Aether Brain [Private]

[Takahashi]

Evening had descended upon the denizens of Wind Country before Makeinu would stir. The aftermath of Djinn and terrorist attacks left things in disarray. The room in which Makeinu was kept had two other occupants, a blessing considering how packed the rest were.

The first of the patients was an old man that had lost a leg, the limb crushed to nothing under the debris of the former hospital during the attack. The second was a teenaged girl who had been there longer than them both, in a deep coma. Both roommates were quiet, the old man sleeping more than Makeinu did and the girl going nowhere fast.

The sickly boy would help the elderly man move around at the elder's request on occasion, downplaying his own challenges. Aside from that he didn't say or do much and rarely ate. Staring at the wall laying with his back turned was preferable to socializing or exploring the hospital. He didn't want to end up anywhere he wasn't supposed to be. Getting kicked out was the last thing he wanted.

Someone had approached him with the idea of becoming a student at the Shinobi academy. He had barely let the medic finish before nodding yes. He knew he had nowhere else to go. Makeinu's thoughts were haunted with wild imaginings about his future placement. One scenario involved a cruel place for orphans controlled by evil caretakers.

He groaned in defeat as he gave up trying to predict his future. The breathing mask that was found close to him had been given to him, initially to see if it would jog his memory. It didn't, but he kept it any way beneath his sheets. Sometimes he'd put it on to hide his face, a face he found was lacking in handsomeness. For now, he just hugged the device to his chest. He was merely awaiting another day.

[MFT - Word count is 314]

 

[Michi]

The scent of bleach and BenGay mingled with or perhaps attempted to override the stench of disease and decay that permeated the space. Rows of fluorescent lights illuminated the narrow, cluttered halls. Every room was filled to capacity if not beyond; even the storerooms had been emptied out to accommodate the ever-growing patient population. The droning chatter of overworked hospital employees and the distressed cry of patients and their lived ones was occasionally interrupted by the beep or thrill of equipment used when ninjutsu failed. There was a sense of defeat here, not a foreboding sense of things to come because for those housed here, the worst case scenario had already transpired.

For some reason Shiori found herself at the Omni Prime Medical Center. She looked out of place, a purposeful act by this point rather than the result of indifference or cultural miscommunication. She liked to dress nice, not because it made her feel good but because she was still trying to catch the eye of the Steward. He knew far too well her affections and had rejected her advances time and time again. She was wearing a long-sleeved white dress to hide her most recent injuries. She had made a habit of crossing the wrong men at dangerous times, the eeriest problem regarding this last insult was the Homura's blade cut her in a manner that refused to heal. It had been weeks and she should have recovered within hours. Her arm felt heavy and electric-waves of pain shot down her arm at random intervals taking from her what respite she could find in slumber. She did not seek the assistance of a fellow practitioner, if she was incapable then they would also as her biology was not exactly human. Her stiletto heels clicked on the speckled tile, heralding her approach. She did not greet her former peers, the would not know her in this form and even if at the core she was unchanged she was such an innocuous presence her absence or being was likely barely of note.

A name caught her eye, not an aura or even a tugging of her heart. Makeinu, a cruel name to give one's child, it brought her back to the days of the Flame Court. Shiori frowned in the way a sane woman should, one whose actions were not dictated by this sea of emotion she found herself drowning in. She wondered if she had always felt this way or if humanity was rubbing off on her, there were a great many things she had neglected to do in her long life and understanding her... and their nature being among them. "Hello?" Shiori called into the room hesitantly, taking with her the clipboard that hung by the doorframe that possessed his 'careplan' and course of stay. Future shinobi but not much else to say, amnesia? Was that really a thing? A hypocritical thought considering the fact that she suffered from a global amnesia for two decades. "Going to be a shinobi? Sounds exciting," she lied as she took a seat at his bedside.

