to return, but, until that day, I am but a wandering soul, looking for my family once more. ❞ Painful is the reality of this entirely: find his family, find his ward, find what transpired after his departure from this world, and that would serve its purpose.

        Itadori? His head tilted at this ; it's a festival that his mind doesn't quite know the name of, wondering if there had been something new invented in the years following his demise. ❝ I can't say I'm familiar with that name, but if your friends are here in Inazuma, I'm sure they must be worried about you not arriving yet. ❞ The weather could truly destroy an entire week's worth of planning should a person not prepare properly here.

𝄡 A happy laugh left the bard and they smiled sweetly, nodding their head at his thanks. "Oh, no need to thank me, you have a wonderful name." They hummed, eyes falling shut for a moment as they listened to the rain falling around them.

They listened to their new companion's words and a small frown found it's way to their face. A displaced soul...a mild ache in their chest accompanied the thought as they looked over at Niwa once again. They were curious about the other's situation, but decided to approach it with caution. Time may have already solved the other's issue or maybe have made it unrecognizable.

"...do you think you'll ever be able to return home?" They asked softly, genuine care in their voice. The next question threw them a bit off guard as they let out a small amused breath. It felt as if speaking about their frivolous activities Inazuma easily held less importance than their new friend's.

"Yes! Several actually. I had the honor of being able to visit during the Itadori festival and met so many wonderful people. I couldn't help but want to return and see them all again and actually explore Inazuma." Now the question was, did their friends know that they were there.

Probably not.

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━━ ˟ ⊰🍁THERE'S THE CAPACITY TO HOLD such a pride tightly , willing one's mind to push the very instinct of requesting assistance down beneath the bile. Gaze fixates upon her, then shoots to dirt below, the staining crimson a clear sign for concern, his geta carrying him around her once more, trying to maintain a short distance to grant some comforts.

        He gestured to blade, with free hand, though it's not him attempting to threaten her rather the opposite: comforts are rare when there always lurked change for attack in forests thick with acidic entities -- especially with Tatarigami so close to their location, he could only hope that her mind and body hadn't entered the threshold of its influence (as an outsider, her knowledge of the area is unknown to him). ❝ Allow me to escort you to this superior, then ; it'd help me feel better if I knew you arrived safe and sound. ❞

she instinctively drew her hand towards her body, turning away from him, before bringing her gaze upwards once more.

❛ i . . . was injured. ❜ the words tasted bitter and venomous, as if they would choke her right then and there. injured. as if she had the humanity to label herself injured.

she shook her head. ❛ my mas-uh-superior is probably wondering where i am. i should be going. ❜ she flexed her hand, watching the cuts bleed slowly, dripping crimson down to the dirt.

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not dead just really distracted by dis.cord rp !

there's also a niwa mod on genshin now and my heart is officially content with life. if you need me, i will be spending time on genny pact with the father-son duo.

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━━ ˟ ⊰🍁THE WORLD CARED NOT FOR the trials and tribulations of one man alone, a forgotten shadow on the walls sullied with his blood. Words that he longed to have spoken directly to the Kabukimono's face had likely never left lips of haggered old facade that had ensured his demise. What use would kindness serve when Escher had expressed his desires to watch a darkened heart enter an innocent puppet? Such does not cause Niwa to become naive, such does not hold hope within him, and such will not brandish him incapable of seeing realistically what had likely gone on. Neutral was the best that villain could have sought out when denied darkness from bladesmith -- purity...light...protection...all were meant for his ward...

        As he speaks, bladesmith continued to hold him tight, hands wrapped 'round shoulders ; for one selfish moment, he wishes to speak no more, to have this fade to white as a happy ending they'd both been denied, yet it's quick to shatter and not without reason Niwa would scoff at: confusion, hurt...they were present when touching man who had rotted away. Throat does tighten, mind clawing at the walls for an answer to bestow...

