aforerime

[aforerime]

Tumultuous sheets of rain plummeted upon the awning comprised of lush branches and vines. They peered at the indolent dragon nibbling at its shedding scales. Slowly, their eyes shifted to the sign that warned against poaching. Uraume's brow twitched.

"Useless rules."

-- watch your hands

@occultacarne

[aforerime]

The tools for s'mores littered the outer circle of the bonfire, recklessly abandoned. Sprinkled amongst the tools were children mittens and hats, discarded in a flurry. Uraume sat alone before the bonfire, aimlessly staring into the dancing flames. Snow crunched behind them, warranting their attention; lazily, they tilted their head to spy the tall, blue-haired man approach.

They said nothing and returned their gaze to the bonfire.

-- beacon of warmth

@cerebralbleu

[aforerime]

i need uraume to meet more people soooo...

like this for a spiralefest 2025 starter! capping at 3.

[aforerime]

The vague silence of the forest left an opening for Uraume's wind to wander. Consciousness drifted headlong throughout the columnar forest. As their consciousness observed the woodland creatures pursuing life till dusk, Uraume reflected on their own past to the moment they survived presently.

Uraume knew little of the Sukuna prior to meeting him. It only occurred to them now that they have omitted questions they pondered aimlessly. For a moment, they criticized themselves for never considering the Ryomen-Sukuna before they entered his life. Then, realized it never mattered to either of them. What happened before they met does not matter.

The intimate connection and the immediate thoughts of the future feast warmed their soul. Like a tug on a leash, their consciousness retraced the forest floor to their body and Uraume recentered.

Dragging the cloth across Sukuna's clean back, they replied, "Whatever you desire, Lord Sukuna. I shall be waiting for your return as I always have."

ㅤ"Ha. Be it resilience or impatience, the decision is the same." Sitting up to roll his shoulders, the last splotches of caked mud cracked and dropped into the water, his freshly exposed back tingling under the atmospheric touch of early spring. So lucid a sensation it was, that lived feeling of dampened skin brushed by air and light, that his irritation dimmed with the affirmation that what he sought did rest within the ground, in the asphyxial places even nature could not sully, in the soundless dark where silence hummed with something holy. He steeped in this concept of void, his certainty of its power sharpening. But at Uraume's mention of the ritual, a hazy recollection distracted him, and he paused his movements to peer through the spotless sky into the well of his thoughts. 'That ritual...'

Distantly, the moaning of wood reached his ears. From a deep corner of his mind, it resounded from the concept of a man, what was once a man, who shed his skin in the pursuit of esoteric knowledge too vast to digest. Its echo diffused to the cadence of a chant, then to a vibration in his bones-- and then returned to the dark folds of his brain, where things as he knew them and the beliefs instilled by his name intersected.

"No need." Speaking in a tone cleared of preoccupation, he rested his back against the bank again. "This time, I won't allow 'death' to find me first." He then turned his head to gaze sidelong at Uraume with his human eye, in doing so showing them the easy, lopsided smile that wrinkled his cheek. "I'd rather you prepare a feast for when I'm done."

[aforerime]

The smugness she wore proudly in willfully witnessing the desecration of the goddess drained from her face. Animosity she wore reflected the empty effigies following external command behind their form. Disappointment shimmered within Uraume's eyes. At times they forget, or perhaps overlook, the plentiful ignorant in this world.

They were surprised at their lips moving in response. They questioned their naturally, cool tone that bubbled up to honor the child with a reply. They wondered if it would even be worth it. How much longer will they have to speak to brick walls?

"Do you mourn the grass when its cut? The rocks that split into two? You mourn lightening when it loses its energy?" Uraume dropped their chin to their chest, eye peering at the bodies falling limp. "We are the only true existence in this world. This prison is nothing more than an illusion to test our limits. When you accept its limitations, you become nothing more than the puppets that pollute this world."

