[OPEN] only god can see what i've become.

[killtime]

⬤ Andy @ the CR Meme ⬤
⬤ Permissions Post ⬤

Who ⬤ Andromache of Scythia (now of Enma) & YOU!
What ⬤ The bastard woman drinks and brawls her way through May substories
When ⬤ Throughout the month of May
Where ⬤ A bar, a backlot, and a bloody arena
Content Warnings ⬤ Profanity, violence, substance use, sex, etc. To be updated as needed!



A | MOON MEDICINE / SUBSTORY #1

[ This might be the most alive she's felt since arriving in hell. Whatever the fuck was in that medicinal mochi — it's like being high on cocaine and bloodlust at the same time. It feeds into that part of her that has always loved a fight. That up-close and personal shit where you can practically smell your opponent's breath. That's what she was raised on, seven thousand years ago on the Eurasian steppe — heir of the warrior-queen, bare and bloody on the battlefield, her mother's axe in her right hand.

No axe now. No battlefield either. Just the dirty alley out behind some dive bar. But that look in her eye is the same now as it was back then, wild and bright as she slams her fist into the unrecognizable pulp that was formerly the face of the yokai who had gotten fresh with her inside. Her knuckles are split open, but she doesn't seem to notice. Tunnel vision, everything else utterly irrelevant while her opponent is still standing — and he is, just barely. Just enough to take another clumsy swing at her, a move so obvious and slow that, in her violent fervor, she barks out a mean laugh, teeth bared. Bracing herself, she lets gravity do most of the work as she catches her victim by the clothes and flings him out of the alley towards street —

Right into anyone unfortunate enough to be passing by. ]

B | VEND ME A DREAM / SUBSTORY #2

[ Normally, on a day like this, Andy would have found some way to drink herself into oblivion by now. But she's spent most of her time in hell hungover, and somewhere between the constant headaches and violent nausea, she figured her newly mortal body was probably begging her for a break from the bottle. But being both idle and sober lends itself too readily towards her tendency to wallow uselessly in her own misery, so when the shirime approaches her with its winking butthole and a request for item A5, well...

Fuck it. It's not as if she has anything better to do.

That's how she winds up in that backlot, leaning up against a porno vending machine with a dwindling cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth as she flips through Juicy Peaches. The look on her face is one of stoic apathy, but either she's bored or the asses within are just that compelling, because she's still turning pages. This page in particular has her head turning slightly one way, then the other as she considers it. Out loud, to nobody in particular: ]

...That's a fucking fish.

[ Given the context, she might mean that literally. Only one way to find out. ]

C | BRUISED & BLOODY / SHUTEN TERRITORY ARENA

[ She'd been beating up people for free in bars this whole time, so it seemed only practical to at least get paid for that shit. The booze and cigarettes don't pay for themselves — and gods forbid that Andy hold a regular nine-to-five. She'd rather have her bones broken. Besides, she makes for a good underdog bet. Compared to some of the monstrous yokai that have stood opposite her in the ring, Andy looks decidedly ordinary. A woman who is neither particularly tall or strong. Nothing to betray the centuries she's spent mastering different ways of using her body to cause others pain. Except maybe that certain look in her eye. Something sharp. Something a little mean.

On one of the nights that she fights, she might find herself facing off against another Lost Soul in her next match. Or maybe afterward, with her left arm hanging loosely from its socket, she might be looking for someone to lend her hand — hopefully someone who isn't too squeamish to shove a shoulder back in. Otherwise, after the fighting is done, she makes a habit of smoking a cigarette right outside the arena, usually more interested in indulging that bad habit than patching herself up. ]

Comments

[CLOSED] ANDY & EMILY

[killtime]

[ It's probably unbecoming for a recruit of Enma's faction, but drinking and brawling are two of Andy's oldest habits — and old habits die hard. Especially when you've had the last six or seven thousand years to indulge them. She might be mortal now, stripped of the immortality that defined everything she was for so long, but she still has the same mean right hook she did before. It just means that when she smashes her fist into someone's face, her fractured knuckles don't heal themselves right back up — and when she gets into her third bar fight that week, the split lip and black eye still linger after security finally manages to kick her out of the nightclub.