She flipped curiously through the pages, they detailed his vitals, chemistries and other varieties of nonsense. She had no idea what half those letters and numbers meant, only that the red ones were likely bad or as they would say 'abnormal.' She was a terrible medic and an even worse academy instructor, the fact that she was sober presently was not a testament to her character but rather providence intervening long enough for them to have a coherent meeting. A symptom of her personal self-loathing independent from her identity, but a tale for another day. "My name is Takahashi Shiori, an instructor at the academy," Shiori stated, actually telling the truth.

Sometimes the threads if fate have an uncanny way of bringing people together at invisible crossroads. Makeinu was about to start a journey, perhaps he was "no one important" but it is rare that a single thread in a tapestry truly understands its brilliance or place.

[MFT]

WC: 668​

OC: Written during my meal-break at work via my phone. Forgive the spelling errors and the poor writing. I work a series of long shifts the next few days and did not want to keep you waiting.

 

[Takahashi]

An uneasy feminine voice breached the more or less silently occupied room. For a moment, it would appear that the woman was talking to herself. Even if only for a few more moments, he wanted to pretend that he wasn't there. That he wasn't anywhere, or maybe even simply asleep. His inaction changed nothing, and the sounds of clicking heels and moving objects intruded upon his mind's sanctuary.

With his temporarily perceived fantasy of nonexistence shattered his eyes began to open, but he would not move. She asked what she already knew, and tried to sound happy about turning a stray child into a mere tool. To perhaps ultimately be used by his superiors, to ends he'll never learn much about when all the fighting's done. Someone who would just do their job. Trying to do something didn't always mean you got it done though.

Sluggishly rolling over and sitting up, the almost skeletal creature ruffled his own thin hair. It was obvious, if not from reading the clipboard then just by looking at him, that he suffered a severe multitude of deficiencies. He did not fall into the category of albinos who looked normal except for their palette. It looked as though he hadn't been eating properly for a long time before reaching the village or being found in the storm. Aside from a lack of external nourishment, almost all the cells in his body were deficient by some degree. His lips were chapped, scalp was dry, and his cheeks were barely made of more than just skin. Covering his frame were simple hospital clothes provided while he'd been unconscious. He looked like a true patient. All that seemed missing were IV tubes and a runny nose.

She seemed, at least to him, different from the others. The fact that she was the only person he saw wearing a long white dress in the hospital actually had nothing to do with it. He admitted to himself that was weird, but it was her failure to conceal her lack of enthusiasm about his situation. The original person to suggest his new path almost, to Makeinu, seemed to be hoping the child would be put out of his misery in the culling process. One less foreign, unknown, unheard of mouth to feed for an already struggling village. Another person seemed overly excited and patriotic, making it out to be such a wonderful thing. This person, had a different feel and perhaps opinion than them both.

His red irises were so clear, like gel tablets made of oil atop a layer of blood. His pupils were erratic, appearing to almost shiver at their most still. The gas mask dangled around his neck as he glanced at the woman's face while she introduced herself. Shiori's eyes were large beautiful emeralds, gemstones that have absorbed the difficulties of existence and wrestled with the inner demons fed by the resulting energies. Not that he could ever string together words to describe what he saw in such a way, but the essence was understood, a concept free of words and understood in a passing moment.

His eyes shifted to the floor as quickly as he realized they'd been idle for more than a second. His shoulders squeezing together just a little as he became a bit nervous. He waited to see if she was going to say anything else, but she didn't. There was an awkward silence, he didn't know what to say at all. "Where am I gunna' stay?" His crackling and wispy voice managed something. It was his primary concern, and the only reason he accepted the idea of becoming a Shinobi with such little contemplation. He had no control over his life, no direction, no purpose, and no use. Furthermore, he belonged to and was wanted by no one. Idly his thumb traced one of the many visibly blue veins along his ghostly forearm.

OC: Don't worry about it. Your life comes before any game. No need to kill yourself, I roleplay to enjoy myself and I wouldn't want our's to be a job for you. I forgive you so long as you forgive my own less than frequent activity/posting, misspellings, and poor-writing. Sometimes I have to use my phone, or just don't have time too. I'm in no rush to do much of anything. I've seen the work schedule you shared in the away threads, I can completely understand. Besides, if this is your poor writing, I'm in for good times.