"Tell me, do you want to stay conscious in this dream?"

Cheryl surged forward, but when she realized that the other person was not behind her, she stopped so abruptly that she nearly fell over. She whipped her head around, gasping as she expected to see Uraume overtaken and ripped apart by the mob. Her voice rose to call out to them, to encourage them to flee, but whatever she was going to say died in her throat at the sight their strength and the carnage that was wrought.

"..."

She stood there for a moment, frozen, her eyes fixated on all that blood.

It reminded her of a place, a town from two different times, two different lives-- it was the same, though, dyed in crimson and suffocated by death and viscera. An unwelcome yet sickeningly familiar voice whispered in her ear as she looked at those corpses and the bodies to soon become as such. "Do they look like monsters to you?"

With a sound of disgust, Cheryl finally tore her eyes away from what became of the religious mob; instead she now glared at Uraume, shock and rage clear in her expression. She had heard their words, yes, and had heard rumors that death meant little in this strange metropolis. Even so, just like that man, these people didn't deserve to be struck down so coldly.

"Why?!" Cheryl finally hissed, letting her emotions reveal themselves in her tone.

She took a sharp inhale, trying to steady her voice. "Why did you... do that? You could have just ran away..."

[aforerime]

A frigid air surrounding their person annihilated the bothersome mosquitos. Clouds of insect corpses fluttered to the ground, leaving a piles as Uraume uncharacteristically hummed along their way to their garden.

[aforerime]

Twenty fold whitened eyes rimmed with tears gaped at the heavens. The fluctuating cadence of grief muffled the sounds beyond the square. Dozens mourned; dozens laughed in bewilderment; dozens cursed; the remainder froze. Uraume witnessed the vast crowd rotate through the cycle, characteristically grinning.

Slowly, their palms rose, floating upward. Uncalculatable control left their motions smooth as if no resistance were to be found within and without. Glimmers of ice crystals followed their movements, gravitating towards their fingertips to shield each appendages with ice spires. The indignant dozens charged forward, arms and legs bending inhumanly in dementated half-sprints and half-crawls.

The young woman had warranted their interest thus far, and Uraume resolved to allow her to return home unscathed for today. Yet, her desire to abandon the course she desired to witness hindered their resolve.

"Do you fear the unreal?" Uraume called out to her as she made her escape. The distance between the Cursed User and the vicious mob shortened drastically. "Do you fear that you're powerless!?" Uraume's mouth yawned wider and increased in volume. "Have you caved before these delusions!?"

The hot breath of the berserkers misted Uraume's face. A blink later, glacial spires fractured the ground and penetrated the first line of offense. Blood seeped over the translucent, blue ice, mutilating the refracted view of the opposing mob.

Uraume's stretched mouth grew slack. "Death has no purpose here." A cacophony of unnerving scratching against the ice, rattling of last breaths, and desperate moaning suffocated the air. Uraume canted their head, one eye peering at the fleeing young woman. "When there is no death, there is no existence. This world is empty."

"Does the wool still hang over your eyes?"

At first, Cheryl thought only to laugh-- until, she remembered the nearby followers. She hadn't noticed them hardly at all before given the time of night, and had simply assumed the odd individual before her was only going to try and graffiti (or otherwise deface) the statue publicly. The destruction that ensued, and the outcry it spurred, however, was so unexpected that all she could do was stare at the statue's remains for a few moments.

This person's crazy, she finally thought, but at the realization that she was still smiling, Cheryl surmised she must be at least a little crazy, too.

(Well, she probably already knew that, but was now really the time or place?)

"Hah," Cheryl let out a sigh. "Jeez..."

"Well, duh. Do you want to stay here and get attacked by a pissed off mob?"

There was no time to ask about how or why anything was occurring, or what powers the person before her possessed. All Cheryl knew how to do now was live in the moment, so she pointed out a path behind the two of them, and began to run towards it.

"Come on!"

