call me out v. 11.0

[misheard]

Call out one of the characters from my muselist with a starter, a prompt, a general 'hey can we do something with these characters' comment, a smoke signal, etc., and I'll get back to you with some kind of RP thread!

Comments

[mafiadog]

...thanks.

[Akutagawa doesn’t realize just how bad he’s feeling until he tries to sit up, and then the world starts spinning, his head throbbing, and he immediately lies back down with a groan.

Thank god Chuuya shows up shortly after with painkillers, which Akutagawa immediately downs.]

Alcohol is terrible.

[He gives Chuuya a once-over.]

How are you not hungover as badly? You drank more than I did.

[goatsongs]

I'm used to it from drinking constantly. Trust me, you'd rather have the shitty hangovers.

[Withdrawal symptoms are a bitch.

Chuuya sits down next to Akutagawa, so he can go back to clinging to him if he wants.]

[mafiadog]

I see.

[A tiny tendril of Rashōmon emerges unbidden from his sleeve to wrap around Chuuya’s wrist.]

You haven’t asked what my powers are. Or seemed afraid of them.

[goatsongs]

[Tiny Rashomon gets a soft pat from Chuuya.]

You could probably kill me with them if you wanted to, yeah? I've been figuring you could kill me since you told me you were a mafia assassin, this doesn't make any difference.

[Actually, it's kind of cute...]

[mafiadog]

...interesting.

[He’ll need to report back to HQ soon, but for now...]

Are you going to allow me to stay, then?

[The tendril of Rashomon squeezes a little tighter before Akutagawa let’s go and lies back down.]

Why do you live in a library?

[goatsongs]

Dead people don't usually have their own houses.

[Delivered entirely matter-of-factly, like: of course that's the most reasonable explanation.]

Stay as long as you want.

[mafiadog]

...dead?

[Akutagawa looks at Chuuya like he’s crazy, one eyebrow raised.]

Explain.

[goatsongs]

[Looking at Chuuya like he's gone crazy is the sane reaction. Chuuya puffs out a sigh.]

Can you cut my hand? I don't have anything on me unless you want me to try to get myself to bleed with a pen.

[He figures Akutagawa has at least some ways of making a person bleed.]

[mafiadog]

...I suppose.

[Nobody has ever asked Akutagawa to hurt them before, but he supposes there must be a reason for it, and he lashes out with Rashōmon to cut Chuuya’s palm in a nice, neat line.]

[goatsongs]

[Chuuya only winces momentarily, before holding out his hand palm-up to show Akutagawa exactly why he'd asked: the cut 'bleeds' ink. No ordinary human being would have that black liquid dripping from their hand.]

Does this clear anything up?

[Probably not.]

[mafiadog]

[It clears nothing up except the fact that Chuuya isn’t normal.]

...is that...ink?

[He swipes a finger through the black liquid and licks it (that’s sanitary), and immediately grimaces. It totally is ink.]

I see. You’re dead, but alive. Some kind of otherworldly being.

[goatsongs]

[He drinks ink all the time, it's fine.]

Something like that. The memories attached to a dead author's book in spirit form. I usually tune people out when they start explaining the details, because I don't care.

[mafiadog]

...I see.

[Akutagawa isn’t going to call bullshit on that, because he’s honestly heard crazier things. He just can’t think of any right now.

He reaches out to touch Chuuya’s face, out of simple curiousity.]

You must be powerful. A being to fear.

[goatsongs]

[His face is as warm as any human being's, and is currently wearing an expression of 'are you actually shitting me right now'.]

...Not really.

[mafiadog]

Surely you’re stronger than a normal human, possessing such qualities.

[Chuuya really is warm. Not at all like a corpse. So he’s less like a zombie and more like a ghost.]

The job you have. What is it?

[goatsongs]

[Yes, he's stronger than most people, but he's still 5'1", he strikes fear in the hearts of no one ever.]

Purifying tainted books by going inside them and killing monsters. Apparently I don't have to do that until this afternoon today, lucky me.

[He's not great at keeping track of his schedule.]

[mafiadog]

[Such is the fate of those named Chuuya.]

How do you fight?

[He’s so curious about Chuuya, and he can’t even explain why. Maybe it’s the painkillers?]

[goatsongs]

[It might be the painkillers. Chuuya got him the good stuff.]

With a gun. A gun that turns into a book, but it works pretty much the same.

[mafiadog]

I want to see it sometime.

[He’s weird about this stuff. Please forgive him.]

You’ve seen only a fraction of my power.

[goatsongs]

It's not like I'm against showing off or seeing you show off [because Akutagawa can no doubt perform more impressive feats with his power than keeping Chuuya in bed] but I'm too hungover to appreciate a show right now.

[As well as he's hiding it, his head is pounding.]

[mafiadog]

Right. Lie down then. This is your bed, after all.

[Aku will curl up beside him, because he’s still exhausted and hungover as well.]

Do you need anything, Chuuya-san?

[goatsongs]

I need a nap.

[So Chuuya rests his head on his pillow and shuts his eyes. Last night he'd been faced away from Akutagawa, but this time he's facing towards him]

Goodnight, Akutagawa-kun.

[mafiadog]

Good night.

[Akutagawa’s sleep will be fitful, but eventually he’ll rest, his headache finally disappearing.

When the sun rises Akutagawa will too, and Chuuya will wake up to a glass of water, a cup of black coffee, and two pieces of toast with butter.]

Chuuya-san. Is this an acceptable meal?

[goatsongs]

[Give him a second to rub the sleep out of his eyes and process what he's looking at.]

...You made me breakfast?

[Why would you make him breakfast?]

[mafiadog]

In a sense. All I did was toast some bread and brew some coffee.

[He sits down on the edge of the bed, eyes fixing on Chuuya.]

As thanks. And as a show of respect.