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[xinprecatio]

      Bakura hadn’t intended to stumble upon a man disposing of a corpse. One rarely intends to come across such things, though that doesn’t really prevent such things from happening, he must admit. A frown crosses his face-- though he doesn’t fear being cut down by this intimidating fellow, he certainly doesn’t want to tempt him.

      If this man is a common criminal, the odds are high that he can talk himself out of this. However, Bakura thinks, if this man is honourable, things get a little more complicated. The stolen jewelry that now lines his pockets doesn’t have to come out, but without a good read on the situation, he isn’t entirely sure if it should or not.

      “What did he do?” Bakura settles for asking, glancing at the body with a somewhat concerned look on his face.

@xinprecatio || starter call

—✕ █ ▌It is merely a routine job. Simple, without effort, the individual slain by his hands being an unpleasant individual, anyway. It was assured to him that this particular mark possessed a criminal record, and while running a man through with the pointy end of his weapon is never something which brings joy, it is something. He could only hope that this time his duty would not bring ruin.

He glances up in the middle of disposing the body. Typical, it would be he who is discovered by another citizen, what with his rapidly thinning luck. Though he possesses identification that this is within his rights, he is still left in a position that is almost guilty.

❝Yes? What is it?❞

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      A question Bakura hadn’t expected, but he was nothing if not adaptable, he could take this in stride. Even if his eyes widened slightly at the strange question, he simply frowned, considering.

      “Plug... yourself...?” he began, giving a couple of rapid blinks to further indicate his confusion. “Would any wall outlet work? Because if so, I can talk a manager at a nearby shop into letting you use one there.”

From the flickering over her eyes, she could tell that she was running low on battery. Stumbling about, the android looked left and right in hopes of finding somewhere with an outlet or computer that she could plug herself into, but to no avail. Tapping someone’s shoulder, Gumi gave a hum before speaking up.

“Excuse me, do you know a place that I can plug myself into?”

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[xinprecatio]

      Such an odd person, Bakura thought. Powerful, arrogant... those were familiar traits, to be sure, but there was also an underlying hint of something else there, a danger that he felt didn’t need to be exuded so blatantly. When people can sense your power, they know you’re dangerous.

      When they know you’re dangerous, they begin to plot ways to work against you.

      When such ways are plotted, one faces loss.

      Or at least, that was how his own experiences had gone. Perhaps this fellow had had different ones. If that were the case, he would simply disregard it. Since he did not know, he merely stayed silent on the matter.

      And he couldn’t help but smile at the response he was given. “Oh, certainly. There’s a benefit to that-- mortals so often think they know everything. I like to prove them wrong.”

Shuren knew all too well about being unable to die; back in Hell, sinners were killed over and over, only to be revived to be killed yet again. This cycle would continue until the sinner broke, unable to bear the torture and despair it produced. Once a sinner gave up, their next death would be their last. If they refused to give in, they would continue to live on.

However, unlike the other, Shuren took stock in self preservation. If one wanted to avoid the torture of the Kushanada, one had to remain alive and take care not to meet a very violent death and rebirth. Such was the afterlife of a being condemned to hell.

“You raise a good point.” Not to mention that it made manipulating them all the more easier. “There is certainly much fun to be had by allowing oneself to be visible to the ignorant masses, isn’t there?”

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      She’s an interesting one, something unlike what he’s seen before-- a child, unmistakably so, but one with such great power. How unexpected. Not that one could expect such a thing, of course, but still: interesting.

      Bakura doesn’t know, yet, what to make of her, but her explanation of her abilities almost has him grinning. Even with the demon detangled from his soul since his death (or whatever it was that happened to him, at the end, whatever it was), he had still spent millennia as a vengeful spirit bent on destruction and so: interest. And so: fascination. And... well.

      “You can destroy just about everything. Not souls, though,” he muses, in response to her explanation. Though she doesn’t seem entirely sure how to verbalise her abilities, it’s clear that she is sincere in her explanation of them.

      (He can tell when people lie, more often than not.)

      (And what reason would she have to do so?)