 

[Michi]

She was different, but not in the way most would suppose. She was not a 'good' woman nor was she a skilled woman, in fact she was not human in the least. From the looks of this young man, with such thin white flesh pulled over bones, he did not look entirely human either. What were they feeding the children in here, chalk-dust and dreams? She tried to mask her surprise; being blind for as long as she had, her ears looked long before her eyes and his features were shielded by the mask and covers. Gaunt, his hollow cheekbones and bird-like features, what he wore hung off him like freshly laundered sheets on a clothesline. Her brows raised and her eyes widened slightly when she viewed the unfortunate image. Shock and pity were divergent ideals, she did not pity him but she felt something strange in the depths of her heart -- it hurt. "What did they do to you?" Shiori murmured, he seemed more a victim of a holocaust rather than the denizen of a hidden village. "Rather, what they did not for you," she grumbled, disgusted at the sight, not the boy but the situation.

Curiosity and a thread of fate involved her, but there were difficulties involved with including an Ancient from the Sand Court - most notable was the fact that the desert cannot take sides. They can involve themselves in ways, but only through tools of their craft can they truly alter the fates. She could not fight in Godsfall, in the battle where her brothers were mortally wounded. The Great Courts soon thereafter scattered, were hunted and her people were destroyed. Her family died centuries ago, all of her children dead or gone into hiding not to be seen for many years. She sought vengeance on the first men and their descendants, specifically those who came from the seed of Primus for what had happened to her family. Ironic how history remembers her fondly as a matronly figure, protecting and caring for humanity in the the wake of their perdition. It was a curiosity that nobody ever asked why she would 'gift' the Sunahoshi with the power over the diamond sands and allow humanity to fester and swell all about these lands. She played the long game for now, time was meaningless to her as the years passed in the blink of an eye, less this generation. This human form and this woman's life, these attachments to people made her in many ways more like the lore would suggest. She was attached to people and places, she coveted their affections and she looked forward to human-rituals such as the celebration of holidays but she also became petty and angry for their, and her human short-comings as well as the rejections she had suffered in the eyes of Sousuke.

"Where am I gunna' stay?"

His voice reminded her of dry leaves rolling over parched earth. "I do not know," she replied as her face dropped. Since he was giving himself over to Sunagakure they would likely provide him with a stipend to pay for the basic necessities of living such as food and shelter. "Where did you want to stay?" She inquired, anyplace was better than this. The prisoners in the Obsidian were in better shape than he. She let out a sigh, her shoulders low. "Did you want me to take you out of here... you're too sick to be in a place like this," she added, the statement seemed almost paradoxical but it was true. When she brought back the dead, they were in better condition than he. She had no idea what human children needed to grow, but she assumed it was simple enough -- food, violence exercise and a warm place to sleep. She needed purpose as well, she had none at this time as she lingered here attached to human desires, her mission to resurrect her family on hold until she possessed the power to bring back what is greater than man.

"My children are dead, so I have nothing to care for," a partial truth uttered. She had been living with her cousin these past few weeks, not because she needed to but because she needed something from him. She regretted the transition the moment it happened, it only solidified the fact that there would be nothing more between them no matter how hard she tried. This brewing discontent was becoming dangerous as the days passed. She needed the distraction, the maelstrom's cries were making her restless and this new body fit wrong. Perhaps she needed the boy more than he needed her, perhaps he would allow her to find a sense of humanity or perhaps she would strip him of his.

OC: Well, always a pleasure. =) Also, I enjoy your posting style immensely.

 

[Takahashi]

It took him a few moments to notice the dismayed expression she wore. It was probably because he was too busy trying to avoid looking at her in any way, but those eyes were carved into his thoughts. The subtly familiar unrest he felt radiating from them, they both knew an ungodly amount of pain. The memories were gone, but his very being was scarred by it. By the time he looked up for a moment he regretted it, as if an aetheric spear ruptured his heart, he would shrink into himself further.

