Cirlot

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Urban Trail Park [Night 1 12.23.18] There's an involuntary intake of breath - unneeded, unwanted by his dead lungs but he is still too quick, too newly gone to have lost the capacity of surprise - and Kit immediately regrets it. The air roils with smells, fresh and forgotten, a history of perfume of sweet and urine and sewage and flowers and late night takeout and cigarettes and rain. so help him, the air is so thick with it he could chew it and make a meal of the tastes coating his throat. And beneath it all . . . Following Seta's shadow his eyes leap the yards between the near dark and the far, to the cluster of hands and faces and necks craned around the cherry ember of a shared cigarette that burned bright as a torch in his sight and beneath it all . . .beneath it all. . . . Copper. Iron. Salt. Blood. The voices, the laughter rippling like a stream beneath the breeze are accented and foreign. The phone bleats something stilted and subtitled, some anime jingle from years ago downsized to a palm sized screen and made tiny through cheap speakers. Shared smokes. Cheap phone. Late night. Kit chuckles despite himself - he's a brisk walk from Ava's apartment and the reason it's a brisk walk is because she'd sought a place within a few blocks of Ikebukuro Linguistics Academy campus. Students. They were students. Hell, possibly even some of Ava's friends though - the anime jingled reached a rising chorus to a titter of laughter and he shook his head. Bit more otaku than her crew. Night classes then. Maybe on the same trajectory she had been - scratching at sustainability during the early evening hours, learning by late night and sleeping or shopping or sightseeing by day. Some would make it and end up a part of the salaried everymen, surrendering these night hours and stolen moments for the stability of daylight. Or they'd fall, sliding into the darker corners of the night - soap houses and hostess bars, or even further. Or they'd vanish completely, running home or consumed by the city completely. How long had he been a night creature, before she'd made him one? And how many of those vanished hopes and foreign dreams had been consumed by those like his Sire? Then the thought is lost as his focus wavers and it's not just the students, not just their phones, their heartbeats, or the heartbeat of the snoring man behind the dumpster, but it's all of it. The whole night, the whole city pressing on his ears until individuation is lost in the droning noise; cicadas in winter. *** The noise presses him to the alley walls, the bricks rough on his back through the cheap weave of the second hand clothes Wen had scrounged from . . somewhere. Didn't matter. He shut his eyes and and focused on each sensation individually, trying to separate the static of his senses into discrete inputs, starting with touch. Threads of cotton dragged and hitched across his skin. Sharp granules of brick pricking across his spine. The cool of the air. Damp, the faint slick of the days rain still wetting the air. It took a will and he felt the churn of vitae in his veins as he summoned each feeling to mind and then quashed it, by some alchemy pf intention turning the visceral truth of a thing felt into the shadow of something merely known. Was this how he was going to survive? Cutting off, distancing parts of himself as the blood demanded? Ignoring the thought he turned to his hearing. This, this was harder. There was too much, too much echoing between the alley and the street and the asphalt and . . . bowing his head, he focused not on what he was hearing but what he had heard. Fixing his thoughts on that damn anime theme the students were cooing over - - he divided the world into the sounds nearer than the song and those farther away. Letting the distant ones lapse into the echoing hum of the city he picked a nearer sound and divided his world again. And then again. Until he had dimmed the noise into the soft rush of a passing river. But in it . . . he chased the notes again and was able to lift the song from the waves, like a gleaming peak on the water, before letting it fade back into the whole. He did not know how long it had taken when he opened his eyes and looked at Rin. "I'm assuming you brought me here for something more than a bunch of gaijin otaku and a derelict marinating in trash?"

I'd wager the demand for blood is posturing - it almost demands a ritualistic response of "'Aye, and yours shall serve it well. Or shall we talk of opportunity rather than debts, etc . . ." I mean, it's a clear, unambiguous threat but they didn't have to warn off two topworlders given their numeric advantage. We've got a little room to play without taking them literally. Probably. . . . not gonna lie, really wish Neve had some sort of message or ghosttalk ability right about now. Downside of splitting the party for this setup is the rogue is sidelined for negotiations unless it goes sideways. For what it's worth I figure we either bluff - act like representatives of the treaty that wasn't, just roll in like there's a peace and we're gorram ambassadors demanding information on that insufferable woman so we can deal with her on our terms - or play the merc card: get them to tell us what they want and get it for 'em in exchange for the witch. Without doing a full convo there's not much nuance to leverage otherwise Would it be possible to stipulate that Val and Clarise agreed to some visual or verbal signal to trigger Nev and Wicke into action beforehand? If the goal is ambush Nev would have suggested something a bit less obvious than "now!" as the starting gun.

