s h a d o w; 1. a dark area or shape produced by a body coming between rays of light and a surface. 2. used in reference to proximity, ominous oppressiveness, or sadness and gloom. OTA 25/8 - Action, Texts, Etc. ( art )
the invisible man, and the girl for whom curses are invisible. toji knows of maki, academically: in that vague interim period between a transaction and its failure to execute, he'd heard of naobito and his twin girls who were, from naobito's mouth, 'mediocre at best'. the elder, an echo of a failure that fled from the zen'in gate, ages ago. how ironic, that it should be him who brings a promising future generation to the family.
not that toji kept that promise. that's a recurring theme with him.
he knows that it's animal instinct that clued that so-called talentless girl in to his existence. that she's the one who poked at megumi's awareness and reminded him that debt collectors are persistent. that she's likely the only one who could relate to a phantom enough to understand that they can be self-destructive. foolish.
toji is lying on his back on warm tiles when megumi finds him, his limbs splayed and his clothes the same monochromatic ensemble from the top-down (he's been 'borrowing' the dorm's laundry room; if megumi's noticed the dwindling detergent, now he knows the culprit).
green eyes flick sideways to meet the boy's gaze. they close a moment later; a lion in repose. ]
[ point blank. what other questions could he have? well. some. a few. many. present this situation to a class and they'd have ten thousand opinions and most of them probably not particularly good. of course, as people often say: they don't have all the facts. megumi also does not have all the facts. he wonders which ones this man has, this person who somehow makes dozing on the dormitory roof look akin to sunbathing on an island beach, like he makes each space his own in sheer defiance of whatever it was supposed to be or actually even is. weirdly or not, he's reminded of maki and can almost feel her slapping him upside the head with the blunted end of any given weapon for even thinking as much. not that it's a negative thing. megumi doesn't know what it is exactly; just an observation.
before he closed his eyes, megumi caught the specific and too familiar green of them, felt like the sun scooped the iris into its hand and threw it at him as if to say: this is the truth whether you like it or not.
no wonder he's more comfortable with the shadows.
(that's a lie. but maybe the shadows are more comfortable with him.)
at the lower angle, looking up at him makes the sleeping predator impression even more....well, more. it remains hard to describe why this man who feels like 'nothing' feels more dangerous than anything else megumi has encountered so far β scratch that, almost more dangerous; there's just something about four red eyes and your responsibility's blood and your friend's heart in the grass that outstrips just a little. the nothingness, sure, has a component of danger; like not being able to tell where or if inumaki is around when he's on the other side. but it's not just that. something about it is...more personal.
i haven't seen him in years. i don't remember β
megumi feels his hands curl at his sides and forcibly uncurls them, makes them empty and limp and without much to say.
I'M STILL HERE FINALLY AFTER 500 YEARS!!!
the invisible man, and the girl for whom curses are invisible. toji knows of maki, academically: in that vague interim period between a transaction and its failure to execute, he'd heard of naobito and his twin girls who were, from naobito's mouth, 'mediocre at best'. the elder, an echo of a failure that fled from the zen'in gate, ages ago. how ironic, that it should be him who brings a promising future generation to the family.
not that toji kept that promise. that's a recurring theme with him.
he knows that it's animal instinct that clued that so-called talentless girl in to his existence. that she's the one who poked at megumi's awareness and reminded him that debt collectors are persistent. that she's likely the only one who could relate to a phantom enough to understand that they can be self-destructive. foolish.
toji is lying on his back on warm tiles when megumi finds him, his limbs splayed and his clothes the same monochromatic ensemble from the top-down (he's been 'borrowing' the dorm's laundry room; if megumi's noticed the dwindling detergent, now he knows the culprit).
green eyes flick sideways to meet the boy's gaze. they close a moment later; a lion in repose. ]
Took you long enough.
/gathers you in this direction relentlessly!!!!!!
[ point blank. what other questions could he have? well. some. a few. many. present this situation to a class and they'd have ten thousand opinions and most of them probably not particularly good. of course, as people often say: they don't have all the facts. megumi also does not have all the facts. he wonders which ones this man has, this person who somehow makes dozing on the dormitory roof look akin to sunbathing on an island beach, like he makes each space his own in sheer defiance of whatever it was supposed to be or actually even is. weirdly or not, he's reminded of maki and can almost feel her slapping him upside the head with the blunted end of any given weapon for even thinking as much. not that it's a negative thing. megumi doesn't know what it is exactly; just an observation.
before he closed his eyes, megumi caught the specific and too familiar green of them, felt like the sun scooped the iris into its hand and threw it at him as if to say: this is the truth whether you like it or not.
no wonder he's more comfortable with the shadows.
(that's a lie. but maybe the shadows are more comfortable with him.)
at the lower angle, looking up at him makes the sleeping predator impression even more....well, more. it remains hard to describe why this man who feels like 'nothing' feels more dangerous than anything else megumi has encountered so far β scratch that, almost more dangerous; there's just something about four red eyes and your responsibility's blood and your friend's heart in the grass that outstrips just a little. the nothingness, sure, has a component of danger; like not being able to tell where or if inumaki is around when he's on the other side. but it's not just that. something about it is...more personal.
i haven't seen him in years. i don't remember β
megumi feels his hands curl at his sides and forcibly uncurls them, makes them empty and limp and without much to say.
waits. ]