Her hushed inquiries remained unanswered, but a furrowing of almost clear brows with a tightened jaw did all the talking. He didn't know what they did to him...He didn't even know if there had been a they at all. Makeinu had just...Awoken in a strange place. The almost imagined images of floating through the air, a dark man's face, and laying near death upon the sands seemed like millisecond flashes from an old dream. Giving her an answer with any truth wasn't an option, and lying didn't feel worthwhile for any reason given his status. She admitted his future was a mystery, followed by a question he'd never be able to answer. Brittle looking shoulders shrugged in response.

Makeinu wouldn't even know where to begin. He didn't recognize the name of any places mentioned to him in prior questioning. Even the grand names of Wind Country or Sunagakure itself meant absolutely nothing to him. Nowhere was home. Evidently he could read and speak the common language, that was a plus. There was a massive world outside the hospital doors, one which he knew very little if anything about. From his point of view, he didn't exist before the hospital or the storm.

Then suddenly Shiori would break the mute's lacking response with a question that made his heart thump against his ribs, beating faster. Now looking directly into her eyes quite seriously and sitting a bit more upright. "Now?" His voice didn't change, and probably wouldn't much. The option to leave with this stranger was laid out before him just like that. She was no more a stranger than any of the medical staff, or any other academy teacher he'd meet int he future. The only person he knew better was the old man now softly snoring on his side of the room, and that wasn't saying much in the slightest. Doubt began to multiply and he wondered if she meant she'd hand him off to someone else, but that was the most likely case...Until she continued.

Something wrenched inside him, as if twisting his guts without the physical pain or sensation. It was almost as far worse than the feeling he'd gotten from being gawked at. The sting of loss sent a wave of disturbance through his core. She didn't look like a mother, but the loss was real. He had lost too, but lost what?

Nonchalantly​

"Sure." Was all that he said before scooting forward and landing gently on his feet. At least his toes were clean, but the bluish veins were visible atop his bare feet as they walked over towards his- Well, he didn't know what to call this person. "It's not like my mom's comin' ta pick me up." His eyes had long since gone back to avoiding her's, but his lips made a frail grin that disappeared once he pulled the mask over his mouth. He'd stand up just a little straighter, making his bones crack and stretching arms lazily to the same effect. It wasn't intentional, but he hadn't moved much and certainly lacked the nourishment for strong bones. What in the world would she do with him? She'd be lucky if he didn't keel over and die before they left the building, whenever that would be. He seemed fine with letting the staff and Shiori make decisions.

[MFT - Word count is 650]

OC: "chalk-dust and dreams?" I'd say more, but I wouldn't want to give the impression I'm brown-nosing. I'll satisfy with saying that I think I'll be enjoying my time here. Excellent writing.

 

[Michi]

Time, while intangible and fleeting has great value because like any commodity you only have so much before you are broke. This feeble child, built more like a featherless bird than a boy with hollow bones and no wings so he would not fly. The youth was not as nature nor society had intended, but so rarely we follow divine design. Time and essence were slipping away slowly, death an ever-present and patiently waiting friend at the foot of the youngster's bed if he remained her. The latent nature of existence was persistence but in this place of alleged healing, death is merely delayed so one can cope with their circumstance. Life and progress can only be accomplished outside... in fact anywhere but this wretched place of affliction and ultimate sorrow.

Shiori's choice was rash, pure impulse as something about the lad pulled at the sinews of her heart. She could not possibly know the strange, sickly child but she felt she should. She was not a woman of intuition nor a woman of science, she took most things at face value or followed a whim. It could not be something more, he could not be anyone special. He was 'just a nobody,' this instinct likely false or a latent desire to possess, nurture or act in a matronly capacity that compelled her so. Time addles many things, but her mind was not one of them. She remembered every day of her long life and the people she knew, the places she had been and the things she had done. None involved him, but time and circumstance changes many facades. Was this visage of malady simply new skin to an old face? No... Conflicted only in what she did not know, she was not at odds with her choice as the action was easy, the rationale was not. Why was a concern for an intellectual or a scholar, not them.

"Now?"

