Midousuji Akira (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
discarding) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2021-02-14 03:39 pm
discarding) wrote in middaeg2021-02-14 03:39 pm
+1 cryptid
Who: Midousuji and whoever!
When: 2/14, various times
Where: the Coven, mostly
What: Midousuji’s arrival. he is largely at a loss for words/completely baffled. standard newbie stuff
Warnings: none!
i. ARRIVAL
ii. STUDY
When: 2/14, various times
Where: the Coven, mostly
What: Midousuji’s arrival. he is largely at a loss for words/completely baffled. standard newbie stuff
Warnings: none!
i. ARRIVAL
[after Midousuji has his extremely confusing awakening, hours after his actual arrival at the witching hour, he has some even more confusing encounters with some equally confusing people. he feels sort of bounced between various people, lead this way and ushered that way, and stands presently slack-jawed through each instance of being fed piece-meal information about his situation. things about Witches, about Monsters, about “Aefenglom.”
“Mirrorbound,” “Bonds,” magic.
he doesn’t say a word the entire time, and hasn’t said a thing since he woke up. though he is listening, it’s with an utter disbelief, and a bewildered sense of shock. some of the Witches exchange concerned glances (for many reasons, Midousuji’s lack of response being only one). eventually, when he’s asked if he has any questions for the third time that morning, Midousuji simply walks away. the native Coven people stare at Midousuji’s feet as he walks, the cycling cleats clatting strangely against the thick wooden floors.
he continues to move right past the people around him like they don’t exist, even as he nears the doors, the concerned advisory called at his broad shoulders that he may want to put on a coat or similar as ignored as everything else. Midousuji walks outside, and to his surprise, it’s snowing. the season seems similar to Kyoto, though it wasn’t snowing in his city. he thinks. he can’t quite even recall his most recent memory.
Midousuji rolls his head up, and simply stares, using the quiet of the snow-still air to try to sort his thoughts, out in the elements in just his biking kit.
maybe your character saw Midousuji at various points inside, or maybe your character is outside for whatever reason themselves—making their way to the Coven for their own purpose, or walking past it, but there is a strange, underdressed teenager who could easily be mistaken as an adult standing in the cold with his mouth still slightly hung open, eyes wide and unblinking.
Midousuji has fallen into the category of newly arrived Mirrorbound who are certain they’re dreaming, but he isn’t sure—he also might be one of the types who considers a coma.]
ii. STUDY
[some hours later, whatever happens definitely occurs, and then some. he finally decides, and announces, quietly, in a dry, croaking voice that he’d like to take the test to determine which category of cursed-person he falls into to one of the Witches who had given him information earlier. he doesn’t make eye-contact. and after all that to-do, Midousuji is told he’s a Witch. and as before, the Coven workers’ expressions fall a bit when he doesn’t react to the news. after a too-long pause, Midousuji demands the location of their library, and once he’s told, he turns without thanking the nice staff, on his way to fuckin’....... read some dusty-ass fantasy books. great.
Midousuji’s limbs still feel stiff and almost prickly-painful from the cold as he slowly moves through the library. he’s still confident none of this is real, but he’d won’t be assed to say that even in non-reality scenarios that he won’t be prepared.
he’s a little distracted, trying to recall his last memory still, wondering if he maybe hit his head, or unexpectedly got hit by a car, or something. accidents happen fast.
by now, Midousuji has a working stack of books, held by the gloved bottoms of his fingerless gloves and braced by his chin, long arms straight downwards. books on bonding, magic sickness, what types of monster species there are, some cultural history of this made-up nonsense place, various types of magic, its varied practices...
and on his way to his table, since his limbs still feel stiff and cold, Midousuji’s cleat slips a little—and in correcting himself, he loses the whole stack of books.
eyes wide, he simply stares at the mess of books, and is pretty sure he can hear his brain snap.]
no subject
You look lost.
[The words are not unkind.
Elidibus has been watching Midosuji since the athlete arrived in the library. The lack of winter attire aside, the biking kit is completely outlandish for the city. It screams 'new Mirrorbound'. The emotional state- or lack of any evidence thereof- is also of interest. Shock is something the Emissary has seen time and again in mortals.
Often, being the cause of it.The man who has addressed Midosuji is one of those types who look like a Westerner. Human, pretty average size. Probably somewhere in the early or mid-twenties range, short brown hair and relaxed. His expression shows a mix of kindness and concern. It's a facade of course, but no one needs to know that.
What he wears looks like an incomplete set. A tight-fitted black shirt disappears into the waist of what can only be deemed the lower half some sort of 'fantasy armor'. Leather, fur, scales, and various belts.]
Why don't you join me?