        Nothing would appear behind walls of mind except hollow outer world, swirling in its own confusing blemishes. ❝ I don't know, ❞ voice so usually enlightened fails to hold confidence even in truth: did he or did he not? Was he brought back by the ley lines disrupting their flow -- was he but a memory enacting some desperate last attempt to rekindle something lost to time? Answers fell on tongue and smashed apart as he shook his head, hidden features a blessing to avoid furthering the knowledge that one who once helped teach now couldn't do more than provide the most devastating news: he knew not a single idea that would sound feasible. ❝ I...I last recall falling to the floor in Tatarasuna -- I'm...so glad I found you ; I'm so glad you're alright...! ❞ Their home -- did he know of its state? ❝ I saw it -- Tatarasuna...is it...is it really -- ? ❞

mind spinning & caught in a tumult of emotions, Kunimitsu feels utterly incapable of comprehending the essence of this encounter. it's the warmth & solace of Niwa's voice that gradually pulls him out of his stupor ; everything about this moment defying what the wanderer understands regarding his very existence, shattering the narrative he had come to accept — one filled with travels, wrath, vengeance, & his persistent, uncompromising role as part of the Fatui. could it all have been for nought ? stupor reigns supreme.

with strong strong arms wrapped around his silhouette, Kunimitsu stands torn between the solace of the gesture & the desire to let down his guard, & the overwhelming dissonance this moment initiates. tears seem to continue streaming down his cheeks, a tight-lipped testament to the tempestuous sentiments raging within.

Niwa's apologies & fragmented words serve only to aggravate his bafflement. he receives them with resolute stillness as if they are echoes from another world — responding ought to be blasphemous ; such thought sealing his voice at the back of his throat, stopping him from telling the overflowing tides of thoughts rushing through his mind. he tries & tries & tries, but … there simply is no rational explanation for what's unfolding.

desperation seizes him at last, driving cold, trembling fingers to clutch at Niwa's kimono. apprehension & disbelief reflect in his indigo eyes as they look up. ❛ How are you here ? ❜ he challenges, the inkling of roughness in his physical contact seeking to break the surreal spell that restrains them. & when it doesn't : Kunimitsu anchors himself to this strange reality. / he embraces it wholly … just like Niwa embraces him. ❛ Why ? What is happening ? Niwa … how are you here ? I ⸻ I thought you … ❜

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last time i ever stay up nearly 24 hours is2g

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aggressively gonna be ensuring all threads are drafted because i'm not receiving notifs for certain ones?? frustrating...

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━━ ˟ ⊰🍁ESCHER'S ATTEMPTS TO KEEP HIM a forgotten corpse upon the ground had failed, this much he can ascertain, the knowledge that he'd speak his final defiant will against the man's desires to saturate heart with blackened core hadn't been something he so foolishly believed would be given to other, not entirely... There was but a thread of hope that trailed into the air, strong by this sensation that he would have nothing to gain or lose...all he wanted was some sick experiment and then he'd be gone. It pained him, knowing that by the state of Tatarasuna that something else had happened... Knowledge of what eludes him, but the culprit is clear: the very façade that wore painted smile...

        Regardless if words were passed on or not, knowing his heart had done its job had been enough -- that's all he could have asked for. Even if he no longer wanted a heart or still had it within him, it didn't matter ; none of it mattered when there never came a thought within him that thought him less than the humans in there ; it might have been...demeaning to refer to him as someone on par with them, but divinity or abyss, Niwa cared little: he was their precious friend and worth every moment they had together.

        Deciphering mood by tone failed, so the moment he noticed those welling tears cascade down cheeks, he finally broke from his stupor and dropped his basket, discarded fruits rolling away as he rushed to his side. Don't cry, one might have said, but Niwa didn't bother with such meddlesome terms, finding them useless and degraded -- the emotions were raw and, by every account, he should be dead...so why shouldn't he feel them? Why shouldn't he cry?

