Fantasy mono no aware

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Takara had placed his plate of food before the golden-eyed babe just as she finished her second piece of mochi. Swallowing it down, she nodded in answer, acutely sensitive to the faint signs of mischief displayed. To anyone else, the playful glint could've easily been mistaken as nothing more than light being reflected off the male's clear verdant eyes but to a Fukami heiress like herself, Kisara knew better.

Intuition told her that there was more to the ashen haired male than one would think. His silent compromise was accepted, all the while quirking the young babe's interest. Aside from the slight shame felt in being possibly caught red-handed, Kisara was relieved. The distance was subtle enough to show the two in good company but also far enough to give the two much needed space. Her pride remained unhurt and she only smiled once he sat down across from her.

There was still kinako powder on her lips, and it went unnoticed (by Kisara) as Takara had distracted her. In the midst of her own rallying thoughts, she had forgotten to dust it away.

"It's funny," Kisara starts, twiddling the dango stick in between her index finger and thumb. The glaze of the sweetened soy sauce gleamed as the sun's rays hit. "I thought East Kai would have more differences compared to West but turns out there isn't. Food wise at least," she grins, bringing the dango stick up, tilting it at a slight point at Takara's plate. "That's yokan isn't it? I've never seen a green version before. In West Kai all our yokans are flavored with red bean."

She rambles on, making small talk that proved to be entertaining. Her gestures and voice made it easy to digest her words and while her conversation skills could be taken as innate charisma, it actually took years and years of training to perfect and hone the ability. Commerce was something taken as great value in the Fukami clan. While Kisara had little to no problems with conversing, her brother had proved to be a different story.

Taking a bite from her dango, she listened as she ate; later changing the topic to something which had caught her attention.

"Not to sound presumptuous but the shop owner has been eyeing us for some time now. Do you think there's something he wants? I'm afraid I'm not well versed enough in East Kai's customs to make discernment," she tells him, having caught the man's stink eye multiple times now.

It was clear to Kisara that the man didn't like them. Her being a Fukami made that understandable, but instead of fear or concern, the man's eyes were full of disgust and loathing, not just for the petite babe but for the Ashuran prince as well. Confusion and discomfort twisted in her gut as she failed to understand why. Surely the people of East Kai knew what their prince (or well one of their princes) looked like. It made little sense to her why a clan known for its respect for power and status, would so brazenly shun one of their heirs.

She concealed whatever she felt behind a small, ignorant smile; well forgetting that unlike West Kai, prejudice to hair color---a physical symbol of one's status---existed.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Pleasant | Location: Tea Shop / East Kai​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

A nod and a half later, the ashen-haired prince was seated right across from the Fukami’s heir and given the privilege to stare right at her face. Privileged? Oh yes, for it was quite a rare display for someone to eat so elegantly yet leave crumbs littered about their dainty lips. The sight reminded of the one time that one of his distant cousins had lied about stealing and eating kinako mochi with crumbs all over her face. Although he ended up being blamed for putting her up to it, it was still quite the amusing memory. However, it wouldn’t be a very appropriate show of gentility to laugh at the honey brunette, so he instead chose to focus on his own food while listening to the princess speak.

“Mmm,” Takara hummed in agreement. “I suppose that means I won’t find anything in West Kai unpalatable.” While he wasn’t much of a picky eater, he was sure that a complete change in diet would likely lead to an upset stomach, so this news lightened his opinion on the current situation to a certain extent. At the mention of the yokan, Takara carefully cut into the soft gelatinous body of the sweet before flipping the piece onto its side. “There’s sakura yokan, green tea yokan, and the popular chestnut yokan, although that last one isn’t in season.”

As the conversation dragged on, it became more and more apparent that the princess was quite adept at being a moodmaker and a skilled conversationalist. Courteous as he was, he wasn’t the most social of creatures when the situation didn’t require such an attitude. In a sense, this meant that he was being swept up in the honey brunette’s flow, but he didn’t mind it all too much. At least it was peaceful.

—or so he thought.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t caught the shop owner’s stink eye prior to Kisara mention of it. In fact, he had felt a prickle at the back of his neck for quite some time. However, he had silently been hoping that the Fukami would pay no heed to it to no avail. Apparently she had noticed that the man had been glaring not only at her but also the Ashuran Prince as well.

An exasperated gaze upwards brought into view the pale fringe pressed down flat against his forehead due to the weight of his upturned hood. There was not once that he harbored foolish thoughts such as “I wish I were the same as them” for he very much preferred to be accepted as he is. In spite of this, there were still times that he wished his head was shaved clean of any hair or at least had a color that didn’t stand out so much. Then again, these moments may be extremely inconvenient, but he was sure that he wouldn’t suit the look of some ascetic monk.

Turning towards the shop keeper, Takara failed to study the man’s face at the present distance he was from the store. He felt malice—that was for sure—but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly the man saw him as. He was certainly no prince in the shopkeeper’s eyes as the only people who even knew of his existence were those within the main branch and the branch family that he had been sent off to live with. But did he think of him as a cursed Ashuran, or did he view him as a Fukami who had stolen Ashuran attire?

Putting his curiosity off to the side for the time being, the Ashuran prince gave the man a cat-like smile and a wave. The look of sheer rage produced by this action was enough to force Takara to choke back a laugh. Indeed, that never got old. How fun.

“Shall we head back?” Takara asked upon dropping the gloved hand had been previously wrapped around his mouth and chin. It was about time for the continuation of their little journey, and while he wasn’t antsy to do so, it probably wasn’t a good idea for sticking around for much longer.

status: amusedxxx||xxxobjective: get back to the carriagexxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Takara's answer, though harmless, was like a slab of insult served cold on a platter. For someone who loved her home, loved her land and her people, Kisara felt the full brunt of the unintentional affront. Her smile froze, well-hidden by the tea cup she brought to her lips. Her eyes never left Takara even as she drank, one palm underneath the cup while the other firmly clasped around its body. "Everything is palatable in the West. Our gastronomy is impeccable," she said politely, the added courtesy making her words subliminally defensive. Her lips quirked into another smile, head tilting in a false, carefree way. His comment didn't bother her, or at least, that was the lie she told herself. It was quite convincing.

The conversation carried on without further offense. Sure, it may have irked her but Kisara wasn't grudging nor petty enough to hold such trivialities close at heart. She had defended her home with an off-handed comment and that was that. One could hardly blame her. The Fukami are known to be seekers of art, creating masterpieces with just about anything they can get their hands on. Under their dexterous care, music, literature, plays and poetry flourished into a new age. Even food was taken onto new heights, with plating and arrangements playing a factor along with texture and flavor compatibility. In some high-classed restaurants, the preparation was so meticulous that the chef would usually be called out to explain the dishes served.

Everything had been going just fine but it was about time for the group to continue moving on. This was evident in the way their accompaniment began to pack up, occasionally glancing at the couple to see if they were ready to leave as well. Kisara, despite having finished her tea and treats, had her attention on something else. She watched Takara with curiosity, waiting for his answer. He didn't however and seemed to have done something to provoke the shop owner; whatever it was, Kisara had missed it. His hood kept his face from her view and she was now starting to find it a nuisance. She did see the way his shoulders shook and the lingering hints of a laughing grin. Her eye brows quirked at the new fact gained: it seemed like he had a playful side after all.

She nodded at his question, standing up and smoothing her skirts down before taking the plate and empty tea cup in hand to place them back on the counter. If she was in West Kai, she would've extended a hand, letting the male help her up, but Takara was an Ashuran and she doubted his customs. Passing by the reflective glass, she noticed the kinako powder which dusted her lips. The tips of her ears flushed in embarrassment as she quickly cleaned them off. On reflex, she threw a quick, pouty glare at Takara but caught herself before he could notice. Stupid Ashuran, stupid me, she thought, willing the heat on her face to leave.

Gold-tinted eyes trained back to the shop keeper who was still glaring at Takara. She caught his eye, staring him down until his expression turned wary. Her pupils dilated, becoming more oval and cat-like in shape. Against the pale shades of amber, the cat-like stare was intimidating, even for the bravest of Ashurans. She smiled, a menacingly vulpine smile and watched as realization clicked in the innkeeper's mind. Surely the people of East Kai knew of the decree from the Exalted. They should've expected Fukami royalty to be in their lands, admittedly not this soon, not on the day of their meeting itself.

"Thank you for the food," Kisara said, voice too merry to sound genuine; the effect paired with the taunting glint in her eyes made a frightening combination which left the shop owner speechless, holding his tongue as well as his breath. Even if he had answered, his words wouldn't have reached her. She had already walked back to the carriage before he could, only turning back to check if Takara was at her heel.

Being able to shut up the shop owner was satisfying, but the look of pure condensed odium burned in her mind. Her stomach churned at the thought even as she steeled herself the remainder of the journey. The encounter was a much needed reminder that she was still in enemy territory and if it weren't for their arranged marriage, perhaps Takara would've looked at her the same way. She knew she would've if she was in his shoes; her treatment towards him would've been drastically different if he had been born with the features of an Ashuran. But now she was reminded, that he was just as much Ashuran as the the rest. The truth sunk in slow but it hit her with the force of a truck and for once, Kisara decided to keep to herself, leaving the rest of the ride to Ido in silence.

------

The sun was setting when they had arrived. The inn they were staying at reminded Kisara of the temples and mansions back in West Kai. The waterfall was not yet in sight but Kisara could feel the low rum of rushing water somewhere in the nearby distance. The air was colder in the East, dry even, and their party was greeted by the innkeeper's family.

"We were expecting you. Please come this way," the head lady greeted, bowing low with her daughter mimicking the same beside her. They were both raven haired, people of status in the East, but Kisara didn't know that yet nor did she care. She thought about the beds instead and the promise of hearty meals. Hopefully, they'd be allowed to eat separately with their own people. Kisara's been meaning to talk to her brother in private and she looked around, eyes searching for him when they were walking.

"The full moon won't be up until tomorrow so you will have time to rest," the innkeeper said, opening the door to one of the larger VIP rooms in the inn. "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Until then," she bowed before leaving, expression as stiff as when she greeted them. Whether it was intentional, the innkeeper had given them a room with a make-shift divider which allowed the fairly spacious area to be split into two separate rooms.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Wary | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

For a brief moment, Takara considered offering his hand as a means of helping the young lady up. However, as she had given no notion of such expectations, his arms remained closely drawn by his side. He had seen others do it from time to time, but had never put it into practice himself. Thus this was one of the few customs that he was rather unfamiliar with. After all, books could only tell you so much about the time, place, and occasion during which you were to perform certain actions, and that sliver of doubt made him more than wary of possibly laying down some offense that he bore no knowledge of.