He inquired, perhaps taken aback as anyone should at her either exceedingly generous or perilous offer. If he was taken by a fiend into the black of night, who would miss him but his roommates here if they lived through the celestial lunar cycle. Shiori nodded her head in affirmation. Here, in this bed he would only wither and waste. She held out a hand, not that the young man would take it, the pop and crack of his vertebrae as he stood upright created a cacophony of sound; the dissonance from his churning stomach and snapping joints made a racket in the woman's mind. Shiori was particularly gifted in a singular manner besides her necromancy, that being her uncanny yet keen sense of sound. She could hear his pattering heart and the click of numerous blood vessels throughout his body - the sounds of life be it human, ancient or beast of any kind had a natural near deafening roar.

"Sure."

She looked him over, more a curiosity than an attempt to gauge his potential. Potential in humans was utterly limitless, an attempt to determine propensity was like adumbrating the fate of an unborn king five generations before he was born. It was his state, distress or in his case dis-dress. A johnny coat was not the attire for her 'kin' for a lack of a better affiliation as of yet. 'Son' might be considered too tender, perhaps even creepy. Not that appearing eccentric was even a remote concern, anyone that truly knew Shiori likely found her mad. She was a harmless nutter at least in the eyes of her peers, to their best understanding she had never killed anyone. But to the best of their understanding she was also human. "I'll have to find you something to eat," she commented after she took in the boy or the lack of one "...and wear." All Shiori owned were pretty dresses and strappy heels, she doubted that Makeinu had the ankles or the figure for either. Perhaps her cousin Sousuke had something besides suits of armor that she could fit this slip of a thing into.

"It's not like my mom's comin' ta pick me up."

The boy announced, snapping her brain back to the matter at hand. Sickly child... stealing/parenting... semantics really. Makeinu's statement did however substantiate her assumption, no mother would leave their child in a place like this. Cramped rooms filled with strangers was really something relegated to those who have nothing else. "What happened to her?"[/color] Shiori asked simply, not taking time to consider the potential sensitivity of the subject. She assumed that the woman was either dead or a dead-beat that left her son to rot. "Actually, never-mind..." It was selfish to think, but she did not want to know the fate of his mother or the compounded tragedy of his situation. "Don't worry, we will have a marvelous time."<i></i>

OC: I could set you up with a class since we have 3 teachers instructing classes if you want or I can roll along with a slower story line where I have you meet up with Sousuke, get food, clothes, blah-blah.

 

[Takahashi]

At the mention of food his head would tilt, and hang there like a broken toy. He knew very little about food, considering the only thing in memory had been provided by the hospital. To say the least, he found it lacking. Something just didn't taste right, it looked nasty, and every cell in his body protested the notion. The few times he'd forced himself to try all ended badly, once with him throwing up and another time with a raging migraine. He didn't really trust it. For all he knew, all food was that way.

It was almost paradoxical the fact that his vocabulary seemed so normal, the ability to describe and respond clearly remained, but the memory of the world was gone. He knew she referenced his clothing when she talked about finding him something to wear. What he didn't know, was why he needed anything else at all. He had a concept of what was normal, and then he did not as if the soul and the vessel were too separated to function. Was that how amnesia occurred? Something so traumatic or damaging that it severed a link somewhere? With a shrug that tipped his body in the direction opposite his head, he straightened himself up and rocked back. It was obvious that he was starting to become filled with an urge for motion, for freedom. Something he didn't remember.

Makeinu found that he enjoyed reading, aside from glancing over everything at least once in the room, he had been told about books. The old man had said that there were endless things to read about, to soak in the world through the experiences of another and add them to your own. There was something in the letters, in the words that they formed, that pulled at him. The messages, ideas and pure essence trapped in symbols. Another beings thoughts made intelligible through literal and metaphorical descriptiveness, and the requirement of that being to truly be aware and conscious of their environment to convey it all. He took no notice of the imagination required to see, it was instinctual and something he presumed all capable of.