Wasn't quite sure if you wanted Me to paint a scene and have Kit answer Rin or not - if yes, let me know and I'll expound.

Out of Character Rolling the dice first to tweak the post as needed: we've been using TN of 6 for the prior self control rolls? Self Control •••• + Auspex • EDIT: Dangit, botched the syntax. Grrrr. Second Attempt EDIT 2: . . . alright Weave, FINE. Use your freaking dice wizard instead of in-line rolls. Rist-rasta-frikken-dangnabit . . . EDIT 3: and 2 Successes, the long way 'round 🙄 Kit's mouth tasted like . . . booze. A little bit of blood. The lack of bile wasn't exactly an unpleasant surprise but it didn't do much to recoup the indignity of being head first in a trash can like some ass-backwards Oscar the grouch or a particularly unhappy Winnie the pooh. It also didn't stop the booze from burning on the way back up and it was with several muttering curses at Taro, at whiskey and the whole damn business of drinking that Kit settled in beside his phantasmagoric sire. "Hm. Great. Have me sharpen my senses when I just tasted 80 proof twice." another shake of his head before he sighs at her warning look and shifts, half leaning parallel against the alley wall as he threw his attention down into the darkness. "I've - " his eyes narrow and he can hear the irritated ~tch~ through Rins teeth as he speaks rather than sees. Dropping his voice into a whisper he still needles her with his intended question. "Ever since I woke up I've been . . hearing shit. Clocking heartbeats in the rooms next door, smelling - " he mirrors Rin's own intake of breath, shakes his head as he watches Sakura stroll beneath a flickering light and then cross the alleyway before vanishing into darkness, her path drawing his eye to . . . something. Where she'd been the shadow stood suddenly brighter, thin as air, almost revealing what his blood knew was there his eyes were only now beginning to see.

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Outmou Factory Parking [Night 1 12.23.18] Taking Rin's arm, Kit almost enjoys the walk to the car - the banal domesticity of it is almost comforting in the face of the recent upheavals. It's a memory of touch that once burned him like a frozen brand and now was simply . . . reassuring. Almost. Part of him wondered what he looked like, talking to a phantom. He knew - knew, deep as bones, sure as blood - that the phantom of her sang to him and him alone, inside his mind, from the vein. But to those outside the bounded confines of his skull, what would they see? A lunatic walking arm in arm with naught but night, bottle dragging in hand? Was his arm even raised at all? The rustle of fabric, the press of dead flesh to dead flesh all imagined; instead did he lope lean and alone and hungry along the blacktop rivers? And part of him listened. And worried. *** "Apex predators." Kit teased out the thought in one of Rin's pauses. "Compelled towards strife, I think you said? It's scarcity - it takes a mountain to feed a leopard, a village to feed a king. Or a neighborhood to support an oyabun. Predators can only live off of what others make, or are; so they need a stable population to survive. Competition doesn't exactly make people play nice, hells - " Kit frowned, popping the boot of the Galut and disentangling himself from Rin to lean inside and deposit the bottle. Getting caught with an open container in the drivers compartment was a dumb mistake he wasn't going to make tonight, despite of all the others he was ramping up for. " - yeah, no, that fits. And means I'm in for the shit. I was able to wedge myself into a crack when I came over - built my business and rep in a new territory; by the time the powers that be realized the chugokujin in Ikkeburo were here to stay I was already established. And I suspect none of these clans of yours - Camarilla, Anarchs, whatever, give a rip about expats. You sure as hell didn't need our money." He look sup to find her gone from his side and instead separated by glass, already inside the threshold of the sedan. He follows, going though the rituals. Door, keys, ignition, belt . . . "Gotta say tho, if this is your idea of keeping me in the dark - " the thought it lost when she issues instruction and he's three steps ahead, considering where best to bring the car in while maintaining a safe distance. It was a coin flip, except it wasn't: Sun Court Baki would see the car undisturbed thanks to Mr. Cheng but it came at the cost of a name. His. If it ever came down to a question, an interrogation - Kyoko's, Ripley's, whoever's - Mr. Cheng would remember that Kit had asked for that particular bit of deference that particular night. The guards at the Outmou? Car was a car was a car, and this car wasn't even his. Not really. Loan on a loan, with the paperwork buried two desk deep. Traceable, surely, but only if you were looking, and even then it wasn't his voice in someone's memory, asking for a favor. Just a suspicious circumstance, discrete and deniable. *** It takes him the rest of the ride to catch what isn't said. And it sits uneasily in his gut, roiling with what remained of the whiskey as he tries not to think, not to imagine what remains of her remains. And it takes him longer, until the car glides into a parking spot and he kills the engine, for him to realize the why of what was. He'd joked, about her unreserved sharing of information when they had both agreed not minutes before on the necessity of his ignorance. Only now he realized that all the indecorous musings were in fact verbal slight of hand, baiting him with angles for him to shark and plan and scheme upon. And to make him ignore why they were here. Now. In the park. The engine dies leaving him with silence, his own revived pulse long having fading leaving the churning hunger and he doesn't look at her as he sits in it. What he's about to do. It should bother him more, and that lack strangely does? It's not, he mused, that he was above it. He'd hurt people before, intentionally. Accidentally. Premeditation in his harm was rare and when it did occur it was frequently deniable - the act was planned, the gain sought for but the fallout was somehow it's own separate thing. Nothing like this. Unbuckling, Kit leaned back, craning his neck back until he was pressed against the headrest, eyes closed, contemplative, heaving a breath he did not need. "Does it have to be like this?" He opens his eyes, rolls his head just enough to look at Rin out of the corner of his eyes. "Note Grrl, she talked about how you did it. It was . . . seduction. Power. Game. I can work with that. I know that. Gimme a damn bar and - " he trails off. Another airless sigh; surrender. "What is it you want me to do?"

