Dreador looked at her captive companion like she couldn't believe him. She slowly raised from the seat she had condemned herself to, eyes flicking between the movement of his hands. Trust. Help. Trust. Help. Over and over. She lifted a hand, pressed the back of it lightly against her eye, then prowled forward.
"Inbal dos tlus iff'brut quin?" she began, testing the stranger for the Gaurrean old tongues, then continued in her heavy accent, "Have you been marked?"
She knelt by him and gestured to the back of her neck.
Shiori.
The first thing she knew â before she saw anything, before sheâd even noticed she was alive â was that she had been named. The next thing she discovered? She could feel. Something was walking on her, leaving an imprint on her worn fabric. Despite that this was the first time she had felt any sensation, it was familiar. Warm, and⊠a little bit painful. Then she lost it all again.
Who knows how much time passed before she came back. All she did know was that she could feel again, and she felt something that was itching to open. And so, for the first time, she opened her eyes.
Or, eye.
One large chestnut eye stitched into the pattern of the carpet opened to look up into the dark, only just making out a wooden ceiling. A fairly unimpressive first view of the world and yet⊠she felt joy. A fat tear welled up in her fabric eye and immediately soaked back into her. She knew where she was, she knew what she was and she knew that she could⊠should⊠why couldnât she move?
She curled up to see her bottom half trapped beneath the legs of a heavy writing desk. Oh. Um, letâs see here⊠soon it was quite apparent that there was little a carpet could do to move a weighed down desk. Well, shit. Nothing to do but wait until the humans of this house decided to take it off for her. Considering how much dust she had gathered beneath the table, it was unlikely her owners were the type to rearrange things often. Exactly how long had she been here, any⊠was⊠was that an ink stain?!
Shiori had been gifted with knowledge of many things when she woke up. Knowledge of her country, morality, time, days, weather, Yokai, Gods, mortality, immortality â so, so many things that came all at once, but did not overwhelm her. What had her overwhelmed was what she was forced to learn in these quiet moments alone after her awakening. What was she, other than Tsukumogami? Frayed corners and worn fabric and a horrid stain and forgotten...
The carpet began violently thrashing beneath the desk, eventually knocking off rolls of paper and an inkwell before she finally yanked herself free from her prison and floated up. The table legs had left dents in her that she would not be free of for a long time. Unable to find anything like a portrait of her owner, she rolled half of herself up so she wouldnât trail over the ground and flew out of the room in search of them. After searching the entire house, it appeared they werenât home. Ah, well, sheâd know them the moment she saw them. Something told her that.
She floated over to the sliding paper door and eventually managed to open it, gazing out onto the street. The sun was down and the Yokai were out. Everything in the house felt annoyingly familiar, but out there⊠out there, she barely knew anything. Would her owner care if she left for a moment while they were out? It surely must have been expected of her to stay and protect the homestead, but⊠well, they didnât know she was alive yet.
Soon the sentient carpet was floating above the Matchmaking Festival, listening to music and smelling food for the first time â and looking at the Tree of Bitter Love. She wanted to join the people beneath her. She also wanted to climb that tree â not because of the view, she could fly, duh, but just because she could. The crowds were⊠mostly Kitsune, it seemed. A flying one eyed, long-tongued carpet would be very out of place down there. Oh, well, time to change form. The carpet spiraled around, wrapping itself in a cocoon, when suddenly it exploded into a naked, human girl â and immediately began plummeting towards the earth.
âAh,â Shiori said as she dropped from the skies that were once her domain, âWhoops!â
By four in the morning, Hugo Sohma's kitchen was sizzling with the smells and sounds of a balanced breakfast. He placed his meal on the table, perfectly placed and arranged for one. Steamed rice. Grilled salmon. Pickled vegetables. Miso soup. All in tiny bowls and plates and steaming. He looked up from his meal to the blank wall opposite him and clapped his hands together.
"I gratefully receive," he announced.
... From myself, went unspoken.
After scoffing down his lonesome meal, he rushed to make himself presentable for work that day. As he opened the fridge to retrieve his lunch on the way out, he noticed a plate of animal shaped pastries - taiyaki, but none were shaped like fish. There was a big mouse, a cow... some more discernible shapes... Huh, wonder what he made those for again. He slammed the fridge without even glancing at Kira's note stuck to it and ran out the apartment...
"Ehhh?! I took the day off?!"
Hugo stood in the kitchens of Uptown Eden, his face slack with disbelief at his coworkers. "What could be important enough for me to do something like that?!" He whipped out his phone to scroll through notes, settling on one: Highschool Festival. DO NOT trade family for work again - do you want the gossip?
"La vache," he muttered under his breath, throwing a glance to his watch. Around six... He nodded his head firmly and rolled up his sleeves, shooting his coworkers a firm smile. "I have the time to help with prep. Let's have a successful day, everybody!"
