♔ open

[glorification]

WHO: Eichi & Anyone
WHAT: Time for some old nasty tea
WHEN: Some time in July
WHERE: In front of a weird claire's-like store he has been sleeping in
WARNINGS: None!

Would you like to try some tea?

[No matter who happens to be passing by the overly-pink and purple store, Eichi calls out to them with a calm soft voice, smiling as he gestures to a counter he's transformed into a makeshift tea bar. It appears to be a central area that certainly used to be where the cashiers stood, but now Eichi is sitting at one of the old, hardly kept together stools, an assortment of chipped and peeled and faded mugs or cups lining the counter. There's a stand of what probably used to hold random pens and accessories that's now holding a handful of packets and tins of... tea? Their markings are difficult to comprehend, not just from the passing of time and whatever happened here, but from how much of a knockoff this tea place really was. Whatever Eichi has managed to heat up with a pile of debris and an actual tea pot smells like something faintly herbal... though it's difficult to place how.]

I managed to find some in the back of a store, but I couldn't make sense of any of the labels, so I'm afraid the exact blend is a mystery to me.

[The store around him looks even more chaotic. There's a mattress shoved surprisingly neatly into one side of the store towards the back, lined to one side with raggedy stuffed animals. There's a life-sized doll of a certain Wataru Hibiki that some might have met in person on top of the mattress and tucked into the scrounged up ripped sheets and blankets making the "bed," surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the items. The shelves are lined with folded scrounged up clothing (one or two outfits worth), and a few items. To the opposite side of the store is a coffin, neatly pushed up against the wall and left closed.

On top of the weird scenery, this tea is so old and such a knock off that it's going to taste bland and disgusting, though, and Eichi seems aware of it enough to have not taken a sip at all of his own cup.]

Unfortunately, there seems to be a lack of extra stools or chairs here. I hope you don't mind.

---

(ooc: I just have this open prompt, but I'll probably use this as a catch-all as well! I'll put my hauntings threads in the comments. Hit me up if you want something personalized.)

Comments

♔ closed to Wataru

[glorification]

[After scrounging up what clothes they could, Eichi is wearing an oversized sweatshirt of strange design with pants that have a few too many moth bites through them— but they cover him well enough. The sweater being large makes up for it. Currently, he's begrudgingly wearing his Eichi-kun gauge due to an inability to find his own particular medication anywhere in the mall. He'd asked Wataru to help him search each night that it's possible to, but there are only a small number of stores, and they've had no luck other than a single over the counter inhaler that he doubts will help much.

It's exciting, at first, to see a store with bright, working lights after all of their searching. Eichi is drawn in immediately, leaving Wataru's side to wander closer before he turns back to call to him.]

Look here, Wataru. I've never seen a store organized quite like this, but I wonder if we might be able to take some light bulbs? [He wants to light Cl*ire's UP.

Of course there's no hesitation in stepping forward, even if he is mindful to step slow, to watch for weak boards on the floor and keep his eyes out for that. But currently, weak infrastructure is all they have to worry about, isn't it? That and rats or bugs, perhaps.]

[regale]

[ Wataru certainly thinks that it's just like any other store—he's yet to be in this area of the mall for any length of time, and while it seems strange to have such a brilliant... reflective... store in such a condition, "weird" is all it may be.Which, of course, only makes it more interesting.

At the moment, his hair is pulled back and tied out of the way, but he didn't exactly use a mirror to get it up in the first place; the store is bright and the further he looks in, the more mirrors he notices. An idol's true weakness. ]

You don't think your territory sparkles enough, Eichi? [ Cl*ire's is a lot. He approves of it. ] The ceiling is quite far above us, but I have been practicing walking on walls recently...

[ That has got to be a joke right hahahaha why does Wataru look like he's genuinely thinking about it. ]

[glorification]

[Eichi doesn't even bat an eye at Wataru talking about walking on walls. It's hard to be surprised by him when he's used to it, and on top of that, distracted by working lights... And maybe a mirror would be nice.]

Replacing that flickering light with one of these would be nice, wouldn't it? Ah, look at this.

[He's pointing out some rad looking panel lights that apparently light up rainbow to music. He thinks they're neat. They're like, shoved off to one side, why are they even here.

But his eyes catch a mirror, now that he's in the store full of them, and... Somehow, it felt a little delayed, that match in eye contact? How odd. For now, he turns back to Wataru.]

A regular one would be more practical, however.

