March 2022 IC Mingle

[jigokumods]

MAIN NAVIGATION

1. WELCOMING COMMITTEE

cw: optional aphro in Tamamo Clan prompt

The influx of Lost Souls means the factions need to have a little welcoming party of sorts. The leaders of each faction each send a message to their new recruits, telling them to meet at their respective headquarters.

The Shuten Clan directs their new recruits to the Arena. There’s plenty of food and booze to go along with the exhibition matches from the toughest fighters they’ve got. Enjoy the view or get involved in an arena fight, if you’re feeling spicy. If bloodsport isn’t your cup of tea, there’s a number of gambling games to partake in, too – don’t worry, your money isn’t at stake here, unless you want it to be.

The Tamamo Clan recruits are sent to the brothel Mizukume. Hosts of all sorts are there to fill your every need. If you’re not one to be doted on, there’s also exotic dancers in every state of undress for you to look at. You may be tasked with being a host or a dancer yourself. If you’re not in the mood for that, there’s plenty of food from Tamamo-controlled restaurants to eat and seemingly endless drinks. The drinks may or may not have a little something extra in them, so check the labels carefully.

The Sutoku Alliance meets at the nightclub Konoha. It’s truly a celebration with an enormous amount of fast food from every joint in their district and an equal amount of cheap drinks. Sing your heart out with live band karaoke – don’t worry about them not knowing your song, they seem to have a depth of knowledge beyond this world. Once that settles down, there’s plenty of dancing to do or you can be a wallflower, whatever suits your mood.

The Department of the Enma meets at a meeting room on the top floor of Kaigo no Bou. The room is uncomfortably opulent and wouldn’t be out of place in a Heian imperial court. Fine silk tapestries cover the walls, richly lacquered wood is inlaid with gold, and it all feels like it was decorated by someone with more money than taste. There’s fine food and even finer drink available. Various multi-armed youkai play in a jazz band, playing their instruments in a much more complicated manner than strictly necessary. Stretch your legs and dance. Take a peek out the window for a bird’s eye view of the city. If the interior is too stuffy for you, escape to the roof for some fresh air – just be careful not to fall off.

2. PARTY TIME

CW: optional aphro

After everyone’s had their fill of food, drink, and entertainment: the party isn’t over. They’re told to make their way to Konoha with the instruction to show their faction’s pride. That’s a careful way to tell them to raise hell. Upon arrival, all recruits are provided with an advance on their pay by The Enma. Food is provided by the Shuten Clan, a variety of all sorts of meaty foods. Drinks are provided by the Tamamo Clan, but be wary because some may have that special Tamamo kick to them (read: aphro). It’s technically a neutral meeting place, but there’s almost certain to be a fight sooner or later. Entertain yourself, meet the other factions, and raise some Hell.

Welcome to the IC mingle!

• If you have any questions about the mingle content, please ask them here!
• If you have questions about the game itself, please check out the premise, FAQ, and rules pages.

Comments

ryomen sukuna / jjk / shuten

[thousand]

PARTY TIME

[ Sukuna is always here for a bit of a romp, and it seems that this hellscape is hardly the hellscape that he would have pictured. In fact, this whole affair is rather heavenly to the king of curses, and he's already leering at the various fox-faced youkai, and the drunk revellers of every conceivable species and form. Objectively, he does know what a nightclub is— they were a little different back in his day, in old Heian, but he's been around modern Japan for enough time to be unfazed by the electronic burr of the music, and the flickering, strobing lights. There is something far more favourable about the depravity and excess of a hellish club; nothing is off the table it seems— there is no table at all, only unfettered gluttony.

The chaos suits him; he suits it too with his striped, faintly crazed face.

There's the sense of being loosed from a cage, with Sukuna— like he's been un-collared, sprung free— a frenetic, vibrant energy about him that seems to crackle in the air like static. At first glance, he appears to be human, but in the dark of the club his eyes gleam with their opalescent film, catching any hints of red in the room and refracting them outwards.

There is no greater separation from humanity than this: he can see in the dark.

And naturally, he's here for a good time.

He can smell that some of the drinks are suspicious, but he's far from above buying one for whoever places themselves near to him at the bar. Hey, it's been a hot minute since he had some good, old-fashioned, debauched fun, and it won't take long before he's raising a sharp brow at whoever is enough of his type to catch his eye, and crooking a snaggle-toothed smile in their direction. He's got a particular purr when he's hitting on someone (lmao), and it's in full, suwajun swing here: ]

What a fine night. Though you're far finer.

