JULY CATCH-ALL

[aceslow]

Who ⬤ Kim Kitsuragi & YOU
What ⬤ Various July activities! I'll be writing up custom starters throughout the month -- I'd be happy to whip them up for anyone who's interested, so feel free to hmu on plurk or on the CR meme HERE.
When ⬤ Throughout July
Where ⬤ Throughout Jigoku-cho
Content Warnings ⬤ Adult language and subject matter, likely some discussion of the blood rain's traumafest.

Comments

for jonathan sims

[aceslow]

→ continued from here.

[ Something in the way that Sims says it makes it sound as though the title is important. Some people are attached to their job as an identity - Kim chiefly among them - but in his experience, any academic beneath the level of Professor tends not to do so. He can respect it. He knows more than most the sort of blood, sweat and tears it takes to get ahead. ]

Nice to meet you, Archivist Sims, [ he says with a nod of his head, as prim and proper as ever. ] My name is Kim Kitsuragi. And think nothing of it -- it's the least of what we owe one another here. But above and beyond, perhaps, is the fact that all Lost Souls have been offered a free change of clothing after the events of last month. And if you'll excuse me saying so, ah... perhaps a change of clothing is in order? Your current outfit could use a little washing up, I think.

Re: for jonathan sims

[eyediot]

['Archivist Sims' is a new one. At the first word, he feels his muscles tense. Here it comes, he thinks. Confirmation that everyone here knows.

And ...Then it doesn't? There's no derision in the way it's said, no contempt. It's odd, really. So much that the comment of something happening just before he got here nearly passes him by. And he wants to say something, ask for details but the next thing said catches Jon off guard. He looks down at his clothes - the jacket being a mess is natural, he'd gotten used to that, as much as the dirt on his shirt and pants. But the blood splatters across all of him, and the tear in the chest of his shirt he hadn't really properly acknowledged. To do so would mean acknowledging something he's been putting off.]

Perhaps, yes. And a bit of mending. Sorry, you - You said free changes of clothes after what happened last month?

[That's one way to try and ask everything at once.]

[aceslow]

Yes, that's right. Last month was... a bit of a trial, I'm afraid. Be glad that you missed it.

[ Though it appears that Sims has been through a hell of his own. He doesn't point it out, however. He may at some later point, but it seems unkind to make a newcomer relive his own trauma - or trauma inflicted on others; he seems gentle enough, but there's really no knowing this way or that - before he's even gotten himself settled.

He leads Jon down the stairs from the arcade, hand just gliding above the railing as he speaks. ]

There was an influx of cursed energy, from an unknown source. People's nightmares were made manifest, and strange creatures prowled the streets. The change of clothing, however, is because it was about a month straight of blood raining from the sky. It all got a bit... sticky.

[ He turns to Jon, mouth curved at the corner. ]

But it's been dealt with. There should be some peace so that you may become situated here.

[eyediot]

[Kim walking in front of him might not see the confusion or the way Jon squints at the floor when he sees the orange blob going down. But he may hear the way his foot missteps and nearly misses the top first step. As well as the barely contained yelp before Jon is able to school it back. He grips onto the railing and starts taking the steps a bit more carefully now that he knows they're there. The Eye leaves him, and he's worse off than he was before. Isn't that just the way?

It's almost enough to distract him from what's being said. 'Cursed', 'unknown source' yada yada. Fairly standard fare. But the mention of 'nightmares made manifest' and strange creatures has his muscles seize up, blood running like ice suddenly. Jon grips the railing hard enough his knuckles whiten as he stares at the back of that bright colorful blob of (he hopes) a person in front of him. His eyes are wide and lips pressed to a thin, hard line.

Does he know? He can't know, not unless he's a great liar. But that means it happened, doesn't it? The Entities got here before him, just barely. And he wasn't here to stop or contain them. How many are there? How many were affected, how many are still affected? How many were injured?

This is his fault. He should have kept a closer eye on the lighter, he should have kept them contained.]

How- [His voice cracks nervously as he steps down the last step of the stairs, eyes focused on the man in front of him.] How was it dealt with?

[aceslow]

Hold on --

[ Now that they're out of the dim arcade, Kim's able to see how much Jon is fumbling around just to get down the stairs. He offers him his arm to assist him down, brow creased in concern; if he had been suddenly transported here without his glasses, he probably would have...