[regale]

[ Practical. He sees the use in being practical more often than not, but listen, being impractical is alright too! Wataru opens both of his hands, palms out towards him. ]

Fufu, it's a clown's job to be impossible, impressionable, imaginative and impractical! Allow me to steal away the rainbows while you focus on the sensible things... ☆

[ He's already going for it, honestly. ]

[glorification]

[He can always rely on Wataru to grant his every idiotic wish. Watching him do that so happily, so enthusiastically, all with his hair tied up like that... It keeps Eichi's gaze for some time, a warm smile on his face as he wanders further into the store.]

You always manage to make me smile. If you enjoy them as well, then please feel free to hold onto them. But there are more things deeper in this store, so I'd like to examine it thoroughly.

However...

[There are mirrors everywhere, and he really wants to mention how something feels odd about them, but somehow, the words won't come to his lips. Even after a few tries. Is it just that he doesn't know what exactly to say? What to pinpoint about it? That it's nothing?

His thinking interrupts him when he stumbles and knocks one small table mirror off, causing it to shatter and Eichi to step back in shock.]

Oh... [Oops.]

[regale]

[ With the pretty light halfway unplugged, Wataru is shooting him a look in return. That's... it makes him happy to hear it, too. Not only for the obvious reason being that he wants to make everyone in the world happy, but specifically because Eichi smiling is important to him.

He's about to let the conversation lull in order to get the pretty light free, but once he does and has it tucked under an arm, he hears the tinkling of obvious glass—in this case, mirrored glass—breaking. ]

Oh? Are you alright, Eichi? If that was a mirror, you should be concerned with your luck for the next seven years.

[ He's on his way over to him now, placing the light down on a nearby floor shelf when he gets close. ]

[glorification]

I'm fine. You know as well as I do that 'luck' isn't anything real.

[He says it fairly lightly, though, but as Wataru steps forward, Eichi stands up from where he had been leaning, hands folding behind his back. His left hand is closed around a glass shard, though he's not sure why— staring straight at his reflection, his heart sinks as it winks, and he can't move as he feels that his view of himself on the sides mimics movements, walks off to the side, stretches, all while he's stuck in place.

But when he opens his mouth to explain his situation, nothing comes out that's of any help.]

There are countless mirrors placed precariously this way and that. I'll do my best to be careful, but... I'm afraid I've made it difficult to walk here.

[It's not that he didn't want to say that, but that the things he'd wanted to say first, or instead, were shoved aside...?]

[regale]

Hmm hmm ♪ Saying things like that—they just make me want to believe in luck more.

[ It's mostly a joke; it's clear that he sees nothing wrong with the situation, except that for some reason Eichi's broken something. Wataru comes closer, stopping himself a few paces from him, then dramatically covers his face with his fingers. ]

A place that's difficult to walk around seems like the perfect place to test out my "luck", no?

[ The both of them probably know that any display of his "luck" is just going to be some form of practical magic or another, but he's playing around with the idea nonetheless. If Wataru holds a roulette out to you, the answer you fish out of it will always be exactly what he want it to be. ]

[glorification]

[Somehow, when Wataru puts his fingers over his face like that, Eichi's hand twitches behind his back. It's a little terrifying, feeling a pull like he's some sort of puppet on a string, the image of a mirror just past Wataru showing him what it might look like if he were to raise that glass shard and bring it down right at his neck—

The noise he makes is more like a breath, unclear and a little off, and all he can do is continue to resist the... urge? It's not even an urge, is it? Everything is screaming for him to stop, but it's getting harder to.]

I'd rather you didn't test your luck. [God, that's the closest thing he can get out as far as a warning, isn't it? His words won't come any closer to it, no matter how he tries, and he's growing increasingly nervous about it. He can't even seem to say "I want to leave now."]

At the very least, please take a safe path away from these glass shards. I'd hate for you to be hurt.

[regale]

Eh? Are you worried? Has your fool here ever performed so badly before you that he's hurt himself?

[ He's still joking, but... very well, he won't do what he was planning on doing—blindfolding himself with his hair and walking on his hands to him—and simply plays the floor is lava by stepping between the pieces he can see. He even picks up the rainbow light again and brings it with him.

Presumably, mirrored glass can't puncture the soles of his shoes without some effort, so he even steps lightly, carefully. ]

But just for today, I will be good and do as you say.

[ See! He was careful! And now he is much closer, just a little over an arm's length away. ]

[glorification]

You're no fool, Wataru.

