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Jul. 7th, 2030 12:00 am| wishes and plottery Does your character have a wish that you would like to see granted in game? Leave their name here, and I'll help you achieve your plot to the best of my ability. |
This city is a loud one. But also one where no one listens. For hours, the young boy has stood at the side of the main street of the city, the sound of the train soft in the distance, barely a whisper against the ears of passerby. Conversations filter by his ears at every turn — colleagues murmuring about the next business prospect, lovers sharing embarrassed laughs and nudges, an angry driver waving his fist upon being cut off at the intersection.
It's so much noise, and it clutters in the air with no one there to set it straight. The boy watches, and learns, and carefully shapes his tongue around the words on the lips of passerby. Echoes them back, sometimes earning a startled look. Sometimes, an annoyed sneer. No one stops to talk to him.
No one appreciates the sounds he's trying so hard to learn.
Nighttime threatens to arrive soon, and the boy's breath comes faster, uneven with his panic. He wraps arms tightly around himself as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, lingering by the corner of the intersection.
As people pass, he parts his lips as though to speak — but without being spoken to first, he can't start the conversation. Silence serves as his prison.
It's so much noise, and it clutters in the air with no one there to set it straight. The boy watches, and learns, and carefully shapes his tongue around the words on the lips of passerby. Echoes them back, sometimes earning a startled look. Sometimes, an annoyed sneer. No one stops to talk to him.
No one appreciates the sounds he's trying so hard to learn.
Nighttime threatens to arrive soon, and the boy's breath comes faster, uneven with his panic. He wraps arms tightly around himself as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, lingering by the corner of the intersection.
As people pass, he parts his lips as though to speak — but without being spoken to first, he can't start the conversation. Silence serves as his prison.
The old man came to her, longing for dreams he hadn't visited since his youth. There was something about the city of Darrow, he had explained, which stole from him the images he grew up with. Sprawling fields of green, and the pull of a thick marsh against his feet, the skies above pristine and blue. An endless sea of color, replaced by a quiet shroud of black.
He couldn't remember how much of the dreams were a tall tale woven over time, the yearn and longing increasing by the day. But anything was preferable to this. To spending half of his life unaware of everything but the passage of time.
He had no desire to watch the gates slowly approach with every waking morning.
Her price was simple — a shamisen that she now held in her position, nestled with care in her arms where she sat in the middle of the park. The wind parted sleek tresses of jet black hair, and the strings of the shamisen thrummed against her fingers as she stared unseeingly into the distance.
"A song a day in exchange for a dream, is it?" she murmurs, tilting her head gently towards the spirit sitting by her side, who rocks forward and back with each passing measure. Many strings wind themselves tightly around his thin fingers, a balloon floating at the end of each, dancing as they stretch towards the sky.
"Depends on the quality of the song, Yuuko-san," he hums thoughtfully, forward and back, leaning forward and back again.
"I suppose that means I've a lot of practice ahead of me."
He couldn't remember how much of the dreams were a tall tale woven over time, the yearn and longing increasing by the day. But anything was preferable to this. To spending half of his life unaware of everything but the passage of time.
He had no desire to watch the gates slowly approach with every waking morning.
Her price was simple — a shamisen that she now held in her position, nestled with care in her arms where she sat in the middle of the park. The wind parted sleek tresses of jet black hair, and the strings of the shamisen thrummed against her fingers as she stared unseeingly into the distance.
"A song a day in exchange for a dream, is it?" she murmurs, tilting her head gently towards the spirit sitting by her side, who rocks forward and back with each passing measure. Many strings wind themselves tightly around his thin fingers, a balloon floating at the end of each, dancing as they stretch towards the sky.
"Depends on the quality of the song, Yuuko-san," he hums thoughtfully, forward and back, leaning forward and back again.
"I suppose that means I've a lot of practice ahead of me."
karma, karma, karma is looking for you
Apr. 4th, 2014 11:20 amA few weeks after her arrival in Darrow, and Yuuko's already amassed a fair amount of inventory in the shop. After starting with almost nothing of what she had in Tokyo, Yuuko appreciates the fact that she's managed to find so many customers already — even though she's aware that a fair number of them come in as though led by a deliberate hand, rather than a tug from deep in their heart.
It's still hitsuzen that's responsible for leading them to her, but there's a more interesting figure behind many of the customers she's helped, and Yuuko wonders what might happen once the smoke finally dissipates.
There's a good chance she won't be here by the time that happens.
She's decided to take most of the day off work. Finding someone to help her with chores and duties around the shop is still, by far, one of Yuuko's top priorities in Darrow. There just isn't anyone quite like Watanuki around with that mixture of naiveté and perseverance. Of maybe she's exaggerating, unduly fond of Watanuki now that they've spent so much time together.
Yuuko makes her way towards one of the smaller sweet shops in town, wanting to purchase some of their different types of honey, when she spots a small fortune teller who has set up shop right next to the store.
Her lips thin briefly. There might be some value in the guidance regardless of accuracy, but she's never had much fondness for those who would feign such a gift.
It's still hitsuzen that's responsible for leading them to her, but there's a more interesting figure behind many of the customers she's helped, and Yuuko wonders what might happen once the smoke finally dissipates.
There's a good chance she won't be here by the time that happens.
She's decided to take most of the day off work. Finding someone to help her with chores and duties around the shop is still, by far, one of Yuuko's top priorities in Darrow. There just isn't anyone quite like Watanuki around with that mixture of naiveté and perseverance. Of maybe she's exaggerating, unduly fond of Watanuki now that they've spent so much time together.
Yuuko makes her way towards one of the smaller sweet shops in town, wanting to purchase some of their different types of honey, when she spots a small fortune teller who has set up shop right next to the store.
Her lips thin briefly. There might be some value in the guidance regardless of accuracy, but she's never had much fondness for those who would feign such a gift.