[ He doesn't seem wholly serious; there's a lazy, indulgent look about him as he eyes his new companion. ]

[hashira]

[ Met by a stark contrast, Konoha is nothing like the meeting room he was previously in. Within the Department of the Enma, he had naturally faded into the background; a true wallflower. Or wallpaper fitting the ostentatious decor. Rather than enjoy the company about him, or the many samplings of what fine dining could provide. Music nor drink kept him in place, while he nurtures his own desires to bond with people the initial steps were formulated with one individual in mind. His stay here threw a wrench into those plans. If it hadn't been for the announcement of a new rendezvous point, he would have contended himself on the roof of that towering skyscraper.

It was quite a view. To think such a structure could exist. But he keeps in mind this place is anything but normal.

The nightclub only serves to cement the peculiarity of this so called hell, along with the fact that he is lacking in knowledge and experience. From his vantage point, some people seem fully at ease, ready to immerse themselves into this environment without a thought. They can navigate their way freely in a manner he can only envy. Yet, no strives are made to mingle, no action is taken.

The sanctuary created for himself at a corner of the bar, far from crowds, blaring music, the flashing lights and an ever attentive bartender is soon invaded. Words are registered and despite a gaze fixed on him, there is a momentary pause. Then he looks away, towards his left, but he is met with a wall. Now there is no mistaking that the friendly chatter is aimed at him. Despite awareness, he doesn't immediately speak. Here in this club, much like in within the department and the whole of this city there were plenty of none human entities. Something to adjust to, to accept, that is as long as none became ravenous creatures who threatened others.

Giyu has never been impulsive, careful consideration is always given, and this situation is no different.

However, no matter how much thought he gives this, he isn't certain how to tackle or approach this conversation. Who knew that training to join the Demon Slayer Corps wouldn't make him apt for socialization. In this case, he decides to answer honestly. ]

I am not fine.

[ Rather, while he can tolerate the surroundings, it's a bit of a shock to the senses. He adjusts, he conforms, but it does put him ill at ease to be here. Of course, there are further concerns regarding his time in this city. ]

[thousand]

[ Standing out in the crowd of Konoha's patrons— who at a glance, are as varied as birds of paradise and just as strange— is no easy feat. There are all kinds of creatures; furred, clawed— some are huge; the great skeletons of old youkai, women with necks as long as the bodies of snakes. Sukuna, for all of his striped, feral looks, fits in with ease; he might as well have always been there. It's the dark haired youngster next to him that is the true standout; human, from what Sukuna can tell (or smell, more accurately), and not engaging in any of the frantic merrymaking of the crazed audience.

There is a fact that Sukuna is certain of: the boy is beautiful.

Not a boy, maybe, a little older. He can't tell; the face seems youthful enough, but it is the eyes that have his attention above everything else. Aged, in their way, as if he were not quite inured to his surroundings, but simply— ill-fitting.

He has to lean closer in order to hear the voice; soft and tempered by the loud thud of the music, though Sukuna seems to take pleasure in leaning in like that, an ear turned to hear him more accurately. The gesture itself holds a certain intimacy— even if it is only a practical one; one clawed hand touches gently to the tip of the other's elbow. The curse breathes a huff of bemusement at the answer, pulling back to regard Giyu from beneath hooded eyes; the look on his face all lazy indulgence. The second pair of eyes on Sukuna's face, below his own, are open too— like the face of a spider, all the eyes locked onto him. ]

You might not be, but your face certainly is.

[ There's a prickle of teeth in Sukuna's smile, and he leans an elbow on the lip of the bar, standing in a casual slant, looking at Giyu sidelong. ]

Your eyes. [ Calm down Casanova.....but, he's shrugging, taking a sip of his drink like it's just a fact that he's stating. There's the faintest clink of sharp teeth against the rim of his glass. ] The colour is most unusual.

[ Sukuna's own— bloody red— snap to Giyu's. ]

Tell me your name, boy, and I will tell you mine.

[ Something in the way that Sukuna purrs that, sounds like the bargaining of any ancient creature. The sort of crux of a folktale— a name for a name. ]

[hashira]

[ If Sukuna hopes to sail his ship through a journey of carnal desires, or any form of passion he'll only find his destination is disappointment.

