[OPEN] bite & arbeit

[halfmoon]

Who: Makoto and you!
When: Throughout mid-September
Where: All in Aefenglom - shopping district; industrial district; vampire bar maybe??; etc.
What: Part-time work, quests, full moon changes.
Warnings: Threads set at Victorious Secret are likely to be a little racy. Will edit if anything else comes up!

Starters are in the comments!

Comments

Tomes Aplenty (bookstore part-time work)

[halfmoon]

( A: organization. )

Makoto doesn't think of himself as a particularly clean and organized person. Sure, his dorm room back in Iwatodai was so sparse, one might think a monk lived there, but really, he just hadn't ever seen the point of decorating it. Living arrangements came and went as frequently as schools and potential friends. There was no point in lugging around a bunch of meaningless junk on top of it.

But this job, this he could do. The mess isn't much different from the stacks of unorganized books at Bunkichi's place. More importantly, after speaking with the owner, they'd agreed to his special terms: he wants to be paid in books of his choosing, proportional in value to the work he does. There's no shortage of books in this place, and he suspected they were relieved for some of the books to be removed instead of being restocked.

He starts at the top of one tower of books and slowly begins to sort them into categories. Every once in a while, he spends an extra moment reading the front and back cover of a book, and sometimes, that book gets placed into a special pile. Except for softly humming to himself, Makoto works completely silently, although he steals glances at the other part-time workers if something or someone happens to draw his attention.

( B: people watching. )

At noon, there's an uptick in business as customers filter in and out to purchase newspapers and magazines to read over lunch. Instead of helping the other employees, Makoto sits near the front door of the bookstore, his pile of new books at his side.

The spines of the books almost tell a story. The ones at the bottom - the books he'd picked out first - are all about vampires. Above those, books about faun and merrow start to pepper in, and then other monsters as well. Lastly, the top few books are about witches and bonds.

Looks like this kid is studying up, and he's picked this spot to read for a reason. As people pass him, including co-workers, he periodically glances up from whatever he's reading to watch them. Although, really, stare at them is a better way to put it. He glances down at the book sometimes, but then his attention returns to the person of interest.

Oh - they noticed. For another second, he keeps staring unflinchingly, but then he shuts his book and sits up. As it turns out, the book he was reading is about you, person who noticed him staring. Not you specifically, but whatever you happen to be - whether witch or monster.

You're part of his self-study! Congratulations. He raises a hand to wave, slightly apologetically.

( wild card. )

Feel free to tag in with a starter of your own, whether you're a fellow part-timer or a bookstore shopper!

B

[divineconfetti]

Wolf, personally, has very little interest in reading. Even that he knows how is something of an outlier, considering how martial his upbringing was, but in general it is a luxury of time spent in stillness and silence that he cannot really afford. And yet, he comes to the bookstore anyway. He isn't certain why, or perhaps he just doesn't want to admit the truth of the matter — that the rows of bookshelves remind him of the similar room in the castle, where he would find Lord Kuro surrounded by a loose halo of books, pouring through them to try to find information to aid in his quest.

The turnskin stands out. Even if he has left his more noticeable weaponry behind today, he is a severe man with a brusque presence. He walks the shelves, surveying the spines of the books but never picking any out. He isn't even certain what he would decide to read, if the impulse struck him. Your mid-thirties is an odd time to suddenly have free time and freedom enough to decide if you have interests or hobbies or not.

He can feel the eyes following him. It's like a prickling at the back of his neck, one born both of shinobi tutoring and turnskin instincts. Wolf doesn't react immediately, continuing along his way until he decides that it is no accident. He turns his dark gaze towards the sensation, locking onto the boy sitting near the entrance to the shop. He doesn't flinch away, and they hold one another's gazes for a long moment. The boy then lowers the book and, after a beat, gives him a small wave.

Wolf is still for a long moment, and then his shoulders move up and down in a sigh. He approaches.

His eyes flick down toward the book, noticing that it's about, well, turnskins. His wolfish ears flatten a bit, and his eyes go back to the boy's. He frowns. "Do you have any questions?"