Alright, a bit truncated but I'll confess to struggling with transitions - Kits going to go to the car, pop the bottle in the trunk (probably throw up somewhere along the way, as I assume the Blush of Life will fade soon) and then head over to Urban Trails. Not sure whether Rin will be persistent the entire trip or not: I'm reasonably comfortable invoking her in my posts for emotiona resonance and that sort of dialogue but she's in full Sire mode so not feeling like I should presume to speak for her at the moment . . .

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18] "'Ivory Demons' - hells . . . " Kit tried to internalize the landscape Rita painted for him, the shades of political terrain and the bright-black lines of demarcation; the boundaries he could - or dare not transgress. And already had. "An outcast among outcasts, a gaijin's gaijin; I would compliment your sense of humor, Rin, if you hadn't made it my job to avoid becoming a punchline." He shakes his head, the barest rueful motion as they circumambulate the pond. "Sounds fractious enough that there may be room to maneuver. Or be maneuvered. Makes my dancing with Kyoko seem almost quaint in comparison. Which - " he frowns, thinks, sighs. " - not for tonight but I imagine each faction has their own stalking horses in the real - " Kit's free hand gestures with the bottle, a slow sweeping circle to the Tokyo nigh even as he corrects himself. " - human world? Companies, gangs, etc?" he paused at that, another thought striking and he shoots Rin a sidelong glance. "Like your galleries. Shit." that almost brings him up short. "Unless you set up contingencies your holdings are probably done for. Can't see me stepping in as viable - makes this all look premeditated - and them floundering as though you fled sells the story. Still - " he winces. He wants to apologize, to make amends for killing her even as she walked with him, talked with him, in all politeness about how she had killed him. " - unfortunate. I imagine they were important to you." "But the story will be easy enough. It's mostly true. And I never - " saw what happened to you. What was left of you. " - don't know what I don't know. Didn't know what you were, I am or we are." Then they stop short and she speaks of training and Kit blinks once. Then twice. "The park." He manages not to drawl the words out in disbelief, instead quirking an eyebrow and shaking his head. "Are you going to have me stalk errant OL's and vagrants like a Jinmenken?" Extending his arm for her to take once more in some echo of chivalry, he nodded towards the exit to the shrine. "It's all the way across Ikkeburro and both you and Wen seem to think I should be mindful of the dawn. So, car, then park. Acceptable?"

