some, but there are a few that are mine outright. gifts from dignitaries, things like that. though, i imagine if i did decide to try hocking any of them, i'd come up against the same brand of opposition i got when i suggested selling some of the unused pieces in the armory or floated repurposing a few of the dozens of uninhabited buildings set aside for my residence...
[Nothing the ministers look more shocked about than her audacious attempts to do non-linear things for the betterment of the kingdom.]
thanks, but no thanks. i don't want to see what the aftermath of having you use either of those options could look like. we could probably find room for you somewhere in those thirty odd empty buildings though...
mostly i was thinking of another potential assassination i'd have to live down, but i want to see that so much less when you describe it as a 'peaceful brutality'.
my guards wouldn't let you stay 'mysterious', you know. kind of a sticking point with them.
[One second she's reading that message, and then the next she's jumping from the ungodly racket of terrible cat burglary in progress at her window, phone very nearly dropped to the floor before she whirls around to lock eyes with The Problem™. Of course he's trying to break in through the window on her balcony. It isn't like there's a door four feet to the right. Or situated at the entrance of her apartment. Walking over with a look on her face that perhaps should make Warren glad to have a pane of glass between them still, she stops, and gestures emphatically at the front door back behind her.]
[Warren freezes when she catches his gaze, exactly like a dog with one paw in the snausages jar. What do you mean he wasn't a sneaky stealth master? How did she KNOW he was up here?!
A shiver runs down his spine at that terrifying look... A pleasant one. (Don't judge him.)
Warren points to himself. Me? Then over towards the door. Use the door?]
Youkooo! Let us iiiin!
[Bonk bonk bonk bonk bonk bonk - The sound of a plastic pumpkin-shaped popcorn tub being used to assault the window frame. There's no use in glaring daggers at Warren; he isn't the one holding the bit of Halloween whimsy. Tiny bat feet tightly grip the tub's handle, now visible as the rest of the lovely lady flaps into view.]
[The pantomimed Who, me? routine has her sorely tempted to snap the curtains shut until he figures out entering the normal way, but the bonk of plastic on glass draws her attention away, and with it her ire.
Even just a few short years ago, seeing an unusual creature fluttering at her window probably would have alarmed her, made her worry the poor thing was sick or injured, but at this point she is mostly used to the strange comings and goings of anything that might be categorized as a familiar. Besides, there is an inept skulker right there, escorting her and all but heralding her. Even if a bat were a surprise, the vampire's presence would temper her shock.
Unlatching the window lock, she slides the protective screen and glass open wide enough for one (1) bat with a plastic pumpkin popcorn tub in tow. Warren, however, she fixes with an unamused look.]
[Goodness. He nearly expects to see steam flooding from both her ears. A snowball has a better chance of surviving Hell... There's no convincing Youko that infernal creatures have an insatiable yearning to enter domiciles through unconventional means.
Her attention diverts to the darling Esmeralda and Warren watches Youko's face. He wouldn't expect surprise, really. Ah, how he mourns the loss of the unworldly woman Youko used to be, that he never knew her, never had the chance to see her startle and marvel at a familiar's presence. The uncommon has become common for her. Youko's appeal is in a different sort of ladylike demeanour than an innocent waif but he would nonetheless have liked to see her in that light, too.
The chill of October surrounds him. Warren is unaffected but he has dressed for the weather anyway for no reason other than to fit in with mortals. He looks good. The season's colors suit him; warmth and tenderness manifest in a blend of Autumn hues from head to toe.
Dear, dear Esme enters the small space Youko has made for her and chirrups in thanks. The tub contains not one single popcorn kernel, alas. Warren tilts his head to align with the new gap. What do you mean he can't fit through there? No?]
You've fallen into my trap!
[Warren winks; his words could be nonsense. Whatever he actually means, he finally takes the hint (read: direct instruction) and adjourns for the door, leaving his bat alone with Youko.]
[The chirrup the bat makes widens her eyes a little. It isn't a sound she's acquainted with, and it isn't the sort of chatter she's become used to. Hyouki and Hankyo and all the rest of Keiki's shirei speak with human — if disembodied — voices, each with their own mannerisms. An actual animal response is... new. Can she speak or are noises the closest she comes?
She looks back to ask Warren, dressed like he would fit right at home with all the splendor of maple leaf piles and with a warm cinnamon-tinged drink in hand, and catches him fitting his face to the gap, killing the question on sight. At least he decides to take the wiser path and use the door before a disappointed look sticks permanently on her face. Idly, she flicks the lock so he isn't left stranded on the balcony, even if the cold can't touch him, and wanders past the familiar and her dining table, bee-lining towards her kitchenette.]
And... what trap is it that I've fallen into?
[Digging in her cabinets, she retrieves a milk glass bowl and fills it with cool water from the fridge, only to carry it back to set it on the table. It might be silly, maybe even fruitless courtesy, but she makes a wordless gesture from the bat to the bowl. A drink for the laborer if she wants it, with plenty of room beside it for her cargo.]
[Oh such a delicate sound. Just ever-so-slightly above audible unless one were a cat or fox. Warren could wax poetic about his bats for days. Sadly, there is nothing poetic about the stupid grin on his face when he finally comes in from the cold.]
You invited me inside!
[Not that he hasn't been here before, obviously. Are those scorch marks on the kitchenette's ceiling...?]
Would you happen to have a ripe tomato instead?
[In possibly the world's most jarring segue, made while he notes that he doesn't get offered a water bowl.]
Esmeralda adores them. The perfect mix of mild sweetness and hydration!