[aforerime]

The absence of death within Spirale resulted in an absence of life. Nothing in this city is impermanent, Uraume thought, everything persisted annoyingly, ceaselessly. Those people who met demise by their own hands breathed new life again, eliminating the purpose behind their offerings, and while this perturbed Uraume, the greatest offense were those who existed in this world through their own violation. Sickly, blissful ignorant in the desire to live forever. Those who met death gained nothing and lost less. Their death held no weight. Their life held no weight. The vain mausoleum served no other purpose than to garner the attention of visitors, and the Stars only proffered this useless and continuous banal life.

Uraume had paused their ministrations as they ruminated, but quickly relapsed into their pace. The ruddy droplets dribbled from the cloth. The spring babbled unintelligently, and slowly, the once worshipped force lost its appeal in Uraume's eyes. They resigned, however. Their purpose is not to reform the world, it is merely to serve their lord. The entire universe could erode, even Hansol and themselves could be naught more than dust, all in the name of Ryomen-Sukuna, and in that resolution, color in Sukuna's radius remained intact.

"I commend your resilience within this stagnant hell, my Lord." Uraume tugged the cloth tightly around their fingertips and etched into the deep crevices across the stony form. Shards of caked mud and blood flittered free and plopped upon the water's surface to be spirited away.

"I will perform a ritual in your honor to encourage the scared wind of the Land of the Dead to chill your soul and enrich your wisdom."

Uraume's lips turned slowly upward and their heart pattered with excitement and admiration.

ㅤDespite how he could not see Uraume, he knew their movements well by sound alone--the plush rustling of their sleeves pulling back, the dusty shifting of knotting twine--and by way of those mundane, familiar sounds, an idyllic suggestion of life impressed itself on his mind-state. But the notion bounced off him before it could leave a substantive imprint, for in feeling the layer of mud slough off his body, the time spent during its accumulation, too, washed away wasted. Although wise enough to not assign such meaning on something so unremarkable, he found the implication stubbornly irritating.

"Nothing so interesting," Sukuna corrected, his gaze lingering distractedly around the surrounding woods. After a moment of thought, he continued, "... Time hasn't been of import to us here. However it's spent, the result is still the same. That's the unimpressive nature of this place." He fixed his gaze across the bank at a spring flower wilting within a bed of vibrant petals, his expression distant with preoccupation. "That said, I've recently noticed how that changes the way I should be waiting to die... rather, that I can't wait as I have been. It's an obvious conclusion, but more than that, it's an incomplete one. It's foolish to die without reason. Instead, I decided to seek a place to become closer to 'death'." 'Then I can grasp the essence of that premonition... the way I come to die.'

[aforerime]

The limpid springs assimilated to its visitor, taking on a russet hue. However, the polluted water lingered briefly as it was whisked further down stream. The permanent waterfall brought in clear water, washing out the taint. Uraume's head lowered enough for their bangs to conceal their expression and shrouded their eyes; they witnessed the clumps of bloody mud dissolve downstream.

Sukuna recognized the prolonged pause and motioned for Uraume to commence their duty. Uraume bowed in response and inched forward. They knelt at Sukuna's back and tugged off the sleeves of their kimono, utilizing a length of twine they kept at hand in their sleeve, they tied their sleeves at their waist.

Their choice on their vessel opposed their original form. The feminine bosom remained wrapped up in cloth to prevent the tissue from impeding on their daily tasks. However, they cared little for the physical gender of their body. They would always be Uraume, and their body did not pose a threat to the shape of their soul.

Uraume dipped a cloth into the water that returned to is limpid state and rubbed the hand soap bar into the cloth. They proceeded to scrub the remaining clumps from the curvatures off Sukuna's muscles.

"Did you find one worthy of your time, Lord Sukuna?"

