jigokulogs | [ OPEN ] sunrise, sunset

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ] sunrise, sunset

Who ⬤ Kim Kitsuragi & YOU
What ⬤ March substories (night parade & babysitting bad trips) & more!
When ⬤ Throughout March
Where ⬤ Throughout Jigoku-cho
Content Warnings ⬤ Drug use for the applicable substory, otherwise n/a

a. high definition.

[ When Kim notices people exiting the drug testing location looking decidedly worse for wear, his first instinct is to simply ignore them. They knew what they signed up for, did so willingly, and evidently did so without having the contingency of planning for a friend to accompany them and keep them safe afterwards. He stands off to the side for a frankly unconsciable amount of time, reasoning that some good samaritan will choose to be helpful. It doesn't have to be him. He's done enough of babysitting people on unadvisable drug trips for an entire lifetime, and he's not keen on repeating the experience.

Except it quickly becomes clear that nobody else is going to step in, even when he's given one or two passer-bys a hopeful glance. Whether it's the blindness, hallucinations, or general revelry that influences people to make terrible decisions, participants in the study are going to wind up being a danger to themselves or others, Kim decides, and reluctantly approaches one of them. ]

Khm. Excuse me. Are you all right?

[ He knows the answer to that question. It's no, because agreeing to be the guinea pig for unknown drugs as administered by some bizarre rabbit creatures is not something you do when you're all right, but he makes the executive decision to err on the side of politeness anyway. ]

b. night parade.

i. decorating.

[ Assisting with the parade seems like an easy way of currying favour with his superiors and to at least put on the pretense of helping out, so Kim gladly accepts the task of hanging up the decorations. He'll be around to help hold ladders, move boxes from point A to point B, or toss a bottle of water to one of his fellow assistants who looks as though they've failed to hydrate through any of their hard labour.

He does, however, become more invested in it than he specifically means to as he stands back, hands tucked neatly behind him, and scrutinizes one of the stalls' decorations, in a very interesting colour scheme. ]

No. I'm sorry, this needs to come down. These colours are... [ There is a polite way of putting this. ] ...very ugly.

ii. eyes needed.

[ Kim, having been deemed a very responsible looking man (probably because he's one of the older people here, he thinks with a sigh), has been tasked with sorting the fireworks and putting them in appropriate storage. Some need to be stored at certain temperatures to maintain the brilliance of their colours, and others need to be put under lock and key in a nearby storage unit because in the wrong hands, they have the capacity to do an awful lot of damage.

Which is fine. Kim is more than capable of handling this. Only he's supposed to be reading the criminally tiny fine print along the sides of the tubes. He holds them away from his face as far as possible in a desperate bid to translate it, but to no avail. He could rely on guesswork, but...

Reluctantly, he turns to one of his fellows, roped into helping with the parade as well. ] Can you make this out?

[ He's secretly hoping the answer is no, which is a possibility. It would be less embarrassing that way. ]
c. sutoku district & housing.

[ Otherwise, Kim can be found wandering around what he's been told is his new home, pausing occasionally to look at the huge, flashy arcades, the blindingly bright department stores, or perhaps dwelling a little too long on one of the vehicles parked along the side of the road. Shopping isn't the most exciting thing, perhaps, but Kim has plenty he needs to get with his first paycheck: groceries (largely frozen and canned foods, specialty-made for the consummate bachelor), a first-aid kit, cigarettes and toiletries, instant coffee, and a pitstop where he inspects a truly tragic looking pot of mint planted in ruinously dry soil.

By the end of the evening, he can be found on the balcony of the long line of depressing apartments that all of the newcomers have been put into, staring out at the night sky with a cigarette dangling from his fingers and a convenience store bag filled with premade food hanging off the crook of his elbow. He's willing to share, if interest is shown -- a cigarette for the adults, or a an extra onigiri for the kids. If he's going to eat a depressing late-night dinner standing out here, he may as well have some company. ]

d. wildcard.

