nobuverse

[nobuverse]

( Me: I'm gonna advance the main storyline! Fate GO: *Drops a new event with Sétanta*

Me:....I am helpless the Fergus muse compels me )

[nobuverse]

( Thinking I need to start playing FGO more to get back into these muses -

anyone volunteer to be spammed with my progress as I go into the Camelot lostbelt ?)

[nobuverse]

( Vibe check for my american friends and followers:

how are things holding up on your end? )

[nobuverse]

"Ah, yes! I think these will do very nicely....now if I only I could convince my sister to start wearing these too..."

[nobuverse]

Just as a buildup of pressure would eventually cause an explosion in any number of circumstances, the same could be said for Okita's temperament. Though usually a frigidly cold person - an officer so devoid of outward empathy that she frightened even her co-workers - it was occasions like these that would give a glimpse to what lay beneath those cracks. Especially involving kids.

That brief, blinding rage, however, was slowly reeled back as Naoto asked about the photograph. Her mind instead begins to reflexively create the image of the skid marks she'd be trying to describe, the indifferent tone to the detective's voice making the transition from emotion to logic natural; as if they'd just continued their conversation where they'd left off.

"I...uh..."

She uncharacteristically stammers, speech and thought now disjointed by the sudden retreat of her own emotions.

She should be calling in what had happened over the radio, shouldn't she? The thought hadn't even occurred to her. How unprofessional. She'd let her anger blind her so much that she hadn't even thought to make the mental note of the car's make and model.

"No wait - hold on a minute. You're not hurt, are you? Either way, we should head back down the road to meet up with the others directing traffic. Maybe they caught the driver on tape, since I doubt they missed them. We can re-evaluate this later - the crime scene's been contaminated anyways."

Professionalism is a nice distraction - or perhaps a shield - from how quickly she's getting cold without her umbrella. Chattering teeth betray her weakened constitution, while her hands shook from both the freezing rain and adrenaline.

"Let's go -we should at least get you a new coat."

Hopefully, the tailor wouldn't give her a mouthful this time.

Collisions, definitely not high on her experience list, but as she’d figured, it was more for Okita than it was for her. All Naoto had to do was stand around and offer her input. An easy job besides the wealth of knowledge she could acquire from a situation she was hardly around to deal with.

Still, going this far without a partner on the force is worrying; Naoto wonders if it’s because Okita is a woman that the others don’t want to deal with her, but well, she can’t be sure.

Naoto switches her umbrella from her right hand to her left, while looking over at the photograph and listening to her explanation.

Then suddenly, with a warning to look out, a yank and the skies blurring, she finds herself facing gray clouds, and a hell of a lot more soaked than before. She lays there for an indeterminate amount of time, a little too calm—her rapidly beating heart is a traitor—for what she presumes could have been her death, before a hand comes into view. Naoto takes it and pulls herself to her feet, but not before grabbing her umbrella.

The other one is nothing but a casualty.

And that sort of seriousness... might be why she hasn’t found a partner yet.

“Must have been willfully blind to not see us, it’s not that dark out. The high beams were on, too. Perhaps a drunk driver?” She looks around at the scenery, broken barricade and all. With a sigh, she moves to try and fix the cones. “I suppose the cones do need some reflective tape updates. It’s not in the best shape.”

It’s... freezing.

“Ah, well, that’s in the past now, please, keep explaining the most recent photograph you took. I memorized the image.”

[nobuverse]

It hurts a bit, if she honest with herself, to hear a comment like that. The idea that such a statement could be a simple jest is not something her shattered mind can conjure. Her only reaction is a slight grimace, however, as she doesn't dare say a word. Though Okita would usually passionately argue for the work she'd dedicated her life to - She has to take precautions while she hosts this withering husk of a body.

Her eyes wander away from him and back to her emaciated, bandaged hand.

"I've always been, even as a heroic spirit. It doesn't stop me from preforming my duties."

Even she knew she sounded particularly defensive when replying to his question - not from the subject matter, but that word he choses. Sick. It reminds her of the last years of her mortal life- the years she'd been desperately trying to make up for in this one. All that effort, to end up back in that same hopeless pit.

