text, un: rosaceae

[roseblooms]

Well, well. It seems it's true, then, that the potential exists for every monthly moon cycle to elicit a different set of changes in an individual. It's not exactly what I'd call reassuring, I suppose, but it's some consolation nevertheless. There are worse things to contend with than bioluminescence — which is proving to be a nuisance, but a tolerable one.

Of slightly more concern to me is the matter of moonlacing. While I recall that it's possible to get by on brief and simplistic methods of contact, it's also my understanding that a minimalist approach leaves a person exposed to a certain level of risk, should an unexpected drain on their chroma abruptly leave them overdrawn, as it were.

With that in mind, I'd be interested in negotiating terms for a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Let me stress that this is not a solicitation. Bold-faced overtures seeking sex will be denied without response. Consider this more an...attempt to establish certain contingencies, to afford everyone involved a little more peace of mind.

I'm willing to talk terms. If something of this nature is of interest to you, feel free to inquire within.

Comments

[roseblooms]

If you're familiar with the community garden on level two, there are a number of pleasant paths we might choose.

And nearby foliage to disappear behind, should we be so inclined.

[teaserving]

yeah im familiar
ive been here for almost a year i've seen most of it by now

i'll be there in a bit

[roseblooms]

[It's sort of funny, really, how many people have asked to meet him in the Groves. It gives the appearance of him always saying yes to be amenable, when really it's exactly where he wants to be — surrounded by plants, any one of them available to become a weapon at a moment's notice.

Still, he gets there first, and loiters casually — a tall young adult standing at nearly six feet, casually dressed in khakis and a white Oxford with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow.]

[teaserving]

[Honestly, it's one of the few occasions in which Abbacchio doesn't over analyze it, the reasoning for the location. It seems perfectly quaint, a fine place for a walk. Someone might even accuse it of being slightly romantic.

Abbacchio arrives, hands in his pockets and hair tied up in a ponytail. It's so damned hot for a leather coat, so he sticks with a blank tank top.

Kurama might be nearly six feet, but Abbacchio hits the mark. He's the tall one, take that.]

[roseblooms]

[He has a sort of mean-cat look about him, this semi-stranger from the network. Not cruel, and not vicious, but there's something hardened about him, something guarded. It's in the set of his mouth, the way he holds his shoulders, the way he walks. Little, imperceptible things that Kurama simply looks for because they're animal things, moreso than human ones.]

Hello. "Fantasma", I presume?

[teaserving]

Yeah, that's the username.

[There's a pause. The young man's pretty with stark red hair, impossible to ignore in a room of people. He isn't sure what he pictured honestly, but he seems suited to the plants.]

Leone Abbacchio.

[roseblooms]

[The name strikes him as familiar somehow, and with a pleasant association besides; it takes him a minute of quietly searching his recollection, but then all of a sudden he thinks he has it.]

The detective? Private investigator, rather.

[He smiles softly.]

I told you riddles on the network. It's a pleasure to meet you face to face; my name is Kurama.

[teaserving]

[That earns a small laugh.]

Yeah. I remember. It was kind of nice to have the distraction, honestly. You also said you were a thief once. Not that it bothers me.

But like you said, good to meet face to face.

[roseblooms]

Well. In the interest of full disclosure, one never really stops being a thief. I am, however, reformed — or trying to be, at least.

[He glances down at himself, then back up again, and quirks an eyebrow in indication.]

This isn't a problem, I hope. I've no objection to shifting forms, but I'll be somewhat less polite if I do. To say nothing of the spontaneous appearance of ears and tail.

[teaserving]

Oh no, how terrifying. [He says it flatly. Really, he couldn't care less, not unless he was preying on the already unfortunate. Then there would be problems. But based on their conversations, he doesn't think it'll end up that way.]

Ears and a tail. Really. In this place. You don't say?

[roseblooms]

[It's a good point; surprised and pleased, the remark gets a chuckle out of him nevertheless.]

Now that is a level of immediate acceptance that's going to take some getting used to. Few individuals where I'm from would be so tolerant.

[Still, he purses his lips.]

There, now: the perfect mystery for you to solve, detective. How is it that this place draws in a real kitsune, yet said kitsune fails to come under the influence of the Cordis moon?