ㅤSukuna did not bother challenging Uraume's urgency. He had long accepted their meticulous diligence to things unnoticeable to him, and while he normally acknowledged it as a natural benefit to their partnership, a moment's thought about the trajectory of his muddy footprints told him the honest reason for their panic. He blew a flat huff through his nose and strode back the way he came, casting his words over his shoulder as he went, "You want for less than you think. Speak your mind next time."

Water gushed from an open pore in the earth a short walk from the Hanok's grounds, the spring flowing until it churned over the serrated edge of a low cliff. Though visiting the location to bathe hadn't appealed to him in a while, his familiarity with it remained, and he shucked himself of his dirtied garments before sinking chest-deep into a hollow near the base of the waterfall that would rub him down with undertow.

By the time Uraume arrived, the current had carried away the top layer of grime and loosened the hardened blood, stripping his skin of the muddy clots which stoppered the cuts jagging his body. His back to them and his upper arms resting across the bank, he motioned for them to begin. "Go ahead. There isn't anything else worth waiting for here."

[aforerime]

The clatter of rubber soles against the cobblestone awoke Uraume's senses. Uraume shifted their head to appraise the newcomer, and much to their dismay, a teenager approached. Uraume's eye twitched. They expecting to hear the girl spout nonsensical morality, born from fictional stories. However, the teenager showed favor in the irreverent act. Uraume's head lifted, turning their maroon gaze upward to see anticipation drenching her expression.

"No, I do not."

The words of advise crawled to the edge of their mind, but Uraume held their tongue. Uraume predicted the impending backlash upon the statue's destruction and was prepared to protect their vessel. However, their mild interest in the girl had limitations. She was indeed unique, but her presence did not warrant protection.

Uraume stepped forward, palm open. The temperature sharply declined near the statue as Uraume's hand expelled mist as the warm water vapor morphed into crystalline structures. They touched the statue's stomach. The town center erupted in a deafening crack. Five large spires broke through the shape of the statue, severing the statue at its epicenter. The limbs of the marbled woman clattered heavily to the ground. Her head bounced upon the cobblestone and rolled to the edge of the crowd. Empty eyes peered up to its disciples and begged for mercy.

A shock of silence filled the air as followers looked on in horror at their deity shattered across the ground. Wide saucer eyes gaped at Uraume, and their horror mutated. A roar of demented screams and shouts slaughtered the silence.

"Do you seek the other side of this madness?"

Cheryl was one of the last people to directly seek out much akin to religious imagery-- no, she'd supposed she'd seen and dealt with enough of it for one (or even three) lifetimes. Even so, deep into the night, the young woman had made her way here; an area where 'an idol' was so well known and openly discussed that even Cheryl couldn't help but wonder what all the commotion was about.

Yet, when she arrived, all the blonde could think was...

'This is what everyone was making a big deal out of? An old, ugly statue?'

Cheryl was, obviously, less than impressed; yet, the sight of another person (and with what she presumed was an impressive dye job), was far more intriguing. The individual spoke, and a bemused smirk highlighted Cheryl's face.

"Seriously?"

"If you're gonna tear that thing down, be my guest. Mind if I watch?"

[aforerime]

"I am humbled that you've consider me, my Lord" Uraume uttered, waiting until they received their command. Slowly, they rose, porcelain hands sunk into the mud as dripped off their chin.

"If it pleases you, my Lord, to begin your trek to the spring further uphill. I will reunite with you in time after I have gathered the necessary supplies."

Less than twenty minutes later, Uraume rejoined Ryomen-Sukuna as promised at the edge of the natural spring that bubbled from underground. Shy, maroon eyes cast down from Sukuna's presence. "Whenever you are ready, Lord Sukuna."

ㅤA paste of dirt and blood clung to his body. Preoccupied by amorphous deliberations, Sukuna paid the grime little mind, intending to scrub himself clean once he settled other matters. On his way inside the Hanok, he felt Uraume's presence scramble after him, but he did not stop to acknowledge them until they begged him to.

