Monologue - Self Anguish
Who: Kuronue
Where: The Shrine/Temple
When: Early Morning to Early Afternoon
Summary: Kuronue muses on his past, present and future.
Kuronue was annoyed.
No, he was well beyond that simple connotation. Kuronue was deeply and tremendously discomfited.
For days he’d been thinking over his conversations with Minamino Shuuichi in an effort to find a reason, any reason really, to believe his partner truly wasn’t the soft-spoken, serene-seeming young man. But alas, with every one of his called upon memories he could see hints of who the crimson haired kitsune once was. Whether it was a quick turn of phrase, the cool, curious questions or the dangerous edge to the boys’ tone at seemingly random intervals, Kuronue felt like Youko was with him once again. It frustrated him and yet…
------
Lying on his back up in the branches against one of the temple’s trees, arms crossed rather casually behind his head, Kuronue’s midnight gaze refocused on a sun gilt blue sky. Morning. He realized disgustedly, a slim arm slipping from its previous position of pillowing his head so he could rub a couple of fingers over his tired eyes. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts; he’d forgotten to get started on some of the light work he’d taken on as the temple caretaker. And being more comfortable with the time before dawn break, his body had seen fit to slow his awareness in preparation of sunrise.
Ugh. This was exactly why he hated mornings and more so the time of ‘day’. “Damn it.” He whispered, knowing even before he’d have to move that he was going to have to do all the maintenance work in the harsh light and burning heat; the very thing he’d been trying to avoid. He was a creature suited to night. His own state of activity enhanced in the coolness of a dark period than to the daylight times. So, it was with that notion that he preferably wished to sleep. It was in his nature to. But instead he would work and care for the old place nevertheless the hot sun. His survival instincts of keeping up friendly appearances for Yomi’s sake demanded it.
“All right, time to do this.” Shifting quickly, legs moving carelessly over the branch, his long fingers reaching out to press against the rough bark of his perch, Kuronue pushed himself off and away from the woody plant to glide soundlessly to the earth below. Dark wings extended out from his back in a magnificent display of a devil descending (of which he was), his shoe-clad feet touched the dirt with barely a hint of soil settling atop the shiny surface. Sensitive as always to the prying eyes of others, even if no one was there, he hurriedly folded those wings to his back, letting his long mane of hair cover the extra posterior limbs.
Taking up an attentive posture, his dark gaze assessed the grounds with a quick analytic sweep, noting the old worn stone paths leading to the back of the shrine only to wrap around the building and connect with its many counterparts up front. It was a haphazard pattern depicting a mosaic of some unknown ancient deity he was unfamiliar with. It was also covered in slews of leaves from the numerous tree-types, not including the bamboo forest, around the curtilage. Heaving out a deep sigh, Kuronue in an effortless grace pivoted around and took up the handle of the broom he’d left leaning upon the tree before his deviation into daydreaming. With hands wrapped firmly around the cleaning implement, he set to work sweeping the decaying leaves into piles for the rest of the morning.
------
Haunting was the soft clacking and shifting of the green leaves in the sudden cool breeze. A following melodic cacophony of hollowed thunks stilled his movements and left him breathless as he recognized the sound. Involuntarily, his midnight gaze misted over with unwanted memories as his body mindlessly moved towards the place of his nightmares. The bamboo forest… When had he gotten so close to it? Shuddering violently, it seemed to taunt him as he stood there before it, the long stalks towering over him giving cause to a morbid fear of death once again.
Instantly, the echoing sounds of flesh being pierced over and over (His flesh.), the tinge of desperation in his voice roughening it as he yelled towards his long time friend (“Forget about me! Run, Kurama!“), The ebb and gush of blood from the bamboo spears mixed with many of the other sharpened senses he’d experienced at that horrific moment, overwhelmed his entire frame and sent his mental state into a tailspin. A strangled scream emitted from his throat as his taloned hands grasped both sides of his tormented head and began to claw in a dire attempt to silence the recollections.
Before long his legs collapsed underneath him and he fell forward to his knees, the tendrils of his bangs covering his face, as rivulets of blood trickled down the sides of his jaw like tears. He had to get it under control. He needed to if he wanted to gain back what he’d lost then. He could never allow himself to be this weakened around anyone. Never. His breathing was harsh but coming back under his control as he fought to forcibly suppress the remains of his past one more time.
