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[plangite-blog]

It does sound excellent indeed, what a delightful ring to the term. Akira has, after all, always tried to cultivate a cool image. Subtly. Very subtly.

❛They sound adorable, if I do say so. We don’t really have humans like that in my world, though plenty do wear funny hats.❜  Though hopefully nobody tries to ride a bicycle indoors. They should know that’s not the place or time for that!

People were strange everywhere, it seemed. Odd to get confirmation of that from a talking bird of all things, but it is what it is.

Alira let out a startled gasp as the blue bird smacked right into the parlor window. She’d seen pigeons and the like do that sort of thing back in Tokyo but... Well this was something a little different.

❛That was glass... oh, are you okay? Should I get the door for you this time?❜  she asked, torn between concern for the bird and amusement at the truly shocked expression on the face of the teenage boy working behind the counter in the shop.

“Then Cooltrainer it is, woman human! A most excellent choice, if I do say so myself.”

Articuno had always had a bit of a soft spot for Cooltrainers in Kanto. Or at least some of them. Specifically the ones with their fur dyed such a wonderful shade of blue.

“And trainers are a special kind of human in my world. From what I have observed they are a short species who capture creatures and contain them in small metal balls. They also like to wear funny hats and try to ride strange two-wheeled devices indoors.”

Humans were odd in general, but trainers? Articuno had given up on trying to understand their motives a long time ago.

Noticing that the ice cream parlor was now only a few meters away, the legendary gave a cheerful chirp and dove towards the building. Articuno could practically feel the ice inside already, and any second the bird was prepared to be enveloped by the delightful coolness contain-

With a loud smack the bird slammed straight into the large storefront windows. A few customers scattered as the sharp crunch of cracked glass echoed across the street, and a moment later the bird collapsed backwards onto the pavement.

“…are we there yet?”

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Akira does her best to remain both calm and careful, looks the other woman in the eyes and smiles politely despite the anxiety she can feel gripping her chest. Figuratively speaking, of course. Like a hand clenched around her sternum. It wouldn’t do to make this situation worse by vocalising her discomfort with the city. She is, at her core, stubborn about her own strength and perceptions.

So she nods, taking in this new information. ❛I see. I have not yet seen a map of the city but it did seem as though the sectors were surrounding something. I’m glad I have confirmation of that theory, if nothing else.❜

Even the little things can go a ways in helping such a logic-minded investigator as Akira find her footing.

❛If... if you wouldn’t mind, since you’re offering---❜  she begins, with uncertainty, ❛---do you know of any decent coffee shops around? The ones I’ve found serve poorly-brewed stuff. Too bitter a bite.❜

It’s two-parts lingering desire to feel useful (read: to investigate) and one part longing for the comfort a hot beverage can bring.

After a second of eyeing the other’s whip, Akira gestures toward the item and adds, ❛I have one of those, too. Usually. They gave me a toy when I arrived.❜

and it’ll pass

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❛These puns are Mado-ning.❜

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Akira is... attempting to expand her list of potential targets, if only to alleviate boredom. It would be far too easy to fall into a slump if she let her skills get rusty. Since she lacks the weapons to go after a ghoul, she had picked a human target. A jewel thief. It was almost too easy, though she does wish she’d been given a gun or some tear gas at least.

Oh well. No gun, no tear gas, and she still managed to apprehend the crook. She’s pretty good at this! She has to wonder what kind of training real policemen had to go through, because evidently it was far below what she had undergone. But that was neither here nor there, the point is that...

She had apprehended a criminal, and had no idea what to do next. Now that’s a little embarrassing.

It’s then that she hears someone approach. Turning to face the man, she nods quickly. ❛Of course it is. Why would you think it’s not?❜  she responded, maybe a little defensively.

❛Or, uh, I guess-- I’m not sure what to do with this guy. He isn’t going anywhere but... I don’t actually know what comes next.❜  If this were a ghoul matter, she’d kill the guy. But a mere burglar probably doesn’t deserve that. 

And it’s then that she seems to take in his outfit. ❛Are you a real cowboy? Or do you just like dressing like that?❜

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    To think Sparks could have actually found a place that was worse off than Mars. Rumors of the town’s high crime rate and propensity to burst into flame on a bi-weekly basis met his ears quickly. Lucky for the Marshal, that meant a decent way to keep busy, even held hostage by mad scientists as he was. 

