"Oi! Bastard, just who do you think you're flingin' around in the water." Yeah, he's turning around and yelling at the water once he lands on the beach. The small collection of skulls that land next to him clacks around until they form into what do you know a skull shape, a deep blue light emitting from a pair of eyes as it seems to speak to him. A mekurabe as his familiar, something seems appropriate in that.
Your loud.
"And you're a pile of talking Skulls trying to be my sidekick, what about it? Huh?"
He needs a smoke, Samatoki goes to his pockets, and two things hit him as he pulls out a soaking wet pack of cigarettes. His cigarettes are wet, and his mic is gone. This is the moment he goes down nose to nose, well as nose to nose as one can with a pile of skulls and glares into a set of glowing blue eyes.
"You got magic fucker, then fix this shit!" He dangles the smokes in front of the familiar's face. The familiar does what it does and is fabled to do, stares at the yakuza. Excuse these two as they sit at the shoreline, having a silent staring contest with a pack of wet cigarettes dangling between them.
The Red Spring:
Okay, one way or another, he got his smoke situation taken care of; his familiar, however, has long stayed silent on him. Clearly, they will have some minor relationship issues to work out. Either way, the smaller skulls, forming a bigger skull, do at least seem content to stay beside the Yakuza.
He seems content to lean there on the front of the inn and blow smoke up into the sky. This is probably his third cigarette since they got out of the caravan. That was not a pleasant ride, and he is definitely not a favorite of the man who guided them here.
What does he care, from a world where words were weapons to this place that wants to make him into some fucking wizard. Sorry, that plot does not work for him, and ash drops lazily from the smoke between his lips, landing on his boot-top. He finally looks at the familiar.
"You gonna give me the damn silent treatment all day, bastard?"
Banquet:
Yeah, check, please! He is done already; it's like walking into a weird-ass convention with people in costumes. He checks out the food but does not partake, caution guiding him. At this point, he'd rather eat something Riou cooked, and that is saying something. But, if there is one thing Samatoki has in spades, it's trust issues.
The mekurabe moves into his field of vision; he has not bothered naming it; what the hell do you call a pile of skulls making a bigger skull, huh?
You should eat.
"What are you, my wife?" Thankfully this staring contest is brief, his familiar's response, brief but effective. Because right then, a roll flies from the table and into Samatoki's mouth.
The yakuza's red eyes fly wide; he attempts to spit the bread out but can't. Somehow those glowing blue eyes seem satisfied with themselves. Rude ass bastard! Only one way out of this, obviously, eat the damn roll.
Samatoki, instead, is pulling at it, trying to dislodge and otherwise rid himself of it while he mumbles curses and threats around it at the smug familiar just staring at him.
Samatoki Aohitsugi | Hypnosis Mic
"Oi! Bastard, just who do you think you're flingin' around in the water." Yeah, he's turning around and yelling at the water once he lands on the beach. The small collection of skulls that land next to him clacks around until they form into what do you know a skull shape, a deep blue light emitting from a pair of eyes as it seems to speak to him. A mekurabe as his familiar, something seems appropriate in that.
Your loud.
"And you're a pile of talking Skulls trying to be my sidekick, what about it? Huh?"
He needs a smoke, Samatoki goes to his pockets, and two things hit him as he pulls out a soaking wet pack of cigarettes. His cigarettes are wet, and his mic is gone. This is the moment he goes down nose to nose, well as nose to nose as one can with a pile of skulls and glares into a set of glowing blue eyes.
"You got magic fucker, then fix this shit!" He dangles the smokes in front of the familiar's face. The familiar does what it does and is fabled to do, stares at the yakuza. Excuse these two as they sit at the shoreline, having a silent staring contest with a pack of wet cigarettes dangling between them.
The Red Spring:
Okay, one way or another, he got his smoke situation taken care of; his familiar, however, has long stayed silent on him. Clearly, they will have some minor relationship issues to work out. Either way, the smaller skulls, forming a bigger skull, do at least seem content to stay beside the Yakuza.
He seems content to lean there on the front of the inn and blow smoke up into the sky. This is probably his third cigarette since they got out of the caravan. That was not a pleasant ride, and he is definitely not a favorite of the man who guided them here.
What does he care, from a world where words were weapons to this place that wants to make him into some fucking wizard. Sorry, that plot does not work for him, and ash drops lazily from the smoke between his lips, landing on his boot-top. He finally looks at the familiar.
"You gonna give me the damn silent treatment all day, bastard?"
Banquet:
Yeah, check, please! He is done already; it's like walking into a weird-ass convention with people in costumes. He checks out the food but does not partake, caution guiding him. At this point, he'd rather eat something Riou cooked, and that is saying something. But, if there is one thing Samatoki has in spades, it's trust issues.
The mekurabe moves into his field of vision; he has not bothered naming it; what the hell do you call a pile of skulls making a bigger skull, huh?
You should eat.
"What are you, my wife?" Thankfully this staring contest is brief, his familiar's response, brief but effective. Because right then, a roll flies from the table and into Samatoki's mouth.
The yakuza's red eyes fly wide; he attempts to spit the bread out but can't. Somehow those glowing blue eyes seem satisfied with themselves. Rude ass bastard! Only one way out of this, obviously, eat the damn roll.
Samatoki, instead, is pulling at it, trying to dislodge and otherwise rid himself of it while he mumbles curses and threats around it at the smug familiar just staring at him.