[ want something else? I'd love to make a starter for you! just hit me up at my ooc comment here and we'll figure something out. ]

Threaded | Flat

[ Signing up to test drugs seemed like a somewhat reasonable thing to do. He used to test his own drugs out on himself without being completely certain what the effects would be. If there is a call to arms, he believed it would be fine to join in. The betterment of the city is preferred over any selfishness that he could feel.

Is this perhaps some sense of responsibility or guilt that he has? Maybe. Probably. Yes.

Yet he stumbles through the streets. He lifts his head up as he twists it around, hearing and knowing. It's a familiar call. Someone comes up to him; he turns slightly towards them. His eyes widen before re-focusing; he remembers this man. They were in the same clan together. ]

Ah, khayaala. [ He calls to him; his voice is heavy with an unknown emotion. He calls him "brother" in his language, because if they are in the same clan, that is what they are. His chest aches and he tips his head slightly. ] Can you hear it?

The city calls. It tells me to go somewhere.

[ Artemy makes a vague gesture down one of the streets. ]

I did not think another would accept me, but it does... for good or ill, it accepts me.

Edited (:X) 2022-03-08 03:24 (UTC)

[ A gaudy flash of pink is draped over the front of the stall, delicately handled by her hand. She places it just so, pats it as if it were living and breathing. Then, she admits to herself, wordlessly, that it is a hideous color.

It's burning her eyes to look at it too long, so Aerith quickly turns her attention to the rest of the box of decorations atop the stall. She'd placed it there for easy access, making sure to keep someone down below to help her keep everything nice and even. The majority of the fabric and decorations are still in the little wicker basket, but many are spilling over the edge in her attempt to make sense of the palette. She hasn't quite stuck to the plan, but in her defense, maybe it's not too bad now!

This particular stall is advertising wagashi, delicate little desserts with the barest hint of sweetness carved into pristine shapes. She'd been delighted when she saw them. A delicacy to her, the wares are beautiful. In a cruel twist of irony, the stall gives no such impression.

Aerith's hand grabs hold of pennant, a horrendously vibrant green with pops of neon red that makes her blink when she looks at it for more than a second. A headache is certainly building within her skull, louder than anything else she's felt today. Grimacing, she moves to hang it up like she's been instructed, when a voice interrupts her. It's "very ugly", comes the declaration.

She looks from the man, dressed in an equally snazzy jacket, to the stall. Aerith is stunned, if only because someone finally said it. It really is ugly. There is truly nothing hung up on this stall, or in that box, that could save this display. It's stomach churning in it's ugliness. Her silent surprise breaks as she lets out of a giggle, head shaking from side to side. ]

You know what? You read my mind. [ From her position atop the ladder, she holds on tight, and places one fist to her hip. She twists a little to look down at him, and a mischievous smirk splashes across her lips. Neon lights are at her back, and dying sunlight hiding their full vibrancy for now. ]

And since you brought it up, you'll be helping me get some new decorations.

[ She's beaming too wide in a toothy grin, as if she won't take no for an answer. Admittedly, it's how she got the ladder; a construction worker had been persuaded by her 'pretty please's and firm assertations that she needed it. ]

C'mon, I can't carry it all myself. [ She descends the ladder, surprisingly quick for someone in boots with a chunky heels. ]

[said fellow Sutoku is gaunt and too pale, like he's been convalescing from a long illness, perhaps, but he's been handling the lifting well. the setup work's been kind of soothing for him, actually. it's novel to be in a crowd without being recognized and immediately called out as some kind of criminal, and it doesn't require him to use his brain much, for once. so his smile's easy as he cranes over to squint at the tube.]

Ah..."Caution: flammable. Keep away from ignition sources and avoid overhead obstructions. For outdoor use only, on...concrete? Asphalt?...or other hard level surfaces." Ah, I've no idea what those are, so I hope you do.

[is his eyesight good? yes. is he having a bit of culture shock, falling out of ancient China into a relatively modern city? unfortunately also yes.]

[Finally, Dazai has decided to behave(ish) and do some proper work! ... Except of course he's doing his absolute worst on purpose. Listen, they wanted him to decorate! They never mentioned any demands as to how. Doing his absolute worst keeps things interesting, making for good motivation to keep at it.]

You think so?