Far too engrossed in his thoughts, the ashen-haired man failed to notice Kisara’s accusing glare. Only the light tap of his zōri against the wooden counter brought his attention back to the princess and the shopkeeper—who for some odd reason had switched his previous enraged expression with a much more wary one. He was blissfully ignorant of the little exchange that the Fukami had had with the older man. Of course, he had an inkling as to what may have occurred during his mind’s brief trip to who-knows-where, but it was better for him to not pay any mind to it. With only a curt dip of his head, Takara lightly stepped outside of the tea shop for what was hopefully the last time.

The final stretch of the trip to Ido was strangely quiet. The initiator of a majority of their conversations has chosen to travel the rest of the way deep in thought, and the other made no attempts to trespass. This silent contemplation brought Takara back to a certain bounder that he had made during one of their talks over lunch. Naturally, his offhanded comment had been in no way purposefully malicious. In fact, he had not thought that the Fukami’s heir would take his comment on food the way that she had, though now that he thought twice about it, his careless words had been rather poor in choice. At the time, he had made no visible efforts to retract that offense, as it would have seemed like mere excuses. Even now, he still felt that the time was not appropriate, but the thought persisted in his mind.

Takara opened his mouth slightly as if he were preparing to speak. This action was quickly discarded when he thought the better of it. Perhaps he would just have to drop the matter completely unless it happened to come up again. And thus the Ashuran spent the rest of the ride observing the subtle changes in scenery outside.

---

By the time the carriage had rolled to its second stop, the sky had already been tinged with a deep amber. Takara’s ears picked up the the heavy rumbling of the waterfall which stirred up mixed feelings. On one hand, he was excited and curious to see whether or not the scenery would live up to his expectations. On the other hand, a heavy sense of dismay filled his insides. Soon. Arriving at Ido Waterfall meant that the preparations for the inevitable would begin soon.

The pair was greeted by the innkeeper and her daughter, both esteemed raven-headed people no doubt of status. All knowing of the company they were in, the two had obviously taken care not to gawk. However, the tension was still quite apparent. When the head lady left the two to settle down into their rooms, the ashen-haired prince nearly let out a sigh of relief. Something about the atmosphere in the inn made him particularly tense, and the less than warm reception failed to help.

Without bothering to examine their room, Takara stepped back out into the corridor. The head lady had implied that they were free to do as they wished while they waited for dinner, but he didn’t feel like spending that time idly. Instead, a brief walk around would be nice. It wasn’t quite summer or even nighttime yet, but perhaps there would be some fireflies beginning to rouse and float about.

“Would you care for a light saunter?” Out of pure courtesy, Takara turned back with his offer. Not used to company, he had nearly left on his own without so much of a word, yet another faux pas that he had barely caught.

status: neutralxxx||xxxobjective: sightseeingxxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Dark chestnut boards were swept clean underneath her feet and as night fell, the rich midnight hues seemed to blend with the maroon red tiles of the temple-like inn. Along the corridors, lanterns were lit and their warm, yellow glow led the way.

The room given was covered with beige tatami floors. In the center was a low table and a vase of carefully arranged flowers sat in the center; its blooms filled the room with a mildly pleasant aroma. The flora were nothing Kisara recognized but it was the first to catch her immediate attention. The walls were plain, save for the occasional scrolls which served to make the place look less empty and the room divider was folded and tucked near the end of the room, directly at its center to divide it into two equal living quarters. Next to it was a large circular window which filtered in the milky glow of the night's lights; a bench was built directly underneath, allowing one to sit and contemplate with the moon if they willed.

Kisara was tired even though most of her day was spent sitting in silence. Keeping up appearances was mentally draining and she was glad to see the divider in place, despite her initial disappointment in having to share a room. "We aren't even married yet and now I have to spend my non-waking moments with him as well," she thought, worried that she may slip up again. A Fukami princess must be cunning and smart, graceful and charming at all times, but like any twenty year old girl, Kisara was just as human as the rest. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. The fact that she had "little" to eat was also another downside. She hoped that she could have her meals in private at least: it was far too soon for her fiancee to find out about her black hole of a stomach.

Weary as she was, she refused to show signs of it. Her pride did not allow her to turn down Takara's invitation. It was the first time he reached out to her and she too, was curious to see what Ido looked like; it was after all, her first time in East Kai. She nodded at his offer and walked him down the corridor, neither a step behind nor in front of him.

It was colder in East Kai, she noticed. The air was dryer but she supposed that was because they were in the mountain ranges. They passed over a small wooden bridge, entering a park-like area in the inn. A pond was underneath the bridge they had stood at and lanterns hung overhead, casting their light down at the silvery, wet surface. The flicker of colored tails, hiding below the planted lily pads told her that there were fish---most likely koi---living inside. Fireflies fleeted near the pond's surfaces, hovering between the stalks of cattail reeds which stuck out, framing the pond's edges. Judging from how they're out, Kisara supposed it would be considered one of the "warmer" times of the year in East Kai.

In the background, mingling with the minute sounds of the still night, was the low roar of crashing white waters. "Have you ever been to Ido Falls?" Kisara asked, breaking the silence between the two. Her question implied her interest, her keen desire to see the waterfall for herself. The Arainaga ceremony did not require her to be at the falls itself, but rather the waterhole, Mizuha, nearby. She would hate to miss the opportunity.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Cautious | Location: Ido Inn​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

A cool wind brushed past his pale cheek like a hushed whisper. The air was dry but not biting, dampened only by the mist that the waterfall happened to kick up. Yes, this was much closer to what he was used to. Be it due to the rain or the less-than-ordinary shroud around the Usagi’s residence, Central Kai’s atmosphere bore a bit of a sticky quality which he had found unnerving. While traveling had given him a fresh experience, the Ashuran prince finally took note of the fact that perhaps East Kai really was the sole place where he could fully feel at ease. Did the princess feel the same way about West Kai as well?

Stealing a furtive glance at Kisara, Takara detected no signs of any emotion in particular. He had noticed hints of it before, but the ashen-haired man couldn’t help but ponder on how at certain times, her face betrayed no notion of anything. It was a stark difference from the Ashurans he had grown up around, the Ashurans whose expressions he could read like an open book. It was disturbing in it’s own way, but Takara shifted his eyes back to the lake and concentrated on listening to the pitter patter of their zori hitting the wooden panels on the bridge.

The pond itself was like magic. By this time, the sun had hidden itself away for the night, covering the mountain in a dark shroud, and the radiance of the night’s lights kissed the water’s surface, coloring it with an ethereal glow. Takara knew not of how the fireflies managed to thrive in the colder climates of the mountains, but it seemed that the books were right: it was indeed a beautiful sight.

“Have you ever been to Ido Falls?”


To most, the princess’ question would have been answered in a second. Takara himself knew that a simple “yes” or “no” would have sufficed. However, something held his answer back once again. But was it really alright to keep withholding the inevitable hinting of his rather pathetic history? Luckily, he had managed to keep his breath from hitching. With a somehow placid expression, Takara turned toward the brunette. “I’d like to go see them before...” the prince trailed off. At first, he had been attempting to give an ambiguous response, only to remind himself of the dreaded. “Before the ceremony.” he begrudgingly finished.

Shaking off the slight look of displeasure creeping onto his facial features, the Ashuran continued his walk over the bridge, pacing his flustered strides to make sure that he didn’t leave the Fukami’s heir behind. As he drew closer to the falls, the low mumble soon shifted into a full on roar. It was loud but not the point that he would be able to hear someone else talk.

Rather than continue to walk in an awkward silence broken only by the monotonous rumbling of the waterfall and partly out of his own curiosity, Takara spoke up once again. “Does East Kai have large falls like these as well?”

status: neutralxxx||xxxobjective: sightseeingxxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Her question was nothing more than a question, but it had been one with an obvious and predictable answer to an Ashuran prince. 'Yes,' Kisara had expected him to say, and then she would've egged him for details, making an implication to visit. Like most Fukamis, her conversations were sculpted in her mind and replies were orchestrated in a way to manipulate the conversation to her favor.

If Takara had said no, she would've simply asked why and perhaps, out of obligation, he would be forced to tell her more about himself. But his answer was ambiguous, hinting something not even Kisara could put her finger on. It would be rude for her to ask why now so she simply pushed down her biting curiosity and irrational fear, following Takara with a silent but comforting smile.

"It'll be a first for the both of us then," Kisara pointed out to comfort than to jeer. They left the Inn's grounds, reaching a pathway which led them straight to the base of the waterfall. Its cascading currents pooled down below and straight into the river which was connected at its base. Given their short distance from the waterfall, the honey-brunette could feel the light spray of water dampening her cheeks. Its cool chill brought a shiver down her spine, but spread the corners of her mouth into an excited, almost child-like smile of glee.

Across the wide river was a smaller but still-towering white cliff which separated the sacred waterhole from the waterfall. An underground river keeps it clean and Kisara was told that the pool glowed blue like the stars above. She wasn't sure if the rumors were true but she'll find out tomorrow when she undergoes the Arainaga ceremony. She did consider asking Takara, but she doubted that the man---who hadn't seen the waterfall til now---knew anything about the sacred pool reserved only for engaged Ashuran maidens.

Walking towards the edge of the river, Kisara crouched down and dipped the tips of her fingers into the stream. The water was freezing at night and the Fukami babe had almost pulled her hand back in shock. Her surprise was only given away by her small gasp and even then, she kept her hand there still.

"Not any as big as Ido," Kisara said, craning her head to look up at Takara, "East Kai is mostly flat plains but occasionally we have rolling hills, but never cliffs and mountains like the ones you find in West Kai," she smiled as she looked back down at the river. Her hands cupped water into her palms and its silvery surface reflected off the near-full moon above, "It's funny. I used to be afraid of waterfalls as a child. I was told its currents are so strong it could break a man and that it fell from heaven, not a cliff."

There was a hint of laughter in her voice, a tinkle of amusement. She continued, "Now that I'm here, seeing it in person, it doesn't seem so bad," she looked back at Takara, studying him under her shifting amber optics. Her analogy would not be lost on someone like him. The waterfall was a pale comparison to how she felt about Ashurans - and more personally, Takara.