Hmmm. So statwise I think it's all gonna be a wash - we're ALL CHA +1. Stealthwise Edgewick and Neve both have that skillset, Neve can speak dwarven, Edgwicke potentially can if we want Gregorotto to speak the language . . . I think the split is Val and Clarise approach and talk? Val is an elf which adds some weight to the approaching under a banner of truce. Plus, if things go pear shaped they're our primary melee combatants and they'll already be in close and ready to swing. That leaves Edgewicke and Neve as hidden backup. We'd be out of sneak attack range but would be able to hail arrows (Edgewick) and crossbow bolts (Neve) into the melee as needed. And this was Neve can interpret the negotiations for Edgewicke without having to burn his one free language. This does put the two PC's least likely to want to parley in charge of it's success, which is one of those serendipitous moments where we can try, reliably fail, then roll into a combat confident we tried everything. Truly, we can have it all 😄

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18] "Hai, Rin." The lack of honorific, of difference between them curdled on the tongue, not sour but tart, sharp and strange. But why need it be so. She was within his own head - or was it the blood? - after all. But still. It felt . . . possessive. And there was a jealous glee in that fact that surprised Kit. Shimada Rin, It Girl. Beacon of sabukaru style. Patron. Aesthete. Vampire. His partner for an immortal life that might last forever. Or be measured in days. "Is this - " he flicked a finger from him, to her, then back again. " - the whole moon eyed 'notice me sempai' bullshit trip I seem to be one, is this how we hunt? That girl you left me with, the one you ghosted, wouldn't piss down my throat if I was on fire and sure as hell is pissed at you but she'd claw over broken glass for my teeth in her neck. And she never - " tasted you. The thought made the still life-flushed flesh of him quicken, redden, the false pulse in his neck tripping upon itself as it peaked at the memory of her taking. His dying. Hells, he hoped the blush faded soon - he wasn't looking forward to having to purge the alcohol but so help him the adrenaline and alcohol pin-balling through his veins and nerves was distracting as hell and Rin, close as she was, near as she was, was more so. SO much more so. Worse than a goddamn schoolboy. "I'm guessing we - " he doesn't use Kindred, doesn't want to get familiar with a term he ought not know. " - don't hunt each other. Or feed. You told me, at the hotel, when - " a small gesture with his hands, inarticulate and pained. Remembering her cold and still inprofile on one side of him, the ghost of her whispering to him from the other. " - I'd broken a rule. A big one. So we don't hunt each other, don't kill each other, at least. Except - " he raises a finger, trailing an exception in the air between them. " - zaibatsu rules? If Ripley or Boone or this Primogen decide I've transgressed, it's my ass. Laws aren't for those that make them, which they do, right?" "Which means these interviews of theirs, when they happen, I'll need to keep as much a lid on things as I can." "Alright, big picture. We'll talk about the other supernatural shit another day, the . . . Camarilla, is it, is the primary threat. Organization. Thing I have to deal with - " Kit rubbed his forehead, wrinkles already fading as the his skin lost the plasticity of his false, second life. "Camrilla. That's not Japanese . . . one of the romance languages, maybe? So not local. Which tracks with Boone. Ripley. Amos. Preston. But Kaeyoni is. Or at least pretends to be." "You're talking factions. Like Kyoko's Kyokuto-kai versus the Matsuba-kai, or the Yakuza versus the Chinesse Dragons or Complex 2K. Foreign and domestic factions with families or clans within each. And within your faction the Prince - Preston - he's the oyabun -" Kit rolls his eyes at Rin's leveling look at her protege " - it's an analogy Rin. Just trying to get my bearings. Boone's . . . sherriff. That's a gajin title. So second to the Prince? Sounds martial so wakagashira, a lieutenant of some sort. And you called Amos a Primogen, that sounds . . . prime. First. But not prince. A prince rules things, Amos is just the first of something. Something that could recognize what you-slash-we are. First of your house?" "Sorry, was just going on about ignorance being a virtue here and I keep speculating." "So, immediate problems. Rumor has it I need to avoid sunrise so that clock is ticking. And you want me to hunt, apparently. That - " he shakes his head. Uncertain. Nervous. "I nearly killed her. Your girl. I felt it, she was so close and tasted so damn good. It would have been . . ." "But you didn't. And there's not a public notice on exsanguinated corpses in the papers. Corrupt as the media biz is here they couldn't keep that under wraps so that means hunting ain't killing. So this is what, catch and release?"