Well, between the stress of interdimensional travel, being surrounded by monsters, and being told he was in Hell, he probably would have simply laid down and died. ]

I'll tell you everything, of course, but -- can you not see, Sir? Do you need glasses, or...?

FOR SHIN

[aceslow]

[ By the time that Shin enters the 7/11, it will be abundantly clear that the fellow currently in charge is overdue for someone to take over his shift. All the tell-tale signs are there, mainly that his jacket is already zipped up over his gaudy uniform, and that he's out in the aisles, irritably restocking the beer and occasionally looking over to the door, impatiently tapping his toe, and checking his digital watch every thirty seconds or so.

He at least attempts to do his job once Shin arrives, attempting to blanket over some of that irritability for some facsimile of welcome. He misses the old days in Revachol, in which the shopkeepers at the local Frittte do little more than give you a sullen, surly stare from beyond the counter and, if you're lucky, stub out the cigarette that they're not supposed to be smoking. Here? There's none of that. You're supposed to welcome people.

So he does. ]

Welcome to 7/11, [ he calls out as Shin enters. ] Let me know if you need any assistance.

[mindthebass]

(it's late, and it looks like this place has sucked this man's soul dry... not that shin could blame him whatsoever. it does feel dreary and repetitive, and even as he attempts to conceal the tiredness, it's a given, when one looks at the time.

shin doesn't quite intend to home until sun's out for a good while, so he needs some distraction to keep him on his feet. cigarettes and beer usually do the trick.)

Thanks. Do you have cherry cigarettes?

(he's supposed to bow, right? he's not sure here, so he'll give one that can pass as a nod if not, but still be seen as respectful if yes. it's the best he can do.)

[aceslow]

Cherry?

[ Kim, too, is supposed to bow -- but he doesn't, on account of the fact that he doesn't want to, just nods right back at him. This will likely get him in trouble one day, but one can only ask so much of a grown man peddling cigarettes and condoms to teenagers. There's not much of an age limit for these things, not in a place like this, and one look at the kid in front of him, blue hair, piercings and all makes it clear that he's been at this for quite some time. He's what people call counter-culture. Juvie. It makes him tired just looking at him.

Still, it's the sort of look he had flirted with when he was younger. Never quite got up the nerve for it, but he still has some old leather jackets covered in studs and patches hidden in the back of his closet back home, symbols of the good old days, a reckless youth out of sight of his employers for the seemingly endless minimum wage jobs he had to keep up some modicum of acceptable appearances for. ]

I think so. Let me see, [ he says, putting down the crate of beer he's busy stocking the fridges with to move behind the counter, shuffling through the endless variety of cigarettes, squinting a little to read the tiny text. ]

Yes, right here. Anything else?

[mindthebass]

(just from looking, it's not like shin would get the similarities rather than a slight sense in aesthetics. kim's clearly older, and while shin isn't able to discern his actual age just from watching the other man's face, he doesn't feel like it's a fair exchange to do that at ass-o'clock on a weekday. no one is truly displaying their youth this late other than the teenagers, rushing and giggling, experimenting and trying to get away with their behaviours... but here, they're encouraged. shin might lie to every breathing soul about his age, but looking as youthful as he does, never has he been carded as he dwells in a bar and then another.

on his way to meet the other, thin fingers hook on the handle of a six-pack of whatever beer was closer, and he comes to pay.)

That, if you have any, a place to eat... That isn't expensive.

[aceslow]

[ He shouldn't lecture. He really, really shouldn't. It's not one of his better impulses. Still, his eyes flick down to the six-pack, then back up at Shin. If he doesn't buy it from Kim, he'll just buy it elsewhere, without a problem. So he rings it in, the cloying beep of the machine chiming cheerfully in the still air of the konbini, but as he hands it back, he says, ] Don't drink this all at once, okay? Be safe about it. And smart about it.

[ A warning from some old man in an ugly polyester uniform won't do much, but he can't help himself from at least doing the bare minimum. ]

There are plenty of restaurants around here, most of them cheap. There are some food carts about two blocks north, one block east, and you'll probably find something that appeals to you.

[ he tells Shin what he owes him, and just as he's doing so, a man - clearly hungover - rushes in, also in uniform. Kim's irritation crackles in the air. ]

You've finally decided to show up, have you? [ He snaps, his co-worker already shrinking back, cowed. There's the mother of all lectures coming up. It doesn't take a detective to figure that out. ]

Khm. Here. Your change, [ he says, speaking to Shin now, already reaching underneath the counter for his bag so that he can leave as quickly as he can. Once Shin leaves, he may hear Kim lecturing the man in his thick French accent through the gap of the automatic sliding door (you're fourty minutes late! You think I have nothing better to do with my time? This is the third time this week! For god's sake, man, get your shit together!), but soon enough, Kim exits, bright orange jacket zipped over his awful uniform, hand already diving into his pocket for a cigarette. ]

Ah -- you're still here.

