Coming to you live from a very steamy journal post~

[badbadbathhouse]

Why, hello there, kittens! I'm Kanji, esteemed reporter of all things fabulous and ever so delightfully naughty, and I'm here with a most special update for a fandom just beginning its long, hard... journey into adulthood~!

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Her Hour Upon the Stage (2/4)

[anonymous]

For the shadow currently shares the stage with her predecessor, circling with predatory grace, and he suspects that far more than the few knots binding Yumi's wrists and legs hold her there. Beside him, Chie quivers with the need to rush the stage; he's sure the others feel the same, they all do, but the shadow's sticking too close to her originator, and isn't giving them any opening to work with.

"I bet he caught something from her. That's why she didn't stick around -- she just didn't want to see what she's in for someday! Or maybe... maybe he cheated on her. Who knows how many women he's boffed, right?"

"S... stop it..."

"What?" Another surge of red accompanies another tirade, vicious words spat out like poison: "You know he was a total slutbag, remember? All he cared about was hitting any pretty bitch who'd spread her legs for him. Mom was starting to lose her looks, she wasn't worth sticking around for!" Abrupt shift to gentle blue, and the shadow turned her face away to whisper "And neither was I..."

Around him, the others shift uneasily. Watching these sort of performances never gets any better; most likely at least one of them's recalling their own shadow's harshly twisted truths. Plus none of them know Yumi all that well, so much of this is news to them, a terribly morbid introduction much like Kanji's or Rise's proved to be. Only he's familiar with her from school, so it probably falls to him to at least try and break into the Shadow Yumi's monologue.

But honestly, he's always had trouble with words. So often he hears something he instinctively has to respond to, but so many options fly to mind that it takes a moment to sort through them, to judge what might work best -- usually through deciding what his friends want to hear most. And words escape him now; he can't divine just what might give her strength.

His chance passes, as the fake continues her circling uninterrupted, bathed in darkening blue. Tapered fingers trace along Yumi's sleeves, pale flesh and fabric tinged with ice -- but that isn't why the real girl shudders, or so he assumes. Beneath the feline qualities of her smile lurks something more -- something more than mockery, than simple hunger. For all his theories, he can't comprehend the Shadows' mind, can only guess what transpires while they're racing to the rescue.

He isn't prone to particularly wild assumptions, and yet...