[halfmoon]

Ah. He's coming over. Seemingly unmoved by the awkward moment of staring they had shared, he stands up once the stranger approaches him, only to find that the stranger is shorter than him. He's much older too; now that Makoto can see his face up close, he realizes he's at least thirty years old.

"Sorry for staring," he says, trying to address his apparent annoyance from the beginning. The man gives off an overall intimidating vibe. Makoto's poker face doesn't break, but he quietly hopes he hasn't just instigated a fight on his first day of work here. "I guess you could say that I do. I'm a mirrorbound, and I only got here a few weeks ago. You're the first turnskin I've talked to, to be honest."

[divineconfetti]

Several years over thirty, and with the overall roughness to him, it's fairly apparent that all of those years had also not treated him well. But Wolf has a calm air to him, even if it is a stark and severe one. He eyes the boy with shinobi wariness and canine curiosity. If he notices that the young man is a bit taller than him, well, he doesn't show it. The fact that he is a short man is not news to him; the only time it really registers is when it registers to other people, and he can see it for just a moment in their expression.

Wolf doesn't respond verbally to the apology; he just kind of makes a gruff sound to wave the words off. He isn't offended — he is just straight-forward, and thinking that if the boy had something he wanted to say, he might as well say it.

The shinobi nods. Another disparate soul come wandering through the mirrors, then? Too new to tell what he would turn out to be, though by now he would know if he has been blessed with magical prowess or cursed with a monster's mien. Wolf might ask later, if it comes up, but it's not really his business. Just as his own affliction isn't really Makoto's, but... he has become accustomed to shouldering others' curiosity.

"You may ask." Wolf reaches out and takes the book on turnskins that the boy had been holding previously. He flicks through the pages, holding the book in a hand which, upon closer inspection, is a rather macabre prosthetic. He glances back up to Makoto. "Though what you find in this book might prove better to you."

He only says this, knowing that the book understands what he is and how he will change far better than he does at this given moment, even having gone through several months of transformation.

B - I'm tagging this very late, I apologize

[eluci]

The first couple times he catches the kid staring, he's willing to pass it off as a coincidence. People look at you when you pass by them, generally, and his path takes him near Makoto several times. After those times, though, he's pretty sure that it's happening on purpose. The ears and tail give him away as 'not human' pretty easily, and while he won't admit it, he's still very self-conscious about them being visible.

The book's about turnskins, he notices, and to him that confirms the purposeful staring, so he sets down the stack of books he was moving to confront the kid...who's already noticed. Hm.

"Y'know, talking is a lot less creepy than staring."

it's ok!

[halfmoon]

Makoto watches the man walk over, his face calm and neutral. He rests his hand on the top of his book, partially obscuring the gold lettering on the cover that reads Turnskin Varieties and Their Attributes. Makoto himself is wearing a long cloak, and his face is partially obstructed by the hood pulled over his head, but the stranger should be able to see his blood red eyes easily, if he hadn't noticed them already.

"Sorry," he answers with a polite shrug. "Some turnskins have heightened senses, right? I should have known you'd notice."

He sets his book aside and stands up to offer him a respectful hand. "I'm Makoto Yuuki."

[eluci]

In contrast to Makoto's neutral expression, Noctis still looks annoyed, but not much more than someone would be at catching someone staring at them. His tail matches that expression, moving slowly back and forth, the tip twitching occasionally, and if Makoto knows anything about cats, he might recognize what that means.

"I guess so," he admits, lightly tugging on one ear. "But most people notice when someone else is staring at them."

He accepts the handshake, grateful for still-human hands to do so with. "Noctis."

[halfmoon]

Makoto lifts his gaze from his methodical work to look up at the man. A customer wandered all the way back here to ask for assistance? This strikes him as a bit odd, but not impossible. He may as well take a break now, anyway.

He stands up, claps his hands clean of dust, and turns towards the man. Makoto is not particularly tall either, but he has the features of a young man in his late teens. His scrawny figure is hidden by a long black witch's cloak draped ending just above his ankles. A crimson hood is piled up on his shoulders, pushed back while he was working. Despite his attire, he has blood red eyes and a sickly pallor to his skin - telltale signs of a soon-to-be vampire.