    Today was no exception to the rule, and at the sound of alarms our hero sprung into action, only to realize he was too late.

    No, the burglar who had broken through the window of a nearby jewelry store hadn’t made his grand escape. Quite the contrary, actually. A young woman looked to have the situation far under control, the criminal at her feet already tied up with.. was that a jump rope? Seriously?

    “I… uh… Everything okay over here?” the marshal asks, ducking through the broken glass and into the pilfered shop. Maybe the woman had some answers. First and foremost, how she’d beaten him there in the first place.

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❛No, I bet it’s not,❜  she said, nodding. She had seen, even occasionally met, a few FBI agents in the past, international incidents and the like, but not for long enough to get an impression of them. Still, the job almost definitely isn’t all glamor. Or even mostly that. Fieldwork of that sort is messy by nature. Falls into the category of ‘someone has to do it.’

Still, the place he’s from sounds like it must be... different from her own version of Earth. If he doesn’t know what a ghoul is, anyway. Some people back home doubted their existence, but anyone who did any sort of law enforcement work would know that they’re a very real menace. So it seems likely he’s from a place that... simply does not have them.

What that must be like. Did her family just draw the short straw? Oh well.

❛Ghouls are simple. They look like humans, and they eat humans. That’s all there is to it, and that’s why they need to go,❜  she explains, vague and careful. No sense making them sound bigger than they are. She’s essentially weaponless, currently, but if she finds any, she will fight them still. ❛I hope there aren’t any here, too, but I need to be vigilant. My father-- he wouldn’t let any go unchecked.❜

She shook her head. ❛Nothing important. I’m feeling... a little useless here, honestly. No CCG. There isn’t even much of a police force. What there is feels more militia than anything. I’m not sure what to occupy my time with, except staking out coffee shops.❜

Oh well, though. She’d find something. Either a ghoul to hunt, or something else to occupy her time with. Maybe she’d broaden her pool of targets, start chasing regular murderers.

❛No problem. You don’t seem crazy, if that helps. But then again, people tend to say that about me, so... Appearances can be deceiving.❜

She seems surprised, as expected. He doesn’t mean for it to be a game of whose horse is bigger however; he got his start in the New Orleans police department, after all. Any job in the field was important.  “Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” his tone is fragile and bitter, a hushed effort to push words forth without getting too angry. But his mood settles quickly when she continues to speak. He nearly has to bite back a laugh when she gives him her impression–a turbulent storm, huh? The politest one he could think of. The kind of storm that told you where its eye was, only to swallow you up the moment you neared it. Needless to say, he’s grateful to move on. And interested, suddenly, in the new topic of discussion.

“Ghouls.” he mouths the word, working it through his jaw as if doing so will help spark his memory of what that might mean. He has to recall that there were all kinds of people here, all kinds of circumstances. When he thought of a ghoul, a cheesy Halloween flick from the seventies came to mind. He has a feeling that isn’t at all what she meant.

“So you’re a specialist.” he wonders if she’s ever been pushed farther than she was comfortable going, on the sheer merit of her credentials. “Can’t say I know what these ‘ghouls’ are, but for your sake I hope none of them ended up here.” and he means it. On his feet now, Will finds himself shuffling awkwardly.

“I must have kept you from something, sorry about that.” he finally manages, giving her the go to turn him out if she did have other things to attend to. He finds he wants to talk to her again, but isn’t quiet sure how to say it. Instead he rubs his hands together with down-turned eyes. She would be better off if they didn’t interact again. She was kind, and didn’t deserve to be entangled in what was in store for him. 

“Thanks–for…um…confirming that I wasn’t crazy.” his lame attempt at a joke.

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❛Well, if the gift is, ah, grand I won’t turn it down,❜  Akira said, but mostly she was just curious as to what sort of gift a bird could offer.

Noticing the odd creature’s quickened pace, Akira sped up a bit herself, just to keep up. Her nature wouldn’t allow her to be left in the dust no matter what, even though this was distinctly not a race, and rather a cold-climate creature’s need to get out of the hot sun.

❛It’s no problem. I can’t imagine it’ll be hard to talk someone into letting you use their freezer,❜  she added with a shrug and a slight friendly smile.

