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]

...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.

[goatsongs]

...I'll accept the thanks.

[The respect is kind of weird.]

Have you eaten already?

[mafiadog]

No. I don’t eat much.

[He glances away.]

I actually had a selfish reason for this. That being that I want to see your power. In return I’ll show you mine.

[goatsongs]

[It's not that Chuuya minds, but he's hungry now that food's been placed in front of him.

So he takes a bite of toast, then grabs the book that had been dropped near to his bed. A book that suddenly and with little fanfare turns into a gun.]

's thish.

[Don't talk with your mouth full, Chuuya.]

[mafiadog]

[Akutagawa has seen all manner of abilities, but he’s never seen anything quite like this. He picks up and inspects the gun, handling it carefully so as not to accidentally set it off.]

Do the bullets have any special properties?

[He’ll ask questions, mouthful of toast or no.]

[goatsongs]

[It looks pretty much like a normal handgun designed by somebody with a steampunk aesthetic who liked putting gears on things.]

Not really. Doesn't run out of bullets, which is nice.

[mafiadog]

[It looks cool.]

I see.

[He hands the gun back to Chuuya before standing up off the bed, hands in his pockets.]

Is there anything you’re curious about with my ability?

[goatsongs]

[The gun gets returned to book form, and Chuuya sets it aside for the moment.]

Yeah, do you show it off to everybody you meet or am I just special?

[mafiadog]

[Akutagawa frowns at the question.]

Most people who see Rashōmon don’t live to tell the tale.

[He’ll lash out to knick Chuuya’s cheek with a sharp edge of Rashōmon.]

In a sense, you’re special.