      “I see,” he says, nodding. “That sounds... useful. Potentially harmful and dangerous, of course, but... useful for you. If I had had even a fraction of that, I would have--”

      He pauses. “I would have died in Egypt three millennia ago, I suppose. Oh well.”

      A shake of his head, white hair falling in his face before he shakes it out again. “Were you born with such gifts?”

         it’s a soft giggle that escapes her lips seeing his determination in attempting speak her name. it is strangely flattering & she flashes a grateful smile at his efforts. people have automatically switched onto her much easier to pronounce nickname the moment they hear it, to the point Flandre had almost stopped giving out her real name. 

          he’s honest & blunt, straight to the point. it’s what she’s noticed about him, a few out of many from a simple conversation. she should have expected this question to eventually pop up, momentarily pausing to think of how she could explain. she does want to tell him, but why? because he’s shared all too much & not enough so that she wishes to repay him? because she does not wish to look weak? nonetheless, she dismisses it. her head tilts, golden curls following the sway of her head.

        “ it’s— complicated. i think the best way to put it is that i can … destroy everything ? “ the explanation feels strange on her lips, the first she’s ever admitted to anyone of her immense power. “ oh, well not everything. most things. like— buildings, the ground, the sun, people … “ 

       “ i can, um, see the weak points of those thing. & then i just— concentrate on that point and pour it onto my hand. after that, i can just close my hand & it shatters. um— sorry if that doesn’t make sense … ” it is hard to make him understand when she herself does not.  

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      “I can’t say anyone ever has. Are you sure you wish to be the first?”

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“Has anyone ever told you have a pleasant voice to listen to?”

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      Bakura frowned as he felt his hand close around the familiar weight and feel of playing cards. He had hoped for something he could use to buy himself a steak dinner, or something, but cards would only net him cash if he knew where to sell them (he didn’t), or if he was willing to find someone else who played and bet on outcomes (he wasn’t).

      So he had swiped something effectively useless, which was... not unexpected, especially when he selected his marks so carelessly. Maintaining the Ryou-facade, he simply held out the deck he had just snagged, keeping the cards just out of reach.

      “Sorry-- these must be yours, right? They almost fell to the ground when we collided, so you might want to be more alert.”

      Now that the cards were in front of him, the spirit took a moment to look more closely at them.

      “What kinds of cards are these? I thought they might be Duel Monsters at first glance, but now they don’t seem familiar.”

“Oh, no, the fault is mine. I’m sorry for troubling you”..

It had been an innocent accident as far as he was aware - a simple collision which was commonplace on the streets, and that he was a frequent offender of either committing or receiving. So naturally, nothing was thought when the two of them had straightened themselves and exchanged apologies.

                    “Are you alright? You’re not hurt? I apologize, again, for anything that might have happened”.

The bow offered was near frantic, and the most troubling thing of all was that in the process of thieving the unsuspecting boy, the other in front had swiped the deck on his person at the time, his Gold Paladins - and a deck worth more to him from sentimental value than any wealth.

                        He was none the wiser, and that panic systematically activated would only worsen once that changed.

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      Bakura would be lying if he said he was unused to people with exuberant personalities, and the sort of friendliness that leads to people starting up a conversation with him out of nowhere, but that didn’t mean he always knew what to do with that. Girls approached his host more often than not, something about their shared physical form making him seem more approachable but...

      He never knew what to do. At the very least, he could answer her question.

      “It’s a... an heirloom,” he responded carefully, and that was at least partly true. “I admit it is a little grand, by most standards, and it stands out quite a bit but it’s also rather important to me.” He paused, shaking his head as if to clear it. “A new hair bow would not be a bad idea. The one you have is rather dull, if I do say so.”

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    Honoka was the type of person to say what was on her mind—She was never particularly afraid of strangers nor of speaking what she thought was suitable. It countered well with Umi’s more shy personality (at times, at least). It was part of the reason her idol group became successful in the first place. Without her boldness, it likely never would have started.