He was like being punched in the chin when Shiori asked about his mother, never mind how he knew what that felt like. His eyes looked at her blankly, and the gas mask covered whatever expression his mouth was or wasn't making. Shuffling passed her a little while dragging his feet, he moved to the doorway as she waved it off. Even with her reassuring him that everything would be fine the boy found himself biting his lip. "Hey, miss." It seemed as if he was going to keep walking. "It's fine, I don't know if I even have a mom any way. Don't worry 'bout it."

OC: I'm fairly busy, and might not be able to keep up with a class full of others just yet. Would hate to disappear on, or keep anyone waiting. I'm absolutely into the idea of playing this out and meeting Sousuke and the whole nine yards. I'll probably just take on one RP at a time for now. Option B it is.

 

[Michi]

Do humans eat souls? She never cared for them, perhaps there was a sense of ethic in taking life at the very essence but it was truly hypocritical - you kill for meat and it sustains you for for so short a time. Meat or a prickly pear would not rebuild such a feeble child. Her energy could rebuild him, but it could not sustain him. She considered taking him home so he could gorge himself on cookies or perhaps a tub of butter, but something told her that all the calories in the world were not going to change a thing about this boy unless he was an anorexic akimichi. While she pondered what to do with him, because she had no plan. She was working on pure impulse this time.

"Hey, miss."Her charge broke her train of thought that left her staring off into space for a moment. She shook her head and looked down at him. He was smaller than he should have been she assumed but she was terrible with human biology. "It's fine, I don't know if I even have a mom any way. Don't worry 'bout it." That was what she did not want to hear but in a way did. If he had a mother and he was left in such a sorry state, she should be drawn and quartered for her offense. Not having one was tragic for other reasons, that would suggest that his existence was full of loss. While some might claim that it is better to have had and to have lost than to have never had at all she would have to disagree and go with another adage: ignorance was bliss. Not knowing and not reacting, not suffering the pains of loss of hope, love, peace or joy in addition to calamitous losses. What was she supposed to say, that is good or I am sorry for your loss however belated her condolences.

She let out a lungful of air through her painted lips. The quality of a soul was not something to be concerned with, life essence is being. The honor or lack thereof a scholar's debate if one was to try to give weight to an immortal soul. Finding a life that would not be missed was a different matter, killing was considered disagreeable by the powers that be and she did not know where she sat in Sousuke's favor any longer. His blade bound Mikaboshi and a false Shade to him, Deep Court Ancient not subject to the will of another ever by choice was a terrifying prospect to Shiori. It was queer that she both loved him and feared him in the same thought, how there was a bubbling sense of indignation and wrath just beneath a placid surface that might soon shatter. Soon being relative if she had a youth under her care of course, whatever he was.

"...The prison," Shiori muttered out loud. A damaged structure still, a place they could try to repair and still eat without being noticed. Well, he could eat souls if they filled the void and gave breadth to those skeletal limbs. She kept the thin clipboard that gave little more than vitals and statistics in hand as they vacated the room. "I am taking my son home," Shiori called down the hall, standing behind Makeinu. He was not her son biologically or legally, despite a strange sense of kinship she felt towards the humanoid child the stated relation was close enough for her. She looked back at the clipboard to remind herself of the boy's name, he really should consider a different one. 'Loser' or 'Under-dog' is not a good strong name, it was as if Lord Homura named him. "I am signing out ...Makeinu," Shiori affirmed as she pulled off a progress sheet from the back of the clipboard that contained his addressograph stamped in fading grey ink and signed her name at the bottom. Anyone that knew her also knew she had no son, in fact it was unlikely she had ever found herself a significant other. It was no secret that she had pined for the Steward for years, waiting for her sentiments to be returned. Showing up with a child was not going to change that matter, Sousuke was of no consequence in this case or charge. In fact he had taken onto himself that strange wordless short-human and occasional mentions of some sort of indecency surrounding his origins. She slid the paper over to the receptionist, not caring to read her name. The paper was far from discharge instructions or a physician's release, but in these crowded conditions taking an ambulatory juvenile without a family out was not something that anyone was likely to protest.

