[Three days after the teleporter is announced open to the public, Momiji slips through carrying an overnight bag, without bothering to tell anyone.
He hadn't ever expected to see Dorchacht outside of the Dream. There was no reasonable reason for him to go in person--he hadn't been one of the people to help liberate it. And shouldn't the ambassadors' and the first visitors' word that everything was as improved as they said it was be enough for him to go on?
It wasn't, though. His sleep's been restless for over a month, now, but suddenly it's full of dreams of the auction blocks he'd nearly stood on and of cages hidden in tunnels underneath Aefenglom. And, well--it couldn't hurt just to go and see, if they were being invited!
He finds a (surprisingly plain, for him) cloak and hood that (somewhat) covers his ears and makes the rounds. Through the ruins of the old Coven first, he can be found poking and nosing his way along, looking for signs of old life or lurking, recalcitrant conspirators. But there's just dust mostly, along with rubble and graffiti here and there.
The new Coven is more interesting. He goes intending to poke around in every lurking corner, just in case--but almost immediately, there's a helpful witch smiling and asking his name, if he wants to sit in on any of the classes that are still wrapping up, though it is rather late. He doesn't have the heart to say no, so he twiddles his thumbs and kicks his feet in the back of one of the last sessions for the day. But, as soon as it's over, he decides to borrow the face of one of the novice mages he was sitting close to and take a stroll further into the manor. He'll just see if he can get down to the basement, and if there's anything suspicious that stands out--
Which is to say, there's an odd child who sometimes looks like his puca self and sometimes like a somewhat mousy, teenage human (depending on how hard he's concentrating) poking around in the oddest corners of the Coven.]
I. b. Alterations - Dorchacht
[When he heads back out onto the street for the night, he's unsure where he means to go. His nerves ought to be resolved now, but they're not. Even the brighter streets of the Black City still feel vaguely oppressive, once the sun sets, and he fidgets and looks over his shoulder, trying to decide whether to make back for "home" or to find quarters for the night.
He's still standing when someone plucks back his hood to peer down at him, and he blinks up in surprise at an older, white-furred puca with tired eyes and a distressed patch missing from one of her long ears.
"Are you lost, dear? The streets are safer than they were, but you shouldn't be out by yourself this late--"
This is how he ends up at an inn for the night, crammed in at a little booth full of puca, pressed between the one who'd found him and a gaggle of denmates. He's not even sure, far along as his transformation is, if they realize he's Mirrorbound. From the sound of it, impromptu dens of found friends, after the uprising, weren't that far from the norm.
But...it's nice. Cozy. He's almost unnaturally quiet (for himself, at least), holding the older puca's hand when she doesn't need it and politely accepting any food or drink that's offered. By the time the evening draws on--dinner gradually transitions into stories and drinks--he's curled up in his chair and against the puca's shoulder, drowsing. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing just to stay like this? For the night, if he's invited and offered a bed. Or--for a while, maybe.]
IV. Back at Home
[But he does, eventually, return to Aefenglom, and outside Kyo's apartment building he's greeted by glaring, red letters painted onto the front wall, "Mirrorbound GO HOME."
He is a little miffed, and there are enough similar scrawls on the day's stroll that he stays miffed. Then, in the evening, on his walk home from Particularly Good Finders, there's a pair of human teens spraying something on stone, just inside the Haven--
They don't even really pay any mind to the petite puca-boy giving them a dirty look from across the street, and beat a path out of the neighborhood as soon as their artwork's complete. Momiji, though, is not nearly as harmless as he looks! And they have put him in the mood...for vengeance.]
(a)
[Hence, a half-hour later, the peace officer standing outside a particularly ostentatious manor in the Aristocratic District, frowning behind an oversized, walrus mustache at a woman.
"Miss," says the officer in a deep, gruff voice, though with the oddest hint of constrained excitement in his words' cadence. "I'm--umm, chagrined! To have to report that your sons were witnessed defacing private property earlier today. I'm going to let them off with an official police warning today. But you should know that next time they'll be subject to serious consequences."
What follows is a good quarter hour of the lady of the house calling down the culprits and giving them an earful, along with assurances that they'll be disciplined for acting like ruffians, while the officer...tries very hard not to snicker behind his mustache?
When it's over, Momiji barely makes it around the corner of the manor before the glamour he's been struggling to hold onto drops, along with himself, as he seats himself on the sidewalk and dies laughing at the top of his lungs.]
(b)
[Of course, after one taste of delivering justice, it's hard to just give up such a noble calling. Sometimes, though, local vandals are old enough to have moved out on their own, or he's turned away at the door by the help. And then he simply has no choice but to engage in escalated tactics.
He creeps along in the dead of night, then, with a bucket of his own green paint and, once he's out of the Mirrorbound's neighborhood, another borrowed face, to the homes he's tailed the perpetrators to. Once the place settles for the night, he lights a lantern, gets close, and makes quick work of delivering payback on a stoop or a front-facing wall, with such cutting messages as:]
"GRAFFITI-ING PEOPLE'S STUFF IS MEAN!!" and "YOU SHOULD STOP BEING A BUTTHEAD!!"
[Occasionally, when he's done, he can't help but duck off down the street and admire his handiwork from afar, his cottontail eagerly twitching. He is the hero Aefenglom deserves.]