"Divinity?" Makoto echoes with a slight frown. Maybe that's a subsection of magic he's still unfamiliar with. He glances down, thinking about that second alternative. "As for local religion... I have no idea. They might not even think of that stuff as 'religion.' There may be some books on myths and legends I can point you to."

Victorious Secret (nightwear part-time work)

[halfmoon]

( A: testing. )

Alchemy shop specializing in fashion, looking for someone to test their nightwear potions. Makoto had many questions, but an hour later, he walked through the front door of "Victorious Secret" anyway, curious about the potential to make some easy money.

(And also maybe a little bit curious about the nightwear.)

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who thought the same - he's taken back to the shop's mixing room to find several people already there. Some of them look like they might have already tested a few potions, with... varying results. A few look like they haven't started yet.

The owner hands him a potion and watches expectantly. Makoto looks down, considers it, and then turns his head to address the person next to him. "This isn't going to mess up the clothes I'm already wearing, is it?"

( B: display. )

A few days later, after the acceptable potions have been put out into the storefront for purchase, Makoto has returned - although this time, he lingers on the sales floor, keeping an eye out for customers who might need a certain kind of assistance. He's no potion expert, so he can't give much information about the potions specifically.

Instead, he's been hired to essentially be the shop's "living mannequin" for their nightwear line today. With there being no other way to show off the clothes - simply dressing mannequins won't do, apparently, as there's more involved in the potions than simply conjuring clothing from somewhere - Makoto is here to essentially sample a potion on a customer's behalf, so they can get an idea of the potion and its effects on an actual person.

His qualifications for this job? Well. He's thin and fit and lanky; despite not being particularly tall, the clothes tend to look good on him. On top of that, he has an ironclad poker face, necessary for selling clothes that some could find embarrassing to shop for.

And, maybe, he thought that trying on all those pajamas and lingerie was kinda fun. Don't judge.

A

[wylderrant]

Iramaat has mostly come out in order to take her mind off of a few things and to make herself useful and to enjoy herself. Well, mostly enjoy herself. The idea of testing out clothing - even lingerie - sounds incredibly entertaining to her. She likes pretty things and flashy clothing and she doesn't particularly mind showing off, either. She has the body for it - why not enjoy?

She's one of the people hanging about in the back and her eyes light up when she spots Makoto. Iramaat's started already, apparently, since she's wearing some sort of off-the-shoulder bralette (in a very attractive and eye-catching red) and a matching set of undergarments. No stockings as of yet.

"Makoto...!"

She hasn't answered his question yet. Instead she pulls him into a warm hug and then steps back, laughing.

"No idea, honestly. You'll have to find out."

[halfmoon]

He hears his name, and before he can connect the voice to a person, Iramaat appears in front of him and throws her arms around his shoulders. Makoto gets just enough of a look at her - and what she's wearing - for him to freeze up when she presses her body against his for a few seconds, his arms hovering around her back, instinctively hesitant to touch her bare skin (even though he knows she'd probably tell him to).

When she pulls away, he can't help but glance down at her body and the flattering lingerie. Don't gawk, he tells himself, yanking his eyes back up to her face.

"Iramaat," he says, still a bit spooked. He takes a step back and clears his throat. "Red is a good color for you."

If someone he knew weren't here, he might consider taking off most of his clothes just to make sure nothing happened to them. But.

A

[prayerwheel]

[ His question makes Azura look down at the lacy nightgown she's been magicked into. ]

That's an excellent question. Perhaps I should have asked before taking it.

[halfmoon]

[ Makoto's eyes follow hers, and then immediately pull away when he realizes just how lacy that nightgown is. ]

...it'd be pretty rough to have to walk home in something like that. [ He looks at the potion again. Oh, what the hell. If he has to, he'll chug them until he gets something that's appropriate to wear outside.

After tipping his head back and downing the potion, he disappears in a small cloud of sparkles and mist, and a moment later reappears wearing a full set of dark blue lingerie - panties, bra (awkwardly fastened around his flat chest), stockings, even a see-through robe that only goes down to his hip. ]

This is terrible and I'm only a little sorry. 🌕

[eyesees]

Fuuka has been lucky that the changes she's experienced thus far have been relatively minor. Her scales have been spreading, flecks of crimson and turquoise dispersed among shimmering silver. Her teeth felt a bit sharper as well, and it has taken her some adjusting to keep from accidentally biting her tongue. Her hair felt like it was growing much quicker than normal... but really, that was probably her mind playing tricks on her. She needed a haircut anyhow. Maybe the changes she would undergo wouldn't be as drastic as some of the other mirrorbound monsters.