“Youko…”
Where: The Shrine/Temple
When: Early Morning to Early Afternoon
Summary: Kuronue muses on his past, present and future.
Kuronue was annoyed.
No, he was well beyond that simple connotation. Kuronue was deeply and tremendously discomfited.
For days he’d been thinking over his conversations with Minamino Shuuichi in an effort to find a reason, any reason really, to believe his partner truly wasn’t the soft-spoken, serene-seeming young man. But alas, with every one of his called upon memories he could see hints of who the crimson haired kitsune once was. Whether it was a quick turn of phrase, the cool, curious questions or the dangerous edge to the boys’ tone at seemingly random intervals, Kuronue felt like Youko was with him once again. It frustrated him and yet…
------
Lying on his back up in the branches against one of the temple’s trees, arms crossed rather casually behind his head, Kuronue’s midnight gaze refocused on a sun gilt blue sky. Morning. He realized disgustedly, a slim arm slipping from its previous position of pillowing his head so he could rub a couple of fingers over his tired eyes. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts; he’d forgotten to get started on some of the light work he’d taken on as the temple caretaker. And being more comfortable with the time before dawn break, his body had seen fit to slow his awareness in preparation of sunrise.
Ugh. This was exactly why he hated mornings and more so the time of ‘day’. “Damn it.” He whispered, knowing even before he’d have to move that he was going to have to do all the maintenance work in the harsh light and burning heat; the very thing he’d been trying to avoid. He was a creature suited to night. His own state of activity enhanced in the coolness of a dark period than to the daylight times. So, it was with that notion that he preferably wished to sleep. It was in his nature to. But instead he would work and care for the old place nevertheless the hot sun. His survival instincts of keeping up friendly appearances for Yomi’s sake demanded it.
“All right, time to do this.” Shifting quickly, legs moving carelessly over the branch, his long fingers reaching out to press against the rough bark of his perch, Kuronue pushed himself off and away from the woody plant to glide soundlessly to the earth below. Dark wings extended out from his back in a magnificent display of a devil descending (of which he was), his shoe-clad feet touched the dirt with barely a hint of soil settling atop the shiny surface. Sensitive as always to the prying eyes of others, even if no one was there, he hurriedly folded those wings to his back, letting his long mane of hair cover the extra posterior limbs.
Taking up an attentive posture, his dark gaze assessed the grounds with a quick analytic sweep, noting the old worn stone paths leading to the back of the shrine only to wrap around the building and connect with its many counterparts up front. It was a haphazard pattern depicting a mosaic of some unknown ancient deity he was unfamiliar with. It was also covered in slews of leaves from the numerous tree-types, not including the bamboo forest, around the curtilage. Heaving out a deep sigh, Kuronue in an effortless grace pivoted around and took up the handle of the broom he’d left leaning upon the tree before his deviation into daydreaming. With hands wrapped firmly around the cleaning implement, he set to work sweeping the decaying leaves into piles for the rest of the morning.
------
Haunting was the soft clacking and shifting of the green leaves in the sudden cool breeze. A following melodic cacophony of hollowed thunks stilled his movements and left him breathless as he recognized the sound. Involuntarily, his midnight gaze misted over with unwanted memories as his body mindlessly moved towards the place of his nightmares. The bamboo forest… When had he gotten so close to it? Shuddering violently, it seemed to taunt him as he stood there before it, the long stalks towering over him giving cause to a morbid fear of death once again.
Instantly, the echoing sounds of flesh being pierced over and over (His flesh.), the tinge of desperation in his voice roughening it as he yelled towards his long time friend (“Forget about me! Run, Kurama!“), The ebb and gush of blood from the bamboo spears mixed with many of the other sharpened senses he’d experienced at that horrific moment, overwhelmed his entire frame and sent his mental state into a tailspin. A strangled scream emitted from his throat as his taloned hands grasped both sides of his tormented head and began to claw in a dire attempt to silence the recollections.
Before long his legs collapsed underneath him and he fell forward to his knees, the tendrils of his bangs covering his face, as rivulets of blood trickled down the sides of his jaw like tears. He had to get it under control. He needed to if he wanted to gain back what he’d lost then. He could never allow himself to be this weakened around anyone. Never. His breathing was harsh but coming back under his control as he fought to forcibly suppress the remains of his past one more time.
“Youko…”