jigokulogs | ( closed ) i'm the wound you tried to hide

[ --only for the familiar burning ache to cut through the monotony. shylock clutches his chest, panting loudly as he sinks down, down, down onto the floor once more. no, why did this happen again, didn't it already spark back to life a couple of times already...?!

it's a lot painful too, this time, enough to render him useless as he curls in onto himself, teeth grit as his face contorts in extreme discomfort. of all times, it just had to be during matoba's visit... how auspicious indeed.

he doesn't make a vocal sound, but matoba will notice that it's taking shylock far too long to retrieve the things needed, along with the fact that a small trail of smoke is starting to waft from the door... ]

Of course it did, you ridiculous man...

[softly said, because she did run through a chunk of her energy trying to fight for him and having to heal herself.]

I'm grateful that you somehow survived.

[the pulse in his veins, the warmth in him, the breath he takes - it's all for the best. a solemn reassurance that he's still here with her, and that she didn't have to weep over his corpse today. she can't smile, worry etched too deeply into her face for it. he can't act like it's nothing at all.]

...I need to see your chest.

[because if it left marks, aftereffects - she wants to fix those. to feel like she's doing more than being scared for him.]

[The suffering expression returns, just as it had that day at the beach.] Shylock-san, you really are a meddling old man, aren't you? Rest assured, I took plenty of advantage of my position with those tittering Celestials. [Well, whatever. Matoba supposes that he doesn't mind, as long as Natori has to suffer too. So there.]

[He sips at his tea, watching as the wizard bustles himself towards the back to obtain this special drink that he's so eager to show him. Speaking of what he had learned from the Celestials, he thinks back to the subject of the conversation they'd had that night, the spirits of the wizards' world. Perhaps Shylock would be interested to know, as well- the suspicions and hushed fears that those gods had shared.]

[As Matoba ponders this, he realizes that the sounds of Shylock rummaging through the back closets has faded, and that the silence has extended just a little too long. With a small frown, he sits in the stillness of the otherwise empty bar, listening to only the muffled sounds of the city outside, and wonders just what is taking him so long.]

[Draining his teacup, he slides off of the stool and meanders towards the back, noting the scent of smoke that begins to get stronger as he goes. Shylock's pipe, he supposes, thinking with a scoff that he had scurried off for a smokebreak. Well. Fool on Matoba for falling for his tricks, then--]

[He rounds a corner into the back room, and that's where he finds the sight. The soft glow emanating from Shylock's core was unmistakable right away, illuminating his face uncharacteristically contorted in pain. For a moment, Matoba can only stare at the bizarre sight, like kitsunebi over a lake in the summertime, but the magical and cursed nature of that flame was unmistakable. He could smell it, acrid, mixed with the scent of burning flesh and clothes.]

Isn't that just something, Shylock-san? [He says after a moment of watching,] It seems we have more in common than we'd like.

[ as the fire dies down, murr's grip and embrace tightens. is it him realizing that shylock is still whole, not some pile of dust? is it him wanting shylock to know that he's still there, for better or for worse, willing to risk his own health for another western wizard--- having some kind of pride for who they are and a shared background that will always be relevant?

or: ]

Too late to melt the chocolate and marshmallows now...

[ murr raises his head. he looks up at shylock. ]

... we can do it later though, right?

[ s'mores, please. ]

Fufu. Something as miniscule as a fire on my chest won't be enough to turn me into stone.

[ that certainly is an odd euphemism for dying, but! shylock as always takes this in stride, still having the gall to chuckle at emily'd apparent distress despite being the one in utter pain just now. what can he say, he's used to it.

which is why when emily makes that request, shylock is barely holding back the urge to waggle his eyebrows at her. this!! isn't the time!!! ]

Who am I to deny such a demand?

[ he unbuttons his shirt, and the first thing emily will see is his crest -- a lily-shaped black tattoo right above his chest, a little singed from the fire but otherwise manageable. nothing too badly burned. ]

[ give him a moment to find his voice after that ordeal. shylock's expression then relaxes, breathing in and out despite the acrid smell of burning, then looks up to hizen with a weak smile. ]

Hizen...

[ hold on, let him just. reach his hand up to brush away the flyaway hair from hizen's forehead, fingers tracing down to cup his poor cheek. he'll explain in a while, just -- let him have this too. even now he still can't resist giving a rise out of this sword? his reactions just now are very cute. very nice. isn't it wonderful to be experiencing multitudes of emotions? it is undeniable proof that they're alive at this very moment. ]

This is the second time you saved me. Thank you.