Waking up that morning, she can't help but noticed how thirsty she feels. It's like she hasn't had a drink for days, and rubbing the sleep from the eyes with the back of her hand, Fuuka shifts, moving to get out of bed—

"Ah-!"

Then flopping onto the floor with a crash when her 'legs' suddenly refuse to work. Still wrapped up in her blanket, she whimpers in pain, shaking her head in stunned shock; teal hair (a few inches longer than it was the night before) brushing the side of her neck as tries to get her bearings. She hasn't even noticed the changes she's undergone overnight—from the seafoam and deep red fins plastered to her back underneath her nightgown to the billowing tail peeking out from her blanket where her legs should be.

ಥ‿ಥ

[halfmoon]

A loud thunk and yelp in the room beside his wakes Makoto suddenly. It's hours before his typical early afternoon wake-up time; for a split second, he wonders if something's happened, if this is the Dark Hour and an arcana shadow is climbing up the side of the dorm like the night he arrived. But no - he's still in Aefenglom, still craving blood, still feeling like he's dying all over again...

That yelp. It came from Fuuka's room, just on the other side of the wall that his bed is pushed up against. He pushes himself up from the mattress, groans at the aching pain the movement causes in his arms, and squints at the wall next to him.

"Fuuka?" he calls out. "Are you alright?" Despite asking, he's already getting up to make sure. Today is the start of another full moon, after all, so who knows what could happen with any of them today.

[eyesees]

Did she wake him up?! His voice snaps her back into reality, and as she wrestles with the blanket that she's currently entangled in, Fuuka manages to answer Makoto clumsily. "I—I think—but I can't..." Her thoughts are too disjointed right now to give him a coherent answer, as she wars with the sheet; trying to kick it away but finding her bottom half not working the way it should. It's like her legs are bound together, but... not. Like they're fused, but are somehow incredibly heavy. To her sleep-addled mind, it doesn't make any sense.

Attempting to twist at the hip so she can get a better look and hopefully figure out how she's managed to get into this mess, she starts to draw what she assumes are her knees up (heavy...). Expecting to see her bare feet caught in a tumble of sheets, Fuuka stares when she is met instead with a fan of colorful fins sprouting out from the other end of her white, cottony cocoon.

"Oh..!"

Well, that solves the mystery of what she's becoming...

the vampire bar 🦇

[proficience]

Dazai hasn't perused that bar for vampires lately, since he'd been preoccupied with trying to squeeze in as many shifts as possible at his cafe. Which are becoming harder and harder to complete, given his increasing hate for the sun.

But knowing that the trip to Dorchacht is nearing, he figures it wouldn't hurt to check it out again. Perhaps he'll meet a new vampire or two, even!

He pushes the doors open and makes his way to the same couch he'd sat on before, almost instantly noticing Makoto at another table.

"Oh, Makoto-kun! You're here, too!"

He waves enthusiastically. "The trip is tomorrow, so I figured I should visit this place one last time," he says, as if he thinks he's not returning. He is.

[halfmoon]

Makoto is sitting at a table today instead of on one of the couches, a plate of some sort of pasta sitting in front of him half-eaten. A stack of books is on the table with the food, with one open beside his plate.

He looks up from the book when he hears Dazai's familiar voice. As he should expect something at this point, the other vampire said something vaguely weird in greeting with all the casualness of any other hello.

"Osamu-kun," he says with a slight smile. "I hope you mean one last time before you leave. Want to sit?"

[proficience]

Dazai chuckles, shaking his head almost instantly at that response. That, and he's already walking over to Makoto's table even before being offered a seat.

"That's what I meant, yes. I have no intention of leaving this world entirely. Not for a long time," he admits as he pulls out a chair and sits down.