"The prison," she repeated carefully "is the first place we need to visit." Shiori announced as she beckoned him to follow at whatever pace he could. On the way she would probably find some clothes and some 'normal' food, but she was going to seek something more ...sufficient to rebuild the boy.

WC: 846
MFT

 

[Takahashi]

OC: I apologize for one of the many prophesized delays. I'm transitioning and will have periods of absence for a while. I will attempt a post as soon as I'm able. I'm still very into this thread. Sorry to hold onto your RP slot.

 

[Michi]

OC: Was getting concerned I scared you off. No problem. I have 1 more free RP slot I plan on using soon anyways and I have been pretty sick to boot.

 

[Takahashi]

His pupils contracted into tight onyx spheres as she mentioned the word "prison". An onslaught of chaotically arranged images shuffled across his mind's eye. The world around him seemed to freeze as he inhaled the longest, softest breath of his known life. It felt like spikes were being driven into his skull from every direction, fighting for a chance at his brain's center. All of this in reality signaled only by widening of the eyes and a negligible stumble.

He was small, underfed, deficient genetically and left to die. As he left the room in what felt like slow motion, his eyes would drink in the manifestations of pain and suffering all around him. There were many there whom, despite his own problems, he sincerely felt were worse off. Somehow, inside, he knew just from what he saw there, that more of the same waited somewhere outside the hospital doors. He wanted to help them, but didn't know how, and so made no attempt.

He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream into the depths of Hell and shatter evil's throne. The emotional flurry came and went in eight directions and then back, causing a pounding sensation at the forefront of his skull. He suddenly wanted to know who he was, and what had happened, and then in another moment he didn't care. Exhaling in the typically defiant "Pfft" manner, he picked up his pace and dreamily weaved around those who would be in his path.

Upon the exhale his hands were swaying at his sides. Things began to return to their normal speed, and Makeinu contemplated whether or not he had been daydreaming. It was the most likely event, since nothing out of the ordinary would be noticed by another soul. There were no changed in his energy flow, aside from those tied to the emotional influx. No increase or decrease in overall strength, but an increased perceptiveness of the world on an essential level. Some people he didn't like just from their faces alone, others he wished to speak with... Wished to look better, and be more confident in order to say something to. The pain inside his head lingered, but a steady wispy gait masked it all. His left brow hiked itself up an inch as Shiori called him her son, so much so that a few of the patients taking notice also seemed perplexed. Furthermore, the audible sounding out of his name made them look away, as if guilty for naming him themselves.

He could hear the same word that triggered his introspective experience some time earlier, and now it made him pause and allow Shiori to pass him some. "Wait." His voice crackled forth. "What did I do? Why do I-" He stopped as he heard her end with the word "visit", and his heart began to relax. More than fear, his voice was tainted with confusion and mild protest. Ending with a feeling of presumptuous stupidity in himself. "Visit ...right." His shoulders squeezed together nervously as he followed her wherever she would take him.

[MFT - Word count is 514]

OC: Scare me off? What's a loser got to lose? On a side note, I hope you get well soon. Sickness sucks.

 

[Michi]

Shiori had no idea how to rear a human youth but she knew how to raise her own kind. In her long existence she had many... many children. They had all died centuries ago as did her mate. Love and sex were different to her kind obviously, not this grotesque coupling humans experience with bodily fluids jealous possession of the union. Families, however, were the same. You surrounded yourself with others that depended on you until they could survive on their own but even when necessity no longer required an association something deeper than familiarity kept their paths intertwined. She would never have more children of her own, the only ancient who still lived was the Lord of the Deep and like her they both have fallen far from grace. Too far to expend their combined energies to create another.

