OPENING LOG ~

[seafronted]

Who: EVERYONE EVER IN PROMENADE
What: IT'S THE OPENING GUYS, GET READY.
Where: Throughout the city!
When: Now!
Warnings: None, other than language and possible violence. HAVE AT IT.

Comments

placeholder-- off to bed.

[truncately]

[The sound footsteps behind him caught his attention as there was something different about them asides the steps of the guards that lay in wait along the edges of the pathways littered throughout the lands. It caused him to straighten his posture a little more and clench his fist at his side, his face tighten with a narrowing of his brows as he exhaled another breath, thoughts turning over and over within his subconscious on how to treat the situation. The dai could simply continue on his path and ignore whatever or whoever trailed closely behind him, he could move in a aggression and he could move in a more passive state but despite the situation, there was a creed to remember and follow, on that he respected completely and utterly despite the ordeal before him and quite the ordeal it was.

It eventually grew on his nerves though, the near pace behind him with each step that he could hear amongst the night air that surrounded. A pause, a moment and within a few more steps he halted his own gait suddenly, turning to his side and shifting his gaze downward to face the figure that had been trailing so close to his own path. Narrowing his brows, his mouth set in a scowl, lips turned downward as he noticed that the one who was there was nothing short of a young man, hardly reaching towards adulthood in the least. Trouble, most likely--still, he met the other with a stern expression and silent question upon his face, something akin to what is you want, boy?]

night, you. ❤

[estraine]

[ There is no method or order to this game, it's nothing more than Mukuro testing and pushing the limits of everything within this realm to the limit, with a large, healthy order of trolling on the side. Ahead of him, there man whose entire posture looks increasingly pissed off, even in the dim light, and the guards to either side, vigilant and watchful, both an unknown factor, the variable x. Where he previously had a purpose that dictated his actions back in the world of the waking, there is no thing of the sort compelling him here, and he finds himself lacking in motive. Searching for some semblance of a grasp on the situation, Mukuro tests the waters, beginning with this-

Everything about him spells Trouble, with a capital T. The unruly hair, the modified and carelessly worn uniform, to the thinly disguised mischief written all over his features and stance. Stopping precisely at the same instance, Mukuro holds his gaze boldly- but only for a brief moment. Ducking his head and glancing to the side, he looks every inch his age, shy and chastised. With a graceful sidestep, he seems to excuse himself without a single word said, peeking at him beneath lashes, as if in fascination. ]

♥

[truncately]

[And if anyone knew the difference between the innocence of youth and the dangers that it could possess, it was the dai as he stared down the smaller figure looking certainly displaced from his own world, though he was not much better to the other likely and nor the guards that remained within the paths that they both stood upon, eying their interaction with indifference. This feigned fascination or honest if there was such a thing in a look like that, caused him to flatten his brow in a more accusatory manner, no trust in the actions of the other that followed so closely and now, even with the ducking of his head and the sidestep, the shy demeanor, he holds no trust. A huff of breath and out of simply manners he dips his own head in greeting and turns his body to allow the other to pass if that is his intentions, if not--he'll take whatever comes to him at this point, seemingly prepared for the inevitable of conversation or complete dismissal.

Though what he is not aware of is his inability to part his lips and say much of anything while the night air clings to the sky.]

[estraine]

[ And the infamous crotchetiness of the older generation is renowned worldwide. If it's suspicion that shadows his mind, it's precisely what Mukuro intends- to throw the other off balance, and set him on edge. When the man turns, he smiles, and holds his laughter inwards. How could he refuse such an invitation? With one final survey of the other man, he proceeds past him, posture unguarded and relaxed. What seems like the end of a merely unsettling encounter is nothing but an illusion, one that is broken when Mukuro, without a pause in his step, makes use of the TENEKA: ]

Lovely night, isn't it?

[truncately]

[If such an ideal had been expressed he would be one to defend that he is certainly not as old as the other seems to think he is. The prime of his youth really though jaded through time and event, occurring being one to twist all manners considered lighthearted and thrust them into the dirt of the earth below, bury ideals under rocks within a desert landscape, spoiled in the sun and heat, frostbitten by the chill of the evening. A bleak outlook for certain, but in that moment in his life he was not one to be accepting or patient of much of anything, rather having the choice to walk away than continue to hold to it in regards to this place he was certain he did not belong in. The boy on the other hand, something not to be taken in humor, seemed to be enjoying himself quiet readily and when the sound of a voice jumped through his mind, he tensed and hesitated, the form of speech not being one he favored in this realm of blatant sorcery. It hurt his mind, brought goosebumps to the surface of the skin and he felt insane, possessed, a curse that someone would be contained due to.

Still, he tried to keep his composure and replied in the simplistic manner of a brief and blunt reply, his accent stemming through the translation that occurred due to the unknown object he was holding within the possession of his satchel slung across his person.]

Hardly in regards to circumstance.

[estraine]

[ Age is relative, in the end, and one must always remember that those older than the apparent age of thirty-five or less, to the younger generation, are all but senior citizens wobbling on canes across busy streets. Alas, it's merely an observation, and not enough of a coherent thought to accidentally translate through into conversation. And though this body is young, there are tell-tale signs of an older soul residing within it. You just have to look, that's all.

To him, the speech comes as naturally as normal communication does (through his voice box, off his tongue), it is only the replies which serve to unsettle him, as an unknown factor. How far does the extent of the returning thought go? Is it possible to go past simple conversation, into delving through one's personal thoughts?

While he's more than certain that should a mental attack of any capacity occur, he is more than proficient to counter it, it is, nonetheless, out of the ordinary.

But, back to the conversation at hand. Mulling the reply over in his head, he continues walking down the path, hands in pockets, eyes straight ahead. ]

Did you not wish to come home?

[truncately]

[Observation was owned by the set of eyes who took it in and processed it. In a way, it was to each their own and each their own opinion that could differ from the sphere of negative to positive and even linger in the crowded room of neutrality but in this case, to the dai it was obvious that the figure before him was in the more bothersome stages of youth, ones that many never grew from as they reached adulthood and for a moment he had a feeling that the obnoxious playfulness in the others attitude would be something to remain throughout his lifetime. It certainly did not help to clear the severity off his face which remained as glances are kept even and upon the other, the inclusion of the cursed form of communication not making the situation any better.

His steps do not follow the other for a moment in their halted state but in time, Malik figures that lingering upon the path will serve him no good and continues to walk, footfalls silent upon the earth and keeping a far amount of distance between himself and the unknown boy ahead of him, seemingly out for a leisurely stroll, uncaring of this world, unperturbed.]

This is hardly close to home.