"What do you think?" she asked, finding him hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight, his whey-colored locks almost glowing. "It is your first time here, is it not?" Her question implied the obvious and her smile, Delphic.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Curious | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

Flinching slightly at the comforting inflection hinted in her words, Takara bit back a sigh. He’d meant for his words to leave an ambiguous impression on whether it was his first time or a second visit, but it was apparently that he’d failed. At the least, the sprightly girl seemed more accepting of his shortcomings than most. Actually, were others usually supposed to be this way?

The pair’s arrival at the base of the waterfall took Takara’s mind from his misgivings for a brief moment. The fairytale-like setting aside, the princess had brought up a rather amusing story accompanied by a subtle message.

“I suppose I could say the same as well.” Takara’s reply was accompanied by a light chuckle. “It makes me all the more eager to see more of the things I have yet to see.” Naturally, those “things” were meant to include those exclusive the West Kai as well. Not only the places but the people as well, as the brunette had suggested. He had never thought of the Fukami as the grotesquely devious beings that the Ashurans made them out to be, but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t have his own misgivings of the people that he had never met. His sentiments stemmed from his distrust of others as a whole, but he still felt apologetic nonetheless.

Staring at the pebbles tumbling by in the steady stream, Takara brushed back a loose strand of silvery hair, displacing his overlying hood in the process. He took no notice of it, however. Though he had yet to realize it himself, his coat was essentially a wall meant to separate him from others, making the few moments that he was seen hood down indicative of the fact that he was, for once, relaxed in the presence of another. That and he was preoccupied with playfully drawing lines with light finger strokes in the ice cold water.

“Say,” Takara began hesitantly, “your brother. What is he like, or rather are you close?” Verdant eyes continued to stare into their reflection in the water. Though the question itself was meant to be harmless, Takara knew that relationships were often a fine line to tread upon. However, he was curious. The princess would likely assume that he was simply asking as her brother was likely the other Fukami to have been chosen as his cousin’s betrothed, but the Ashuran prince’s reason was slightly different. Seeing how she appeared to be looking for something or someone upon arriving at the inn, Takara assumed that other Fukami was rather dear to the brunette. Was that the sentiment that siblings should normally share between each other?

status: pensivexxx||xxxobjective: --xxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

The mention of Aiichirou prompts a gentle smile matching the layers of tenderness in each amber stria. The placid atmosphere inspired by the steady sounds of rushing water and the cool soothing of the night's breeze made Kisara loose in tongue and the caution of with-holding such valuable information lost. Her gaze was kept on the shifting slivers of light in the river's currents, her tongue darting briefly over her lower lip before she spoke.

"We're close enough for people to assume us as twins," she tells him, turning her head so that her eyes met his. Though willing to share, her subconscious self remained on guard. If she should detect any tale-telling signs, she'd know better than to clam up tighter than the sea's best oyster, and if there was one thing she learned as a Fukami, it was that eyes never lied.

"He's a good man. You won't have to worry about your kin. He'll treat her well," her smiled turned wry as she stood back up, her hands smoothing out the lines in her yukata. 'If anything, he's the one we should be worrying about,' she thought, her worries hinted but still kept to herself.

Her eyes flickered briefly back at the river. In the corner of her visage something darker than black swam through and intuition stirred something unpleasant in her gut. Something big was in the water. Something bad and terribly wrong.

Kisara took a careful step back, eyes honed and concentrated in the liquid depths. The river before them couldn't have been deep enough to drown in, perhaps leading up to Kisara's upper torso if she were to wade in towards the center where waters ran the deepest. But the thing that swam by was large---perhaps even larger than Takara who was still crouched near the lapping edges.

Perhaps she was just being paranoid, but the Fukami heir had never been one to doubt her instincts. More oftentimes, they were right. Her combat skills and sense of danger were probably nothing compared to a trained Ashuran. She did not need to warn Takara for him to pick up the sudden shift in ambience. One look (furrowed brows and curling lips) was enough to have him up on his feet as well.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Apprehensive | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

Takara felt his throat tighten. Rather than brighten at her dulcet smile as one might have expected, his eyes quivered slightly, clouding over with a sense of misgiving in their depths. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her words. If anything, her fond tone betrayed no notion that her brother was anything but what she promised him to be. However, that “comforting” truth was the very object of his worries.

“Then perhaps they’ll get along fine once my stubborn cousin sheds that stern shell of hers,” he said before his doubt became glaringly obvious. A hushed “what about us” seemed to brush past his ear, causing Takara to break eye contact with those piercing amber eyes. Unlike a much sweeter individual, all that he had to offer were false pleasantries, something that both of them would no doubt get sick of.

Right as Takara returned his hand to the water to draw yet another circle, he withdrew his hand from the river’s surface with a snap. It was as if a current had run itself from the water to his fingertips. No time was given to recover from the foreboding sign when a dark figure slithered through the water’s depths.

Takara didn’t need a second invitation to rise and depart from his previous position just as the brunette behind him had. Instinct drove him to bring his left hand to the hilt of his sword...which he had left behind at the inn as common courtesy. The brush of smooth fabric brought about a sense of dread that filled him all the way to his fingertips. Whatever presence was in the waters didn’t seem too keen on being amicable, and the Ashuran prince had never been quite as accomplished in bare-handed combat compared to his much more polished swordsmanship.

With no choice but to prepare himself with something or nothing at all, Takara gingerly removed a tanto from the inner folds of his kimono. His position remained in a ready stance, prepared to remove the blade from its sheath at a moment’s notice.

The palpitation of his heart increased with each passing second, the tension so thick that it could be cut with the very knife he held. It seemed almost like an eternity until the waters proved that what they had sensed had not just been a figment of their imagination: the mysterious entity had returned. At this point, retreating back to the inn would only lead to a panic and cause further issues. However, he didn’t know of the capabilities of the only other person with him. For the Ashura, both men and women were expected to be able to fend for themselves. But what of the Fukami? Would he be better off requesting that she alert the guards while he stalled for time?

“Are-” Takara spoke up only to be abruptly cut off. The screech of scales hitting steel resounded into the air, and the ashen-haired man found himself staring into eyes that were of a brighter emerald than his own.

What was a yokai doing in such a sacred place?

status: neutralxxx||xxxobjective: sightseeingxxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Takara's comments remained formal and courteous, though it did give Kisara a better idea of what her future sister-in-law would be. The long, three-strung word left a foul taste in her mouth, even unspoken. She was used to being the adored and respected princess in her clan and having another female come in with a position parallel to hers made her unreasonably defensive. The fear that she may grow to like the dark-haired princess was apparent but nothing compared to how she felt about losing her brother to the unknown.

Aiichirou wasn't exactly the most social sibling among the two Fukami heirs but that didn't make him any less desirable. There were countless times where Kisara would play the mischievous matchmaker but the females chose as her brother's surprise dates were never chosen blindly. Their character had been examined under a discerning eye and curiosity would eventually prompt Kisara to take action should Aiichirou refuse to do so. This time, things were different. Her beloved brother would be forced to marry a stranger (albeit, she was in the same situation but it was still less worrisome because unlike him, Kisara knew for a fact that she could take care of herself), one whom she knew far to little of.

'Stubborn and stern,' she regarded mentally, hoping that it may perhaps balance out her brother's daydreaming nature.

When the aura of menace presented itself, to Kisara's great regret, she had brought nothing to defend herself. The wind swept through, rustling the leaves nearby and chilling the air further. The flower decors which hung in her pins rapped gently against her head in reminder. Like a light bulb flickering on, Kisara remembered her weapon-master's words: Never go unguarded, Princess. Not all weapons are made of steel.

He was right, Kisara thought, pulling out one of the pins from her hair. It loosened the carefully braided bun which kept half of her hair up in a pretty up-do. The pin was long, nearly three quarters the length of a chopstick and sharp (though probably not sharp to impale anyone). It was lighter than most, due to the fact that it was hollowed out and filled with a liquid which could knock just about any animal known in East Kai to sleep. There was a screw-on cap which blended in well with the rest of the pin, preventing the unexpected weapon to accidentally drug the wearer. Twisting it opened, she held it in a defensive position, eyes widening a fraction at the sight of the tanto.

'A weapon,' Kisara was alarmed. A slap of betrayal stung at knowing she had lowered her defenses enough to open up to an armed Ashuran. An Ashuran with a weapon. Somehow the match did not seem unfitting, but despite her prejudices, the optimist in her reasoned. If Takara wanted to, he could've taken her out and tossed her body into the river.

With a start a large scaley yokai leaped out of the river depths: the source of the malevolence. It was long and scaley, gleaming in colors of metallic shades of dark blue and green. It's body was that of a large scaled catfish but it had two thick reptilian legs. Its gaping mouth was pervaded with two rows of jagged teeth which clashed with Takara's tanto blade. A motsukana. A yokai who inhabits contaminated and polluted bodies of waters, rumored to be born from the blood of those murdered and tossed into unknown waters in hopes to never be found. Ido Falls was far from such a yokai's origins, regarded as one of the sacred landmarks in East Kai.

"Takara!" Kisara exclaimed, throwing the pin at the motsukana on reflex. It streaked across the air like a dart but bounced off its hardened scales. If the babe wanted a better shot at putting the yokai to sleep, she would have to aim for a softer part of the body like the eyes or the insides of its mouth.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Combative | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

You’re just a weak failure.

That repeated past taunt dredged itself back up from the recesses of Takara’s mind. He’d always held his head up high in front of those who looked upon him in disdain. That wasn’t about to change. At least, that’s what he would have liked to say. Situations likes these caused his will to waver. An Ashura was to prevail no matter the circumstances, yet here he was, struggling in the face of the first yokai he encountered outside of his family’s territory. But dying here would only prove his family right.

A shout resounded into the air, and a sliver of gold flashed by the corner of his sight. Any lesser trained warrior might have flinched or instinctively followed the blur with their eyes. The scaly beast itself found itself distracted by the object that had hit it, causing it to press less of its body weight against Takara’s blade. Without missing a beat, Takara pushed forward with a horizontal slice before aiming a backwards stab at his assailant’s left eye in two seamlessly sewn motions.

As if sensing his intentions, the monster shifted its head slightly, catching the blade’s edge on its dense plating. Having hit its target on an angle, Takara’s tanto scrapped harmlessly against the creature’s scales, forcing him to pull back to avoid being disarmed. The ashen-haired man followed up by pivoting on one foot before planting the other’s heel into the large head of the yokai (though he winced slightly at resorting to such crude measures). Any lasting damage was essentially non-existent, but it stunned the yokai long enough for Takara to take a cautious step back to reassess the situation.