[Simple enough. While the man collects some more books, he nods in the direction of a reading table a little off to the side of where Midosuji was heading. A small stack of books, a magic-based reading lamp, and neatly stacked pieces of what must be the upper half of the man's gear. No giant axe today. He turned that into the care of the Coven when he first arrived.]
no subject
Midousuji blinks, then rolls his head up to look at Elidibus when he asks if Midousuji wants to join him—and it’s not a graceful movement. his neck pops sickeningly and visibly seems to almost rattle from the slow lift of his heavy head, and Elidibus gets Midousuji’s face in a suspicious, but almost vacant glare. he tilts his head, mouth still agape to show the tops of each row of too-perfect teeth. Midousuji hasn’t taken too detailed inventory of anyone’s appearance, just yet—it’s been a periphery blur so far, far too overwhelmed and overstimulated to have taken it all in at once.
but indeed, Midousuji takes notice of this man’s features. an athletic looking foreigner. but Midousuji supposes he must be the foreigner. distantly, he wonders if there’s other Japanese people in this world. fantasy worlds always have a very westernized slant, don’t they?? even isekai, written by japanese people.
this is definitely fake.]
I’m not interested in your side-quest, [Midousuji grouses disdainfully.] Go away.
no subject
Well, most of it. Granted, Elidibus muses, this type of caricature of motion tends to manifest in Voidsent and their ilk. But Midosuji hasn't lept for his throat and lifeforce yet. It's still reasonable to consider that this particular sample of mortality is simply representative of mankind where he comes from.
Having picked up several books by the time the teenager answers, Elidibus straightens. It's clear he doesn't reach Midosuji's height, but he definitely has a presence. He looks bemused for a moment. In truth, he's considering the best way to respond to the grousing teen, weighing 'as an Emissary' with 'as Ardbert'. He chooses 'Ardbert'.]
Well, it seems I have misjudged my approach.
[Tucking the books he retrieved in the crook of one arm, he suddenly shifts forward. What he wants to do is inherently simple in theory. Secure Midosuji and frogmarch the youth over to a seat at the table in question. While this may not go as planned, that warrior build is not just for show either.
As far as Elidibus is concerned, he is mandatory if you wish to progress the story, Midosuji.]
no subject
also jesus god is there anything worse than mandatory side quests to make a story go forward??? this is why RPGs are objectively bad and stupid and why Midousuji doesn’t play them!! the only linear path he’ll be beholden to is one of his own making, damn it!
so when Elidibus simply goes ahead with his books!! his!—Midousuji reels back with an appalled, indignant scowl, the deep, lightless gray of his eyes pinpricking as his face pulls in tense, displeased lines.]
Hey!
[and as Elidibus hopes, Midousuji gracelessly (but with remarkable effectiveness) scrambles the remainder of the dropped books in his sinewy, long arms. he gets them...sort of in order, and stomps after him.
is this place going to be this way the entire time?? is he just going to have to expect to be hectored at every turn he takes hoping for personal space??? what is with people being completely incapable of minding their own damn business? apparently that’s a universal quality in humans. humanoids. whatever.
gross.
once Midousuji catches up to the sturdy-bodied fantasy white man, Midousuji slams his books down pre-emptively where Midousuji anticipates where the man will sit given his path, and they shift every where-to.]
What do you want.
no subject
...and hero? Look. It's complicated.
And he's just stolen Midosuji's books. Once he's reached the table- and Midosuji has accepted the bait- they are set down near the teen's chosen seat.
And then infuriatingly not answering the demand, Elidibus turns to pick up the cloak draped over the back of his seat. It's got a hood and a fur lining but is pretty plain. With a lot of concentration and a short incantation, warmth is sent into the cloak. It will not last long, perhaps twenty minutes as he's still new to this type of magic, but it will be like the comfortable fabric has just come out of the dryer.
Casually, Elidibus tosses it in such a way that it might blanket the half-frozen bike fanatic if there's no effort to get out of the way in time. Then picking up his book, the strange western fantasy man drops back down into his seat, leans back a little, and starts to read. If Midosuji does dodge, well. That's not his problem.
He looks up again as though in afterthought.]
Oh, don't let me interrupt you further.
[The man returns to his reading. Which Midosuji might note is not from a book with enchantments to translate its contents. If he's not too tied up in trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.]
no subject
of course, it feels lovely. if Midousuji were a (sort of) normal person, he'd probably go ahead and wrap himself up in the cozy, magic fabric and abruptly thud his head against the studying bench for an abrupt and aggressive sleep. but Midousuji is strongly against being perceived in the first place, but doubly so against charity. it belies the worst kind of person—implies that someone is taking pity upon him, undermining him for his own capabilities as an individual!!
there are more than a few people staring cautiously towards the pair for Midousuji's primal bird-of-prey shrieking, especially when coupled with the incident of his awkward, chill-bitten ass toppling all those books. the dark of Midousuji's eyes are as little pinpricks, looking as though he might literally burst a vessel from his neck as he fiercely grasps the fabric in the snare of his long, ghastly fingers, abruptly yanking the fabric away using the full extent of what wingspan his too-long arm has to offer.]