        Arms wrapped around form, pulling him in tightly, kasa upon head disregarded as he pulled him forward into him. ❝ It's okay...! Everything's okay now ; I'm here again -- I'm...I'm so sorry... ❞ It's the ramblings of a broken man, every punctuated syllable forced out of him for the sake of granting him comfort. By now had his own eyes begun to well with tears, overflowing in near instantaneous quality. ❝ I'm so sorry I wasn't -- that it wasn't me... ❞

Kunimitsu's mouth hangs open in all-out stupefaction. he stands there ; wholly unable to comprehend what remains before his eyes. / it's as if the universe around him blurs with violent haste, recollections that barrage his consciousness, each drawing cutting reminders of a history he tried so hard to overlook. the puppet's body paralyzes — a reaction caused by the sheer significance of sentiments crashing down on him.

for a moment, he's transported back to that dreadful day when everything fell apart. the wanderer recalls the searing desperation, the terrifying chaos, & the sensation of utter helplessness. he remembers the severed bonds of confidence, the agonized cries, & the blood that tarnished the once-pure ground. his garments of innocence & compassion then eternally tainted, along with fingers, in dirt & rust & crimson of a lifeless heart ploughed into his chest ; the painting of a vivid terror that he thought he would never bare witness again.

he wishes to reach out, demand explanations, & shout at the myth of fury & gloom. / alas, voice fails him … just the same as it had that day, such a long time ago in Tatarasuna. tears well up in his eyes. he fights them.

❛ Niwa … ❜ the name escapes Kunimitsu's lips, hardly more than a whisper, loaded with a rough blend of woe, wrath, & a deep yearning for something he thought he would never have again. ( oh … how long has it been since the last time someone has called him by the name of Kabukimono ? ) at that : bold, treacherous tears, — that the puppet tries so badly to hold back —, break through that thin barrier in indigo eyes, ultimately falling endlessly upon his delicate, porcelain features.

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━━ ˟ ⊰🍁HIS TALENTS OFTEN REQUIERD AN astute mind , one willing to gaze upon a case from fresh perspectives at any given chance ; however, to have a case cast upon him like this over drinks -- well, it's almost as though he might have expected Niwa to diagnose this case for free? Lips are pulled taut as he takes a moment to examine blade without touching, hesitant to bring himself to speak further on the matter ; in the past, Niwa Hisahide wouldn't have cared for money, concept of it a mere bonus for a hard labor placed on him, for he was not struggling to pay for a meal nor did he need it to showcase anything flashy upon his person.

        ❝ If I were to examine this, ❞ he starts, shifting gaze from blade to man. ❝ There could be an infinite number of factors pertaining to the blade's situation. ❞ There were elemental properties at play in some aspects, but, with occam's razor, it could relate to the misusage and lack of care over the years -- or simply that a blade such as this eventually would begin to come to its cyclical close.

        Fingertips slide over the surface, noting each bump and groove that slips beneath pad, features scrunching up, ❝ Some of the issue is simple and will require a forge for me to modify ; however, and I apologize if this sounds intrusive, but I must ask of this blade's past. ❞ If only he still had access to Tatarasuna, this could be more reasonable to request -- fear of tatarigami infusing with this...but even still...its properties could hold a thousand secrets that should not be unheard by the bladesmith's ears. ❝ It is best for the safety since you mention motives -- as in Inazuma, there is always a chance of negative energy infusing to anything. ❞

"Absolutely no."

he admits without shame, his features brightened as he thinks of something rather crazy in his head. The one known as Ma Feima, who is rumoured to have been exiled from Liyue and had to take the long way to head to Fontaine in most of his trips, the one often caught in scandal after scandal in every region like helping the sages and helping anyone who says you should not be helped like the fatui-

"You see I'm looking for someone to take a good look at one of my teacher swords. She is dead so whatever motives she had shouldn't matter."

He brings out a red and black sword from empty air. A technique employed by those who were taught in the same school as him and gentle sets the sword down.

"I believe its getting in the years, but its magic is still strong. Its the body I worry about. It manipulates light to cast illusions, and it should be working, but lately it hasn't been."