"A sense of loyalty" - she finally answers the question after a few moments of thought, as if retrieving the memory took some effort out of her. "A master commands, a servant obeys."

Would she still have followed through, had she known the outcome - well, that was a different question entirely.

Though she listens to him, carefully taking the water offered to soothe her parched throat, she can't say she understands. It's not the abstraction that confuses her, but her own internal response.

"What I feel..." she pauses once more, trying and failing to identify the feelings she's supposed to be having "Is nothing. Mostly."

Okita had never faced her own emotions head-on - even as a child, suppressing them had been the only option. She had no other choice.

"...I'm not sure what there's left to discover. It feels as though there's nothing of me left."

"We all make mistakes in life," he responds to her previous profession, jokingly.

He doesn't turn away from her static lingering, looking for all the world as a shell-shocked person, looking through all the world for what is to be done afterwards. He almost laughs, this is something almost too fitting to witness as someone whose life work was in that space she occupied now.

One has to be dragged to freedom, sometimes. Violently, it is said. There is, however, a part of disagreement he held with that position, in that dragging one to freedom is an impossibility.

That conversation would not be held here.

"If you were getting sick, why did you choose to stay? What yoke held your head in place?"

There are two things hated the most in the world: a master and a servant.

Another elaboration to be touched upon another time, because he would not venture to do so to someone still reeling from such horrific events.

"Anxious? Still in pain? Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom. This reminds me of something," he continues talking as he takes the canteen from his person and pours some water on the lid and then places it next to her.

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility."

He couldn't help but pat her shoulder.

"Okita Souji, I did not save you. I broke you out of the bond; that was the easy part. The hard part now is all on you. You will save yourself when you come to understand more of yourself. That's all."

[nobuverse]

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : a little assortment of angsty and hurt/comfort action prompts for rp purposes. remember to tag your blood, death etc. add +reverse to swap the roles.

[ 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ] : as sender is about to leave, receiver embraces them. [ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 ] : as sender is about to leave, receiver grabs them by the wrist. [ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 ] : receiver pleads sender to not go. [ 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 ] : sender kisses receiver before leaving far away. [ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 ] : receiver kisses sender who won't be back for a long time. [ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 ] : sender has rejected receiver's romantic feelings. [ 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 ] : receiver rejects sender's romantic feelings. [ 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 ] : sender and receiver agree to not give in to love. [ 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 ] : receiver expresses frustration regarding sender's actions. [ 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 ] : sender tells receiver they don't love them anymore. [ 𝐥𝐢𝐞 ] : receiver is trying to convince sender they're feeling fine. [ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞 ] : sender shoves receiver away from them. [ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 ] : receiver comforts crying sender. [ 𝐫𝐮𝐧 ] : in a dangerous setting, sender tells receiver to run to safety. [ 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐞 ] : receiver catches sender as their feet give in. [ 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 ] : sender carries injured receiver to safety. [ 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ] : receiver is taking care of sick sender. [ 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ] : receiver tends to sender's wounds. [ 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 ] : sender and receiver are attending to a funeral. [ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ] : receiver is missing the deceased sender.

[nobuverse]

@miraruinada said:

"Nobukatsu, do you have any plans for today?" She asks with an overwhelmingly saccharine voice. "Well, it doesn't matter! We're going to spend it together!"

"You don't have a choice."

There's some part of him that tells him he should be somewhat alarmed by the definitive nature of her voice; at the prospect of not having the liberty to choose.

But Nobukatsu does not feed into that sense of uneasiness - far from from it. Instead, his usually tight shoulders slacken, and he nods at the demand. Not that he's free from the prospect of making that proposition himself, his body already feels lighter.

"Yeah- that sounds great."

He spent so much of his time fearing he wouldn't so much as be tolerated by others, and that fear is now as far from the present as it possibly could be. Xiang wanted to be with, she demanded it.

"What do you want to do today? I'll let you choose."

[nobuverse]

"I've heard a lot of people say they'd love to leave the planet called earth lately....Well! Allow me to offer my services! I'd be happy to help with any inter-galactical immigration paperwork applications! Or carry baggage for your spaceships-! I'm a lot stronger than I look, you know!"