KIMM^2

[aceslow]

[ Kim had run into Kimmuriel just outside of Sutoku housing, sitting out on the curb as he procrastinated on making any dinner plans - he knew he had ingredients in the fridge that needed cooking, but he also didn't feel like cooking - and they had gotten to talking about the week's events. It was a nice enough diversion. Kim finds Kimmuriel to be oddly agreeable company, the two of them sharing more sensibilities than one would expect from just looking at them, and he gladly seized the opportunity.

And then Kimmuriel mentions doing some intel gathering at a bar, and Kim hums in surprise. He didn't take Kimmuriel for much of a drinker, though he certainly had taken him for someone with above average eavesdropping skills. ] Is that so? To be honest, I could use a drink after last month was... [ He grimaces. ] Last month.

[ Maybe it'll even help him sleep. That's a dangerous road to go down, however. Everything in moderation. He can't even remember the last time he had more than a single drink. ]

What sort of things are you hoping to learn there?

[psionicmolotov]

[ It's a stretch to say Kimmuriel likes anyone here (or, at least, that's what he'd say himself, which is not by any means the same thing), but he finds Kim's company more tolerable than most.

Part of it is a cautious obligation he feels now that he's actually been vulnerable around the man - some attempt at controlling his own image - but he has to admit, albeit reluctantly, it's much more that they have more in common than they expected. That alone is a draw for him - that constant loneliness in him is far too close to the surface for comfort now. ]

Public opinion. [ Kimmuriel folds his hands in his lap, sitting straight as usual. It would be much easier if he could spy in his own way, but information gathering is no longer as simple as that. ] While I do not expect to learn any kind of valuable secret, it is always useful to understand how a city's inhabitants are conducting themselves.

[ He is a stranger here, and while he dislikes demons, he'd be foolish to disregard their moods entirely. They are likely far more sensitive to some changes in their home ground than he is. ]

[aceslow]

I try to do that at work as well. [ Kim gives Kimmuriel a wry sort of look, expecting that Kimmuriel understands what he says next, though it could not be further from his own experience considering his power and bearing. ] There are some perks to being effectively invisible.

[ He doesn't take offense to it. He is an ordinary looking middle-aged man, in a minimum wage job people associate with a lack of intelligence and curiosity, and he is good at remaining still, remaining quiet. For all others are concerned, he may as well not exist at all. It is something that would rankle elsewhere, but he finds it to be of great help here. He doesn't want to stand out. Living life quietly and inobtrusively seems just fine to him. ]

But... let me think. [ He gets up from where he's sitting on the curb, stretching out his back. ] I have seen particularly careless drunks coming out of the bar over -- Hitokasumi street, I think it's called? They usually get kicked out and come straight to my store for more beer to carry them home. Are you familiar with it?

[psionicmolotov]

[ He gives Kim an understanding nod in return, feeling no need to confirm it verbally. To be overlooked and underestimated are both useful traits here, in a place they both do not belong. ]

I am passingly familiar with the place, but I have not yet gone there in person. Today is as good as any to see if it will be useful for my needs. [ And he'll have willing company, even, which is as always still something of a surprise to him. ] It is popular enough, which means it has promise.

[aceslow]

And grimy enough too. You may be able to find someone connected to the Stardust trade there. Especially if we can pass convincingly as people who would actually be interested in that sort of thing.

[ He rises to his feet, dusting his pants off, pants covered with the bits of gravel and grime of the street. He's long since stopped being precious about that sort of thing. ]

If you don't mind me accompanying you for this, that is. I happen to be doing my own research into the matter.

model building

[horrifictie]

[ KIM KITSURAGI'S APARTMENT - This path leads to your home away from home, so familiar that you never second guess your footsteps hitting the ground with a hardy echo reverberating against the walls. When you knock on his door, you know he will open it for you (unless you pissed him off, or got him killed that is) and invite you in with little reservation.

