[Venti replies softly and glides closer to her with ease. It's alright to be unimpressed about things. Perhaps she just hasn't found something to be impressed by?]
If that's the case, why don't you try now? You could skate with me, if you'd like. I'm sure you're more impressive than embarrassing.
[He's happy to be able to help the boy at least vent some of his emotions and speak his story. He knows how important it can be to help process those sorts of painful emotions.
Venti straightens and pats his own legs with a little hop.]
You're quite welcome! You have a story worth listening to. I'm sure someday bards will be singing your story so that your efforts will keep that future bright for years and years. Ehe.
[His eyebrows rise. Palm Pilot? There's a term he hasn't heard in a while.]
More or less, though fifteen years or so more modern, to my eye. [He offers his to Czeslaw for the kid to look at, if he likes; Altius has nothing on there worth hiding.] Aside from keeping in touch with each other, there are other functions for taking notes and pictures, along with a limited map.
[ she gives a little salute, cannons whirring into an active state. even with such heavy weaponry, michu moves smoothly - but not quietly, her explosive artillery (fireworks. theyre small fireworks, complete with sparkles) taking out groups of snowmen at once.
after a short time, the boosters in her legs fire up and she takes to the air, raining colourful hell down on these snowmonsters until she spots a2 take an awkward dive from the corner of her vision. her sensors pick up on a dangerous lack of heat from the fellow android. ]
A2!
[ michu speeds the short distance through the air, clearing out the encroaching mob as she lands directly into the snowdrift herself, already powering the heat back into her hands and reaching to pull a2 into her lap. ]
[ it's not often people are excited to see a battleroid, and her sharp auditory processing of course picks up the slight impressed tone. smug, she puts her hands on her hips and poses with the guns. ]
That's right! I'm a battleroid, and an idol! My name's Michu!
A lot of things aren't necessary, but they still are fun!
[Kurt waggles his finger while pointing that out. He does want to help her if he can! It's sad for someone that young to be so out of touch with having fun.
But he gives a proud grin as she asks about the snowball.]
Either one's fine. It's up to you, really! Which way sounds more fun to you?
Yeah, that's the big mutant power! I guess I got a bit of a package deal. The big downside is that lots of normal people back home aren't exactly down with this fuzzy man...
[Well now she's got the relationship of necessity and fun to ponder over, and her head tilts just a bit. But the snow in her hand is cold so she can save that for later.
Echo turns her thoughts to deciding the answer to his question, staring at her snowball all the while. She stays quiet as she mulls over the possibilities.]
[She's not the first near-monotone girl speaking of frustrating matters he's encountered, but he does wonder. Still, all sorts of people come from all sorts of worlds...
How irrelevant is it, really? Altius hesitates, and he doesn't bother to hide it, folding his arms as he glances to the side and gradually up towards the city's skyline, looking at nothing in particular as he processes. A quiet breath leaves his nose.]
Well. If you have any more questions, I'll do what I can to answer, but I'm beginning to suspect I'll have more of them for you, eventually.
[He won't put that on her immediately after arriving, however calm she may appear.]
You heard the term before? [That's a relief. Many people here haven't, and "Japanese demons" really doesn't do it very much justice for understanding.]
Same here. And please think nothing of it.
[There might be plenty of stories about how 'evil' he is out there even now, but Douman is still not the kind of guy who'd let others just get hit by a stray coffin, or struggle under big weights. Unless they deserve it, of course. Then it's all food for his sadism, but he tries to be good with that. No punishment before an offense.]
You aren't? How peculiar. [He looks the viera up and down and then lightly shrugs his shoulders like an old man dismissing something as newfangled and modern might do.] This city is called Aldrip. There are a couple of other locations around and a name for this whole world, but I don't think that knowing those will make much of a difference for you. The one tidbit of use would be that 'outerworldlers' like us are generally called "Chosen" here.
This world is what I'd call a trap dimension, although others are convinced that it is a pure Simulation with nothing but computers and technology behind it. Can you keep up with that so far?
[From her attempts at explaining her background in the last world, Echo knows that it tends to be A Lot for other people. She needed to focus on this sudden change right now, not trying to convey what Chains are and how Contracts work and how she came to be.]
You said the patrons of this place intend to punish us for what was on this paper. What does that entail?
[Good, she sounds like she's having fun now. A small smile that Douman is later going to deny graces his face beneath the mask in return as he circles around the coffin to assess it once more. Ah, would that he had been turned into one of those youkai with supernatural strength. That would help easen things here a lot.]
His fault for it being his name then. Besides, I'm old. Old folks are allowed to say a lot that younger ones can't.
[Not that he'll ever appreciate being called old to his face. Douman just has zero qualms lording his seniority over others when it's to his advantage anyway. Ah, well.]
Mh. I still don't like others seeing my face, though. [And that's that. It both is and isn't a lie. Douman isn't ashamed of his face. Never has been, never will. He knows that he isn't bad on the eyes, even when it had taken him literal centuries just to learn how to genuinely smile at others. He isn't ashamed of wearing the brand of Seimei's curse and how it had turned half of his face into a crater of scars, either. He wears the no-longer-human right eye with pride. They are a testament to the fact that Seimei died that night while he, Ashiya Douman, the always second, still lives. Those ugly marks mark him a survivor.
But he cannot stand the look in others faces when they recognize him. It had been 1050 years since Seimei had died back in Heian-kyo, but even now there are some who recognize Douman. Being feared and despised as a harbinger of evil had already pissed him off back during his life as a human, so there's absolutely no need nor reason for him to expose himself to the same thing again as an ayakashi. (And there's also that he's still the Principal with a Mysterious Past(tm) to a whole school of often bored teenagers. Just thinking of the rumors they'd come up with makes him want to shudder.)]
Hm. Hmmmm~ Nnnno, I don't think just yet.
[His nail are perfectly manicured blunt little human things, which makes them absolutely useless when he tries to dig them between the lid and the edge of the coffin. Douman tries once, twice, then once more on the other side, and then steps back with a huff. He crosses his arms upset in front of his chest as he taps the ground with his boot. Is there something around that he could use like a crowbar? Not really. He could try using a plank, but odds are that he'd just topple the coffin plus the kid inside over that way. If he did that he might as well just kick that dang thing as hard as he can - that'd have the same effect. Dropping his hands, he huffs.]
It's stuck really tight, so I'm going to use my youkai powers to get you. Close your eyes and start counting down from ten.
Oh? What ever do you mean with that, I wonder- [SPLAT!
He falls silent when another toad attack hits him, first in the back of his head and then their feet. Lastly, a single "Kiss!" note sails on the top of his head.]
[Funnily, the supernatural aspects of her creation would be less... emotionally upsetting to him than the existence of Trench—though the why of that he'd have no intention of sharing any time soon. Or ever.
He focuses more on her, now that he has a solid question to answer again. She may not be entirely pleased with it, though; it's not something he can fully predict.]
Every other month or so, a group of us are "sentenced." The tasks given at that time are apparently tailored to our crimes and personalities to some extent. I myself have only read of mundane things like apology letters or community service, though some have been stubborn enough to ignore them and suffer the consequences—which seem far worse.
[He's not going to hide the fact that he considers that foolish, though the full extent of his disdain doesn't come through; it simply shows as a mild frustration in his voice.]
I've seen people forcibly changed physically or robbed of abilities as a result.
[He leans in closer, all conspirational, As if he's sharing a government secret. Which he might be, technically.]
The hot springs we were at have timeslots for men and women. When we were entered it was assigned to men, but the designation changed while we were inside!
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