Her smile became a look of confusion at the next words, however. Blue bird indeed, though maybe that really was all there was to it. She hadn’t considered different types of humans before, but now that she was...

❛I like the sound of Cooltrainer, though I’m not sure what the ‘trainer’ part means. In context.❜

Articuno began to fly after the woman, keeping just level with her as they headed down the street.

“I assure you it is a most grand gift! And perhaps even more valuable in this world than it is in my own.”

As they turned the corner the legendary spotted the parlor as the woman pointed it out, and the Pokémon’s pace increased ever so slightly. The day so far had been clear and sunny. Terrible, and Articuno was ready to finally get out of it.

“I thank you for the offer, human! Your continued assistance is most appreciated in this task.”

Her question took the legendary by surprise though, and the bird spent a few seconds staring at itself, eyes narrowed in concentration. Articuno then turned to face the woman and gave her a confident smile.

“I am a blue bird. But what manner of human are you? You appear to be a Beauty, but your attitude strikes me as being more akin to a Cooltrainer.”

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❛It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Winston,❜  she says to the dog, more polite and formal than she generally was to her fellow humans, giving him one last scratch behind the ears before standing up, brushing off imaginary dust as she straightens. His name she mentally files away for future reference, but his occupation, or rather former occupation, makes her pause.

Not that she comments on the ‘former’ aspect of it. That isn’t her style. ❛FBI? Nice. All my honors within the CCG and you’re still on a different level.❜  Not that this bothers her, she’s proud of the work that she does, specialized and localized as it is. It was the work her father did, the work her mother did. The work that cost them both their lives, sure, but there was more than that there. She also says CCG hesitantly, as if uncertain how much information on herself to give. She doesn’t think this man is a ghoul, she usually has a good sense for these things, but it’s impossible to be certain from just a conversation. Still, what’s life without risks?

❛You’re not what I pictured from someone with the FBI but I guess looks can be deceiving. People rarely look like what they are.❜  She doesn’t mean to be cryptic. Frankly, it’s just a habit of hers, right up there with always walking with her left foot first and skipping out on social interaction to make more weapons. Habits.

❛I see. I’m only vaguely familiar with the phrase ‘fair-weather friend’ but I take it to mean he’s more like a turbulent storm, from how you speak of him. I’ll let the subject drop.❜ She understands that he doesn’t wish to speak of this man, even if she doesn’t know the why of it.

❛I’ve considered looking for a way to return to fieldwork. I’ve asked around, and it looks like this city has a few... groups dedicated to the presumed upholding of the law. I’m no common policewoman, though. My targets are ghouls, and only ghouls.❜

Winston was a pretty decent judge of character, all things considered. He noses into her palm, against her wrist, taking in her smell. He then lays down, head perched on crossed paws, and looks up at them in interest. Will realized he was removing himself from the conversation–question was, why? He wasn’t an exceptionally energetic dog, more on the lay-beside-you-all-day type, but even this was different. He hadn’t acted with this sort of submission since…

“W-Winston,” he chokes out, her question breaking him from his line of thought. “His name is Winston.” Suddenly she’s giving him all of this information, gift-wrapped as if she’d read his mind. But in the end that wasn’t surprising, was it—she showed several signs of wanting to put him at ease. Not so much in the way of a fussy mother hen, but something gentler. The familiarity of it made his chest tighten and he finds himself withdrawing again, just until he can recompose himself. 

“My name is Will Graham, former special agent of the FBI.” funny, how that fell out of him without his permission. He imagines it has something to do with her own initiative, and his involuntary mirroring of it. But she was an investigator–everything made sense now. Will wonders if she’ll even believe him; most people take him for some kind of blue-collar worker with his sun-bled skin, or worse, a criminal himself. 

Her name is Akira. So, she was likely Japanese, or of descent. He finds it difficult to distinguish accents in this city, but that wasn’t important. She had a cat, long-haired, likely female. Way more pertinent. A tittering laugh, and something like a smile cracks his face.

 “He was my consultant. We have a…complicated relationship.” well, it wasn’t a lie. “The type of guy who’s the opposite of a fair-weather friend, if that makes any sense.” he’s sure it doesn’t, but that’s not the point. He makes it very obvious that he’d rather move away from the topic. But he’ll wait for her to stand before he does, and he’s a very patient person. 