She lived a life as a human, raised on bread and meat. Given the stories all children were told. She was able to subsist, the meat of beast and the aged juice of fruit turned to bitter wine muted her pain but it was not enough to rebuild... only to prevent deterioration. Totemic societies prior to the Neolithic revolution, in the times of nomads where man could barely differentiate themselves from the bests of the sky, land or sea were truly more in-tuned to their true nature. As a learned man today would say: energy cannot be created nor destroyed... only transformed. To eat the meat of a rabbit, you gain only the strength of a rabbit. Eat the flesh of a sandworm, and take onto yourself their strength in time like Barynx the Devourer. Consume a human soul - with the limitless potential that exists and in time with enough perhaps you too would transcend to new heights. Of course, to consume as such would be taboo. Even she developed a distaste for souls over the years, forsaking her own strength for fear of committing an atrocity whilst simultaneously knowing that it is nothing more than a societal limitation not a divine ethic that would dam her soul.

"You need to eat. Eat something better than meat."<i></i> Shiori commented quietly. She did not know for sure, but she had her reasons to assume that the Obsidian was more than a place to house the most dangerous members of society. It was likely that those sentenced to death and those who suffered an unfortunate accident were devoured. She wondered how much Sousuke's blade limited him. She also wondered how far she could go before she was caught, what new lies she would have to weave to keep in the Kazekage's good graces. Shiori licked her lower lip, temporarily lost in thought. "When you eat food at the source it always seems bad... but, we are all animals and animals eat animals to stay alive." She was trying to mentally fortify the young man, hopeful that he would not reject a decent meal. She would buy him meat on a stick on the way and something better than hospital johnnycoats, but neither of those things would heal him. Not when medical science and human tradition have already failed him so utterly.

She had every intent to raise this child like an Ancient.

Attempting to move you to a new topic if you consent: LINK

 

[Takahashi]

There were certain truths about the world, and the universe that remained undisputed throughout the ages. The cyclical nature of energy, of that generating force from the aether, was one such truth. With that in mind, it was possible that any individual could possess the recycled souls and erased egos of countless lifetimes. The karmic debt thought to be associated with the lives of one's past would often be responsible for their present reincarnation.

That, however; would have been from a more unrefined look. The nature of atoms and particles would suggest the undeniable unity of all, divided only by their levels of individual conscious perception. The way any submicroscopic entity would pass through the sky it would likewise pass through the walls, and thus through the body. Everything generated some form of energy, some type of magnetic force to hold its being in tangible shape or animate its consciousness. It was a mystery what passed through this boy's being, a boy who knew absolutely nothing at present about the mysteries of the universe. All he knew stood before him in the feminine form of this strange woman.

It wasn't possible for him to understand what she was getting at, not simply by talking about meat alternatives. Phantom memories of what various forms of cooked meat may have tasted like played tricks on his mind, making him swear he knew what chicken, beef, pork and fish flesh tasted like. They tasted nothing like what he received and refused daily at the hospital, but a struggling hospital's rations could hardly be a delicacy anywhere. The problem with the recollection was the fact he had no real opinion on each of the flavors by themselves. Acceptable, but he found he neither loved nor hated the taste. It was merely sustenance, a way to keep himself going.

Trailing behind her, he would catch a glimpse of her reflection as her tongue slid over her bottom lip. His eyes drank in the vision without his consent, sending a strange sensation along his spinal column. It made his mouth open behind his mask, breathing out softly what felt like flaming air at the ceiling of his lungs. Nothing extraordinary escaped, but he felt his chest cool any way. Bloody irises dropped to the floor, a bit of perplexing shame swallowing him for the moment.

Though lost within himself, his connection to the physical realm was firmly anchored, enabling him to pay attention to Shiori's every word. His rescuer, his instructor, his new mother said something that wrestled with his conscious. Makeinu remained silent but waged war with the concepts inside, feeling it premature by instinct to consider himself an animal ...to consider all human beings as nothing more than bipedal animals. It didn't feel right, and he didn't know why. "Yes, Shiori..." He muttered softly in obedience. As they exited he would try to recall all the animals he knew, and while names eluded him the images of what dogs, cats, birds, insects, and other things were flowed to him steadily. He might not have known then what to call them, but he found them beautiful...A beautiful distraction until they reached a prison full of pain.

OC: Consenting to the topic transfer, and will be posting here when possible.

Topic Left w/Shiori