He paused, turning to catch Uraume fling themselves into the mud he trekked. Though comical the sight, he merely crossed his arms.

"And what of you, Uraume?" Blowing a sigh, he waved another hand at them as though sweeping them off the floor. "I heard you, so raise your face out of the mud already."

[aforerime]

@bimeval

The colossal, muddy footprints stunk with blood. Uraume's terrified eyes traced the tracks, realizing its trajectory led to their kitchen. They gave sudden chase, quickly losing their breath as they sprinted to the source.

A monstrous creature covered in blood and dirt neared the kitchen's stone threshold.

"STOP!!"

Immediately, Uraume threw their body to the ground in repentance, slapping into the muddy puddle. "My Lord... I shall run you a bath... outside." The thought of their kitchen trekked with blood and mud ran a vicious shiver across their spine.

[aforerime]

@enflourish

"You ventured too far," a low voice spoke to the adventurer. Two miles west was the territorial border, marking the beginning of their garden.

Several rows of rolling mounds of dirt indicated a new season within their garden. Uraume stood in the center adorned with a heavy wolf skin over their shoulders, the snout draped across their chest. Uraume appraised the woman and sighed.

"Speak your purpose now, woman. I do not want to shed blood; bad omen for a new season." Uraume navigated closer.

[aforerime]

@renatusest

The woman's marbled face pierced the night sky. Her stoned eyes turned heavensward, seeking the beacon to which called her home. Her suspended arms showed signs of exhaustion, little cracks that marked her age and the desperation to stay upright.

In the short time between the burning descent of the sun till the sky littered with stars, visitors by the hundreds flocked to her feet and presented offerings. Some whispered in tongues, others stared in admiration. Among the few that drifted, only one sojourned.

Uraume anchored before the statue. They appraised the statue with a disgust-laden stare. A story that elevated false hope in the everyday people so far removed from the initial event seemed to sicken Uraume. Perhaps it was the mere idea people were foolish enough to grow attached to a false idol, or idolize anything but themselves.

Snowflakes yawed their fingertips as glistening, blue ice slowly formed. Destruction swelled in their chest, guiding the slow movement to raise their hand.

A hard clatter of rubber soles slowed their motion to a halt. Their periphery etched a taller and younger visitor. "If you have an offering or a prayer, act now; this idol will fall soon."

[aforerime]

@railheist

The frozen rabbit husks dully clattered with the frigid wind. Uraume turned, welcoming the whispering wind; their vibrant, magenta eyes fell upon the western adorned woman withstanding the arctic chill. Unbated by the freezing temperatures, Uraume scanned her attire, unimpressed by her laxity towards the weather.

"Death falls upon deaf ears in this world," they muttered, words stolen by the wind. "You need to eat a cooked meal if you are going to keep all your limbs." They rose the rabbit husks, "Obey my demands and you will be rewarded rabbit soup." They turned away, "Do not fret, my demands are less than normal." Unsurprisingly, winter weather puts them in a good mood.

[aforerime]

"Ah, Mistress Hansol, wait--"

The generic text chime echoed from Uraume's sleeve pocket. They quickly retrieved Sukuna's phone to see Hansol's request to turn off the oven. They showed the illuminated screen to Hansol.

"Lord Sukuna fails to use his phone... and a certain annoyance of a monk refuses to cease requesting his presence. Thus, I acquired the task to filter wanted and unwanted missives."

Uraume bowed, "Forgive my miscommunication, Mistress Hansol."

The issue of the lit stove remains unsolved...

"OH! SUKUNA!" Hansol is quick to shoot Sukuna a text. "Yahhhh, Uraume. You're a lifesaver!" Of course ,sukuna would be home to turn the stove off!

[aforerime]

"Oh. If the stove catches ablaze, it won't harm Lord Sukuna."

"I think..."

"I forgot to turn the stove off! Gah! I was so excited about hanging out with you, I forgot!!"