[Tilting his head, Dazai regards his work again, the absolute picture of incomprehension. Could this truly be considered ugly?! (Yes. Yes, it absolutely can.)]

I feel like it's a nice and vibrant combination, myself.

[No one has, technically, asked Reim to hover around looking very serious with his little leather notebook, occasionally giving volunteers Looks and scribbling something down in his tidy little handwriting. Technically, he's been asked to count crates, mostly because he comes with his own Thing To Write Tally Marks On, but that's so bottom-rung and he's declared himself the manager of this fireworks area.

Like, privately. Inside. No one has to know that.

So, as he passes by with his notebook in hand, he pauses to peer at this particular dangerous tube. Hmm!]

'Do not hold in hand — Place on ground — Light fuse - get away!' [hmm.] Well, there is something to be said for fair warning.

[womp..... he just Gazes at this firework for a moment before flipping a page to a table he has drawn by hand, featuring various fireworks label indicators like 'green dots - 3' and 'red stripe - vert' and where each of them is supposed to go. He begins to write; get away!...]

[It was moreso curiosity than a sense of goodwill that had brought Matoba strolling down the parade-prep avenue, but once he's there, he can't help a childlike sense of wonder at the massive floats and colorful decorations of the festival. Spending most of his time in lush forests and mountainsides far from this kind of urban environment, the neon of the city was different enough, to say nothing of how it looked when trussed up for a celebration.]

[Really, he's probably more in the way of everyone doing actual work as he strolls around between the different worksites, but it's one in particular that causes him to stop in his tracks, and not entirely of his own will.]

[He tries to look at the stall. Really, he does- except that his one good eye just keeps trying to squint shut as he stares at it.] Aah. This is a problem...

[Luckily, he hears a familiar voice nearby! Still shaking his head out from the disorientation, Matoba turns his head away from the trainwreck of a stall and towards the voice, trying to make out the face. Too bad his eye is seeing spots now.] ...Don't tell me, you're responsible for this?

( None of this is ideal, really, but it's better than he might have expected. Still, with a meagre check and...humble housing, Nanami finds the learning curve to be just a little bit steeper than he's prepared for. He likes to think of himself as adaptable, far more so than his stiff demeanor might suggest, but there are only so many hits to an ego that a man can take before, eventually, he needs to sit down and find a way to carry the burden of his new reality. It is of only moderate consolation, then, that he'd managed to find something somewhat resembling some of his favorite comfort foods at the conbini down the street from his assigned Sutoku housing complex.

He'll make do tonight with a 7-eleven sandwich and a cheap can of Kirin until he can stock his fridge properly. It's difficult to say whether it's worsened or bettered by the view from the balcony: effervescent crowds of monsters (and some humans) below, and the methodical flash of a gradient of neon across the way, advertising a haphazard tower of a variety of shops and entertainment hubs from dollar stores to electronics repairs. It's home, but not home at all, as he settles precariously into the folding patio armchair he'd spent the bulk of his first paycheck on—particularly so when the scent of tobacco wafts his way. He'd never been more than a social smoker, and only in the office because it was easier than the circular offer-and-refusal conversations about it, but the sense of normalcy it invokes is powerful enough for him to pause at his first bite. )

Do you think they sell black-out curtains anywhere, or is this considered natural lighting?

( His delivery is deadpan enough that it might seem like sarcasm. It isn't, though Nanami is already mostly resigned to learning a new set of inconveniences to manage in his afterlife. )

[ The district is large enough that even people who might be passingly familiar with each other for slightly embarrassing reasons (as much as Kimmuriel finds anything truly embarrassing) won't run into each other very often.

But here he is. In something resembling conceding, he does move away from Kim to give him space when he realizes he's there, which happens to benefit him as well.

But at this point the drow does have some investment in plant shopping and so here he is, staring at the plants on display. There are not many of them, and many of them are in the same tragic state the mint is. ]

....why bother selling them like this at all? [ He pinches the bridge of his nose as he looks at these tiny, sorry sights. ]

Threaded | Flat

a, high definition ayyy!

b, i. decorating

eyes needed

b i (when in doubt, go bi)

eyes

b. decorating!