Charm is wasted on Tomioka Giyu. A glean of the creature's face, its casual mannerisms and he doesn't bat an eye. He seems to endlessly stare without a hint on his features of his attempts to decipher the puzzle that is this interaction. Yet, despite not blinking once, and seemingly unperturbed he notes the distance closing. Steady. Finally, there is contact. There is no flicker of a gaze, it's unnecessary, he is navigating lacking experience which amounts to an unsettling exchange.

But it's hardly noted from the way he continues to look on, and the very fact he hasn't budged. He remains rooted to his spot at the bar, a place that no longer serves as his sanctuary.

Even breathing, practiced, constant. Relief washes over him, there is a moment of respite. Short as it may be, finally he does blink, only to be met by a new sight. No longer do a single pair of eyes regard him with interest, now it is two. Aside from markings, the aura about this man painted a clear picture, but now even more obvious is his inhuman nature. Trained in battle against demons, a witness to the struggles of those within the corps, and acquainted with loss and despair. This isn't a cause for shock.

As for words spoken. Whether he is as the creature before him states, he has made his own conclusions. They're in disagreement.

Once again, his gaze is fixed upon the creature and once again it remains ever steady. Yes, those eyes. Those dark blue eyes akin to a dead fish's are the ones Sukuna has opted to drown in. And for all he may appear pensive or even reclusive. He only has a single word to say of a response. ]

Why?

[ Why would they use names as bargaining chips, why wouldn't this creature opt to simply introduce himself from the start. Is that all his words amounted to? Was he having a difficult time approaching people? ]

[thousand]

[ Sukuna's gaze sharpens at the question, as if initially reading it as impudence— the tone, however, doesn't strike him immediately as mouthy. In fact, it doesn't particularly strike him at all. There's an arch of a brow at the boy, a hint of curiosity in the way that all four of Sukuna's eyes narrow at him now. ]

Don't ask me foolish questions, I'll pluck those pretty eyes out of your head.

[ It takes the curse barely a second to sneer, and less than that to smile— they're done in quick succession, like the show of teeth is a warning, like he's used to curbing his conversations to suit himself. His teeth, of course, fit his face— they're human-adjacent enough to not cause immediate fear, but upon closer inspection they're jagged; like he houses a mouth full of crushed glass.

Sukuna spreads his hands in a placating gesture (or, it would be placating if they weren't so— clawed), voice now tinged with that rolling, languid quality that is more indulgent than anything else. ]

My name is Ryomen Sukuna. You likely know of me.

[ There's a cocky little up-tilt of his chin as he announces himself....... because he presumes that literally everybody knows about his ancient Japanese mythological status (that is from a tome that barely anyone actually studies anymore....), so surely his reputation must precede him! Of course, he hasn't had quite as much luck here with that, but he's made it very clear to his fellow Shuten members that he's some sort of king (no one is sure exactly what he is king of, not even Sukuna himself). While his powers may have been taken from him, he is relatively beefy and has nasty claws/fangs, so everyone took him at face value on the king thing.

He studies his claws for a minute, though that lower pair of eyes don't leave Giyu. ]

If you do not know of me, it's no matter. Now you do. [ His upper eyes flick to Giyu's now too. ] How lucky for you.

[hashira]

[ More than slight offense at the face of his proper inquiry being dismissed, he never gains an answer to his question yet he is meant to be sufficed by being fed a name. With that introduction he begins to grasp on to the full egoism on display, his response remains to further stare at his newfound attachment.

If Giyu was meant to be cowed, there is minimal change in his countenance. Appearing unflappable, no information can be easily garnered from observing him. He may as well have been a wall. From his own perspective, Giyu has seen enough of the creature at his side, the accusation of his question being foolish accompanied by a threat won't warm him. Finally, he averts his gaze opting to focus his attention straight ahead. Already willing himself out of the nightclub, far off somewhere else, in a somewhere impossible to reach at the present time.

As for the question of familiarity to be found in the name uttered, though it may be old and sparsely known tale, one which details of escape him, recognition flares. He makes no mention of it, all the same it seems that it hardly matters to the one calling himself Ryomen Sukuna. At that moment, his decision has been made. Suddenly at his feet knowing he won't be able to manage this conversation, sensing his own displeasure rising. Perhaps he is quick to decide he doesn't enjoy his current company, but for now, it is best if he made his way out of the club.