COMPOSURE - He's a private man, no matter how familiar you are with him.
ESPRIT DE CORPS - But still, he is your partner. If you need him, he will be there for you. And you return the favor with the same unspoken agreement.
KIM KITSURAGI'S APARTMENT - All you need to do is knock. He's likely in.

(So why am I not knocking on the door yet?)

INLAND EMPIRE - There's a nervous energy zipping through you, a paper bag full of wonders not yet built held close to the chest. He might not be in the mood after the whole *nightmare* business.
EMPATHY- You've never seen him so terrified. Not even when the mercenaries faced you down, ready to snuff the light out of you both.
LOGIC - You're confident he will enjoy building these model kits. It's an easy inference from his other interests.
INTERFACING - The kit suggests that two people constructing it will make for an easier process due to the intricacies of the pieces.
AUTHORITY - Knock on the door, soldier. You are *going* to build these kits with him, whether he likes it or not!

KIM KITSURAGI'S APARTMENT - You hit the door two times with the back of your fist, knuckles audibly rasping.
SAVOIR FAIRE - Again! This time with a *rhythm*.
KIM KITSURAGI'S APARTMENT - Again, you knock. Ba-ba-baba-ba -- ba-ba. ]

Kim, you in there?

[aceslow]

[ After the mess that was the Haniwa, the blood rain, incoming apocalypse, Kim's first priority was simply to return to some semblance of normalcy. He ignored the sleepless nights, the quiet worries, the echoes of what he had seen, because what good would it do? Sure, he was having a difficult time sleeping, but so was everyone. He's gone through days and weeks and years of sleepless nights, and he doesn't see why something like what they had gone through has to be handled any differently than any other major life event that he's gone through.

In service of that normalcy, he's spending his day off trying to get on top of some work he's been putting off, the long, boring affair that is going over Alliance business' books, searching for data and discrepancies to explain away the movement of drugs and other illicit goods through the city. He's only just gotten started when he hears a knock on the door, and his ensuing sigh is louder than he usually allows himself, expecting more trouble, a favour being asked of him, someone bringing to his attention that there are things that must be done.

As he gets up, the figure at the door knocks again in a recognizable rhythm, this time, and Kim brightens, immediately realizing who's on the other side, and recognizing that it's not another crisis with a knock like that. ]

Harry? [ He speaks his name before the door is open more than a crack, which means he's liable to embarrass himself if it's someone else, but lo and behold, he's standing there, a paper bag clutched preciously to his chest. God knows what that is. ] Good afternoon.

[ He blinks at him expectantly; what is it? ]

[horrifictie]

[ EMPATHY - "Harry"? Well, look whose in good spirits today. ]

Hello 'bestie'. As the kids say. [ The kids being the yokai teens he has overheard while shopping in Sutoku. It's clearly a term of endearment for your best friend. Harry's ready to waltz in, but he stills his feet only out of a fear of assumption on Kim's mood. ] I have a proposition for you: have you ever built a model?

[ Of course he has, the question is rhetorical, so Harry continues by lifting the bag a little. ]

Because I have two new kits right here in dire need of construction. And it recommends *two people* work on them.

[aceslow]

You're about thirty years too late to be talking like the kids.

[ He will never be forced to talk like the kids again. This is a thought that brings him great joy. What surprises him - though it shouldn't - is the fact that Harry has managed to hone in on something else that brings him great joy, and something he hasn't touched for nearly six months now. Far away are the shameful little collections of model aerostatics and sports vehicles and multirotor planes that clutter the upper shelves of his cheap bookshelves, the special light and magnifying glasses he had gotten specifically to nurture his silly little hobby, replaced with the asceticism of someone trying to save money in a new city.

He can't quite keep the look of surprise from passing across his face, nor his pleasure (which is something that he keeps locked down even more tightly than shock), though he does make a damn fine showing of it. ]

Models...?

[ How did you know? He almost asks, but then thinking back to his nigh religious affection for his vehicle, has to begrudgingly accept that this is not an unfounded hypothesis. ]

Khm. I may have built one or two in my time, yes, [ he says, stepping aside and gesturing for Harry to come inside. ] And the two-person models are expensive.