She sits outside the back door, right on the curb, feeling the aches and pains settling into her body. Being mortal hurts. But then again, so did being immortal. It honestly doesn't feel as different as it should, and maybe that's part of what's been driving her crazy since she got here. She doesn't know what she's doing with any of it. She doesn't know if she's grieving, or if she's angry, or...

Well. Fuck it. She can always lean on her old habits. Reaching into her pocket, she fishes out a cigarette, pressing it to her bloodied lips and lighting up. With an exhale of smoke, she sinks back against the ground, staring dully upward as she lays on her back. ]

[medicative]

[the sound of heels is probably what reaches Andromache first, as Emily approaches. off her shift, the makeup she wears for the stage is mostly wiped off, though it leaves traces of glitter near her eyes, a red tint in her lips. concern writ across her features, honest and open, as she draws nearer.

it's a reflex, when she sees someone alone and injured. not everyone is friendly, she knows, but this is something she can fix. the satchel at her side always carries a first aid kit, after all - one never knows.]

Excuse me, but do you need any help?

[where she stops is a respectful distance away, not wanting to presume too much. but Emily knows she should clarify.]

I'm a physician - I can see you've been injured.

[killtime]

[ Andy uses the bare minimum movement to get a look at whoever is approaching her, only just tilting her head as she lays there on the sidewalk. The neon signs and street lights catch on the glitter around the stranger's eyes — a little detail that distracts her, delaying her answer. Or maybe she's just slightly concussed. Both? Well. Nothing a cigarette can't fix, judging by the way she's nursing the one pressed between her lips. ]

Does it look that bad? [ She responds dryly at length, tilting her head away to exhale a mouthful of smoke as she lays there. ] How dire is the prognosis, doctor? [ A bit sarcastically, then: ] Don't tell me I won't be pretty anymore.

[CLOSED] ANDY & NISHITANI

[killtime]

[ It's not that Andy has anything against the idea of a hostess bar — she's an alcoholic, and not at all immune to the female form in its various iterations — but such an establishment wouldn't normally be her first choice. She doesn't usually go to bars to talk. She goes to drink, preferably in unhealthy quantities, and maybe to indulge a fist-fight or two. But you can only do that for so long before some of the local bars start closing the door in your face, and she'd already been sober entirely too long by the time she came across this place.

Beggars can't be choosers. And she's never been especially picky anyway.

She's a stark contrast to the women inside, all creatures who are easy on the eyes, red lips and high heels where Andy is wild black hair and combat boots. The natural severity of her face is a deterrent that earns her wide berth, sticking out like a sore fucking thumb as she glances around the bar for an inconspicuous place to sit. ]

[pitfight]

[ A hostess bar is one of the places that Nishitani feels most comfortable. Surrounded by women, liquor, and a level of sleaze he fits right in with. Here in hell, there's less rules around touching, too, and Nishitani is living his best life like this. He's drinking when he notices a new woman walk in, a creature that makes his dick hard in a second flat. She's wild, unruly, and is a level of unkempt that makes Nishitani want to push, and push, and push. ]

[ An off work hostess, most likely, given how she scans the bar. He turns around when her eyes get to him, legs spread wide on the stool. ] I got a seat for you right here, beautiful! Sit with me and I'll make it worth your time!

[killtime]

[ If it wasn't for the unmistakable eye contact, she might have assumed he was talking to someone else — any of the pretty things filling up the place instead of her, with that look on her face like there's a fifty-fifty chance she'd rather use her fists than her words. It's the kind of vibe that might put off someone with less balls. Or better sense. She's not sure which it is with this one — whether he's got huge balls, no self-preservation, or both — and not sure whether she's annoyed or compelled by that either.

Maybe it's just that being sober makes her feel like she's got that itch to scratch. That vague something that could be satisfied by a number of self-destructive impulses.

She closes the distance between them. Really closes it, putting herself right in the man's face. ]

With what? [ Her voice is low and wry. ] That? [ The corner of her lip curls as she pointedly glances down between his blatantly spread legs. It's not exactly a smile. Not friendly either. ] Or were you trying to buy me a drink?