He held back a surprised cough. A yokai existing in these sacred waters aside, there was no way that a Motsukana could possibly find its way here naturally.

Recalling the “flash” that he’d seen dart by before, Takara retrained his eyes on a metallic object on the floor. Was that...a hair pin? Yes, if memory served, it was one of the very pins that he’d seen Kisara toting around in her hair before. A Fukami was bound to have a good head on his or her shoulders. There was no way that the brunette would have arbitrarily thrown one of her hairpins, right?

“Do you need some kind of opening?” Takara reluctantly inquired. Though he held little faith in the abilities of a mere hairpin, he knew there was no way he was getting out of this on his own. If she hadn’t run by now, it must mean that she had some means of fending off the enemy. His only option was to trust in that speculation.

status: alertxxx||xxxobjective: fend off the Motsukanaxxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Being a Fukami, Kisara had been raised to master multiple skills required for any heir of the Fukami clan. From sword play to fan dancing, the babe was carefully molded in various arts but never had she touched on the subject of spirits and extinguishing them. Those tasks were usually left for the few esteemed exorcists found in West Kai. Yokai, in general, were rare in sightings but she has heard rumors of more of them popping out, swarming the land like a new plague. All of it was kept hushed among the Elders in the Fukami clan in a decision to keep peace in West Kai, but Kisara knew better. The exorcists had their hands full and soon enough, they would be overwhelmed by the yokai's increasing numbers. As such, the matter was brought up to The Usagi and hence the decision for the two parts of Kai to be joined together. The honey-brunette knew all this, but it was still hard to believed even when presented before her very eyes.

She had two hair pins left: two more chances. With the second pin between her fingers, uncapped and held like a small blade, she gritted her answer to Takara's reluctant inquiry.

"Its mouth," she told him, "If I can strike it with one of my pins, the paralysis poison in it should give us enough time to retreat for safety."

Unlike the Ashurans, retreat was nothing shameful. It was tactful, especially in this situation, but Kisara had heard rumors of how Ashurans were sore losers (or just extremely brave and hard-headed fighters) who never backed down from a fight. She imagined that the term 'fight to the finish' originally came from an Ashuran.

The motsukana moved as she spoke, running forward towards the two before swinging its body to the left in an attempt to slap the two with the sharp scales on its tail. Keeping distance, Kisara jumped back to avoid the attack but she was just barely a step too slow from being knocked over.

"I hope you know how to exorcise a demon, Takara-san," she said, half-joking despite the grim line pulled on her lips. Her eyes flicked back to the path where they were came from. Surely someone had noticed how long they were gone for and perhaps sent someone to look for them. She could only hope.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Combative | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

Paralysis poison? No, he should have figured. As frail as she looked, Fukami Kisara was the heiress to a clan known for their craftyness. Like the Ashurans who were to instructed to be armed at all times whether it be a concealable weapon or one’s own brawn, the Fukami’s alternatives were likely poisons and drugs that they could slip out unnoticed. It seemed cowardly, but he was no better, keeping a tanto hidden in his chest pocket. First and foremost, now wasn’t the time to bother with his “ideals.” Likewise, the same applied to the notion of escape.

Takara grit his teeth at Kisara’s mention of retreat. He hated to admit it, but like any other Ashuran, he detested the feeling of having lost, perhaps even more so than his dark-haired relatives. The very thought of running away was like a sin on its own. However, he reasoned with himself that continuing to fight in a disadvantageous situation was an invitation to death. Now wasn’t the time to foolishly squander his life, especially if living to see another day meant another day towards growth.

“Retreat,” Takara said with a fraction of a quaver, “I suppose it’s the only option.” Everything, be it his words to his body language, dripped with obvious distaste for the idea, but his tone remained complaint, or at least enough for Kisara to understand that he was willing to retreat. Moving deftly out of the way of the Motsukana’s thrashing tail, Takara took quick note that he certainly did not wish to suffer a hit from that appendage in particular. If handled carelessly, it would without a doubt be capable of crushing bone and rendering an arm or two useless, and that was the last thing he needed.

A joke tossed his way was met with an eye raise from the man, but he replied in a similar manner, meeting it with a casual, “I can’t say it’s a hobby,” before once again closing the distance between him and the yokai. A hack, a slash, a dodge, and another sidestep. Everything seemed so routine that it was almost laughable, but that only frustrated him all the more. Any hits that he managed to successfully dig under its scaly plates did little but irritate the beast, though that was essentially part of the plan. It was makeshift and based upon chance and instincts, but his “gut feelings” were seldom wrong.

Just as he had calculated, the Motsukana soon swung its head in rage with a vicious snap, providing Takara all the chance he needed. Barely stepping out of the way once again, he swung his tanto backwards, this time successfully crushing the yokai’s eye. With this, it was distracted, and there were only two more steps left.

The ashen-haired man wasted not another second to wedge his blade vertically within the monster’s gaping mouth. Before it could swing its head backwards, he slammed down on the creature’s neck and took in a sharp breath. “Now!”

The Motsukana would remain restrained for only a brief second or two. Hopefully, the pin would hit its mark, or the struggle would inevitably continue.

status: alertxxx||xxxobjective: restrain the motsukanaxxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

With the precision of a seasoned archer at the peak of focus and peace of mind (not because accuracy was ever Kisara's strong point but rather, when faced with a life or death situation, there was simply no room for failure), Kisara aimed and fired her last remaining hairpin. It streaked through the opening provided, the pink flowers decorating its ends dangling as it whizzed through, stabbing the few fleshy places on the fish yokai: its tongue. The effect was almost immediate.

The motsukana had already been thrashing violently when Takara landed a skillful but brutal blow at the monster's eye. It only got angrier still when the ashen male continued his ruthless barrage on the monster, a struggle which almost had Kisara on the edge of her imaginary seat. The moment her pin wedged itself in, a strong numbing feeling spread across the yokai, starting from its head to its tail. It slumped down as each muscle (Do yokai even have muscles? Kisara didn't really want to know) was hardened to the point of rigidness.

With the yokai now immobile and helpless, Kisara allowed relief to was in. The cool night's air was freely blowing her now-loose locks in her face. A shaky finger was used to tuck the hair behind her ears. Instead of the satisfaction of victory, Kisara could only feel an unsteady rise of apprehension which offset her dimming solace. Even as a citizen of West Kai, the Fukami heir knew how important the Falls were to the Ashurans. Not only was it a historical place where the Ashurans found victory in the wars and battles fought, but it held spiritual meaning where they encountered their raven goddess as well. She could not even fathom what an insult it would've been to Takara to find and battle a yokai in such sacred regions. It was as bad as seeing a church vandalized with graffiti.

She wondered if she had offended him with the idea of retreat. Thinking about it now, she was certain she had. It would make sense if an Ashuran wanted revenge on something which tainted his homeland's grounds. And to think that just tomorrow morning, Takara would be required to bathe in those very Falls. Who knows if there would be any more yokai lurking in its water. Kisara almost shuddered at the thought.

"Takara-san," Kisara started carefully. She wasn't sure what state of mind her betrothed was in and though she knew the stories about Ashurans were exaggerated, she could not help but remember the myth on how Ashurans turned mad with blood lust at the sight or act of violence. Her eyes flitted briefly to the man's tanto before holding his unreadable gaze with well-fabricated confidence.

"We should leave now. I'm not sure how long the poison can hold out for."

A half-lie. For East Kai's animals, it would last up to a day. For an Ashuran, three. But yokai? Not even Kisara could've thought that far.

The yokai twitched, body still limp. Its mouth hung open but its eyes locked crazed on the two individuals. What it did next may just haunt the Fukami heir's dream: it spoke.

"You will all die," the words fell like a curse from an unmoving mouth. Its voice was inhumane, like an animal trying to form words through heavily stressed syllables. It reminded her of the sound of cracking foil and it sent shivers down her spine, "Orochi-sama... Oroc--"

Before it could say anymore, a single black feather was pricked upright into its body. The world seemed to go still for a split second and Kisara could barely process what had happened next. Blood splattered as the motsukana exploded, most of it landing of poor Takara who was closer to the yokai than she was. In a eye blink's time, a puddle of rust-colored blood was in the place of the fallen yokai. Regretfully, it had painted Takara's white cloak.

"Such a loathsome name shall not be spoken in my presence," came a voice behind the two. It was crisp and clear-cut, belonging to a person who radiated an intense aura of power. Kisara did not have to see to know that. She turned and found herself meters away from a woman who embodied the term 'Ashuran'.

Her hair was cropped short, cupping a fair angular face. A few strands were left long, befitting her well despite a fashion critic's words. Around her neck, she wore a black feathered cloak which thinned out behind her like wings. Her cloak was similar to the one Takara wore, except hers was dyed with the colors of the night and the red blooms of spider lilies. Even with the distance between them, Kisara was terrified.

She was frozen in place, body still and painfully alert at what the woman was doing. She knew that one wrong move could possibly get herself killed and yet, she could not bring her mind to form any words to save her life.

The raven-haired woman picked at her long (and sharply pointed, Kisara noted) nails as a maroon eye swept over the two.

"You," she pointed at Takara, walking over to him with such speed, Kisara wondered if her feet even touched the ground. She passed by Kisara without acknowledgement, as though she was nothing but air. It was a new experience for the Fukami who was used to catching the eyes and attention of many. The honey-blonde frowned. Was this what it was like to feel invisible?

"You're the one Usa sent, aren't you?" She studied him with narrowed eyes, face a couple inches from his own. Something stirred in her gut as she watched a woman who excelled her in all factors examining her betrothed so closely. It wasn't jealousy, Kisara ruled out logically. She did not know Takara enough to possibly feel jealous. But feelings were never logical.

It was already intense just being in the woman's presence. It must've been far worse being under her scrutinizing gaze. The woman tutted and moved back.

"Well, you definitely have my blood," she commented with undertones of pride, "but you look far too much like that fox bastard," The disgust rolled off her words and somehow, Kisara felt like she was just insulted.

Noticing the blood on Takara, the woman waved a hand and the blood dissolved into black feathers. How that was scientifically possible is beyond the Fukami's understanding. She was starting to hope this was all just a bad dream.

"Your eyes though," the woman went on, picking at the sheer determination in Takara's gaze, "I like them. You make keep them," she grinned, the red in her eyes twinkling. A clawed finger tapped Takara's forehead, blessing him, "You'll seek me again and until then."