It did! It's interesting how unnerving it is to be without it even for just a day or two, but all's well that ends well 😅 And no worries about the delayed response; it was worth waiting for and it's interesting watching the relationship between them develop, even if it is all in Kit's head. I'm hoping some of the intuitive leaps I'm having him make feel grounded: trying to divorce the metaknowledge I have of VtM and have him react authentically but he's also by and large and student and manipulator of people, so finding the chinks in Rin's armor and position seems IC on that basis, I think.

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18] He should hate her. He should fear her. Him. What he is. The glimpse of the demimonde she bled, drip by drip, strangeness by strangeness and word by word into his ear. He should not miss the coolness of her touch. Or lean into her while she's there. Kit shudders as Rin pulls away and he fumbles for his anger, clutching at an outrage that was fading, stifled by blood and overshadowed by longing. He held to it not out of comfort but need, running what hate remained along the edge of his thoughts, sharpening them from shocked dullness. He cannot mourn and think and he needs to think. His life - their life, there's an unkind warmth, possessive and glad in the veins at that thought - depends on it. It takes all the hate he has to walk away from her, leaving her waiting upon the bench as he crosses the length of the shrine to Taro's stupefied, slumbering form. He tries not to study the monk, the defenselessness of him, the regularity of his heartbeat, the churn of blood beneath the skin . . . instead Kit merely leans down and gently, so as to not wake him, rolls him over on his side. "There. Hendrix you're not. At least not tonight. Ittekimasu, Taro-kun." Squaring back up he pulled out his phone, trying to ignore Rin's eyes watching him. Studying him. If she so much as cleared her throat he's not sure he could remain where he stood. So he stood, for as long he could. Swiping through delivery apps he settled on one and then and placed an order from a nearby seven-eleven for an hour from now. Long enough for Taro to have slept off the worst of it and soon enough that waking would be unpleasant. Taro would be . . . well, not pissed. He never was, really. Bemused was more the monk's thing. But mildly irked, maybe? At least until he saw the fried "nana" chicken. Sighing, Kit leant down, snagged the bottle and then surrendered to the gravity of her as his steps turned around and towards his Sire. He walks slow, but not easy, the bottle a pendulum in his hand and a grounding weight that tugs at his heels. He waits until he's out of earshot of Taro before he speaks. "You would have left, in the end, wouldn't you? The running together in the night - " he shakes his head at his own yearning for it. " - you were alone. Before. And this - these - societies; Ripley, Boone . . . for it all you were alone. Each of you. Us. Because you don't know any other way. Tigers don't share the mountain." "I'm sorry you got what you wished for Rin. In the worst kind of way. All the nights are our nights now." Sighing he runs a thumb across his brow, scratches the bridge of his nose as he picks at the scab of his sentimentality. Not the time. "So I'm an outcast among outcasts? After all the years, after all of it, I was - " I was making a life here. I was about to belong. But it's a lie and if she won't lie to him he won't lie to her. Even if it's just to himself. " - I get it, I did the refugee to riches thing once already. Different scene, same story. It's an angle I can work with. But if you want a fucking revolutionary, an 'Anarch?' you said . . " "I ran, Rin. They came for my family. They came for my friends. They were gonna come for me and I ran and I ended up here. These friends of yours come after me - " the barest shake of his head. " - I don't think I get to run, do I?" "Just - I wish - " he trails off, looks down. Pointless; wishing and wanting anything else changed nothing. The here and now was what mattered. Looking back up he meets here eyes and shrugs, matter of fact. "There needs to be a story. What happened to you. Because I'm betting for damn sure if I show up with your blood on my breath I'm in the shit, aren't I? So you need to just be gone. Somewhere, somehow. And if making me is a crime I can use that - you f*cked off rather than face the music." "So whatever you end up telling me. Showing me. We need to balance what I need to know with what I need to be ignorant of. Pity doesn't pay for shit, the ignorance isn't going to buy me any grace but if I show up and act like a ringer, like I know more than I should this gets turned around on me fast." "Prioritize essentials, and if you're telling me shit I shouldn't know but need to say so, and keep it to a minimum. We get through the week, the month, we can backfill but it's easier if I have to lie less." He falls quiet and waits. Or doesn't. He doesn't know when he crosses the grass and sits beside her but he does. "Am I . . . am I supposed to call you something? Sire, was it?" the last of the hate fades, leaving a hollow space where the memory of it was. And with that, surrender comes and with it the words. Whispered. Low. Sad. "Rin. Sire. Please; teach me."