For once, if briefly, Sukuna would receive a clue to thought. Short-lived as it may be, the incredulous look upon Giyu's face tells all. There is nothing fortunate to be discovered, on the contrary.

A short bow signals his farewell before he is ducking away without a word. ]

[thousand]

[ It might be that he is so inured to fear on a face that he expects it before it even crosses the features. Perhaps it was really there. Sukuna presumes in the split second that the hashira bows his way out, that he must know, exactly, what he is. Of course, his reputation was taught in the lesser-known schools— the warnings found their ways through the years to become myths. The terrified campfire tales of the two-faced creature became something to whisper just before a children's game— a test of courage in an abandoned building, or on a dark, humid night in the rainy season.

He knows the boy intends to leave, so it's half a second before he reaches out a hand— those wicked claws fully exposed— and grabs him by the wrist so viciously that he feels the skin split where the nails dig in.

There will be marks there; not the crescent indents of nails either— Sukuna's claws are as long as any oversized carnivore's.

They dig further.

He draws the boy back, to purr into his ear: ]

Don't think I can't smell you for what you are, child. [ There's violence in the voice, too; even if it sputters like an engine— lazy and dragging. ] You reek of your magic.

[ Jujutsu, cursed energy— there are names for the hashira's techniques in his time, but he knows, barely, the rumours of the fire wielders and the water wielders. A dangerous lot— best to scare him into his place early on.

The claws keep digging; the tendons in Sukuna's wrist standing out. ]

You don't want me as your enemy, so tread lightly.

[hashira]

[ Details of the tale are a blur, difficult to recall, to the point of impossibility. It's an olden myth akin to those of varied youkai, from the many tailed foxes who take on a human form or those long lived cats. Even popular folklore isn't easy to recall, Momotaro's tale, that fisherman lost for one hundred years, they're olden myths spread at the laps of elders bestowed upon the next generation. For someone like Giyu, there wasn't the opportunity to engrave those such tales to memory.

Orphaned young, left in the care of his kind, hardworking older sister, she too was lost to him. A single decision is what led him down the path he travels now. At a crossroad Giyu had he not taken destiny into his own hands, had he not, then without a doubt his situation would be drastically different. Perhaps, if the boy he once was allowed others to decide his future, had he accepted their judgment of him then he would know those stories by heart.

As it stands, knowledge or lack of pertaining to this folk figure matters not. Malcontent has settled in, aloof as he may be, he is still a stubborn man.

Therefore to divest himself of present company, he made his choice, even if he is miffed about having to give up the safety he found in this small corners of the nightclub. Measured steps, determined — yet he is forced to a halt. Not quick enough to evade capture his wrist is taken hostage, yet he obstinately refuses to glance back at his captor. The press of nails dig deeper, past the protective layer of cloth, only the fangs and nails of high ranking demons can make their mark.

It's telling as his flesh is pierced, as blood pools around the wounds, droplets of scarlet trickle and scatter upon the nightclub floor (likely nothing new). If Sukuna expects to easily draw him back, it's going to be a struggle one that ultimately Giyu does not win. ]

We won't be exchanging words again.

[ That is all he has to say, basically amounting to: I'm never talking to you. With that he wrenches himself free, in spite of pointed curves digging deeper, even as they further carve into skin. But he is free. The only thing left to wonder is if it's due to his own volition and strength or was he shown a reprieve by the creature he leaves behind. ]

[thousand]

Won't we.

[ There's something manic in the way that Sukuna smiles at him now, something feral and creature-like and evil. The scent of blood hits him immediately and he allows Giyu to reclaim his hand, raising his own claws to his mouth and licking off the blood with a pleased sneer. It's permitted— he lets him go. But, the boy's blood tastes of the ocean; the salt of it, and Sukuna has a taste for him now. He'll find that little exorcist again, he thinks, and the next time will be far less cordial.

Or— not.

His whims can turn at the slightest prompting, and well— those eyes are very lovely. He's not as quick to crush a beautiful thing; maybe he'll give him a chance to grovel for his life. Perhaps he'll forgive his insolence and his exorcist ways if the boy allows him to creep in close.

There are many things a human will do to maintain their life.

Sukuna's not adverse to taking the things that he wants through force, too, or by threat.

That red gaze follows Giyu as he exits, as if he can still see him even through the bodies of the people that crowd the club. ]