A strong gust of wind swept the area and when Kisara opened her eyes again, the woman was gone. The yokai, the blood, the feathers; everything was just as it was when they came. If it weren't for one striking difference, Kisara would've believed they imagined everything up.

Her mouth fell opened as her eyes landed on Takara's head.

"Your hair," she gasped. It was as dark as midnight.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Combative | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

One final thrash before the tensing of its muscles prompted Takara to lightly step off of the Motsukana. Though he had expected a drug that would relax the nerves to the point where movement was not possible, it seemed the hairpins contained a joint-locking poison instead, though that failed to seem any less horrifying. If anything, Takara made a mental note to remain extra vigilant when dealing with the Fukami. A drop of that drug was likely to immobilize him for a good two days give or take, and he was sure that his family could probably care less if he died in a ditch somewhere. To be fair, he wouldn’t appreciate their help in the first place.

No. The bigger problem at hand was the Motsukana, and not it’s attack but rather its presence itself. As someone with little attachment to Ashuran territories and monuments save for his own home, Takara was spared from the boiling rage that would have filled any other of his kind, but he still couldn’t help but feel unease at the situation. These grounds were under the sacred protection of their goddess. For an uninvited yokai to desecrate it like this...he didn’t even wish to think about the reasons why.

“We should leave now. I’m not sure how long the poison can out for.”

Kisara broke the silence with a warning, and the ashen-haired man was quick to agree. Their business here was no more—something that they had addressed well during the struggle with the Motsukana—and as much as he hated leaving the abnormality alive, there was not much else he could do. At least, such was the plan until the yokai did the unimaginable: it spoke.

The next few seconds were filled with an ear-grating noise that couldn’t be anything less than inhuman. However, before he could even think to recover from his shock, he found his sense of smell assaulted by the stringent smell of rust and his vision filled with red.

One moment, he had been eyeing the tanto that had been tossed to the floor during the struggle with the Motsukana. The next moment, said monster spoke its cryptic lines before exploding into a pool of blood, blood which had found its way to various parts of his previously pristine white attire. However, a new voice cut in before the ashen-haired man could even entertain the thought of expressing his shock or displeasure.

Power and authority permeated from her very bearing. Not only did the woman possess the black hair and crimson eyes that the Ashurans held in such high regard, but her clothes also denoted a style present only among those of high status within the country. It was painfully obvious that she was not your everyday passerby. But then who was she? He was sure he’d never seen her within the Ashura’s main branch, and quite frankly, someone whose mere presence told him that she could crush him like a bug was difficult to miss, even for a recluse like himself.

“You...You're the one Usa sent, aren't you?”

Holding back an instinctive flinch, Takara blinked once. Within the fraction of a second that he took to perform that brief action, the raven’s face was already a mere hand’s breadth or two away from his.

Great, so first an oversized fish out for their blood and now a bizarre stranger who also happened to be able to near-teleport and speak of the Usagi in such a casual manner. The natural-born cynic within him couldn’t help but produce such thoughts which he thankfully quickly swallowed down. Years of dealing with the judgemental gazes of his family nurtured a certain biting sarcasm even when under pressure, though he was logical enough to pray that the lady before him didn’t somehow have mind-reading powers, too. Luckily for him, the mysterious woman was quick to reel back a few steps.

Crimson once again met his verdant green as the person began to speak of “having her blood” but looking too similar to “that fox bastard.” Though Takara continued to remain silent before the raven’s presence, an idea of who the person standing before him might be began to slowly form. No, it couldn’t be...could it?

His train of thought was interrupted by a tap on his forehead and a whirlwind of feathers which announced the woman’s departure. All that was left was the sound of the waterfall crashing down onto the water’s edge. That and a shocked gasp behind him. “Your hair.”

His hair?

A quick glance at the longer strands of his hair was enough to inform him of the change that Kisara had pointed out. His previously silver locks were nowhere in sight, instead replaced with those colored an ivory black. It was black. It was as black as the rest of high-born cousins.

What might have seemed like a blessing to others in a situation similar to his, Takara only harbored mixed feelings. He had long held onto a conviction that he’d work towards being accepted as he was, not through false pretenses. His light-colored hair was the source of his bitterness, but it had also been the fuel for his drive to strive to lose to no one. Not only that, but it was long a part of him, and disguising himself—whether it be willing or not—felt fake. Most importantly, was he still Ashura Takara?

“Raiva…” saying the all-too familiar name, Takara’s former “idea” was quickly compounded into his mind as “fact.” Her aura. Her manner of referring to the two other gods. Her ability to even change someone’s physical appearance. That person was without a doubt the great ancestor of his clan. If he thought about it carefully, it wasn’t all too strange, considering their location.

Takara let out a dry, bitter laugh. So even his own ancestor found him unacceptable.

With renewed sensitivity to his hair, Takara secured his hood back over his head. He turned to face Kisara. “Shall we return? I’d assume the sooner we report the situation, the better.” His tone had dropped all notion of the inner-turmoil that he had presented just seconds before, though it, in turn, sounded almost eerily casual in contrast to the grim situation.

Takara retrieved the fallen tanto and clicked it back into its sheath before walking in the direction of the inn. He didn’t travel very far, however, stopping in his tracks at the recollection of something disturbing.

“The motsukana,” Takara paused slightly, hoping that he wouldn’t regret speaking his mind, “did it mention that ‘Orochi’?”

His knowledge on the topic was limited at best. The few scraps of information that he’d managed to gather was based on the few not-very-helpful records that he’d managed to get his hands on as well as overhearing the common legends and tales surrounding the serpent. If this yokai had been somehow affiliated with “Orochi,” he doubted that was a good sign. It meant that this wouldn’t be the last that they’d come across a situation like this, if they haven’t started cropping up already.

Was it possible that the Fukami’s heiress knew more?

status: disturbedxxx||xxxobjective: discussxxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Kisara was struggling for words. Her mind and body was still in shock, kept only visible in subtle body hints, not from the battle with the unexpected yokai but with the encounter with such a presence. The deep shade of rust-colored pupils burned into her mind and she fought a shudder against the thought of encountering the woman again. Her instincts told her she was dangerous, but the dare-devil curiosity in her sought to know more of the unknown. Her cunning reminded her that the woman was definitely not someone to make an enemy of.

The name murmured on pale lips brought things together with a click. Raiva: a deity. Kisara could almost slump at the fact that she had encountered not only one but two deities in the same day. She prayed in her heart that San, though she like many other Fukami worshiped him, would not make his appearance anytime soon.

She was still trying to process what had happened to Takara. She could not fathom how he might be handling things nor did she wished to. God or no god, if San had done anything to her hair so suddenly, Kisara would shriek. A maiden's hair was nothing to take lightly.

The blessing would've been lost on Kisara if she had not picked up on the obvious importance of color status due to what had happened at the tea shop. Unlike in West Kai, statuses were determined by wealth and social success, and less on appearances (let alone the color of one's hair). It was petty, but the misconception that most Ashurans were such has yet to be proven wrong. Raiva, herself, had demonstrated such triviality, but by no means was Kisara bold or fool-hardy enough to make such a derogatory statement.

Hopefully, his hair color was the only thing the Raven goddess had changed. His light response concerned her and worry was evident in shifting amber eyes.

"Yes," Kisara replied a bit hesitantly. Her eyes observed him warily, despite her stepping closer towards him. (Keep your allies close and your enemies closer.) "But first things first, are you alright? That was..." Her voice trailed off but the unspoken name Raiva rang loudly in the silence. Kisara cleared her throat.

"I do hope that gods coming down to change one's hair isn't a frequent occurrence here," she humors drily at his side. As they returned with commendable nonchalance (as though they haven't just had the most bizarre encounter in their life), Kisara sweeps up her hair to one side and braids a lock, before using that lock to tie the rest of the hair in place in a makeshift ponytail.

It was proper etiquette for female Fukami royalty to always have their hair tied. Leaving it free and loose was only reserved for the most intimate moments, and letting it down was as baring as revealing one's undergarments. While the custom was only reserved for the royal bloodline, Kisara among many of her female cousins, found the tradition outdated. Had she not grown up with it, the brunette may not have thought much on it. Her cheeks flamed but her inner chastise was countered by the fact that it was a life or death situation. Besides, perhaps Takara did not think much of it the way she was.

Takara's words brought her out of her mindless train of thought. The mention of the Orochi made her tense just enough for it to be noticeable. She forced herself to relax and met her fiance's eye. The memory of her engagement came fresh to mind. What had convinced her to carry through with the marriage was not because of her duty as the Fukami clan's heir but rather the eminent dangers of the Orochi's awakening. Such news was kept hush among the Elders in the clan and had Kisara not done a bit of research and a lot of prying of her own, she would've been as left in the dark as her brother Aiichirou.

Throughout West Kai, strange events have been occurring more frequently. The onmyouji have their hands more than full and their situation was brought up to the Fukami's counsel. The Usagi's decree implied that the unfathomable union of the Ashuran and Fukami were the only way Kai could stand a chance against the oncoming threat. Kisara wished she knew more, but spirits and the occult were not subjects she had touched upon.

"I suppose it did," Kisara answered, wondering what Takara knew. She looked into his eyes, wishing answers could easily be sought there. "We should... probably report that as well."

As she spoke, two female servants working at the inn rushed forward with visibly relief on their faces.

"Your Highness, we were worried when we found your rooms empty. Dinner has been served in the dining room. Do come join when you're ready," they bowed, not yet noticing the color-shift in Takara's hair.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Concerned | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

Their dinner was, with no doubt, refined. Though admittedly catered more towards an Ashuran’s palate, the meal’s setup was balanced in a way as to also please foreign company. Even the very presentation of the course appealed to the eye. Takara, however, took everything in with a bland expression. The tepid reaction was not out of a complete dismissal towards the innkeepers’ efforts, but rather resultant of the prince mulling over the past hour’s events.

Though Kisara’s voice had expressed concern—or perhaps wariness—Takara had once again responded with nonchalance (possibly dark humor), though fearing a break in his facial expression, he had turned subtly away. He had never been a natural at masking his thoughts. Inadvertently nurtured by those around him, the trait was a learned skill—one that, when tested to its limits, failed. As to attest to this, the ambitious sheen in his eyes had dulled, taken over by a storm of emotions threatening to do more than just stagnate and disperse.