    She still carried that personality to this day. Approaching the stranger with a wide grin on her face, her eyes darted to his necklace as she began by saying, “Where did you get that? It’s so big and eye-catching.. I’m jealous! Ehehe, it makes me feel like I’m lacking in accessories. I could probably use a new hair bow, now that I think about it..”

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      “Very impressive, then. And-- nothing makes me think they’re not, necessarily. Just that it’s so rare to meet someone with any titles, official or otherwise.”

      He lets out a dry laugh. “How did you acquire such a moniker God of Death?”

“Official as it gets,” he replies, It happens to relax him knowing there will a day without Gundams at war. Although, he would give anything to return home and finish the final battle.

“What made you think they’re not?“

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      Bakura smiled, a slight grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He had nothing against this young woman, which was why he hadn’t tried to up the stakes. He also didn’t have a host he felt the need to pay rent toward, and so the low cost of loss suited him just fine. Truthfully, Bakura simply enjoyed a good game, the challenge of it. The fun.

      The lack of a dark one weighing heavily in the corners of his soul had mellowed him, somehow, but he still liked the challenge of a game, a gamble. Low stakes didn’t dampen that.

      “I’m sure you can do it,” he said, nodding, and pulling the dice from his pocket, holding them in the spaces between his fingers. “Ordinary dice, from the game shop down the street. Nothing supernatural about them.”

      Letting the dice fall into the palm of his hand, he offered what was almost a friendly smile. “Care to make the first guess on the outcome? Any number, from two to twelve.”

     A game centered around dice? Given his prior reaction to her mistake, Sakura had expected anything but. Maybe something torturous, something that would make her cry and scamper away like a scared puppy… but then again, just because the game’s initial description seemed harmless didn’t mean there would be no consequence. The magic of her own realm was complicated, her healing being just one example; for all she knew, he could do anything.

     But upon hearing his deeper explanation of the rules, Sakura was able to find it within herself to calm down. The losing condition, provided it was truthful, was no huge loss. Sakura would have preferred to remember the title of the book she had been reaching for, but compared to all of the other things that could happen, she would choose this small effect any day.

      Closing her eyes for a moment, she let out a soft breath, trying her hardest to let her anxieties leave her body with it. 

      “Okay. I-I think I can do this.” After all, she had hurt him. This was hardly a price to pay. Hoshido had its own dice games, ones she’d even had fun playing. “I’m ready when you are.”

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      Bakura frowned. She almost seemed... reasonable. Admittedly, he had little frame of reference: he hadn’t been a Thief King since his first life, in Ancient Egypt, and though he knew modern-day individuals often took a more lax view toward thieves, he still recalled a time when he would have been dragged on his knees through the rough desert sands for this sort of thing.

      “You’re partly right.” He certainly didn’t have enough in his wallet to pay for lunch, which had been a partial motivation, but enough of it had been just to see if he could. There was something to that, he felt. Something to the test of it.

      Regardless, he’d been caught. “Why are you not threatening to cut my hand off, or at least alert the authorities?” She seemed too sympathetic. He frowned as he tried to find her angle.

Making sure the door was closed, Mirajane leaned against it. She doubted he would push her out the way to get away and at the same time she didn’t want anyone walking in and seeing what he had been up to. 

“Why else would you be stealing?”

She wasn’t so naive to think hunger was the only reason a person stole, she was simply giving him the benefit of the doubt. Her gaze was even, her blue eyes almost daring him to try something 

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      Bakura glanced at the cards, shaking his head. “No, checkmate is chess. Also, those cards are terrible.”

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Enkidu lay a random assortment of cards on the ground between them and tilted their head. “Check…Mate?” 

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      Bakura didn’t seem to register that he was even being addressed at first, seemingly deep in concentration, with eyes narrowed and lips pursed. After a few seconds (precisely the number of seconds it took to look like he wasn’t paying attention), however, he seemed to snap back to attention.

      “Yes. You’re in the correct sector, and the entrance to the district is nearby. I live there, actually-- would you like me to show you where it is? It lies beneath us, if you didn’t know.”