[There's a pause after that, as he watches him move closer, those silly panel lights in his arms. Whatever this presence is is overwhelmingly violent, with the actions it wants him to take, but in such a subtle way that he almost wishes he could just leap out and try for him from the front. But no. His right hand moves from behind his back to gesture out, indicating that Wataru should walk first now, and his left clenches tighter at the glass. He only squeezes tighter in his worry, but in that pause, there was realization.]

You're no fool... [Repeated, like he's testing something, and... Well, it seems that riddles and the like aren't ruled out. But can he really communicate enough while dealing with this? If Wataru steps forward, he's really going to stab him in the back. He can feel his muscles tensing, preparing for the chance. His heart is beating faster.]

After all, you always seem to understand everything about me, down to the last inch. Isn't that true?

[regale]

[ That's... well, this is Eichi, and this is Eichi talking to Wataru, so the question isn't that weird most of the time. They could probably be fixing their hair and Eichi would begin contemplating the meaning of life thanks to it.

But there is a moment where he does think it's a little off, just due to the nature of him joking to begin with. Well... he's not sure. Maybe it's not that something is off, but rather... ]

Is there something on your mind, Eichi?

[ That's probably it, he thinks. He's stepped up beside him now, though he's simply turned to face him. ]

[glorification]

[That's it. There's a chance to prevent this, right? If Wataru knows he's acting strange, then he may be able to avoid hurting him. His heart rate is increasing, too— maybe even the Eichi-kun gauge can be a benefit.]

That's precisely what I mean.

[His hand hurts, holding this glass, and somehow his hand still tightens around it. But his other arm is moving against his will, as well, resting against Wataru's shoulder. No— wait, no, this isn't right either...!]

There are a lot of mirrors here, aren't there? [Please see]

♔ closed to Harrowhark

[glorification]

[Walking past the store felt marginally safer when he was by himself. The lights were still bright, and Eichi worked to avoid gazing into it as he passed... until his downcast gaze catch that the floor doesn't look nearly as messy as it had previously. Quietly, he turns to look inside, only to find that every bit of shattered glass, every broken piece, had been completely restored.

How? How? He steps closer, as if to confirm, and then the realization has him stepping backwards—

Straight into Harrowhark. Woops.]

Ah— forgive me. [He glances back to her, just as startled, and takes another step back away, closer to the shop by accident. He's a little jumpy. But hey... It's the eccentric.]

[skeletonize]

( change is not a common factor in the corpse of this so-called shopping mall — the primary initiating factor for such a thing is the individuals suddenly marooned within it, so when there is something odd that happens, like the sudden resurrection of the home decor store and all of the electronics within, it stands out. harrow does not particularly want to go into the place. like any denizen of drearburh, she is highly sensitive to bright light — the lights coming from the store seemed nearly beatific in their intensity, so she had had to prepare, wrapping a black length of gauzy voile several times around her eyes before braving it.

because it's not as though she could just ignore something like this. wherever there might be something of use or of interest, one could find harrowhark there at some point: a sullen black raven with its dark, beady eyes keen for what it might filch to brighten its nest.

she is approaching eichi to cryptically address him and inform him of her presence (as is his wont) when he backtracks right into her. that kind of ruins both her intent and the gravity of the moment; she flinches back a step, brow furrowing beneath the multiple layers of semi-transparent fabric. she doesn't necessarily forgive him — but there's no harm done, so she supposes it's no sleight to demand retribution for (yet). )

Eichi. ( she glances past him into the store. truthfully, she isn't sure she will find anything of interest here. harrow keeps her safehold dim for her own comfort, and she has no affinity for mirrors (she avoids them at all cost, most of the time). but she looks back to her companion, curiously, eyes narrowing as her nimble mind works. he had backed away fairly suddenly. had something surprised him? )

Have you had a chance to investigate this oddity yet?

[glorification]

Yes.

[He refuses to look into it again, focusing on Harrow's face instead, tense in his posture and body language. He was here, and he's certain it wasn't all in his head, but the mirrors have changed? That one at the front had been broken but— no, he can't look in at it.]

You should stay far away from that place.

[skeletonize]

( she is silent a long moment, and beneath the layers of voile obscuring her eyes, there's a calculating curiosity that is hard to perfectly define. )

I shouldn't? ( she hums, pensively.

and then she breezes past him without another word, walking boldly and without fanfare into the store. even with her make-shift eye covering, it's blazing like the surface of Dominicus in here — nearly as bad as when they had first arrived to Canaan House and gideon had insisted on staring out the porthole of the shuttle to the sun-blasted ocean and crumbling castle until her eyes had streamed with tears. but she enters regardless, a sunspot amidst light and reflecting surfaces.

she doesn't have time to pay attention to the bellyaching of others — if there is something amiss in this place, it means something, and she will winnow the ambiguity away until she finds the truth. )

[glorification]

Wh— Harrowhark-san!