The two were prompted to move to the dining room soon after the brief exchange, and, for a moment, Takara had entertained the idea of returning to their room to change into a separate set of robes, this one identical in design but dyed in the Ashuran’s signature black with red accents. His current appearance was like a sheet of blank paper stained with a blotch of ink, and doing so would signify that he wasn’t as bothered with the change as he truly was. However, as much as his pride refused to acknowledge his appearance being the source of inferiority, the thought of yielding to that Ashuran mindset made his stomach lurch. Besides, he doubted he looked good in pure black, as vain as that statement seemed.

“Is the meal not to your liking?” A wary servant confronted the Ashuran Prince, sensing the obvious discontent on his face. Since noticing the change of his hair color, the eyes that gazed upon him experienced the expected shift from outright disgust to one of confused tension, most of which were barely masked by their air of professionalism. He didn’t blame them. The “forsaken prince” that they had only learned the existence of just hours before had returned with hair of ebony black, a color no longer fitting of the man known as the disappointment of his clan. Furthermore, they hadn’t been born just yesterday. The change in itself was enough to herald the presence of their god’s blessing and, therefore, approval. If he hadn’t been so (regrettably) self-conscious, Takara would have seen the change as a positive.

Casting the female servant a tired smile, Takara quickly glossed over her assumptions, “It is quite the fine dinner. I am merely anxious to hear of my cousin’s accounts of her travels.” Not quite “anxious”, but he was indeed curious. The other pair had been quite late in their arrival, only having reached the inn just as Takara and Kisara had returned from their “pleasant” stroll. If Aiichirou and Hanami’s delay had any relation to the occurrence at the lake...no. It was better not to think of it.

As soon as the servant had reassured that the two would be arriving shortly, the pair in question made their way through the door to the dining room. A quick side glance and a nod signed Hanami’s acknowledgement of Takara’s presence, with the former taking a seat directly across from the latter.

“There were minor delays, but the journey was fair.” As if reading his expression, Hanami answered his yet-to-be-asked question. However, unlike the rest of their “conversations”, the raven continued on with an inquiry of her own. “And you, dear cousin? Anything interesting?”

If this were any other day, Takara would have waved off the inquisitive stare being sent his way. However, it was clear as day that the raven had been referring to his hair rather than the more trivial matter of a carriage ride. The brief pause that Takara took to think was hastily covered up with a sip of tea. “No, not at all.” He didn’t know why, but a gut feeling told him that while they had already reported the incident to the guards, it was wiser to keep Hanami and Aiichirou blind to the incident.

“...is that so.” Tucking a raven lock behind her ear, Hanami gave Takara’s features one final scan before turning her attention to her teacup. She had never been much of the type to pry into things too hard, finding the process of doing so much too tiresome.

The conversation turned stale from there on (not that their little chats lasted very long in the first place), and the rest of dinner went on as usual. Light banter came from both sides, the four exchanged experiences, and the food was gradually polished off before everyone dismissed themselves to turn in for the night.

status: wearyxxx||xxxobjective: --xxx||xxxtags: Aster , Ashura Hanami

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

The change in the staff's behavior was as apparent as the physical change in Takara's appearance. While they had addressed her with cold respect, some seemed to have disregarded Takara all together, only acknowledging him in a mock-courteous way. Subtle as they tried to be, Kisara had noticed their behavior, thus making their sudden awe and quick change of heart all the more unnerving. The women who did their best to avoid eye contact with Takara were now batting lashes, seeking favor from the favored. From the hushed bustling, Kisara assumed that the news was quickly being reported to the Ashuran elders with implications that this was one thing they could rejoice over. The arranged marriage hung more like a death sentence than a blithe ceremony.

Given her cultural shock, the honeyed babe kept her emotions well under lock and key, but the mental and emotional discipline took a toll on her appetite. Most girls would be too stressed out to eat properly; Kisara was quite the opposite. The day was barely over and the young princess was famished. If she allowed herself to, she could eat five more helpings of the food she just ate; but in order to keep with appearances, she kept her portions equivalent to Hanami's ('How could someone eat so little?!').

The food was edible. Delicious even and much to Kisara's relief, they weren't served eyeballs or guts for dessert. The rumors from the West seemed absurd now and Kisara ate with grudging respect for the dishes served; albeit, they did not pass her standard for 'delicious' quite yet. Home food, she thought with homesick longing, was still the best.

Aiichirou's presence did much to help and she made sure she sat next to him at the low dining table. Despite his true personality (a blur-case who could probably walk into a column, fall into a ditch, get kidnapped---Kisara isn't sure why that hasn't happened yet---all while very conscious and awake) his being there was her rock and it was the one stability she had in the new, ever-shifting environment. At times like this, she almost doesn't feel bad that he's involved as well.

"Let me guess," Kisara muses with a grin, eyeing Hanami for her reaction. She found the ravenhead very hard to read and wasn't sure what to make of her yet. Takara had been an easier case. Eyes never lie lest you train them, but dark orbs like Hanami's made things difficult. Kisara was coming to the conclusion that Hanami was either a very simple, rich and pampered princess like herself or a sociopath. She hoped it was the former.

"You two were late for dinner because Aiichirou roamed off again and the shrine maidens had to find him?" There was a light fondness in her voice as she referred to her brother. The man beside her stiffened at the accusation.

"I wasn't roaming," he defended, drawing his tea cup to his mouth. "The moon was out so I thought I'd check the view. The sky's a lot clearer here."

Hanami acknowledged the weather with grim approval.

"A full moon is required for the ceremony tomorrow. I'm sure the priests have informed you on what's to take place?" Hanami asked, soft-spoken but sternly. The single black feather which dangled as an accessory from her ear swayed whenever she moved and Kisara found that it distracted her greatly from the woman's eyes.

"Oh, yes," she answered in poor attempt from keeping her merry tone from dropping, "I know."

Her attention flickered to Takara who had grown more reserved since the... exchange. Like herself, he had more than enough on his plate. She granted that he'd appreciate some alone time and she had been meaning to pull her brother away for a private conversation since the trip begun.

As the four broke off to their own respective bedrooms, Hanami excused herself to the bath whereas Kisara had whisked her brother away before anyone else could say or do anything about it.

There was a small, outdoor enclosure hidden near the end of their living quarters. The tiny yard consisted of a miniature pond with a couple trimmed bonsai trees. A stone lantern kept the place lit with a dim, warm glow as the Fukami siblings sat on the wooden walkway with their feet dangling off the edge. To none of their knowledge, the back door to Kisara's shared room was to their backs as they chatted in low voices.

"I'm sooo hungry," Kisara whined, breaking her 'proper-maiden' facade for the first time in days. Her stomach growled in agreement, despite the large portion she had during dinner, "I miss home food. I want to eat real food! I want to eat Kosei's cooking. I want tsukimi ebi burgers. I want strawberry milk. I want adzuki mochi. I just," Kisara sighed loudly, slumping her head on Aiichirou's shoulder, "Really want comfort right now."

Her voice softened as she spilled her insecurities, "I don't know if I'm doing things right. I'm scared I'll mess something up. A marriage between the two clans... that's not something any of us ever dreamed off. I honestly have no idea what the Usagi was thinking. He's bonkers if he weren't a deity."

Aiichirou grunted in agreement, tossing a nearby pebble into the pond before them.

"What if I fail and things get even worse between our people? What if another war breaks out because of something I do? What if I accidentally insult their culture or refuse a duel* (*Dueling to settle major conflicts is an augural part of Ashuran culture; but it's now a dying tradition as time goes by.) Or worse, what if I confess that I actually like Takara-san more with grey hair than black? I think the whole hair hierarchy is stupid to begin with but it seems to matter a lot here."

"Sis, you won't fail. You're the smartest person I know," Aiichirou comforted, "I'm sure no one knows how to handle this situation but if anyone had to, I know you would. I'm not even sure what I'm doing either and at least your partner seems... nice. I could swear mine hates me," Aiichirou laughed, offering a weak smile.

It was rare to see Aiichirou vulnerable and it opened the flood gates for sisterly sympathy.

'How can I be moping when my baby brother is here looking up to me. Of course, I can't fail. Aichi needs me,' she thought with firm resolve.

"Hanami doesn't hate you," was her immediate response; a white lie perhaps, "Maybe she just takes longer to warm up to people. You'll win her over eventually. Just remember what I taught you back in Courting 101 and you'll be fine," the honey-blonde joked, ruffling her brother's white tufts as her hand held his neck in an arm-lock.

"Ahah.. sure, sis," Aiichirou was unconvinced but he was glad to see his sister smiling again. Something shifted from inside the room behind them, confirming Aiichirou's suspicions that someone was there, possibly (unwillingly?) overhearing their conversation. The male Fukami had a hunch that it may be Kisara's fiance and had sensed his presence before Kisara even realized that they were just behind her assigned room.

For his sister, who was usually sharp on her toes, to even fail to detect something as simple as such told lengths on her exhaustion and strain. He knew she needed him as a resting place or a shelter but he was also old enough to understand that he could no longer be there for her all the time, even if he wanted to. Kisara would need a new refuge and Aiichirou was willing to bet his stake on Takara's candidacy. (That and also because there was really nothing the male could do with Takara overhearing their conversation. Kisara had rambled on before he could even point it out to her and he lacked the effort and energy to bring things to light.)

On the mental topic, Aiichirou decided to bring his thoughts up, "Speaking of which, what did happen with Takara-san's hair? Did he dye to make you feel comfortable and it wore off?" His wandering mind easily went to all the other different possibilities, with each one growing stranger than the next.

"Ah, that. No, that's his natural hair color, I think," Kisara answered stiffly, with puzzlement on her face. "I'm not too sure what happened either but..." her voice trailed off as she contemplated on whether she should be the harbinger of bad news.

The topic of spirits and yokai was always a wild card on Aiichirou's imagination. Confirming their existence and the trouble their stirring could, in the worst case scenario, rouse Aiichirou up to the point of paranoia (not really but Kisara's a worry wart so things are always blown out of proportion).

Choosing not to reveal it in the end, she rested a palm on his shoulder, making stern eye contact as she told him gravely, "If you ever see a woman with short black hair, red eyes and a black feathered cloak, run. Promise me that you will do everything in your power to avoid her and if avoiding her is impossible," Kisara chewed on her lip as her next words stung her pride. Concern out-weighed Fukami honor. Kisara would much rather have her brother alive and shamed than dead with honor, "Beg for mercy."

Raiva's biting words on Takara's appearance echoed in her mind. If Takara's grey hair reminded her of their Okami deity, than what more would Aiichirou be except a perfect replica of San? She shuddered to think of what could have happened if Aiichirou had been there with them. She doubted he would've gotten off as lightly as Takara had.