“What about you? Now that you’re here, are you tempted to return to the field? Are there even..even opportunities here, where things are so abnormal?”

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He still seems a little on-edge, as if uncertain about something. Something far off, in the past or the future. Intuitive as Akira is, she can’t read minds, simply notices what people display and, of course, what they try and fail to hide. Regardless, she sets that aside. The whole thought. There’s no reason to scrutinize this man. Old habits, that was all this came to. Tricks she learned from her late father.

Instead, she focuses on the dog, a little smile on her face as she kneels down to pet him. She likes animals, and dogs could be so cute an excitable, the way they act like every good thing that happens is the best thing to have ever happened to them. ❛What’s his name?❜  she asks, scratching behind the dog’s ears. ❛And, for that matter, can I ask for yours? Mine’s Akira Mado, by the way. Associate Special Class Investigator, if that means anything to you. If not, don’t worry about it.❜

❛I have a cat, back home. Maris Stella, a long-haired little fighter.❜  The thought of her cat makes her smile a bit. Genuine fondness for animals.

❛If I may, and feel free to tell me to shut up, I won’t be offended, it sounds like you’re not all that excited to know this Doctor Lecter is here.❜

He can feel himself being read. People didn’t typically have the skills to read each other to such a degree. That, coupled with her demeanor are definitely things he takes note of. Who was she? Was she going to be a problem in the future? The chances of that are slim, but he has no problem remembering faces. 

…but why was he even worried? Because Lector was here? Because of the inevitability that even if he did everything he could to avoid it, they were going to meet again? Could Will even say he wasn’t looking forward to it? After everything that happened, there was no going back. Or perhaps he’d reached the point of no return upon their first ‘hello’. But in this city, would things be the same? It was so vast that he’s sure it would be difficult to track them. And then there was this ‘regeneration’ rumor going around…

Will kneels, patting Winston on the scruff of his neck in a motion to let him know it was okay. The dog has been paying Akira a lot of attention too, and he immediately plops down next to her for pampering. His coat is indeed soft–the product of careful grooming. Will rolls his eyes with an amused snort. 

“Go wild. He needs a friend.” 

Now he just needs her name to attach to her face, and he’ll archive her away into the recesses of his mind palace. An address would be even more useful, but he can’t imagine a conceivable way of acquiring it without appearing suspicious. 

He tucks her verbiage away as further evidence. 

“No…I don’t think I will. Doctor Lector can come to me if he wants.” Will was done with their cat-and-mouse affair. This would be the last, and he was weary of playing pursuit. He glances up at her, still shy but opening up just a fraction. It was her interest in the dog that did it.

“Do you…uh…have pets, at home?” 

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❛That’s a shame. In that case, I’ll just try another place. There has to be more than one pet store in the city.❜  She sounded a little disappointed but not too much so. ❛If there is a pattern to the way the buildings move I’m sure it’s not difficult to figure out.❜

Though it may be tedious to try, considering she didn’t exactly live in that sector. It would depend on how much time was spent there. Unlike the rest of the city, which was nine kinds of weird, the first sector was almost pleasant. Certainly it was the least peculiar, with the exception of the moving buildings.

Whoever thought that was a good design choice had another thing coming, but that was neither here nor there.

❛I hope I’ll get used to it soon. People can say what they want about Tokyo’s weirdness, but this is something else entirely. Are you used to it, then? How long’ve you been here?❜

common view

The woman’s question piques Leo’s curiosity somewhat, leaving him humming in thought for a few seconds, recollecting memories of all the time’s he’s gotten lost in this godforsaken sector. ❝ I don’t think there is ❞ the brunet finally spoke up, glancing up at the lady. 

So she was new, huh? It was a little strange, surreal even, to start referring to people as new. ❝ I mean, knowing the scientists, there’s probably some pattern to it, but I haven’t figured it out yet. ❞ 

If he lived in this sector, maybe he would have figured something out- if there was anything to find out. But until then- or until he managed to obtain photographic memory, he would have to stick to wandering around. 

❝ Though you’ll get used to it soon, I think. ❞ Leo sure has…though he does have a history with strange cities. 