"Is that any decent?" He points at the pasta dish. "One of my bonded is trying to concoct blood infused recipes for me. I've had blood pudding most recently, in fact. It was alright."

misc (vampire bar + full moon)

[halfmoon]

( A: vampire bar. )

Did you hear that illicit blood can be purchased from the goblins in their black markets? As they grow while Parliament's eyes are elsewhere, the rumor starts to spread among vampires, and eventually it lead back to the bartender of Desmodus Mori, an upper-class vampire bar near the river. The bar prides itself on all of its blood being ethically collected through donations from farms and hunters... and from private citizens, in the case of witch and monster blood.

While the bar normally has sparse signage in order not to draw too much attention, a new sign is placed outside as the rumors of the markets spread: Ethically drawn blood. Bloodless menu available. All monsters and witches welcome. Discounts for mirrorbound.

Makoto had already been coming here prior to the sign going up, but the promise of a discount has him showing up every evening. He's trying to save up money now that he's getting more used to his changes and cheap meals should help. This is a bit of a catch-all or wildcard prompt that takes place prior to September's full moon; feel free to have your character run into him in the bar or have some other mild shenanigans!

(B: full moon 1. )

This month, Makoto is prepared. He drank a tall glass of blood at Desmodus before going to sleep the night before, hoping it would help him keep his cravings under control... although it isn't nearly as appetizing as he remembers it being during the last full moon. He has his shades drawn tightly and his pocketwatch set to go off at 1 pm, just in case he needed the extra sleep.

Turns out he might not have needed to prepare that much. As he sets out for the day, he doesn't feel that different - just... worse. The sun is bothering him more. He's paradoxically stronger, even though he feels the exact opposite of strong; that ever-present feeling of being unwell seems to be seeping down into his bones now. He's agitated as expected, and while it's worse than before, he hopes that drinking yesterday is mitigating it.

Just as he's wondering if he isn't going to get any new changes today after all, he's proven wrong. Standing outside a cafe, he finds himself incapable of going inside. The idea itself is bizarre, like it shouldn't be possible. There's no barricade, no lock, his arms and legs are working normally, he's not afraid or nervous, he's been here before. It's not even a spell or something, as he'd learned what spells smelled like by now.

He simply... can't go inside. All he can do is stand there and frown as people walk past him and enter, like nothing has changed.

Frustrated, he calls out to the next person who passes him by, although from the look on his face, he looks only mildly grumpy.

"Excuse me - excuse me, can I ask a favor of you, please?"

( C: full moon 2. )

The sun set a few hours ago, allowing the double full moons to bathe Aefenglom in soft white light. Makoto has made his way to Desmodus after wandering the city for a while, trying to practice his control of his cravings before they got too intense. By now, the feeling is getting closer to desperation, and as he turns the corner of Desmodus' street, he seems to be hurrying.

The stoop's handful of stairs lead up to a heavy wooden door with oxidized coppyer hinges. Perhaps counter to what one would expect, the bar is usually empty on full moon nights - most vampires have been transformed into large bat creatures, after all. Makoto expects tonight to be no different, but as he approaches the door to the stairwell that leave down to the underground bar, he notices a dark silhouette of someone standing beside the railing to stoop - no, hiding behind the railing.

"Hello?" he says tentatively, but the figure doesn't answer. Instead, it suddenly darts forward, and Makoto feels something hit his chest and seemingly explode into a slimy, wet mess. Whoever the person is, they begin yelling furious insults at him, and a second object - which Makoto now recognizes as a raw egg - hits him, this time in the face.

Fury takes him over almost instantly. He's so hungry, and so inflamed by what just happened, that he runs straight at the man and knocks him to the ground, his vampire instincts taking hold of his will in that moment. The quiet street erupts into a racket of screaming and yelling. The attacker's motivation becomes clear during the ensuing argument: this is one of those people trying to use intimidation tactics against the mirrorbound. Unfortunately for them, it just seems they've underestimated how much vampire strength Makoto already has after one month.

There's still time for someone on the street to break up the fight before anything serious happens, but not much time.

( D: employment. )

Today is the day people are supposed to be returning from Dorchacht. The city is a bit tense, but Makoto hopes that the lack of any major news is a sign of good news. And for him, "good news" is pretty broad. He'll take "nobody died" or "no war after all" as good news.