Edited 2022-08-27 12:23 (UTC)

[her expression loses none of its worry for his laughter, for seeing the crest. pensive, almost, in her evaluation.]

Does it still hurt?

[it's a strange mark, but she can ask about it when her priority of him healthy is met.]

(He doesn't move. He's entirely too focused on making sure Shylock is well. Really well. The way he smiles up at him makes his heart pang and he feels so damned tired now that the worst seems to have passed.)

Shut up. (He doesn't want to hear it. This--) This ain't about me.

(And he gets up from Shylock's bedside and runs to the bathroom. There's the sound of running water and when he returns, he has a wet washcloth, cool with water and places it to his forehead.)

How d'ya feel? (He places a hand just above Shylock's heart, feeling for any residual warmth and places the cloth over that next.) I dunno what... Tell me... what t'do.

[ shylock shakes his head weakly. ]

It comes and goes. I feel drained at the moment.

Will you... lay me down somewhere? That's more comfortable.

Still... thinking about breakfast...

[ babe at this point he's lost his appetite. the embers do die down a moment later, and shylock is finally able to breathe for a moment.

and, well. maybe being embraced like this by him is nice every once in a while. he can get used to this. ]

Fufu. Perhaps I should set myself on fire more often, if it makes you act like this.

[ let him be indulgent okay ]

Of course! Breakfast is an anytime food, Shylock!

[ same with dessert. actually there's very little difference between the two. ]

... don't do that.

[ again, his voice comes out a little less bouncy and playful as it might normally be. but now that the fire is out, he can finally move up and snuggle closer to his cheek and chin. ]

I like you like this.

[ nice and warm and not on fire! ]

Your exorcist acquaintance?

[Owen doesn’t know what Matoba’s deal is… help…

He does agree there’s something funny about knowing there are other people who have to deal with Murr and his impulses. And his everything else.]

What? I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.

[Chocolate!! Boozy chocolate!!]

You'll have to lean on me, but I can get you downstairs.

[taking his arm to put around her shoulders, she starts gently helping him up, making sure he's not losing his footing or grip the entire way. downstairs is a bit of a trek, but if they go slow, together, they can make it. there's a far more comfortable bed to lay down on for recovering patients that he can make use of, clean and quiet, but she's slow to let go, wanting to make sure he really is going to rest.]

[ shylock didn't even notice the human at first, too wrapped up in this fiery ache to be focusing on anything else. it's a pathetic sight, one that matoba would revel in for days to come, and for shylock to deal with again and again and again.

he does look up when matoba speaks though, straining as he does so. after all the bravado he puts up in front of the exorcists, it all comes down like a tower on fire. how deeply poetic. and kind of funny too, judging from that chuckle that leaves his lips despite his predicament. ]

Matoba...

[ whoops, there goes the honorific. ]

Coming to laugh at me, I presume? I know you've been waiting-- [ he winces for a hot second there as he continues to clutch at his heart ] -- for this, but this truly i-isn't the time.

[ even now he still has some poise in him... ]

[ it's not as though he's running a fever after that, right? but maybe hizen is just acting upon his instincts anyway. it's natural to cool something down with water.

shylock once again shakes his head, careful not to let the washcloth fall from his forehead. he'll let hizen fuss over him this one time, for his own indulgence. ]

I'm serious, Hizen. There's nothing you could do, because the phenomenon you saw just now was my affliction. It was a curse given to us by the Great Calamity.

[ --ah, that's right. he hadn't explained to hizen about that in detail, had he? ]

Am I laughing?

[Is he even smiling? Matoba's mouth was curled, he had felt his lips press on their own as he watched, but even he could not tell if it was a grimace or a smirk. A complicated disgust had settled in his chest as he watched Shylock suffer.]

[Slowly, Matoba steps closer into the storeroom and kneels to be eye-level with Shylock. In the firelight, his eye gleams like a predator who has found its prey already weakened for it.]

Did you know? The power which was given to us exorcists by our gods is the power of purifying fire. That is why our targets turn to ashes when they are exorcised. Purifying flames are impossible to put out on their own. Once they begin eating away at their target, the only way they can be extinguished is to consume their target completely.