B

[heretic_blade]

[ Izō had spent a lot of time (and money) trying to find this stupid fucking vending machine. At least he's not getting out of this empty-handed. He gets the prized, sealed item and tucks it under his arm. It's about then he pays attention the woman in the lot with him.

Well, he pays attention to the magazine, really. ]

...Huh. That is a fuckin' fish.

[ Of course it'd be some kind amabie and not a human on the centerfold. ]

Ya into that kinda thing?

[ Says the man who looks more like a tengu than a human. ]

[killtime]

[ To be fair, the magazine is much more interesting than the woman. Even she seems to think so, because she only just barely glances up when she's spoken to, her eyebrows arching ever so slightly at that question.

After a moment, she offers a small shrug: ]

Might be. [ Dryly then: ] I'm considering it.

[ Leaning back against the vending machine, she takes a drag off her cigarette, tilting her head away to exhale a mouthful of smoke as she gives him a sidelong look. ]

Do you usually go around asking strangers if they want to fuck fish?

[heretic_blade]

Only ones lookin' at porn mags with fish people in 'em.

[ So no. Still, he seems pretty proud of himself, what with that grin and all. ]

Ya usually go 'round lookin' at porn in public? Not like I'm judgin' ya, but...

C

[horrifictie]

[ Despite his bulk and dull acclaim for winning sumo matches on behalf of the Toraguma, Harry doesn't do much fighting in the ring. There's a macho voice in his head demanding that he get in and show his worth, but tonight he's restraining the temptation to roll the dice. Instead he's taking the evening to watch, happily smoking a couple cigarettes and drinking cheap beer from the can that only has enough to give him a pleasant buzz. If he only drinks for the buzz, not to get trashed, then he's drinking for the right reasons. Besides, observation gives him the chance to maybe learn a thing or two.

Like that woman in the ring throwing herself at the youkai with abandon. She doesn't look like anything special and maybe she's getting underestimated for that, among other things. But there's something familiar in observing her.

HALF LIGHT - It's a death wish. You know it because you have one too.

He waits until her matches are over, when she's no longer getting in the ring for the next round, to approach. His nerves are sparking a familiar nervousness, always when he's about to speak to a woman, that he keeps below the surface. Holding a half-empty beer can in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other, he shoots an uneasy smile as he comes up. ]

Got a light to spare?

[killtime]

[ People don't usually approach her afterward. She's less interesting to the crowd once she's left the ring — once all the brutality and chaos is over with. Like this, on her own, she's a different creature. Not the same woman from the arena, wild-eyed and bloody, her fists relentless and her teeth bared. This woman seems... Weary. She has a distant look on her face as she nurses her cigarette, and it's only the sound of his voice that draws her back from wherever her mind was, making her present again.

She glances him up and down, taking in that near-grimace of a smile, his anxious body language, the half-empty beer can. Somehow, there's something relatable in all that. Maybe that's why she doesn't just brush him off immediately. Instead, she digs wordlessly into her pocket, slightly slowed by bandaged knuckles as she pulls out a cheap lighter. Holding it out towards him, she gives the thing a little flick-flick before a small flame finally comes to life. As the tiny light wavers, it casts transient shadows, emphasizing the natural severity of her face, made all the more intimidating by the bruising around her left eye and a split lip.

Finally, low and wry: ]

Don't worry. I won't bite.

[horrifictie]

[ CONCEPTUALIZATION - She won't, but she's surely *capable*. With teeth and tongue alike. ]

With teeth or tongue? [ The question is left to linger as he pushes the stick between his lips, the motion stiff and awkward in a poor attempt to not be, and tips it to the flame. He pulls away without fanfare, refusing to meet her gaze, and hums. ] Thanks.