Ditto on speaking dwarven; as for the dagger . . . @DoNotFearToTread, would my Legend Lore boon be sufficient to identify the make, or is it of insufficient legend/historical note to be identifiable? As for it being some years ago; true. But both races involved are long lived. Could go either way absent more info and it boils down to is the element of surprise worth losing for a peaceable solution?

Hmmm. We seem to be at a decision point and it's not clear what are choices are: the two I can articulate are 1) parley with the Derro, on the theory that the messenger wasn't killed by the Derro but by some third party or 2) attempt to take some or all of the Derro guardsfolk by stealth and ambush. Do we talk or skulk?

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18] "Are you actually asking?" it's almost a snarl, a venomous curl to the words as he studies her. Aki and Sakura may be gone but he feels them, pressing behind him, on him. Warring demands as Taro snores away. He can think of a dozen reasons why feeding upon him - his friend - is a bad idea, none of them moral, all practical. Even setting aside the booze, the exposed location, all of it, that he had seen, witnessed something like himself made the risk of exposure too high. And that was before . . . Before considering that the monk actually had driven the kindred away. And yet despite it all, he can think of nothing but the blood. Kit circles Rin, the bench a fixed point in his awareness like it's the center of the goddamn world and no matter which way he turns she's there and she's there and he's sorry and he's angry and her teeth are in his neck and oh Gods . . . "Why didn't you tell me?" He moves in faster than he can think, bracing himself against the bench, arms to either side of her. Were she here, really here he'd be so close to her neck and . . . She turns, looking at him, eyes amber mirrors; warm and cool and appraising. "I'd- " would he have said yes? Is it easier that it wasn't a choice? "If I'd known you wouldn't have had to . . you wouldn't have needed to - " his hands curl into fists, nails leaving long scratches on the bench before he flops down beside her, defeated. Shameful. "This isn't normal is it? You being here?" he frowns, leaning forward onto his knees, not looking at her. The night air is cool and damp and he can hear the shrine in the dark. The gentle lap of the pond, the breeze through the Tori and the ripple of the myriad paper talismans. The soft away of the bell. Taro's snoring seems so far away yet his heartbeat sharp despite it's shallow, resting ease. " . . . where's your body? I didn't - " Kit shook his head, the question tugging at him wrong, the taste of it wrong in his mouth. It weighs on his tongue and stills in his throat. Ashes in his mouth. "You're full of shit you know. I'm not the special chosen one. You're an artist, Rin, or you think like one. We were all drafts, impulse sketches that might or might not have become something. You had no more control over me being the one here than Sakura does over which of her tags trend online, or Rin on how her career never took off." "You wanna teach me? Yeah. I accept. I'm here for that. If only because I miss you. Godsdammit and fuck you to hell despite it all I miss you and and don't know why. You didn't even like me very much. But don't lie to me. This - " he wrings his hands. " - this is hard enough without laboring under the delusion that I'm special. I think you choose me, if I think you had a plan you figured me for, if this is some fucking Karma I get sloppy, I get complacent and I get dead. I need to hate you a little. I need - " he looked up, stared off across the pond, across the shine to the twinkling lights and the neon dark of Tokyo beyond. "I need this to be a mistake. I can deal with that. I can deal with being the thing no one wants around but has to deal with anyway. It's what I am here, after all."

Sorry for the shortish post - writing this on a borrowed laptop. With any luck I'll have the parts in hand for my own within a day or two.