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It seemed this... odd bird was in need of the cold, though Akira had thought most birds would tend to prefer warm temperatures, especially ones without visibly dense feathers. Then again, most birds were unable to hold a conversation with her, and so she simply decided to brush what she thought she knew aside for the time being.

She smiled, setting off down the street, the clacking of her heels the only sound for a moment as she seemed to work out how to reply. 

❛Don’t mention it,❜  she said with a smile. ❛I’m happy to help. Though now I sort of want to know what kind of reward a bird can give. Color me curious.❜

Akira made a sharp left turn at the corner of the next block. ❛The parlor is right up ahead. If they don’t want to let you in the freezer, I’ll talk them around. What kind of bird are you?❜

It seemed to take a few seconds for the woman to register that Articuno was there, but by this point the bird had become used to such a reaction. Such majesty must have been an unexpected sight for the humans. The legendary could hardly blame them for needing a moment to take it all in.

The mention of ice got the bird cooing in excitement though. In truth Articuno did not have the faintest idea what an ice cream parlor was, but ice and freezers meant one thing. Cold. Something the city could have used much more of.

With a flutter of wings the bird launched into the air and hovered next to the woman.

“Very well human! I will go to this parlor of creamed ice, and I would be most grateful if you could show me the way. If you desire it, I would even be happy to reward you for such service.”

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Akira’s face flushed with the embarrassment of the incident. She was usually far more put together, not nearly so likely to make such a stupid mistake. She held out a hand as if to steady the stranger, just in case he were to fall over, but lowers it before even touching him when she sees it’s not necessary, shaking her head.

Her hands were wrung uncomfortably in front of her as she contemplated her words. She normally didn’t waste time on contemplation but she felt in this case it was better to be tactful.

❛No, you’re not hard to spot, I was just looking at something over my shoulder.❜  She sounded really annoyed, but at herself more than anything. ❛Should I get you some napkins to clean off your shoes?❜

to wander about needlessly

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Akira is good at reading people. One needs to be, to catch the things she catches, after all, but this man’s expressions and mannerisms are difficult to interpret. At least much of the tension seems to vanish. Akira will take that as a -- like a good thing. For the moment, though mild concern still shows itself plain in the crease between her eyebrows. She won’t poke around in his business, though, or at least not without a reason to.

❛I see,❜  she says, nodding. His initial response wasn’t one typically associated with coworkers but she simply accepts it as it is. For a moment, her eyes dart to the dog again. ❛Can I pet your dog?❜  she finally blurts out.

She’s been looking at it on and off for so long. That fur looks so soft. She has to ask, she just has to.

❛No problem,❜  she smiles a little, politely. ❛I don’t know how normal it is. Within my first days in this city I met one of my colleagues as well.❜  Someone she had believed to be dead, though she doesn’t say as much. ❛If it happens to one person, it’s an incident. Two makes it a pattern. So based on this new evidence, you finding someone you know that is, I’ll guess that it’s fairly normal.❜

She pauses, appearing to scrutinize his face momentarily. He looks... distant. ❛Are you going to go see your coworker?❜

Will swallows thickly, his throat undulating with the act. Her confirmation has his lips pressing into a thin line, eyes narrowed at the offending paper. But really, was he so angry? Why should he be? Because he’s confused? Because he partially blames Hannibal for being here? What if it wasn’t his fault? Will lets his shoulders relax, a token of submission–he had no conclusive answers to his questions, and he couldn’t get away with blaming someone who was just as much a prisoner as he. That was too easy.  Her question limits him. Did he know Lecter? The events leading up to this indicated that he did. He’d reached a whole new understanding, one that he’s sure neither of them had expected. But what did that make them? 

 “Yes. We worked together.” he doesn’t mean to sound so far off, but old habits died hard. He wonders if that answer is so vague it could be considered impolite, though it’d be just as natural if she didn’t care in the first place. 

“Thank you,” he follows, leaning just enough to grab his dog by the collar. “Is it…normal, to just meet people you know here? Isn’t this like another planet?” 

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Akira had noticed the approach of the man, and the dog too, but didn’t react at first. Her eyes were scanning the wall, flickering over flyers and narrowed ever so slightly as she searched for anything suspicious. Ghoul activity, though she isn’t sure what she’ll do about such activity on her own. But that problem can wait until later, of course. Finding her targets can be step one, dealing with them becomes step two. She’s feeling antsy. Anxious. Maybe even a little useless, an investigator with nothing to investigate.