[nobuverse]

( I usually try to avoid politics on this blog, but with the trade war now declared between the US and Canada, I wanted to make one thing very clear as a Canadian myself:

To all my US followers, I don't blame you for the actions of your politicans

Even though I'm already seeing the anti-US sentiment growing here, I think it's very narrow sighted when the majority of you guys don't even agree with what your president is doing when it comes to Canada

You guys are just as much of a victim as we are in this situation - the people of California in particular. I'm so sorry.

I lived in the US for over 15 years myself growing up - and I know that despite all the social issues the country has, it has some truly wonderful people who absoutely do not deserve to go through what we all are right now.

I offer both my prayers and well wishes to you all. )

[nobuverse]

@mysticallities said: Reines flicks Nobu right on the forehead. She feels like she hasn't met her "bully servant" quota today. "This tea's cold," she says

"Tch-! Entirely unnecessary!" The avenger retorts at the sudden flick to her forehead, swatting her master's hand away like the pest that it was.

Honestly, she'd save herself a lot of trouble if she just stayed in spirit form rather than entice this sadistic bitch by existing in front of her.

Mumbling some jumbled string of profanities under her breath, she does obediently take the cup from her. Her control over the power of flame is then wasted at the menial task of reheating Reines's tea

Of course - there was no specification given to just how hot she wanted it. So, if Nobunaga were to take it back to a rolling boil....

Well, she'd find out when she took another drink, wouldn't she?

[nobuverse]

@idolsummons || From here

'I'm not much of a teacher.' Ren stopped talking to finish tuning his bass guitar, making sure all strings sounded right to his well-trained ear. 'Y'know, I've never taught anyone before, so if you can be patient, I'm happy to teach you what I know.' It wasn't so much that he'd hate teaching. It was something he'd considered in the past - it would be so much more fun and rewarding than his barista job - but it was in the throes of a few bad weeks that he realised he didn't have the mental fortitude to keep it up as much as students would deserve. Spending time one on one with, at most, a friend or, at least, someone else with the same passion for music he had could work out, as long as she was willing to exhibit patience. 'But you should know that I'm more of a funk and jazz guy than rock n' roll. I can teach you, but a lot of what you'll learn from me stems from those kinda genres. You good with that?

"That's okay-!" Nobunaga interjected, the teenager hastily trying to dissuade any self doubts or second thoughts before her future mentor changed his mind.

"Normal teachers suck, anyways - they think they know everything! Or maybe that was just the private tutors my dad picked for me. He'd totally be the type of guy who gets convinced by someone's overblown ego."

Then- there was that one guy who threatened to commit sepuku over the dishonor failing to 'reign her in' or something of the like...

But that's not really something you should be brining up unprovoked, now is it?

"Oh- and when I say, 'tutors' I don't mean music tutors -to be clear. There's no way my old man would have spent money on that. He doesn't get my -um - creative vison, let's put it like that..."

Or her anything really. But that wasn't relevant.

At hearing him talk about genres, she nods eagerly.

"Duh, of course! I'm open to anything - ! 'Mostly self taught anyways - so even just learning to read music would be amazing"

[nobuverse]

( It's a stressful time to be Canadian )

[nobuverse]

Humans are so fragile.

This thought predated her existence as a heroic spirit - from as long as she had understood she was different from those around her. Some called her special, others a monster. All held the same fear in their eyes, knowing just how easily their bodies could be broken.

Killing others had always been effortless for her, now more so than ever. She derives no pleasure from the act itself, only indifference. The smile she wears is nothing but the same mask she always wears, as if she's forgotten how to hold any other expression. Still, it didn't feel awful to know she'd done the right thing: if there ever was such a thing as true evil, she was sure she'd seen it here.

She tilts her head as she observes him drink the water with the same desperation as a dying man in a desert. She thinks, for once, that its one of the few miseries of humanity she can understand. Hunger and thirst is primal to any living thing, and being deprived of it was a cruelty she would never stand for.

"Oh don't worry! If it were up to me, killing them would have been the first thing I'd have done." She reassures him with the same gravity one might accept a thanks for running any normal errand " We may not all walk the eightfold path, but that doesn't give any man the excuse to stray so far from it that they end up in hell."