Don't throw your magic garbage at me!!
[Midousuji shakes the offending fabric at the offensive fantasy generic-handsome npc, and is still... quite loud. oh no. hopefully he doesn't get tossed out of the library.]
What's the meaning of that?! Huh?!
no subject
Ah. The expression is exchanged for a bemused look and a wry quirk of the fantasy man's lips as though .]
I should think the meaning is obvious.
[There's no anger. Not really condescending either. Elidibus keeps his tone fairly bland. He is not buying what Midosuji's trying to sell. Nor does he seem offended by the teen's description of the magic invested in the cloak.
In a sense, Elidibus does agree that Aefenglom has garbage magic. But that's neither here nor there.]
If you wish to catch your death of cold then by all means return it.
[For a second, Elidibus lets his attention wander to everyone who is watching the scene unfold. He returns his regard to Midosuji.]
But you would do well to remember we're in a library. Perhaps you might keep your protests down a little?
no subject
given Elidibus's useless response, Midousuji's expression flatlines, and his long, slender fingers raise in dramatic display, dropping the offending, toasty cloak in a heap on the ground as he narrows his eyes at his offender, jaw jutting forward as his eyes narrow as he scowls.]
Perhaps you should stay in your lane with boundaries. Who are you? Intruding on my personal space, getting up in my business, throwing dreamy laundry at me. Disgusting. How daft are you to try to turn that on me, huh? You must think I'm stupid.
If you're uncomfortable by my [Midousuji's eyes suddenly widen as he tilts his neck so abruptly one can hear it pop,] bad behavior, maybe you should mind your own business and leave me alone, [Midousuji almost growls out, and punctuates this by slamming his palm on the hard cedar of the table.]
Deplorable... Disgusting. So gross. Have you no self awareness? [Midousuji's impossibly wide eyes narrow as he hisses through his pretty teeth, so perfect that they're frankly just kind of ugly.] Pretending to be the good samaritan... while simultaneously violating the personal space of a teenager from a different world, pestering them...
[Midousuji's voice drops to a threatening whisper, voice coarse with dissent.]
Maybe you're the one who should remove themselves for the sake of the common peace, NPC.
no subject
Thus 'dislike' or 'anger' don't apply to Midosuji when Elidibus returns to focusing on the contents of his book about four or five words into what observers might call the teenager's... tantrum? It's clear the man isn't even pretending to listen; one may even argue that this western fantasy warrior fellow doesn't appear to even register the biker's existence. Not so much as a flinch, even as the palm comes crashing down on the table. Elidibus turns a page.
He's listening, sure. Pondering whether to make a note of this mortal as a distraction for others, should the need present itself. It's all quite cold and clinical. The rest of the library's occupants are starting to get annoyed. Whispers breaking out and no doubt there is going to be someone in charge who will be hurrying over all too soon. Maybe with backup. Someone is sounding violent.
Elidibus wonders if the warmth enchantment still lingers on his cloak. He supposes some small acknowledgment will be in order so that he has an excuse to look up and retrieve it to check. And so he looks up. And puts a small frown of puzzlement on his expression.]
Oh? You're still here?
[Elidibus does not know what an 'NPC' is. But there is seems little reason to pursue the answer.]
no subject
but, yeah, Midousuji's heightened, exaggerated reactions are definitely a tantrum. he's prone to them, and prone to overstimulation, and goodness if he isn't stretched to his limit with his arrival, not yet even processing it.
Midousuji's arms drop heavily, suddenly, when Elidibus so flippantly addresses him—and, blessed be, Midousuji suddenly sees a light at the end of the tunnel. eyes wide, mouth hung open by slack jaw again, Midousuji's shoulders droop with the weight of his long, grotesque arms.]
No, [Midousuji answers, and he simply turns from where he came, and walks away. this place would still be here tomorrow, if Midousuji didn't wake up before then... and so too would the endless bounty of books. there's no reason to put up with this.]
no subject
A note is made to listen for Midosuji's fate, but for the moment, the matter of the biker is truly put out of his mind this time as Elidibus returns to his reading. He'll probably take note of what the teen had chosen too and even take the books back to their places at the end of his studies for the day!
All like a good fantasy protagonist NPC might.]