Throughout September, he frequented Desmodus enough for the nameless bartender to have noticed, not to mention that bizarre attack that happened on the night of the full moon. Whether out of pity or an earnest need for help, she began asking Makoto if he'd like to wash dishes to make some extra money, which he'd gladly accepted. He was there anyway, he needs the money, and dishwashing isn't beneath him. After a few days, she asked him to do some extra things - fix this chair, go up to the rafters and dust - and finally, as of two days ago, he'd been hired as a full-time bar waiter.

Although, it required him to lie about already being eighteen years old. Hopefully she won't hold it against him when she finds out that this won't be true for a few more weeks.

Some mirrorbound are expected to come into the bar today, which has Makoto working more than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw at least one person enter the bar. After grabbing menus, he walks over to where they'd sat and holds them out for them to take.

"Welcome," he says, not yet recognizing whoever it is, if he recognizes them.

C

[showsnopiety]

It wasn't fun, having the full moon set upon her. There was the strength that came into her limbs; there was being tired simply because of the time of day. Not to mention...there was all the fur.

She had been planning to go to her bonded, get a little fussed over, maybe enjoy getting some pain relief spells, depending on what grew this time thanks to the full moon.

Instead, there was screaming and annoyances from those intimidation tactics. But worse yet, there were a bunch of people not doing anything but stare because they didn't want to do anything with a hungry vampire.

If this wasn't what chimera strength was for, she didn't know what was. After stifling a sigh, Caren rushed in. Wearing her reinforced gloves, she didn't pierce either party through, nor did she ruin their clothes, but her grip was firm as she grabbed them both by the collar and hauled them apart and both on their feet. It was slightly ridiculous looking, considering her petite size, but she wasn't about to let them go.

"Stop that." To the growling and the screaming. "That hurts my ears. If you both insist on this, I have no problem in breaking you both. You've delayed me. On a full moon night. I'm already grumpy."

[halfmoon]

As strong as Makoto had become, his half-formed vampire body couldn't compete with a chimera's. He's deftly pulled off the attacker, and right in the nick of time. As he's hauled onto his feet, this mouth is open in a sneer, pointed teeth bared and ready to bite.

"Didn't you hear what he said?!" Makoto growls angrily. Despite clearly being furious, he's barely raising his voice, which gives his anger an especially seething and purposeful tone. He hasn't seemed to have heard anything the intervenor said, nor is he about to apologize to her for anything.

give me the d...........

[usurpers]

[ a stranger appears! one that walks in without drawing much attention beyond being a little stiff to walk, and barely fitting through the door unless he hunched a good deal over. to a chair he goes, empty along both sides of the bar’s seatings, where drinks are brewed, and where one vampire seems to be working now. ah, what a surprise. ]

Hey there.

[ the man doesn’t say much afterward, scruffy from underneath the brim of his hood, the little holes over his skull for his granite horns to go through cleanly. the rest of him is covered, arms hidden under his poncho and the fabric of a long skirt loose enough to keep his legs, draconic digitigrades, free from any tightness that seams may offer. he’s just gotten back from a very long trip (it was actually rather fast, but the stay was long!), and as he sits back in his chair with a deep sigh— his tail, long, spined and patterned with sunset colors against black curls around his chair’s leg. ]

A shot of grape whiskey.

[ he glides a coin over to the bartender, claws clicking against copper and wood, but does and says no more. what a big man, btw. he’s nearly seven feet. ]

[halfmoon]

[ The bartender takes his coin and serves the drink without comment - all were welcome here - but once she's done, she waves her new employee over. From across the bar, Makoto wonders if he might have done something wrong or if she needed help with something, but then his eyes land on the figure of the monster she'd just been serving.

He'd recognize those horns and sunset scales in a second. The bartender flips him a discrete thumbs-up and he tries not to laugh. It's not clear to him how she knows this is Eren, but on second thought, they don't get a whole lot of dragons here, and he does match the loose description he'd given to her.

The bar stool beside Eren squeaks as Makoto pulls it out and sits beside him. ]

Eren. You're back.