[teaserving]

Honestly, even if I wasn't here for so long, it wouldn't have been the weirdest damned thing I'd ever seen.

[He almost corrects Kurama, that he's not a detective, but Kurama's smart; he knows. It's just a nickname.]

I imagine that the gods, especially for Cordis, are fucking pranksters. I was Cordis initially when I got here, then suddenly I swapped to Sanguis.

[roseblooms]

Really. Well, that rules out the notion that it's personality that drives the choice, doesn't it? You wouldn't have undergone such a reversal in character traits overnight.

[He draws a hand out of his pocket, offering it to Abbacchio.]

Shall we walk, while we talk? Two birds, one stone, that sort of thing.

[teaserving]

Personality's got nothing to do with it, that much I can tell you.

[Well, hand holding would be a good way to make some chroma. So, he does slip his hand into Kurama's.]

Sure. You picked a pretty nice spot.

[roseblooms]

I like gardens.

[Almost immediately, with the contact, a burst of chroma flashes to life, and he feels better already. Good; with Iris mounting fast, he needs all the help he can get.

As if in echo of the thought, the glow of the bioluminescent markings comes into dim view along his skin — lines and angles in mostly geometric patterns.]

Now, if I were a supervillain in a television drama, I'd take this moment to largely blow my cover and wax poetic about how I analogize flowers to my extremist worldview — beauty, thorns, fragility and fleeting pleasure, et cetera, et cetera — which would foreshadow my inevitable reveal and betrayal in the third act.

[teaserving]

Well, damn. I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm not main protagonist material. I'd probably be the inevitable sacrifice for someone else's story.

[roseblooms]

And here I would've taken you for a man who'd sooner point out that this isn't a television drama. Life isn't nearly so simple, or so scripted.

[He gives Abbacchio's hand a little squeeze.]

I'm curious, though, if you'll indulge me in bearing out the joke a bit longer. What would your ideal role be? Not the one you think best suits, but the one you'd most like to be cast in?

[teaserving]

What can I say, I've experienced some weird shit.

[That's kind of nice. Not that he doesn't get his affection from friends, but you know, it's a bit different from someone he barely knows.]

I don't know. Let's say this is a noir film, or something. I'd want to be the guy that figures out the truth of it. The guy who solves the big mystery, unravels the bad guy and brings him to justice. That's ideal.

But I know that's just a dream. Nothing else.

[roseblooms]

You don't strike me as the sort of person who seeks glory. You wouldn't be in it for the attention. Just the justice — is that it?

[He hums, leading them toward a path that winds through budding vegetable crops.]

I would want to be the atoner. Perhaps an informant, formerly a criminal, or an unexpected ally yet to earn the lawman's trust. The one who has to work to earn his reprieve, but manages it in the end.

[teaserving]

Just that. ...I always wanted to be a police officer since I was a kid. Not for the power or anything like that. I just wanted to bring people to justice, protect people who couldn't protect themselves. Not for my ego.

[whoa is that weed]

A redemption arc, huh? [Abbacchio lets out an amused huff.] Is there a lawman whose respect you're looking for?

[roseblooms]

There's one whose respect I have. I'm still not altogether convinced I deserve it.

[i mean no those are potatoes but that bit over there? THAT'S weed]

And I wouldn't say it's redemption, precisely. Atonement, rather, is more my area of interest.

[teaserving]

I know how that feels.

[There are still a lot of things that Abbacchio doesn't think he deserves.]

What's the difference to you?

[roseblooms]

Redemption is about me. Atonement is about others.

[He shrugs a little, smiling slightly.]

What matters is that amends have been made for the things I've done, and ideally, I shouldn't be adding to that list any further as I work at it. It shouldn't matter whether I come out a better person at the end. I've focused on myself for too long as it is.

[teaserving]

You feel like you've been selfish for the past, huh? I guess I can get that. Allegedly ex-thief and all.

I think at least wanting to atone is the first right step. Maybe your lawman sees that in you.

[roseblooms]

It's practically in the definition of theft, to be selfish. Prioritizing your own desire over someone else's legitimate right of possession.

He's the sort of person who's...easily followed. Far from a natural-born leader, and yet his values inspire allegiance regardless.