And she sees nothing on the flyers either, or nothing that immediately sticks out, not even to her intuitive mind. Advertisements for two coffee shops are torn from the wall and stuffed into her bag so she can check them both out later, but she isn’t too hopeful.

She’s about to be on her way when the man speaks up at last. Akira glances at the dog first, just out of curiosity, before looking at the man, eyes immediately scanning the advertisement he’s holding out. He doesn’t seem... dangerous at all. Not to her, at least. The tension is proof enough of that.

❛Yes, that’s what it says,❜  she confirms, eyes searching his face for some reason for him to be acting in such a way. Is he a past patient of this doctor? But then, there would be no reason for the anxiety. A past friend or acquaintance whom the doctor had wronged? Hopefully not, that would be unbefitting of someone in the medical profession. ❛Do you know him?❜

     Sleek, stern. That’s what he gauged when Will found himself in league with her. Well-crafted walls, sewn up with the intent of not letting a single thread show. But it’s just a glimpse–he doesn’t voluntarily take these readings, because that’s invasive and he’d rather not challenge someone with walls so high. There’s usually a reason they’re there, after all, and a degree of trust was needed to climb over them.

     Will Graham wasn’t exactly someone who could be trusted. 

     Still, he finds himself in a bit of a predicament. Before them stands a wall, covered in flyers for various purposes of solicitation. Will had originally come following his dog, who had picked up some scent he couldn’t put down. The scent did not seem to lead to the stranger however, but the wall itself. Winston whines and runs his nose along the bricks, paws at them as if doing so will open some secret passage. Out of curiosity Will begins to scan each ad, but he doesn’t expect to find anything of note. After all, he’d just arrived–there was no way he would know anyone, or be familiar with these places. And yet, a pair of words–a name–drained the color from his face. Not from fear, no–just…disbelief. Immediately his shaky demeanor melts into something harder, and he points to the ad while turning his body to her. He bears her no provocation, gaze kept low as if he were anxious to look at her or the slip of paper. 

     “This flyer…am I reading it right? I may be seeing things.” he swallows, wetting a throat gone bone dry. “It says Doctor Lector, that’s what I’m reading. A psychiatric clinic. Can you confirm it for me?”  

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❛You never know. I’ve been in fights in libraries before.❜  It wasn’t a common place for it, but one could never discount the possibility. ❛But as long as you can handle a fight, it’s fine.❜

She paused, a little smile slipping onto her face. ❛With that armor, I’d expect you to be able to. I’ve never seen anything like it, but it makes you look tough.❜

She wondered how good such a suit would be at warding off a ghoul’s kagune. Just out of curiosity. Akira had been known, from her academy days onward, as a weapon fanatic, always fascinated by new ways to kill ghouls, or simply to fight in general. She probably wasn’t strong enough to wear a full body suit of anything, but it was worth pondering nonetheless.

Not that she’d seen many, if any, ghouls here. That she knew of. She kept her eyes out but none thus far. Probably for the best, but it did make her feel a little useless.

❛A code? I guess that’s possible,❜  she said, setting the book aside and pulling out a different one. ❛I never was very good at breaking codes, but I have an eye for patterns so I might be able to spot one. I... just hope there’s something to find. If not here, then somewhere. I heard one of the underground districts has weird glyphs on them, and that translating them could be useful, but I don’t know how reliable the information is.❜

“I’m not at my usual strength but I can handle a fight if it comes to it. But in a library, I doubt that’ll be necessary.” He said simply.

Then again, he’d gotten into fights in stranger places, he supposed. A washed up old library with books littered with mildew wouldn’t be so strange. Part of him was now wary of something erupting from the mountain of books and firing plasma bolts at them. But he shook his head free of such thoughts. Things like that didn’t exist here. At least not to his knowledge. He’d yet to see Covenant, Brutes, Flood, or anything of the sort since he’d arrived. There wasn’t even any kind of military presence.

He didn’t even think there was a police force.

Which was disturbing. Who was to stop crimes from happening? He’d offer his services to the local law enforcement but one, he didn’t think there was a local law enforcement. Two, he was overkill for keeping the peace on a small scale. Taking down petty thugs wasn’t something he did.