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Despite her typical disdain for talking, like, in general, the mutant had to break the cycle eventually; at least the guy she begrudgingly approached looked somewhat… Normal. As if she even was someone who knew anything about being normal.

“Hey, you… Know where Delta is?”

[xinprecatio]

      Her hair was white, not unlike his own, which was somewhat notable, but not to the point where Bakura would dwell on it, certainly not when there were more important things to take notice of-- it was important to make note of the appearances of those with whom one conversed, and their mannerisms, and the way they carry themselves.

      Despite the relative harmlessness of Bakura’s intentions for the moment, he still sized her up like a thief would a mark (old habits, maybe) (maybe). In this city, one could make few assumptions from appearance alone (though things were rarely as they seemed anywhere else either).

      “Albino?” he asked, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he seemed to consider how to respond to that. There wasn’t a way, which was a little irritating, but not too much so. With a quick shake of his had, he adopted his best Ryou-smile (harmless and friendly, just like his host pretended to be) and shrugged.

      “I just wanted to ask you something. In this city, I haven’t noticed many peopl gaming. I also haven’t been here very long. I have to ask-- does anyone here play Monster World? Or even Duel Monsters?”

      Or something, though he could learn a new game, too, if that was what it took.

Silver hair bounced as the girl turned on her heel to face the man who called her. It had become a secondary reaction now. Usually she would just continue to ignore people, but in this city she found it to be pointless if someone were to chase her down. And right now she had no reason to ignore anyone.

No book to stick her nose in.

No game to play on an electronic device.

As such on reflex she decided to humor the man who called out to her.

And honestly…she wished she didn’t.

“Huh…the scientists do like their white haired folks.” Makie muttered to no one in particular. Going by appearance, the boy seemed to be around her age, but she found that in this city it was pointless to guess a person’s age based on appearance. Nope, given that there were centuries old folks who looked like either shotas, lolis or teenagers.

Only thing she could decipher was that the man was confident, given the way he carried himself. And might have been in distress a bit if he called out for her. “What do you need Mr. Albino?”

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      “The others aren’t always as sentimental-- but this one is part of a set, and I’m a collector of sorts: collect all seven and unlock great and terrible power, or so I was promised. Fate decides the rest, always,” he says, shaking his head. He could only do so much, after all, one has to leave some things to chance. 

      “I’m not a wizard,” he goes on, “just a thief who was lucky enough to get a taste of power.” He says the word ‘lucky’ with a snort, a dismissive sound that makes him shake his head even as he speaks. “That is all I’ll say about that, for the moment.”

      He laughs, letting his own maniacal laugh come forth, more of a creepy chuckle, than anything else, but it works for him, or so he thinks. “The Ring, yes,” he says, running a fingertip along the side of the pendant. “It allows me to steal souls and trap them inside objects-- dice, playing cards, puzzle pieces... I can steal memories. I can bring monsters to live. I can even invoke dark games that force the players to confront their worst traits. The possibilities are endless.” He laughs again, another low and probably unnerving chuckle. “I can’t do it here. I’ve lost a lot of power.”

⌜🎸⌟ ⋯ Well, his explanation of his own item and that smile definitely makes him understand. He doesn’t get it fully, not in the way the other male actually means it as magic is different in his world, sentimental items holding a powerful magic. “So, you take sentimental items? Are you, like, a wizard or somethin’?” He has a mixed view on wizards and witches but ultimately to him they’re just a thing in Aaa.

“Sounds easy enough. I’m down.” He isn’t going to question why he knows so much about dice, he was a cool guy in his book so far. Anyone willing to cause some random trouble was a’ok to him. “I’m sure not anyone. Like magic you work with your tongue or a guitar riff. Many try, many fail miserably and the cooler of us laugh at their misfortune.” He grins, giving an overly-dramatic maniacal laugh.