[He's so angry and alarmed, but it's not as if he can just let her march in there and leave. He caused that curiosity, in a way, and after what he'd done the last time... He feels responsible. He moves after her, pointedly avoiding eye contact with any of the mirrors even if they're everywhere, and looking only at her back.]

Are you doubting me simply because I'm frail? I hope you're pleased with what you've done.

[skeletonize]

( he chases after the dramatic ripple of the trailing hem of her robes, then. she doesn't seem particularly concerned whether he comes with her or not. though she has none of the experience with this place eichi does, harrow also avoids looking directly into the mirrors — she has always detested the things, using them only for functional necessity in tasks like applying the finer details of her face paint. still, the effect in here is an unsettling one. out of the corners of her eyes she can see the black hole that is her presence reflected in shards of broken and reflected light, disappearing into tunnels of infinity. she can see where eichi stands as well, a short distance behind.

as she turns to look at him, a reflection some distance away shows a different scene: her turning to lunge, a spear of bone leaping from the depths of one of her voluminous sleeves —

but the flesh-and-bone harrow who is here and present does no such thing, merely turning to face eichi. there's no real pleasure in this for her, no, but... ) I can assure you, Eichi, I doubt you just as much as every other individual here. ( as in: she doesn't give or take away points for those frail or terminally ill. you should have seen how nasty she had been to dulcinea.

when she continues, she does so with an almost beatific expression, hard-edged in her stubbornness. ) I have never been any good at keeping out of places I should have stayed far away from.

( says the only human being who had laid eyes upon the corpse of the Locked Tomb in ten thousand years.

she turns and continues walking — he either stays with her or he leaves, his choice. she keeps talking, assuming the former. ) Are you going to explain what has you so wary of this place?

[glorification]

[Ugh, that...

That sounds like a line from himself. Maybe that's what makes his stomach twist the most. For his own sake, for Wataru's too, he should step away from this and leave her to her own devices. But Wataru wouldn't be happy with that either, even after what had happened with them. So how could he?

No, it's not just the thoughts of others that's keeping him here. Maybe he also is concerned, even about this complete stranger. He doesn't want to be someone who discards the needs and health of others so easily. Not anymore.

So after some hesitation, he continues after her, fingers curling at his sides. That question registers, but he already knows what happens if he tries to answer. Even still, he does try. But all that comes out is unimportant:]

I wonder what has you interested in a store like this?

[skeletonize]

( she tracks the sound of his footsteps, sharp against what remain of the cracked and grimy linoleum tiles. he follows, which is either bravery or foolishness on his part. harrow isn't very interested to see which one — it would be from his frame of reference, regardless. she didn't see how anything in here could be dangerous.

well, besides her. therein lies the problem.

she of course notices the dearth of an answer, but as someone who is very picky about which stupid questions she decides to grace with an answer, she doesn't think too much of it. she merely thinks responding with another question to be a valid riposte. )

I wouldn't have thought you the type to become so comfortable in our new home. ( she says it in a tone that dances very close to mocking but never quite gets there; a venomous sort of sarcasm. ) It is a change. Any change is potential information. Even if it is nothing in the end, I will not leave it uninvestigated.

[glorification]

You do know what they say about cats and curiosity, don't you?

[Eichi sounds a little short, stepping after her insistently, eyes focused on her back rather than the number of mirrors in the shop. Small, large, medium, and Eichi realizes that he passes the very one he'd knocked over on accident and grabbed a shard from— and yet it's completely whole, on the shelf where it had been prior.

He doesn't slide his eyes over to look directly, for fear of catching his own reflection's gaze again. He has to watch Harrowhark, instead.]

Countless in search of knowledge with a mindset like that died with not an ounce of anything useful or shared to their name, you know.