"I can't explain much on why but, please just trust me on this, okay? I need you to be alive if you're to take over the Fukami clan. We all need you to carry on our legacy," Kisara said, moving her hand from his shoulder to the top of his palm. Sincerity pierced her every word and from Aiichirou's reaction, it was clear that he had not expected the shift in topics.

Confused and distressed, he pulled his hand back with furrowed brows. "What do you mean, if I'm to take over the Fukami clan? You're the heir, sis. You're the eldest and everyone acknowledges that you're the next candidate as head. I thought we talked about this before."

"Yes," Kisara swallowed. It hurt to see stark betrayal on her brother's face. She knew very well that Aiichirou wanted nothing more than to be free of a Fukami prince's responsibilities and despite him being younger, his gender and coloring made him more favorable in the Head Fukami's candidacy. He avoided it well, choosing to stay in his sister's ambitious shadow, and expressed his happiness and relief when she was announced as the next heir-in-line. The sudden upgrade from prince to possible head was a daunting blow.

"But because of this matrimony, things have changed now, Aiichi. I... I can't return, not after our ceremonies. As a wife, you know I have a duty to follow my husband. If Takara-san's to take over East Kai then I," she fought back a stutter, forcing her voice to even out, "I must stay back and assist him."

Her signature smile spread across her features as she gave her brother a light smack on the back, "But don't worry! I'll make sure I'll train up Hanami well especially in Fukami customs. She practically got down the Fukami poker-stare down to boot already!" She laughed and teased in an attempt to ease the atmosphere but this seemed to upset her brother even more. He knows her well enough to tell when she's forcing a smile and as much as he wanted to comfort her, the news was a lot to take in. He had barely begun wrapping his mind around the fact that he was getting married to an Ashuran. Now he's got to be the Fukami heir as well? The gods must be laughing at him.

"Yeah... sure. I think I need some time alone to think. I'm not upset with you either sis, I just," Aiichirou sighed, running his hand through his hair, "I need time to process this. I should've realized this earlier myself instead of burdening you with it again. I'm sorry," he got up to leave and helped pull Kisara to her feet as well.

"If you're hungry, you should go check for food in the pantry. I think Takara-san could lead you there. Don't starve yourself, okay?" He gave Kisara a pat on the head before retreating back to his own room, leaving the blonde confused as to why Aiichirou would bring up Takara.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Tired | Location: Ido Falls​

 

[A Murder Of Corviknight]

Hanami, contrary to what many seemed to assume, was not actually a bird that could survive on just a few plates of aesthetically pleasing but nutritionally lacking (for a physically active woman such as herself) food. So while her need for a bath wasn’t a complete lie, it was also an excuse to buy herself time to sneak in actual dinner to get her through the next day. The Ashuran princess did sneak in extra food during dinner with her usual Sleeve Trick but it wasn’t enough to guarantee that her insides would be growl-free until her next (scheduled) meal.

If anyone tried to stop her...it was fine. All she had to do was render them unable to provide witness. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time she’s pulled this tactic. Honestly, she was probably a veteran at this point.

With a soft sigh, fresh out of her bath (the quickest one to date even though she did have to take her time to dry her hair), Hanami breezed past the irrelevant rooms with near silent steps and started to make a beeline for the kitchens. Or at least did her best to do so.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a direct route (that she knew of even after all these years) that led her directly to the kitchens from the baths so she had to circle around back to their resting quarters again. In fact, she wouldn’t have known the way to the kitchens at all if she hadn’t spent the times where she stayed at Ido Falls observing and noting where the kitchens where by eyeing the staff. She may or may not have made the poor saps slightly anxious with her watchful gaze that just happened to appear to look for the smallest mistake...but that had been their problem for just assuming. Hanami never particularly cared about what mere strangers thought anymore. She learned a long time ago that such trivial matters were not worth agonizing over if you wanted to walk through life with little dragging you down…

Especially if you can just beat down the more troublesome matters.

------------------​

NAME. Ashura Hanami
OBJECTIVE. Food
MOOD. It’s fine
NOTES. aosidufoaisdu after 2320394 years I finished the post.
TAGGED. Aster (...I think.)

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

Skirting around the corner of the empty corridor, Takara breathed out a sigh of relief. He was finally away from it all: the suspicions and the expectations. The madness.

Dinner had been one thing. Practiced members of their trade, the various servants of the inn were trained in the courtesy of cutting in only when needed. Afterwards was a completely different matter, however. To a distinguished member of the clan like Hanami, the superfluous flattery might have been nothing out of the ordinary. Takara, on the other hand, internally flinched back from the gratuitous glances. He almost wished that they hadn’t been so quick to recover from the shock of the sudden change. At every word that rolled off their tongues, anxiety palpitated like an iron drum. Warding off phrases dripping with malice or shrugging off the effect of being treated like air was his routine, not facing the pressures of “the favored”.

But they’ll get bored soon, he reassured himself. Despite his soft laugh, a light shudder shook his shoulders nonetheless. The weight of the situation invoked a never expected yearning for the solitude of his room. He even almost missed the idiocy of that roach back at the main house, a dangerous thought that he’d rather not entertain any further. Fortunately, silence, a good medicine man as usual, had cured his innermost turmoils for the time being.

Aimless feet eventually led the Ashuran prince back to the escape of his room. Gently sliding the doors open—this time properly and without hesitation—he was greeted with the sight of several objects stacked neatly on the tatami. He had almost forgotten about what he had asked of a servant (the sole perk that came out of his current hair color) only just half an hour before.

Though the room was illuminated only by the faint moonlight streaming through the thin paper of the outer doors, Takara ignored the unlit lamp perched by the entrance, instead walking directly to the objects in question. The first was a set of cleaning supplies including choji oil, an uchiko ball, and whatever else he needed for the maintenance of his sword, a strange hobby that he often used as a method to destress. As if on cue, Takara looked over to his uchigatana which had been left on a decorative wooden mount to the side of the room. Suddenly, the urge to clean it dispersed, replaced by the bitter memories of the “fight” just hours before. He was better off inspecting the contents of the other two packages that had been left beside the cleaning supplies.

Gently placing the two delicately wrapped boxes before the spot where he was kneeling, Takara traced the intricate detailing embroidered into the cloth. The contents were just as decorative, with the first containing a dozen or so neatly lined seasonal kuri manju garnished with maple leaves and the second a more general, but still ornate, setup of daifuku. Truly a rarity in East Kai, he thought with a hint of a smile, one that he felt had been an eternity since his last genuine, pure-hearted one.

Takara rose from his seat upon wrapping the second box but keeping the first only lightly covered in his hands. The moon was generous in preparation for the full moon required for the ceremony the next night. Though it was a grim reminder of the upcoming inevitable, the sky was clear and the night air was good. He doubted the inn staff would be pleased to find him sleeping the night away within the shrubbery (he swore that any of those instances back home was purely accidental), but surely they wouldn’t mind a light snack while admiring the night sky before turning in for the night. Though perhaps he should invite Hanami? While they weren’t particularly close, he was sure that the little monster (he meant that in the most respectable way possible) wouldn’t reject a snack-break. Plus if he really thought about it, the servant had given him too much for just himself.

“I’m sooo hungry,” a voice on the other side gave a sudden, loud whine, and the hand placed on the door to the gardens was quickly retracted to bite back what Takara could only suppose was a mix between a gasp, choke, and a surprised laugh. Was that Kisara?

The next string of complaints soon confirmed the presences beyond the door, and Takara might have chuckled in mild amusement had it not been for Kisara letting bare the insecurities of her own. The more he heard of their conversation, the more the calculative and composed image of the Fukami’s heiress began to come apart, revealing someone who was as much at a loss as he was. Just as much as he had his circumstances, so did she, though that went without saying. Any empathy, however, was washed over at the mention of the sole sore spot in his life that everyone seemed to focus on so much.

It really is stupid...though I’m not too sure how I feel about that initial comment. he thought in a half-baked attempt to convince himself. He was tired—tired of pity, tired of his worth being chalked up to his appearance, and tired of others trying to dictate how he should live and present himself. Most of all (as much as it hurt to admit), he was tired of caring. Though he viewed the Ashuran doctrine with distaste, when presented with the opportunity to examine his conscience, even he was aware of the hypocrisy in his words. As of late, he began to care less and less about his coloration, but using a hood to cover his “shame” was proof enough. Raiva’s actions had shaken up his resolve further, but perhaps it was for the better. And in a rare bout of certainty, he made a certain vow that would more than likely aggravate a certain Ashuran Deity.

Though doing so felt unpleasant, Takara sat through the rest of the siblings’ conversation. At least, until the younger of the two hinted towards his presence.

So he’d been caught? Then again, perhaps it was just that the Fukami’s prince was sharper than he appeared. Luckily, it seemed that Kisara remained clueless even at the former’s commentary.

Taking Aichirou’s leave as a cue, Takara walked towards the entryway to the gardens with the two boxes of snacks still in hand. In his best attempt to appear unknowing of the conversation that he had just overheard, the Ashuran casually slid the door open and allowed his gaze to slowly sweep the outside before eventually landing on Kisara.

“Ah,” he said, his tone bearing a smidgen of surprise, “I thought I heard voices. So you were here?” Though he was the sort to be blunt with people, there were, on occasion, moments where he knew it was safer not to be. Of course, if the girl pushed for any confirmation, he’d have no choice but to yield. Outright lying to someone who was obviously better at that game was never a wise choice.

Looking up at the moon then back down at his hands, Takara gave the boxes (which he’d forgotten he had still been holding) a light squeeze as a small idea formed in his head. Surely he wouldn’t be overstepping his boundaries?

Takara lifted the boxes slightly for the blonde to see. “Would you care for some? The inn staff gave me too much when I asked for a light snack. I was planning on sharing them with Hanami-san, but I’m sure she’s already gone--” His mouth clicked shut so quickly that he swore that he could hear his teeth clack together. As far as he knew, he doubted his cousin would appreciate his revealing of her late night “excursions” to the kitchens.

“--searching for your brother.” came his rather late follow-up. By the gods, he wished he were more articulate at times...

status: "kms"xxx||xxxobjective: excusesxxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[Aster]

Interactions: Hanami A Murder Of Corviknight
Mentions: None
Mood: Perplexed
Objective: Rest
Location: Ido Inn

• Aichirou ❀ Fukami •​

Aichirou was an airhead.