Forty-five minutes later, and Hugo's bike was hurtling off the premises so fast he was generating dust clouds. He nearly zoomed past his apartment block when he remembered and skidded to a halt, sprinted up the stairs (a chant of, "Merde, merde, merde, merde..." going up with him), and rushed back with a plate of personalized cold Taiyaki and different clothes. A corner away from the highschool gates, and his warpath came to an end. He dismounted his bike, smoothed over his hair, and took a deep breath to calm himself. Then he walked his bike and taiyaki around the corner with his usual calm, confident smile as people parted for him. Huh, only Izumi was here now. If the other Sohmas didn't show... there was really no point in taking off work to turn up himself.
"Good morning!" he called to them, "Kira-chan, Izumi-kun. It's been too long." He held out two pastries for them, fluffy and heavy with sweet red beans. One in the shape of a cute mouse, and the other a sheep with flowers etched into its wool. "I brought you something. Just in case you'd forgotten that you missed me," he shot them a wink, "Thought your taste buds might remember better~"
A girl looked down at the scene from within the highschool, her arms folded and face inexpressive. So, the Sohmas were gathering here. She glanced up and her vision readjusted to focus on her refection, not the sights past the window. She instinctively tugged her hair down to try to hide her face more.
"Katou-san!"
Rikona nearly jolted at the shrill cry and turned to see three of her female classmates rushing her. She considered taking up a defensive stance, but just stood still and watched blankly as they swarmed her, eyes wide with both fear of her, and something else.
"K-Katou-san, you're Yui-chan's understudy, right?!" Rikona nodded, and suddenly, she was seized. "Good! You're needed backstage, immediately! Yui-chan can't come in today! You - You do know her part, right?" Rikona shook her head. "O- Ok, well, all the princess really does is sleep through half of it - here, read it along the way!"
Rikona was dragged limply by three girls in elaborate costume and stage make-up, a script shoved into her face. Ah, good, she really didn't have to say anything. That's a relief. Probably the reason she was the understudy for this character. By the time she was squeezed into a frilly pink dress and was refusing to move her hair for her make up team, she read the last page.
The Prince embraces the Princess.
CRASH.
"Eeeeek!!"
"The - The understudy is escaping!"
"G-Get her!"
"CATCH THAT PRINCESS!"
Manhawk was struck by lightning.
A pair of worn-out sneakers dragged through the linoleum halls of a convenience store. They stopped before the frozen foods section, and a scabby hand came up to tug out an earphone blasting GRLwood from under a beanie. It brushed past the medical mask covering half their face and rested over the baggy, shapeless clothes they wore. They swung open the clear fridge door, then stopped, staring up at the TV playing in the corner. It was one of Ion's streams, heavily censored with pixels. The news changed to a different story, showing helicopter footage of Atlas beach.
"... where thousands of people will gather today to honor the fallen at the Atlas beach memorial. Reported among the names of the fallen is Atlas City's beloved hero, Manhaw-"
The fridge door slammed shut, and Vic sped to the counter with a frozen pizza.
As she fumbled with the notes, she kept her chin down, ignoring the scrutinizing from the cashier. Her hand went up to make sure none of her hair had fallen out from under her beanie. She let out a little cough behind her mask to keep up the gig. Her eyes flicked over to the TV behind the counter, which had switched to another story. Shaky, vertically-filmed footage showed a bottle-red haired figure falling down from a smashed window with the caption, VICKI VORTEX REPORTED MISSING, APARTMENT DESTROYED. A green light flashing in her peripherals tore her attention away right as Mack Bullard came on screen to make his statement. She looked back to see the cashier looking bug-eyed at a sudden breakfast spread that had appeared on the counter. Vic let out an exasperated sigh, and caught the juice box as it was thrown through. She slapped her money on the counter and picked up her pizza box before heading to the door.
"Keep the change."
Vic walked over the scorch marks on the road up to Club Shapeless, looking far less glamorous in the light of day. The darkness and city lights weren't around to give the broken glass and piss stains on the side of buildings a pretty filter. She looked up at the building, slurping up her juice, then swapped the straw out for a frozen pizza slice. She approached the door with the pizza-cle between her teeth to kick on it. After getting no response, she zipped over to the back entrance and did the same.
Nobody lives here, idiot.
She tore a bite out of the pizza, crunched on the ice crystals, threw the piece away then slumped against the door to fish out that hexagonal chip from her pocket. It began to disperse into nothing, along with her hand, and she hid the stump in her pocket. Her head smacked against the door in frustration, then looked up at the security camera pointed down at her. She pulled down her mask and stared straight into the camera.
"LAB. RAT," she mouthed, and pulled her mask back up to leave.
RPG