[ He doesn't know how much he likes this brand of cigarettes. Nothing tastes like Astra, rich chestnuts clouds that brings nostalgia and heartache with its lingering scent. He's currently trying a harsher brand and it's not horrid but it might be too much. A brand for angry, bitter men. Men he doesn't want to be. ]

andy & goromi + nishitani

[no_kyouken]

[ She's agreed to come with Nishitani after her shift at the club. Probably because she's at least a little bit drunk after drinking champagne with customers all night, but mostly because she's amused to see what he's been getting up to when he's on his own. She's a better sport about most things than Majima is; that's her function in his life. Majima would definitely roll his eye that Nishitani did not just get his own damn apartment. Goromi? Doesn't care at all and simply smiles at him when he holds the door open for her. ]

Sumimasen.

[ She calls out cheerfully to announce herself, stepping out of her heels at the doorway. She's still very tall without them. Her street clothes are femme and her hair is down, but it's still very obvious who she is. The eyepatch really gives it away. And Andy already got a taste of what Goromi's patter sounds like. Pieces of Majima's tattoo also show at her chest and then onto the backs of her thighs with the skirt she's in. ]

Oh, look who it is.

[ She says it without dropping her act and she spreads a faint, fangy little smile. Coincidence is funny like that sometimes, huh. ]

[killtime]

[ Nishitani comes and goes when he wants. At some point, she realized that's what he'd been doing anyway, and then it was easier to just let it keep happening. The space is barely big enough for two people, but she's never been particularly territorial that way. Besides, the man cooks and cleans, which is more than Andy can usually be bothered to do on her own.

She's not dressed for company — a ragged t-shirt two sizes too big, thrown over little more than her underwear — but she probably wouldn't have changed even if she knew they'd be having any. They'll find her on her favorite perch, sitting on the window sill with an ashtray in her lap as she nurses a cigarette.

It's hard to say what she recognizes first — the voice or the eyepatch. There's a half-beat as she takes Goromi in, giving her a curious onceover before responding: ]

Small fucking world. [ Wryly then, with a nod at their mutual acquaintance: ] Don't tell me you followed this animal back to his lair.

[no_kyouken]

[ She glances over her shoulder at this animal, amused. ]

Who, Homa?

[ She has that man wrapped around her finger; that she's the one wearing the stupid watch might give that away. She smooths her hair down one side of her neck before coming to join Andy at the window. She lazily picks out a cigarette from her own deck of Hi-Lites. The nails she's wearing must be press ons, Majima wasn't wearing any. ]

He's a puppy dog.

[ She lights her cigarette, smoke curling as she settles back against the wall alongside Andy. She smiles at Nishitani sweetly. ]

[MAY MINIPLOT] ANDY & KIM

[killtime]

[ Few would look at Andy and take her for one of the Department's agents — not the way she is, all bloody knuckles, wild black hair, and dirty combat boots — but she's out doing Enma's scut work, bringing "order" back to the streets, or whatever the hell her faction claims their goals are. It doesn't interest her all that much. It's been lifetimes since she had that spark of ambition. This is half killing time, half going through the motions.

But even that much effort from someone like her — even as she is now, without the curse to renegerate her flesh — it's an ugly kind of violence. It comes to her almost too naturally, and after centuries of fighting, she doesn't even have to think to move. Any force necessary, they'd said. Well. Who knows if it's necessary, but it works well enough.

There's two left standing of the six gangbangers that had declined to hand over their Haniwa to her. The other four are on the ground, writhing in pain or unconscious, in various states of bloody and bruised. One of them reaches for her ankle, and without missing a beat, she crushes that hand under her boot, shattering small bones with a twist of her foot. Unfazed as her victim cries out, she lifts an arm to wipe away a trickle of blood from her nose — someone must have gotten a shot in earlier, but it wasn't enough to slow her down. Or spare the last two youths, who brandish a knife and a baseball bat at her as if she cares about her own life enough to be deterred by that. ]

Okay. [ A sigh. She digs into her pocket for a cigarette, takes a moment to light up, smudging a little blood on her lighter. ] Do we feel like cooperating now?

[aceslow]

[ Kim had been out doing some shopping - nothing exciting; a paperback novel he had seen for sale at a local bookstore and replenishing some household goods, like toilet paper and laundry detergent - when he heard the sound of screaming. It's an old policeman's instinct that has him hit the street running, firearm already in hand, toilet paper bouncing merrily from the bag slung over his arm. He outright flings the bag down as soon as he arrives on the scene, its contents spilling out onto the street below, and keeps his firearm clearly visible to whoever is causing the ruckus.