“Your ring? That thing you got, you mean?” A grey finger points to the other male’s neck. “A’ight, a’ight. You’re gonna have to tell me now that you said that. What kinda bizz does it do?” He is honestly curious and he did say it was magic. Maybe it holds magic outside of the already assumed sentimental kind. It was a weird piece of jewellery to begin with but he wasn’t planning to ever question it until now, especially since it seemed so dear to him. There was all kinds of weird magical stuff in his world so it wouldn’t have been weird, honestly.

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       “Flandre,” he repeats, a determination to use her given name, unless she specifically requests the nickname, somehow present. It is difficult for him to pronounce, his tongue clumsy around foreign syllables (neither the comforting familiarity of old Egyptian, nor the newly-learnt Japanese) but still: he manages well enough, or at least makes the effort. “It’s nice to meet you, as well.”

      And he means it-- he wouldn’t say so otherwise. He may not be an honest creature, by nature, but faking politeness isn’t something he does, unless he’s donning the mask of his host.

      In answer to that question of hers, Bakura shakes his head. “No. For that to happen, I would have to have limitless power. There is much that I can do, more that I cannot. Others are more powerful than I, and have opposed me in ancient times, and more recently...” Yugi, Yugi, Yugi and the Pharaoh... “I failed in much of what I tried to do. My power had limits, my enemies exploited them.”

      He shrugged, like it didn’t matter, like his un-life, and his destiny, hadn’t been shaped around a wish (it was desperate, it had the word please in it, and the word avenge). Like his failure had been surprising, rather than just the sheer awful hope he was carrying between his ribs, given life, and then death.

      “And what of you, hm? What powers do you have? What games do you play?”

         softened vocals trail off with the description of himself he puts forth, an overwhelm of achievements & gained power. & she knows she should not be so easily impressed by such awful doings. “ Bakura … “ she tests out the name on her tongue, curious. ( she has still such a foreign tongue & eastern names were much harder to pronounce than what she was used to. ) 

          pair of vibrant red trail down from his eyes to glance at the strange looking necklace around his neck, glistening gold & etched with mysterious aura. it takes a moment to remember he’s told her his name, the lack of manners on her part snapping her back to attention. ‘ always introduce yourself immediately after someone else does. ‘, the simplest of rules to follow. “ my name is Flandre— but calling me ‘ Flan ‘ is alright. it’s nice to meet you. “ 

        with his explanation of souls, the child with glass heart lends her ear, for she too is interested. it sends a shiver up her spine. even she was not able to touch a soul, only being able to destroy physical matter. it seems that she too would be in trouble if she were to ever lose her soul. Flandre found it vexing. she was always told to never do bad things, forced to listen without being told the difference between good & bad. hurting others was a bad thing, it was what she gathered with punishment after punishment given to her for doing so…  

       sight transfixed on the male, he looked to care not about such. he was telling the girl all his accomplishments openly, not that she did not want to hear it. she takes another second to think, wondering if she should ask what she wants to. finally, the child breathes out a soft sigh, lips parting.

          “ do you ever get bored with that power ? “ 

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      “Pale skinny guys?” he repeated, voice sounding a bit choked, and he wondered if he should be offended. His old form was darker of skin, and more muscular, but this body  had served him well enough for his purposes.

      “Ahem,” he went on, clearing his throat to derail that train of thought before he got too distracted. If nothing else, he seemed to have made a fairly quick recovery from his initial shock. “Regardless, my frail form will do you no good, and I have little information to offer, so if you hope to try and manipulate me, you have chosen a poor mark.”

☀️ » Her job here is to get information, and anything else she could possibly want, and then she’s gone. It was a technique she used all the time, so she’s basically a professional! People, especially in this scary city, might be unwilling to give her answers, but she has her ways.

Okay, so he seems to be self aware that she could probably break him like a stick if she wanted to. Well, hopefully this still works. “Eh? Only a few days? Well, surely you know more than I do, mister! Pale skinny guys are toootally in nowadays, so don’t worry about it!”

[xinprecatio]

      “Magic of a sort, though it’s a little more powerful than a mere charm.”

❛not just jewellery?❜ A brow quirked, his interest now truly piqued. ❛so… what’s special ‘bout it? no magic charms, right?❜