Torture was one thing she could never stand. The intentional creation of suffering from one man to another was against everything the buddha stood for.

When the man who summoned her made reference to the fact that they don't know each other, it occurs to her that she'd skipped the usual steps of introduction among servant and master.

"That's okay! I can explain all of that later! Just call me 'Kagetora' for now!"

Though she was usually proud enough of her other titles to boast about them, even she knows that isn't important to a man on the verge of death.

Expecting the fall as soon as he stands, an armored arm comes to his aid as its laid across his chest. She gives it for him to hold onto- not daring to suddenly grasp him.

"Mmhm! Understood! In that case, I think my old friend could help us out!"

She presses the index and middle fingers of her free hand into her mouth, brining a sharp whistle into the air. Houshoutsukige, her beloved palmino horse, comes to her as he always has, no matter how chaotic the scene or battle. The cloud of spirit dust forms into the animal in less than a second, galloping to her mid-stride.

"That's a good horse.." she cant help but whisper to her faithful companion as he slows to a stop in front of her, her black gloved hand reaching to pat his head.

"Ever rode a horse before, master?"

Watching the scene unfold before him left him with a deep impression: if he had been the one to face her instead, he would be lucky to escape with his life. This was nothing like the mages he'd faced before; powerful and adept court magicians trained in their respective schools, who'd all been felled with his pistol and rifle after an arduous battle, an exchange between two skilled fighters that traded one assault after another until one came to be the victor, adapting strategy and expanding the tactical field with every exchange.

This was nothing like any of that. This amounted to a massacre. Only twenty years in the future, when his sister would have taken his old position back home, would there be anyone with that degree of overwhelming force in the world. Something he should not be alive to see, if he is able to live that long at all.

Because even after surviving this encounter, and history was being twisted because of it, he knew there would be more waiting. Now that he had managed to escape once, if he does, there's an entire army surrounding him, the entire world would change his position from one of high priority to the only priority.

Yet in this moment, all he can think is how graceful it is when a truly trained fighter is put on the field. What attached art to the martial. Why a truly skilled battle was called a dance, though this instance it's one dancer. He stays sitting on the edge of the grave he should have been laying inside.

Ignacio was shot in the back of the head once, his body falling into the shallow grave. He was then shot four more times, twice in the chest, once on the right arm, and finally once in the stomach. He writhed in the dirt for a few seconds, biting his hand to avoid crying out.

A sharp pang of pain hit his head like a migraine, then what felt like a piercing blow to his right lung, a phantom pain then burned his right arm, next a hurting in his chest like a heart attack, and finally what he recalled was the same feeling as being stabbed in the abdomen. Something was seriously wrong here, he felt knew in his soul.

Once he recovered enough, he looked at the scene before him: severed heads and missing limbs. Blood sprayed like a rush of rain. Nothing that he hadn't seen before, but something that he still could not get used to, ever.

He received the canteen she'd swiped with utmost gratefulness, even bowing his head a little in the process of extending an arm to reach for it. Immediately did he take a greedy swig and practically downed the entire thing, save for the little he uses to splash on himself. Baking in the sun before being tortured at night for days on end left him praying for rain.

"Thank you," he says sincerely. His throat finally feeling better. In fact, his whole mood lifted more with this one act than rescuing from death. A very humorous thought.

"I don't know who you are or how you came to be, but I owe you greatly. For now, I...I'm really starved. I couldn't lift the shovel near the end, but... First, we have to head into the village to see if they have any food. Let me..." He tries to stand, but the exhaustion and the hunger that hit his stomach after finally drinking water that day made him nearly retch from the body screaming he had no energy left.

"The village...over there...the clinic where they chained me. I'm afraid I'll need your help again."

[nobuverse]

"They remind me of a time of weakness...so I take it personally."

"How could one hate cats?"

[nobuverse]

Why does she feel so offended right now....?

She's trying so hard not to laugh at 'riding skill'.

[nobuverse]

@inseparableduo

twins vc: MIAOOOOOU

Feral Hissing