The ruckus which is, as it turns out, a grown woman stomping on a young man's hand, breaking it, and another two young men brandishing weapons. Frankly, he's not sure who he should be pointing his gun at in this situation, eyes darting between them and trying to take stock of what's going on. If he were thinking more carefully, he would walk away and wash his hands of it. As it is, he acts on instinct alone as he shouts: ] Stop this, all of you! What is going on here?!

[MAY MINIPLOT] ANDY & NISHITANI

[killtime]

[ This is the thing about being mortal — there's a limit now. She has one, when she didn't before. Her body gets tired. Her muscles ache. She bleeds. And even if those fucking punks running around throwing haniwa around were amateur at best, she isn't the same Andromache of Scythia that could have fought an entire army on her own and still been hungry for her next fight. That bitch, cursed as she was, was functionally unkillable. She would lead the charge with her guts dragging at her feet and half her brains sloshing out of her skull.

But the higher powers in this shithole took that way, so here she is, sore and exhausted and pissed off about it. Those stupid gangbangers might not have much in terms of skill or strategy, but they have numbers, and she's been beating small groups down along the edge of Shuten territory all fucking day. These last few, mostly scattered on the ground or slumped in the nearby alley, almost tripped her up. She's still not used to the frailty of her own flesh — she doesn't know how to hold back anymore, how to fight like the risk of death is real, and one of the little fuckers managed to catch her with a knife. She leans up against the nearby building, tearing off the bandana she was wearing to wrap it around the deep cut on her upper arm, tugging the makeshift bandage tight between her teeth and her other hand. Fuck. She really doesn't give enough of a damn about the Department's goals to deal with this shit.

Pushing off the wall, she turns to leave, absently patting down her pockets to see if her cigarettes survived the ordeal. That's when she hears the footsteps and shouting from the alley behind her. Goddammit. Reinforcements. And she's the only one of Enma's lackeys in sight. ]

Zeus's infested cock.

[pitfight]

[ The thing about stampeding reinforcements is there's something making the herd scramble. ]

[ A knife in his hand; well, Nishitani, is a force of chaos on the battlefield. No one can seem to keep him down, no matter what they do to him. When he finds Andy, Nishitani is bleeding superficially from many scratches and cuts, all bleeding but none enough to make him stagger. ]

That's it, keep fucking running! You aren't getting out of here alive otherwise! [ While Nishitani doesn't see Andy yet, there's no way she won't hear him first. ]

[CLOSED] ANDY & GOROMI

[killtime]

[ Her new sergeant's badge is an uncomfortable weight on the inside of her jacket — one she isn't used to yet, and one she isn't so sure she really likes. Andy had told herself from the beginning, since the moment that the Department of the Enma had claimed her, that she didn't give a fuck what their goals were. She resented being here. Resented the contract and the whole damn thing. But she's not so naive that she doesn't understand what having power in her faction would mean for her. More power, more influence — all the better to look out for her people.

Her people. Because she has those now. Despite trying her damnedest to convince herself that she didn't want that — or couldn't. But even if she still can't admit much of it out loud, she's not so fucking useless than she'll let her own denial get in the way of protecting what matters. So here she is. A sergeant now, insignia and all. Nothing to celebrate, in her mind, but. Someone in their little family should probably know about it. Just in case.

Goromi is easier to talk to than Majima. If only because she doesn't call Andy out with that laser precision all the damn time. So, Andy shows up at the right hostess bar, sitting at the end of the bar alone where she nurses a beer and a cigarette while she waits for Goromi to finish her shift. ]

[no_kyouken]

[ Majima is an asshole and he will gladly cop to that assessment. He's perfectly capable of tact but he finds it exasperating. Mostly, though, he thinks Andy can take it if she's going to be dishing it out. Goromi is different, by design. She's a charmer whose most pressing thoughts are in getting what she wants and having a good time. That's the high that Majima gets from working the hostess clubs. Goromi has power and control here; effortlessly. She has no reason to be put upon or depressed. She doesn't resonate with Andy's hurt like a bell being struck, not like he does.