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18] "Suckers bet - " Kit responds with a dry chuckle as he reaches down and grabs the bottle before Taro can go back for . . . fourths? fifths? His own partaking sat uneasily: there was a detachment ro the process that left him at odds with his vices. To feel the liquor sit, churn and clash but never meld with the vitality that infused him, to just cycle back upon itself with dissipation or consumption. Buzzed without relief or inflection, the whiskey sat as an oilslick over his awareness in a single smoldering, peaty note as thin and as fragile as glass. Hells. Forget Taro, he'd had to much. Shaking his head, Kit played keep away with the bottle even as Aki eyed the monk from the shadows, her eyes fixed on the flushed throb of his neck. It would be easy. So easy. Too easy. " - you're cut off. Rule is when you start betting your inheritance the bottle goes away. Technically you probably broke that earlier tonight, but when you start wagering with ME its past time . . ." gently prodding the monk away with the but off the bottle, he stepped back far enough that the step made his insides slosh unpleasantly and he nearly stumbled over the still-sitting form of Sakura, legs curled beneath her on the grass. She didn't look up as Kit windmilled to keep his balance, instead kept her eyes low, fixed to her phone, thumbing through something Kit couldn't quite see. He almost cursed - not at her, though given his drink and his temper that restrain surprised him - in surprise, before catching himself. It was odd, seeing her on her phone. Despite the lifeline it had provided her art she resisted the terminal online existence that Ava strove for, and to see her searching . . . images flashed under her thumb, to fast to follow, long-limbed specters with glowing eyes, fangs, creepy-pasta horror page after page afer page, tinged with the promise of blood. Kit shook his head and she was gone. Raking fingers through his hair, Kit scowled into dead air for a moment before the scowl went solemn and irritation turned to concentration. "Ask for the originals." He says it aloud, surprising himself as he looks to Taro. "Any recordings. Get the originals - " shifting from his backfoot, Kit straightened, flicked an impatient hand towards his temple, irritated that it took so long for the thoughts to engage. " - two reasons. If this is a mundane thing, you want those images controlled. Gives us leverage on the criminal without having to take this to the police, which - " he blew out a breath through clenched teeth. That was a recipe for all manner of horrors, even when horrors weren't involved. " - would just make things worse. Absent a perp in hand they'll turn this on the parents, beat a confession out of otosan in the name of public order. So if this is just a person, we handle it in house and we need the leverage. And it spares the parents and the kids. Copies means this can get uploaded into the wild, originals can be locked away or destroyed." "And if it ain't mundane, if it's your . . . thing - " an inarticulate shrug. " - horror movie rules. Risk of contagion. This shit gets passed around and it could spread to new targets, or call down attention of things you don't want. Secure. Contain. Protect. Got it? If you get any footage, have 'em scrub the devices and hand over the hard drives or memory cards to me. I'll keep 'em safe."

Short post up to keep the momentum going, and it's the nature of the current Q&A I think; one question leads to another so it's hard to bake a bunch in.

"You, my friend - " Kit sighed, clapping the monk on the back. " - are an asshole, and a master at burying the lead." "Coulda just said you'd seen some shit. Didn't need to do - " a nod to the bottle, to the shrine. All of it. " - whatever all this is. Frankly, I should be insulted. Getting me drunk. Taking advantage to get me agree to some woo-shit. Must think I'm a cheap date." Sighing, Kit got to his feet, brushed off his pants and offered Taro a hand up. From the grass Sakura looked up at him, unreadable before turning away, her attention going back to the koi-pond and some mystery he couldn't fathom. "Look, don't know what I'm gonna find, and I'm skeptical as shit that this some sort of Ringu BS but if I could survive the mundane shit I dealt with tonight, not much worried about tomorrow. I'll be there. And we got the same thought for different reasons - best I do this solo. If it's a spiritual thing, well, it's like you say, and if it's a living perv then they'll have made you whereas I'm so much a stranger." "Any chance any of these worried fathers or childer actually joined the twenty-first freaking century and had I dunno, a phone or webcam or something up when shit went down? Getting eyes on ahead of time might help."

I'll second Rakle's caution - in line dice (and OOC tags) both seem to cause weird interactions where the resultant string gets treated as a unique object in the forum code which can trample formating, erase lines and make even simple things like paragraph breaks go awry. The one thing I've found that helps is build the inline dice rolls into the post first, code them, and then backfill the rest of the post to that point? It's a pain but it's prevented me from losing data since I first stumbled across the issue. Kalan tries to-hit for potential damage EDIT: other odd behavior: the results don't show in-line when I orignally post the response, I need to reload the thread to get the inline results to display what's recorded in the diceroller at the bottom of the post. Odd.