Momiji Sohma | Fruits Basket | Puca
[Three days after the teleporter is announced open to the public, Momiji slips through carrying an overnight bag, without bothering to tell anyone.
He hadn't ever expected to see Dorchacht outside of the Dream. There was no reasonable reason for him to go in person--he hadn't been one of the people to help liberate it. And shouldn't the ambassadors' and the first visitors' word that everything was as improved as they said it was be enough for him to go on?
It wasn't, though. His sleep's been restless for over a month, now, but suddenly it's full of dreams of the auction blocks he'd nearly stood on and of cages hidden in tunnels underneath Aefenglom. And, well--it couldn't hurt just to go and see, if they were being invited!
He finds a (surprisingly plain, for him) cloak and hood that (somewhat) covers his ears and makes the rounds. Through the ruins of the old Coven first, he can be found poking and nosing his way along, looking for signs of old life or lurking, recalcitrant conspirators. But there's just dust mostly, along with rubble and graffiti here and there.
The new Coven is more interesting. He goes intending to poke around in every lurking corner, just in case--but almost immediately, there's a helpful witch smiling and asking his name, if he wants to sit in on any of the classes that are still wrapping up, though it is rather late. He doesn't have the heart to say no, so he twiddles his thumbs and kicks his feet in the back of one of the last sessions for the day. But, as soon as it's over, he decides to borrow the face of one of the novice mages he was sitting close to and take a stroll further into the manor. He'll just see if he can get down to the basement, and if there's anything suspicious that stands out--
Which is to say, there's an odd child who sometimes looks like his puca self and sometimes like a somewhat mousy, teenage human (depending on how hard he's concentrating) poking around in the oddest corners of the Coven.]
I. b. Alterations - Dorchacht
[When he heads back out onto the street for the night, he's unsure where he means to go. His nerves ought to be resolved now, but they're not. Even the brighter streets of the Black City still feel vaguely oppressive, once the sun sets, and he fidgets and looks over his shoulder, trying to decide whether to make back for "home" or to find quarters for the night.
He's still standing when someone plucks back his hood to peer down at him, and he blinks up in surprise at an older, white-furred puca with tired eyes and a distressed patch missing from one of her long ears.
"Are you lost, dear? The streets are safer than they were, but you shouldn't be out by yourself this late--"
This is how he ends up at an inn for the night, crammed in at a little booth full of puca, pressed between the one who'd found him and a gaggle of denmates. He's not even sure, far along as his transformation is, if they realize he's Mirrorbound. From the sound of it, impromptu dens of found friends, after the uprising, weren't that far from the norm.
But...it's nice. Cozy. He's almost unnaturally quiet (for himself, at least), holding the older puca's hand when she doesn't need it and politely accepting any food or drink that's offered. By the time the evening draws on--dinner gradually transitions into stories and drinks--he's curled up in his chair and against the puca's shoulder, drowsing. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing just to stay like this? For the night, if he's invited and offered a bed. Or--for a while, maybe.]
IV. Back at Home
[But he does, eventually, return to Aefenglom, and outside Kyo's apartment building he's greeted by glaring, red letters painted onto the front wall, "Mirrorbound GO HOME."
He is a little miffed, and there are enough similar scrawls on the day's stroll that he stays miffed. Then, in the evening, on his walk home from Particularly Good Finders, there's a pair of human teens spraying something on stone, just inside the Haven--
They don't even really pay any mind to the petite puca-boy giving them a dirty look from across the street, and beat a path out of the neighborhood as soon as their artwork's complete. Momiji, though, is not nearly as harmless as he looks! And they have put him in the mood...for vengeance.]
(a)
[Hence, a half-hour later, the peace officer standing outside a particularly ostentatious manor in the Aristocratic District, frowning behind an oversized, walrus mustache at a woman.
"Miss," says the officer in a deep, gruff voice, though with the oddest hint of constrained excitement in his words' cadence. "I'm--umm, chagrined! To have to report that your sons were witnessed defacing private property earlier today. I'm going to let them off with an official police warning today. But you should know that next time they'll be subject to serious consequences."
What follows is a good quarter hour of the lady of the house calling down the culprits and giving them an earful, along with assurances that they'll be disciplined for acting like ruffians, while the officer...tries very hard not to snicker behind his mustache?
When it's over, Momiji barely makes it around the corner of the manor before the glamour he's been struggling to hold onto drops, along with himself, as he seats himself on the sidewalk and dies laughing at the top of his lungs.]
(b)
[Of course, after one taste of delivering justice, it's hard to just give up such a noble calling. Sometimes, though, local vandals are old enough to have moved out on their own, or he's turned away at the door by the help. And then he simply has no choice but to engage in escalated tactics.
He creeps along in the dead of night, then, with a bucket of his own green paint and, once he's out of the Mirrorbound's neighborhood, another borrowed face, to the homes he's tailed the perpetrators to. Once the place settles for the night, he lights a lantern, gets close, and makes quick work of delivering payback on a stoop or a front-facing wall, with such cutting messages as:]
"GRAFFITI-ING PEOPLE'S STUFF IS MEAN!!" and "YOU SHOULD STOP BEING A BUTTHEAD!!"
[Occasionally, when he's done, he can't help but duck off down the street and admire his handiwork from afar, his cottontail eagerly twitching. He is the hero Aefenglom deserves.]