She slides into the seat next to Andy with a smile, still in the glittery party dress that she works the tables in. She has on a pair of glittery mesh gloves too: gold sequins stitched delicately into a sheer black fabric. She puts an elbow on the bar top and supports her cheek in one hand, leaning in cheerfully. ]

Yer out late, an' just t'see me?

[MAY MINIPLOT] ANDY & CAIN

[killtime]

[ Until now, Andy hasn't really bothered herself with her own faction. It had seemed beside the point — she'd been too busy wallowing in her own misery, indulging her self-pity in a way that mostly involved fighting and drinking. No wonder everyone she met assumed she was one of Shuten Clan's, always walking around with bloody knuckles and a split lip or a black eye. And it isn't that she's exactly rehabilitated herself or anything — she's still a mess, this woman, and probably will be no matter how many ranks she claims in the Department — but she's found her priorities shifting recently, half against her own will, and now it matters more to have a little power in this place than it did before.

So, newly made one of the Enma's sergeants, Andy is putting in the work. Still somewhat begrudgingly, but despite her shit attitude, she's trying. Even if said work fucking tests her some days. Like today. Today, she's somehow found herself chasing a chirizuka kaio through the streets of Tamamo territory. The nasty red bastard has a haniwa doll clasped in one hand as he darts and dodges through the crowd, keeping just out of Andy's reach as she pursues him. Horrible little trash-hoarding fucker — ]

Enma's right fucking ballsack — [ Cursing in exasperation, Andy tries to push her way through with gritted teeth. She has her badge and insignia visible, but this isn't exactly the Department's jurisdiction either. ] Get the hell out of the way!

[himbosupreme]

[Cain was no one of authority here, but he wasn't one to let anything like that stop him. Unfortunately he still had to be wary of the crowd that was blocking his way. Resigned to waiting until he heard less voices, Cain was standing off to the side when he heard Andy's shout.

He wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but he knew what a chase sounded like, and the footsteps of her quarry were coming nearer. Reacting fast, he stepped out in front of where the guy was headed, but miscalculated exactly where they were.

Now the haniwa figure was going flying into the air-shit. Ignoring the mess he'd just ran into, Cain scrambled up after the little clay figuring, crashing to the ground painfully as he managed to catch the thing safely in his gloved hands.]

[CLOSED] ANDY & EMILY

[killtime]

[ They haven't talked. Or they have — about lots of things. Important things even. Just not that thing. And if she's being honest with herself, Andy's not entirely sure that she wants to. Is it one of those things that's just better left alone? Which would she regret more — ignoring it or confronting it?

Fuck if she knows.

But somehow, she's found herself back at Emily's clinic anyway. She'd meant to apologize in person for the two impulsive fingers that had made a mess of Emily's tidy stitches in Nishitani's side — because even if she wouldn't take the rest back, she does regret making more work for a woman who already overextends herself taking care of everyone else. It's just too bad she's terrible at apologizing. Maybe that's why she's brought the flowers. A simple bouquet of wild blooms. Andy occupies herself with putting them in a vase by one of the windows, giving herself the excuse to procrastinate saying I'm sorry. ]

[medicative]

[it seems like every time they could talk about it, someone else is in the room, or something more critical is taking place. things that mean you can't talk about moments that felt stolen, that she had ruminated on to wonder if it was her fault, in the end. had she pushed too much? would it have gone somewhere full of regret? what could have happened, if she had pressed further, if she had let Andromache's hands stay on her, if the phone hadn't rung and ripped them out of that moment.

if, if, if. she'll make herself sick, thinking too hard on it. there's nothing for it but to move forward, to keep offering out friendship and honest words, conversation and presence. that's all there is.

Andy's presence in the clinic right now is a welcome surprise, though. and for the moment, it's just them - just them in this room, and no emergency calls. for a moment, Emily doesn't know what to say - except her eyes land on the blooms.]

...Those are lovely.

[it's a start.]