[skeletonize]

( eichi might as well be speaking to a brick wall. harrow is a necromancer, and even more than that, she is harrowhark nonagesimus — she is a necromancer who had scoured the libraries of drearburh for hidden knowledge as soon as she was old enough to do so. before she had come here, she had been following in the footsteps of those who had come before some ten thousand years ago, plumbing the depths of what was possible with their magical art in order to give one what had been sought for ages: power and immortality.

and they had been close to figuring out the secret, too. but now she was here, and she will try to find out what she can about this place.

perhaps it's her own haughtiness that preserves her, for now. her eyes rove through the store but do not stop in any one place — odd flickers of movement on the reflective surfaces that don't seem to match what is happening are discarded, as visual or aural hallucinations were something she has long since fallen into an uneasy truce with.

she ends up stopping, however, turning on her heel to face him. her expression is written in the language of severity. in a dozen or two reflections, a harrowhark does the same, though a few smudge into divergent actions, either benign or violent. she doesn't notice. )

Perhaps, Eichi. But as you can see, I am still alive. I have never rested when there was something valuable to be obtained. ( and that's to a fault: this is an individual who has worked herself to exhaustion multiple times, and would do so again (and perhaps with even more reckless abandon now that her cavalier was missing). )

Now, ( and as she speaks, almost completely unbeknownst to her, her hand slips into one of the voluminous folds of her robes, fingers seeking out a familiar shard of bone — a cracked portion of the lovely curve of the iliac crest, ) if you are done admonishing me, I will continue my search.

[glorification]

[Ah, so this is how it's going to be. She's stubborn. She thinks she knows it all, because of a difference in some sort of power, he supposes. That's completely infuriating, and he's filled with so many angry thoughts about wanting to prove her wrong in his own terms, to have her face something to put them on an even field—

But he squashes those down. Besides that, things are at risk for turning dangerous at any point. He follows, but this time he lingers at least a foot behind, eyeing her hands as they move, adjusting the device he has around his wrist now.

Eichi smiles, even if he's incredibly annoyed.]

Shall I congratulate you for your recklessness and the fact that you're alive by pure chance? I'm afraid I can't do that. However, it's not as if I can stop you, either. I'm out of your way, so do what you must, then. I can say nothing else of any use, after all.

[skeletonize]

( stubborn? yes. that was a primary building block of what made her harrowhark nonagesimus, though she would prefer it called unswerving tenacity (and others might prefer to call it awful bullheadedness). it was virtually impossible to convince a girl who has very literally pulled all the strings of her life from age nine to roughly present (their current environs and circumstances notwithstanding) not to do what she had already steeled herself to do, or at least for anything besides an immovable object.

her lip curls at the words pure chance — it rankles at something that's not necessarily pride, though that's certainly tangled in there. harrow is still alive for a very simple reason: she decided to be. she continues to live because she decided to defy death at any and all costs, to the point where she had been actively stepping to the threshold of immortality shortly before she had been brought to this God-damned ruin. )

Your words are yours to choose. But that I am still alive has ever been on my own ability and volition. ( she stops in her warpath, having forged it down the main aisle of the store. they stand near the back now, and she looks about, eyes squinting even through the multiple layers of voile against the lights. the mirrors do not necessarily interest her, though she supposes it is odd that they are pristine when a great deal of glass in this complex has long since been pulverized. it's the lights — power is such a capricious thing in this place, so why here, why now, and why with such intensity?

her hand lowers from her robe, the shard of bone kept enclosed and hidden in her palm. she doesn't think much of this — she doesn't think about it at all.

what she does think about is the last thing he said. it sticks in her mind like a splinter of bone, and she finds herself turning slowly on one heel, gaze cast to the floor to the side of them for a moment before she looks over a shoulder to eichi. ) You do not strike me as someone who would think himself as having nothing of use to say. ( she says this with an edge of suspicion, her brow furrowing. there had been something which had pressed him into following her, even if he had dodged her questions of why.

the reason why things begin to make sense for harrow is because there is a necromantic technique within her own House which was so inherent to it that it gave it one of its titles: the House of the Sewn Tongue. to work a necromantic seal upon the tongue and the jaw, to prevent them from being able to speak of a subject of the caster's choice. she had learned how to perform such a feat before she was ten years old. her familiarity with the curse is why the situation seems to click to her all at once, even if it was well and truly too late.

and it's just as she thinks of this now that her hand flicks forward, tossing the bone fragment to skip across the dirty and cracked linoleum past eichi, coming to rest some ten or so feet away. her dark eyes widen in shock at the involuntary nature of the movement below her veil as the skeletal construct begins to rise from the shard of ilium — a macabre beanstalk having grown almost instantaneously from an osseous seed.

run, she wants to tell him. she tries to will her lips and tongue to form the word, to try to give him time to get away from her before the inevitable happens. but she finds herself in the unique position that she might have only ever forced upon someone else: she cannot say it as the red lights blink to life within the cavernous sockets of the skeleton. it brandishes a right arm which ends not in an anatomically-perfect hand, as it might usually, but instead an elongated and sharpened spear of the radius reinforced with a spar of ulna. )