[ He would have to appear less pleased for it to come across as a proper scolding, but still. Kits like these are pleasures that Kim only rarely allows himself. ]

[horrifictie]

[ VISUAL CALCULUS - Oh, they very much were expensive considering your finances.
VOLITION - It was probably a little too extravagant, even considering the good cause it goes toward.
SAVOIR FAIRE - Yeah, it's no *investment* but that's fine. You can make this model with Kim and smile through the pain of not having any savings. Not that you ever had savings, because savings are for middle class university graduates.
LOGIC - Not even for them. ]

I'm not hearing a 'no'. [ He lets himself in as Kim steps aside, pushing the flat of his foot up to carefully slip out of his loafers. The freed up foot makes the second loafer easier to remove handless. ] We might not have time for both today, but we could probably finish one.

Whaddya say? Order some delivery, build a model, good ol' *non-competitive* bonding time between friends.

[ Non-competitive meaning no one (i.e. Harry) leaves feeling riled up. ]

for barton!

[aceslow]

[ Kim is not ashamed of his hobbies.

That would be silly. And counter-productive. He simply believes that there are better things to do with his time and money - both of which are precious commodities - and that wasting hours on frivolous things like toys and board games and other such pointless doodads isn't becoming of a grown man. So it's not shame. It's just that he would prefer not to be seen doing so.

If he had greater self-control, that would mean he would avoid these shops altogether. Unfortunately for him, he does not, which is how Barton will run into Kim Kitsuragi here at a locally run games shop - Kim himself being a rather inobtrusive looking man, flatteringly described as shortish, painfully ordinary, middle-aged - going through the available roleplaying and strategy games. He reaches for a particularly dry looking one when he finds he's reaching at the same time as a fellow who does not look like the sort to enjoy some casual six-hour gaming sessions on the weekend, tall and broad and scarred, and immediately retracts his hand. ]

Ah -- please, go ahead.

[ It's fine. He's not seriously looking.

(The game boasts nine distinct nations, punishingly difficult gameplay, and five separate decks of cards and a dense manual weighing the box down; of course he's seriously looking.) ]

[federates]

[ honestly, this entire experience of exploring some local game shop has been thrilling. barton will admit, despite the amount of flaws he could enthusiastically and effortless point out with the city, this sort of selection is something he would never see back home. ]

[ it's almost led to choice overload. barton tends to be both impulsive and decisive, so being led around by the nose due to his own ceaseless curiosity is a little uncommon. he'd made to grab for some game box, and only stalls briefly as he realizes someone else had a similar idea. the fellow in question receives a brief, passing look; he wouldn't know what a typical patron of this store to look like, but he does immediately make his own assumptions about the man. ]

[ he responds with nothing, going about to turn the box over and read something along the side of it. it's intriguing. after a moment of reading, peeking over to glance at kim, ]

You know how to play this?

[aceslow]

I don't know this game, no. They have nothing from home here, and I haven't had the opportunity to do more than peruse the local offerings.

[ Board games are expensive, and you'd need a player two, besides. There's Harry, of course, and Kim is more than happy to play with him, but he's also keenly aware that they've likely been spending a bit too much time together as it is without putting some complicated, hours-long board game in the mix. And sometimes he likes playing games as written without being redirected to a long discussion about the ethical ramifications of the fictional war they're playing out. ]

But I can make a reasonable guess as to how this one goes. [ He taps on the little label on the box, denoting that it is not in any way, shape, or form for beginners. ] You'll need a whole afternoon to play this one. And an experienced opponent. La pétanque, it is not.

[federates]

( ooc: super apologies for the delay - good lord my inbox is a mess. )

[ barton's eyes squint at the brief dip into another language; he can't translate that, but maybe he can piece it together from context. barton's frown deepens as he follows kim's gesture; after a thoughtful pause, he huffs an abrupt laugh. ]

[ he, noticeably, doesn't reshelf it - not quite yet. after all, he sees the player count on its indicated side. it takes at least two people to play. ]

Ohhh, I'm always game for a challenge. If you're saying it's gonna be a goddamn mess... [ messes can be fun. however, he won't lie to himself — kim's explanation hadn't exactly been enticing. ] ... well, we gotta get that experience for ourselves somewhere, don't we?

same here!! don't worry about the wait, my pace is also v slow!!

[aceslow]

Is that so?

[ Signing up for a long, difficult game in which you're bound to get into more than a few scuffles over the exact verbiage of the instruction manual isn't something you want to do with a stranger, in Kim's experience. He's competitive by nature and is willing to be as pedantic as he could possibly be to win. But then again, games such as these are his idea of a good time, and fellow players are in short supply. He raises a brow at the stranger. ]

I think we experience plenty of mess just living here. But a fictitious mess is much more appealing, yes. Is this the sort of thing you usually enjoy playing?