When she called his attention to a book, he paused for a moment, head tilting toward it before he heard the last part of her words. A light shake of his head and he moved to a pile that he hadn’t yet touched.

“Don’t think orca whales are significant to our problems. Maybe there’s some kind of code hidden in these books. Something that’s easy to overlook.” he said, flipping absently through a book, not even really paying much attention to what was indexed in the faded pages.

[plangite-blog]

Sorry, sorry. Akira nearly flinches at the word, thinks of accusations she could throw at him but... none seem to fit. Her anger misses its mark the second Amon places his hand on her shoulder and she lets out a slow breath. Exhausted resignation.

She curls her fingers into a fist and studies his face for a moment before nodding. ❛I’d like that.❜  She probably needs to sit down. It would probably make her feel better.

Amon still both is and is not alive. She is having trouble wrapping her head around it. ❛Impossibly, you’re alive.❜

It sounds foolish, saying it aloud. The combination of shock and hope in her voice make it so. Akira makes her way to a nearby pedestrian bench and plants herself onto it, solid. She can’t stumble or sway if she’s sitting down, after all. It’s fine.

muscle to muscle, toe to toe

Thoughts, feelings and questions came rushing in towards Amon that it overwhelmed the investigator to the extent that he only manages to utter these words: “I’m sorry…”

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and takes some time to reorganize everything in his head. It may take some time to get everything working again, especially Amon being the type to let his emotions get the best of him at times. He places a heavy hand on Akira’s shoulder then opens his eyes.

“Would you…like to sit down for a moment?” He says, slipping his hand off of her shoulder. 

“Before we continue this conversation.”

He can’t help but feel a sense of de ja vu with how this talk is going since he had a similar conversation with another CCG member that may be in the same time as the one in front of him.

[plangite-blog]

That was... this was all very strange, wasn’t it? A talking bird? Akira needed to take a moment to determine if the bird was actually there. She shut both her eyes, then reopened them. After confirming that yes, she was speaking with a bird, she allowed herself to calm down. Instead she simply smiled politely, as if this were all perfectly normal.

❛I haven’t been anywhere all that cold in this city, but I did see...❜  she paused, smile growing wider with genuine amusement, and a genuine desire to help. ❛An ice cream parlor. If they don’t have a big freezer, I don’t know what will.❜

plangite

“Pardon me human, but I would like to ask you a question.”

Articuno flew over and landed next to the woman before nonchalantly lifting up and opening it’s talon. A crumbled map fell into her lap; its edges torn, its surface filled with suspiciously beak shaped holes, and the entire thing was ever so slightly damp.

“Could you point me in the direction of the nearest arctic pole, tundra, or walk-in freezer?”

[plangite-blog]

Yes, he was definitely younger than the Suzuya she knew, more reminiscent of the boy he’d been when she had first met him. That was a puzzle. The scientists’ introductory video had mentioned different universes but someone she knew, and who knew her, should be the same, shouldn’t he?

Perhaps not. Perhaps it didn’t matter. The point was that the familiarity of her coworker was nearly enough to make her stop in her tracks. She and Suzuya were never the closest but they were certainly on friendly terms. Probably. As friendly terms as Suzuya could be on with anyone. The boy had a tendency to make enemies.

❛The worst... It is, isn’t it?❜  she responded, amused and smiling for all her agreement. Juuzou looked pretty chipper, at least.

❛Have you seen anyone... else?❜

asynchronicity

      Juuzou had finally felt as though he knew his way around this place. For the most part. He could navigate between sectors and knew the locations of lots of shops and back-alley shortcuts and had grown accustomed to the way nothing in this city made any sense by any standards he knew.

      This place broke all the rules, and while he wasn’t normally fond of rules, he had to admit that in this case, they were… they were something he could miss.

      But he couldn’t do anything about it, so he began pretending he didn’t miss Tokyo at all. Didn’t miss his work. Certainly didn’t miss his coworkers in the CCG.

      Or so he pretended. Catching sight of a familiar face, he nearly stopped short, eyes widening with surprise before narrowing with scrutiny. That was Akira Mado, it was, but she looked… older, somehow. More mature. Sure of herself, even?

      “Mado-chan! You’re here, too? How are you coping? This place is the worst.”