Or so he's heard from malicious murmurs uttered by his jealous cousins' lips. At twenty, he's long used to shrugging comments off his back the way water slips off wax. His sister used the insult as a term of endearment, overwriting most of the harm in the slur; but at times like this, Aichirou can't help but agree with his adversaries.

He should've made more effort in memorizing the route to his room instead of letting his mind wander to pointless things. Given the late time, there were hardly any staff on the grounds, leaving the male to fend to his own devices. He walked in circles (or what felt like circles). His actions mimicked his thoughts as he pondered on what Kisara had told him.

Raven hair and red eyes? Sounds like a vampire to him.

Maybe he should start wearing garlic cloves on his person, especially if he's to stay in vampire Ashuran territory. (Vampires aren't real, Aichirou. He knows this but entertains the idea nonetheless.)


He makes his third turn around the corner and much to his relief, spies a dim light glowing through canvas windows. Despite never coming to Ido before, he recognizes the structure of the building enough to deduce that it was a facility instead of a room. Perhaps a kitchen? The architecture in East Kai wasn't so different from West Kai.

'Ah, maybe it's the staff,' he thinks foolishly, hoping to ask them to direct him to his living quarters.

He had half expected to see some maids cleaning up the kitchen but came to find a very familiar ravenhead instead.

 

[Aster]

• Kisara ❀ Fukami •​

Kisara must've miscalculated.

The fatal mistake to her pride left her speechless with genuine surprise when Takara had opened the door behind her. In the dark, she had thought it to be a wall, failing to spy the rectangular indent on the side which served as a handle.

'Was this what Aichirou meant?' she thought in horror, quickly putting one and one together. Embarrassment and shame churned waves of nausea in her stomach as the smile on her face pulled strain. Her hand twitched, ready to stab the Ashuran prince with the paralysis-inducing hairpin, only to be reminded that they were long gone after Raiva had turned all traces of their battle to black feathers.

While she didn't exactly wish Takara any harm, she certainly wasn't ready to reveal so much of herself to him. If only the ground could split open and swallow her whole, she thinks as she makes a mental reminder to get Aichirou back.

It was too late now to do anything about it. All she could do was salvage whatever remains of the image he has of her.

"Takara-- this..." she stops herself. Sounding desperate wasn't very Fukami-like and sparing a glance into the room behind him, she comes to a dreadful explanation on why Takara was here in the first place, "...is the back gardens to our room."

She verbally concludes with unintentional, comical gloom. She resigns with a sigh, knowing it's much too late to justify herself now. Her stomach still burns with embarrassment as she playfully chides, "It's rude to eavesdrop on a lady, you know?"

Her words were toned to sound lackadaisical and her mortification is carefully tucked away.

She scoots over where she is and pats the ground beside her, indicating her approval for Takara to join her. Inside, all she wanted to do was to run off and hide underneath a rock for a good week or two but Kisara steeled herself to stay.

"What is it?" she asks, peeking at the boxes in his hands. She could smell something sweet and she wishfully hopes her stomach doesn't growl.

An eyebrow perks up at the mention of Hanami. It doesn't take a genius to know that Takara's hiding something about her and she relaxes at the implied revelation. She smiles genuinely this time, laughter stifled between pressed lips, and chooses (for Takara's sake) not to ask.

"Are these... manju?" she holds one between her fingers, inspecting it. She knows its likely edible but out of paranoid suspicion, decides not to eat it until Takara does too. "I never would've thought that an Ashuran prince would snack late at night," she hums with teasing amusement.

Her arms wrap themselves around her knees brought to her chest and she tilts her head to face the male when she spoke. Amber eyes fell on dark-coal locks which made a hauntingly beautiful contrast against Takara's fair skin. The pale glow of the moon's rays only amplified the difference and Kisara found herself staring a second too long.

"How are you fairing?" she asks softly, voice breaking the short silence. She noticed the increase in his unease, especially after his exchange with his clan's guardian deity. Instead of being blessed, proud or happy, Takara seemed quite the opposite; and Kisara was curious to know why.

Interactions: Takara Nano | Mentions: None | Mood: Wants the ground to swallow her whole | Location: Ido Inn​

 

[Nano]

code by Nano

Ashura Takara

For a horrifying second, Takara could have sworn he felt some form of murderous intent from the blonde. He didn’t know if he was just being oversensitive or if the princess had simply covered it up well, but nevertheless, he silently prayed that it was the former. Years of honing one’s combat senses only to meet failure so early on would certainly lead to nerves being overly jumpy, right?

Right.

Regardless, her playful scolding was clear evidence that he had failed to “play dumb”. A quick apology was enough to gloss over it, but it didn’t seem like either would get over it for some time. Luckily, the blonde stopped at that, and shifted her attention to the boxes he had in his hands.

“Kuri manju. They happen to be in season,” came Takara’s answer upon accepting Kisara’s invitation to take a seat. “You could say that when light is faint, there’s little to do other than stargaze over tea and snacks...or take a few more swings at mountain bears like how an Ashuran ought to spend their nights.” In response to the blonde’s joke as well as his own, a small laugh was stifled by a kuri manju that he brought to his lips. The light atmosphere was short-lived, however.

Takara’s eyes darkened a shade at the implied mention of Raiva’s blessing. It wasn’t anger. No. His face swam with doubt: one that weighed his misgivings towards laying himself bare to some he had met less than a day’s length ago against what he thought was right.

“If—have you…” He couldn’t bring himself to form coherent sentences. On one hand, his “morals”, as he decided to so label it, pushed that he owed her an explanation in compensation for eavesdropping (though accidental on his part). On the other hand, the hesitation that still remained even after convincing himself to “move on” had him balking at the mere idea of simply mentioning the topic to an outsider.

Releasing his grip on the glove of his right hand (his unconscious habit had surfaced yet again), Takara let out a breathy sigh before bringing his gaze back to the box of daifuku still nestled in his lap. Yet another minute trickled by before he finally broke the silence once more:

“Have you ever fought against an ideal you viewed as false only to realize that perhaps you might have been chasing after that ideal instead now that a ‘solution’ has been placed right in your lap?”

His tone was mellow and subdued. Though the topic was ambiguous when out of context, Takara knew that the Fukami’s Princess would understand. After all, she had been witness to his encounter with Raiva, and as of expected of such a perceptive individual, she had long unraveled the meaning behind those disgusted glances sent his way.

“But,” he cut in before the blonde could misunderstand, “for the time being, I’ve made up my mind, though I fear she might not appreciate it.” And he left it at that. Any further and he’d feel as if his privacy was being completely intruded upon. As much as he felt an obligation to “repay” Kisara, the Fukami princess’ inquisitive nature made it easy for him to assume that she was asking him out of curiosity over concern.

“Don’t you think so too?” Hoping to bring attention away from his confession, Takara shifted in his seat to face Kisara. The same mischievous glint that caused many to dread what he’d say next settled itself in those bright hues. Takara tapped his raven black locks after a grand pause. “This looks better in its natural ash grey, though the color is an inconvenience in battle.”

Ashuran humor at its finest.

Of course, he knew that also mentioning something he’d picked up during his unintentional eavesdropping session was in poor taste (especially given that it was half to get back at her for the initial comment). Thus before Kisara could react, Takara placed the still-wrapped box of daifuku next to the half-eaten box of kuri manju and stood to head back towards the room.

“It’s a nice night. I hope you sleep well.” At least, he meant for it to be an end note. It took only an extra few seconds to register the fact that it wasn’t a my room but rather an our room. Was this what the Fukami meant by the Ashura being stupid?

“...feel free to kill me in the morning. Just not in my sleep. Hell isn't a nice place to suddenly wake up in.”

status: "kms" x2xxx||xxxobjective: sleep in peace(?)xxx||xxxtags: Aster

 

[A Murder Of Corviknight]

After hiding away a few snacks for tomorrow in her sleeves and consuming no less than five satisfying kilograms of food within a few minutes (made by yours truly because she couldn’t just steal her their breakfast), Hanami took her time nibbling away at fresh rice balls while spinning her chopsticks in her other hand as she thought back on her day.

There wasn’t much to think about. Fukami, as Hanami had assumed from all the rumors, were bland with no inkling towards steering the conversation towards more important things (like warfare or legends) or just stopping all together. Of course, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that a Fukami would be harmless just because he was a lacking conversation partner who showed very little interest in combat. Fukami Aichirou reminded her of a puppy but even puppies had teeth.

Her mother did always tell her that dogs and foxes get nasty when cornered.

...But that was fine.

Around Hanami’s fifth riceball, the doors to the kitchen suddenly opened behind her and in came Fukami Aichirou as if summoned by her judging thoughts. (And here Hanami thought that the Elders were just talking crazy again when they muttered about Fukami sniffing out bad thoughts like a bloodhound.) Unfortunately for the poor sap, Hanami had a bad habit of acting impulsively and violently when startled. It was only by sheer dumb luck that Hanami actually looked and twisted her wrist the slightest bit as she shot off her chopsticks like darts at him.

The chopsticks hit their mark and embedded themselves into the wooden frame of the door in a neat row, harmoniously parallel to each other. They were also perfectly level with the poor man’s eyes as if taunting him of what could have been his fate.

The Ashuran Princess couldn’t tell if she was supposed to be pleased that her chopsticks had landed so nicely or stewing over his comment (because here she thought Fukami women didn’t eat like normal people). ...It’s fine. She’ll just...it’s fine.

With her expression carefully flat, Hanami stared (or glared) at Aichirou for a long few seconds as her hands calmly wrapped up her half-eaten rice ball and tucked it into her sleeve for safekeeping. She briefly wondered if she could save herself by knocking him out and carrying him to their room herself but...

Fukami were supposed to be smart, right? Though, Hanami just wasn’t sure with this one.

Though she was suspicious of him, Hanami merely eyed the Fukami with sharp eyes as she carefully stepped towards him and the door. “Follow me then.”

She was just about past the door when she paused and (finally) remembered to bow her head slightly in apology at him, “I apologize for the...rude reaction.”

Hanami could have just left it at that and led him to their room but she couldn’t help but add, “I’m too used to eating while training in the mountains. You never quite know when a bear will appear.”

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NAME. Ashura Hanami
OBJECTIVE. Save herself
MOOD. It’s fine.
NOTES. Hanami. You think everyone is a boring conversation partner because they all “talk too much”. Also Aster tell me if I need to change anything because I couldn’t follow the last bit of what you wrote about Hanami since I couldn’t really picture her do that. >__>
TAGGED. Aster