[For a long moment he keeps his eye on Shylock's, and then drops it to watch the flames dance again. Did they intensify and ebb with the beating of his heart? Matoba watches carefully, testing to see if they reacted to any of his words. Maybe his words would simply be brushed off, anyway.]

[Matoba reaches slowly into the sleeve of his kimono, and draws out a paper spell.] This might hurt a little, Shylock-san. But I suppose at this point, it wouldn't matter.

[With the spell clasped between the fingers of his right hand in prayer, he slams that palm against Shylock's burning chest, a sealing ward which crackles and fizzles with Matoba's magic, combating the will of the curse in the depths the flames.]

Edited 2022-09-01 23:20 (UTC)

You've met him, didn't you? A certain Matoba Seiji.

[ you know, the guy with one eye and the atrocious vibes not unlike a northerner's. or an easterner, with that personality of his. take your pick.

but yes yes, shylock knows that owen gets suckered in pretty easily when it comes to sweets, so his magic will now do the work of setting up the ultimate mudslide cocktail. the usual accoutrements accompany him on the bar counter, but this time he has to bring out the chocolates and ice cream and the like. yummy. ]

This might be my first time making this type of cocktail, so I trust that you can give me your honest thoughts after I'm done, hm?

[ shylock grunts with every step they take, still clutching at his heart even as he's laid down on the bed. he's not resting just yet though, as he's still looking at emily's distressed face with a weary smile. ]

It's too bad. If I truly did get worse burn, I would've been able to see you at your element.

[ alas... ]

[ to murr, anytime is breakfast time, huh...

he does fall silent at that, though. "i like you like this," he says. that would've satisfied any other person who didn't know better, but not shylock. as always, no matter the form, murr is always there to poke at the smoldering flames of his heart, checking if he could kick up another fire by just kicking at the dying embers of his heart.

he hates murr oh so much.

and yet here he is, gingerly returning his embrace by hooking his hand around the other's back. ]

Mm. I know.

[ and he hates how much murr knows that he'll always love him no matter what, too. ]

(Thank you for letting him fuss, Shylock, because it does help Hizen feel like he has more control of the situation and that, in turn, makes him feel less stressed.)

A curse...?

(Spoken with a quiet gasp and he frowns. That would explain the unnatural flame. He'd already figured it was magic of some sort but to be an actual curse? Who would do that? Or... the Great Calamity? That would make it a "what" then, right? He won't ask for Shylock to explain but it's obvious that he's confused and would very much like one.)

I still can offer you some kind of relief.

[taking a deep breath, she reaches back for the energy she'd had to discard earlier. she could swear Hibiki is laughing at her, but the light reenters her hands, and her expression is focused, putting a hand over his heart.

it won't erase the full drain of the burning, the moon's toll on him, but it will ease any lingering pain - a warmth like a touch, coaxing out strain, infusing him with a little more energy. relaxing what was hurting, leaving him room to breathe. he'll be able to rest somewhat easier, and when she pulls back, she doesn't look as distressed. just a little tired, but that's usual for her.]

[ and it's knowing that makes murr content. that while he easily gets bored by the mundane, the common, the predictable... sometimes it's good to have that. he may not personally acknowledge it. but being able to keep shylock in his arms, hold what's consistent close to his heart, something reachable and attainable and possible...

if there's another meaning, murr doesn't really feel like reaching for it right now. ]

Don't forget it.

[ after all. he is of shylock's own making. who knows if one day there might be no murrs in his life? ]

Mhm.

[ he nods. yes, it's his turn to impart some lore and knowledge to hizen here. how exciting...! ]

But first, will you do me a favor and prop me up properly on the headboard? Fufu, playacting sick does have its appeal, as I've discovered just now.

[ why did he have to say that out loud, though... ]

I won't.

[ usually most people who aren't wizards would put in "i promise" at the end of that. but shylock knows better than say something like that, especially in a moment of weakness. just being held by murr is more than enough, incredibly indulgent as it is.

later he will make him smores for breakfast. it'll be just another normal day in the shymurr household, and shylock wouldn't want it any other way. ]

[ shylock takes slow, deep breaths, letting emily's magic(?) course through him like soothing waves. it's a different kind of magic, much too gentle compared to someone of figaro's caliber for example, and he doesn't dislike it at all.

once he feels like his usual self again, he smiles at her. not a weak one, but a tired one. it's been a Day. ]

I can never thank you enough, Emily...

[ ... ]

Except... You wanted an explanation, do you?

( closed ) i'm the wound you tried to hide

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