[closed] a moon shaped pool

[metafictions]

Who ⬤ Kamui and friends
What ⬤ (eric andre voice) nightmare nightmare nightmare nightmare
When ⬤ throughout June
Where ⬤ out and about, sometimes at 7/11
Content Warnings ⬤ Violence, unreality, death, gore & eye horror; possible mentions of past child abuse, suicide. Also, Travis Touchdown.
Notes ⬤ they won't do much for this event because uh CURSE but check out Kamui's criminal power permissions; plotting post here if you're interested in a starter.

Comments

[killtime]

[ Fuck — she stumbles forward out of the elevator when Kamui pushes her through, whirling around quickly as if she could somehow pull him along with her. She can't clearly see what's happening inside there, but she can hear Kamui's voice when he says that name. How it wavers. Then that fucking freakish katana is slicing through the doors, and thank the little gods — there's Kamui. She reaches for him immediately, grabbing him by the arm at the same time he reaches back for her, both of them pulling each other back as Travis fucking Touchdown emerges into the hallway.

Enma's balls. She hates it when she's right. Right, and underequipped for it too. The hell is she supposed to do against that beam katana with the standard-issue blade in her hand? And mortal too. One cut, and Kamui's best friend will slice her right in half. Seems like bad odds. Real bad odds.

Well. Fuck it. She glances over at Kamui, her eyes all steel and her mind made up. ]

I'm going to fucking kill him.

[metafictions]

It's not him, Andy! He looks-- The blood rain, it's... [blurts Kamui, all wide-eyed; it sounds a little like he's trying to remind himself of the fact as they get to their feet.] Trav wouldn't do this!

[Meanwhile, Travis-- a too-accurate mockery of the real deal, Kamui thinks bitterly-- shrugs, shouldering his weapon as he draws nearer. He doesn't seem to be attacking them, though: not yet. It's a good thing for all of them that even a false Travis still wants his battles to the death fair and square.

'C'mon, Kamui. You always knew how this shit was gonna end up, didn't you?' He slows to a stop mere feet from Kamui and Andy, one of his brows raised high. 'People like us,' he gives Andy a once-over, then keeps right on going, 'don't get to pack up and leave. Figured that one out after you left.'

Kamui shakes his head in disbelief. There's nothing to argue with here. Nothing more to say for an illusion-- especially one that's right. With one glance at Andy, he carefully withdraws his gun, pointing it Travis' way.

'The fuck? I don't get the whole villain monologue? What a fucking rip-off!' Miffed or not, Travis returns to his fighting stance at last. This time, it's for real. 'You and your buddy better show me a real good time!']

He's moving!

[Kamui fires his gun in Travis' direction, but misses. Travis charges at Andy swinging his sword in a horizontal, easily parried arc: he's trying the swordswoman out.]

[killtime]

[ When she hesitates, it's not because she gives a damn about Travis Touchdown — or whatever version of him has been summoned from all the fucking cursed energy that's been unleashed with the blood rain. She'd kill that phantasm in a heartbeat. Hell, given the right circumstances, she probably wouldn't think twice about drawing her sword against the real thing either. The fighting is easy. It's not that she's worried about.

No, it's Kamui she looks at — and when he draws that familiar gun, it feels like permission. She steels herself. Sure, they'll show this motherfucker a good time.

Andy doesn't even have to ask if he'll have her back. She knows he will. Just like before. So she just moves — and she moves like she was made for it, like she doesn't even think about what comes next. It's muscle memory and battle instinct that's been honed over centuries — and likely the only real advantage she has when her weapon is so outclassed. She can't clash with "Travis" directly — but she can dodge his swings, her black hair whipping behind her as she twists out of the way. When she lunges to counter, she takes the risk of pressing in close, aiming to strike where it would be hard to block, her blade gleaming in the low light as she thrusts the sharp tip at the doppelgänger's sword hand. ]