[Fruitless or no, Warren observes the courtesy with what might be something like pride in his chest. Youko is already an Empress but damn girl, such a queen! Manners these days are so terribly lacking in the youth, not even a hat to tip in respect of one's elders, etc.]
[Those are scorch marks on the ceiling and they both know the provenance. Which is why she looks to them, then back to Warren and his grinning face, cocking her head to one side as if it can convey the tired, 'Obviously,' she feels in her heart. Maybe Warren doesn't need blood at all and simply leeches energy away from his victims. It would explain why he depletes her social battery so quickly.]
A tomato? I might...
[She spares his bat — Esmeralda, and isn't that an extravagant name — a glance before wandering back to crouch down and thoroughly rummage in the produce drawer of her fridge. Being in between grocery trips, there is no guarantee she'd still have something to furnish the request, but after a minute of digging Youko pulls a green plastic basket of cherry tomatoes free from the back and holds it up for Warren's approval.]
[Every muscle in her beautiful face practically shouts her weary 'obviously'. She needn't say a word for him to feel the effect her mindset forces her body to endure. A living being is a cacophony of subconscious motion he can only imitate.
They are night and day. Youko's exasperation is a truthful emotion, and exactly what he wants. Not irritation. Just honesty. Especially since she hasn't noticed that being invited really did please him. Why even bother... (the answer's deeply-rooted trauma, of course.)]
Perfect! I'll take a few for her reward if it's no trouble.
[He's happy as a clam, apparently. Warren brings Esme up onto his hand first; the bat is as comfortable with him as if he were family.]
Take some for yourself, in fact!
[As if they're not hers in the first place. Warren plucks a bunch of the gem-like fruits out of the neat little basket and slices one open handily with his thumbnail before feeding it to his eager companion. The look on his face towards the delighted bat is best called smitten.]
[Being offered her own tomatoes... how very on brand. It gets a soft snort of a laugh and the briefest shake of her head before Youko is putting the carton back into the drawer and closing things up, getting back on her feet. She should offer Warren something to drink — hot tea or juice or water — but she's a little transfixed with the show of little Esmeralda settled comfortably in his palm, happily being fed tomato in recognition of her service.
That he looks as taken with the bat as the bat is with her treat is... soothing in a way. Nice. It's a quieter delight than the ones Warren seems content to default to around her, the ones that ruin kitchens and pull her metaphorical pigtails. She shifts a half-step closer, mindful not to make any large movements that might startle either subject of her leisurely observation, and keeping her volume low.]
[It's surprising, isn't it? When the grown man whose lonely neediness manifests as bratty pestering finally settles down. He isn't often content like this. The two ladies in his presence seem to have cast a spell.]
Since she was born. And her mother before that, and her grandmother, la-la~
[The snacking bat has no idea that her ancestry is so meticulously measured in Warren's memory. Her little mouth moves all over the juicy tomato as if it were the tastiest thing she has ever had the privilege of dining on. It's one of the things he cherishes. That easy pleasure. Youko now has the turn of reading him like a book; he clearly feels a unique admiration for the hairy black thing spilling goopy mush with her enthusiastic bites.]
Bats are quite fragile, you know. So much more than they seem.
So you've been caretaking her family for generations?
[Watching over a bloodline, one beloved little pet after another after another. That isn't an idea she's considered yet about her own longevity. In all honesty, she's still stuck between the idea of just making it a decade and the inevitability of her parents dying while she looks the same as the last day they saw her. Maybe if she makes it the whole decade, she'll consider raising the progenitor of a chain of palace cats.
Her eyes glance back and forth between the adorable chomping bat and the plainly charmed vampire, though they linger longer on Warren. It really leaves her feeling out of her depth to see him so calm. Nothing on fire, not needling her, just... looking happy. It has her smiling despite any stubbornly clinging annoyance from the song and dance with the window. It is a good look.]
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[Nothing the ministers look more shocked about than her audacious attempts to do non-linear things for the betterment of the kingdom.]
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And set aside a residence for me while you're at it, hm? We must have privacy for our scandalous book club.
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Wouldn't it be a fun affair? A mystery man in your largest, most opulent setting? Give the old ladies something spicy to gossip about, Youko.
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my guards wouldn't let you stay 'mysterious', you know. kind of a sticking point with them.
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Keep my what I've said in mind nonetheless. If only for nights when you're unable to sleep.
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and what happened to planning your costume? gave up when you heard i couldn't pin your hair up or loan you the crown?
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I hadn't given up, merely taking the scenic route. Although it is, truthfully, less fun of an idea without your sparkling accessories.
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we won't be able to find anything like the ones from han, but we could probably find some comparable kogai hairpins.
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Shall we consider that settled? I trust you will handle the styling personally?
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me? you sure? i can try, but you'll be taking a risk with that imperial dignity.
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[there's a THWAP and a BONK and other sounds of break-in struggle at the apartment window. he is! here to!! pick up his skeleton friend!!!!]
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A shiver runs down his spine at that terrifying look... A pleasant one. (Don't judge him.)
Warren points to himself. Me? Then over towards the door. Use the door?]
Youkooo! Let us iiiin!
[Bonk bonk bonk bonk bonk bonk - The sound of a plastic pumpkin-shaped popcorn tub being used to assault the window frame. There's no use in glaring daggers at Warren; he isn't the one holding the bit of Halloween whimsy. Tiny bat feet tightly grip the tub's handle, now visible as the rest of the lovely lady flaps into view.]
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Even just a few short years ago, seeing an unusual creature fluttering at her window probably would have alarmed her, made her worry the poor thing was sick or injured, but at this point she is mostly used to the strange comings and goings of anything that might be categorized as a familiar. Besides, there is an inept skulker right there, escorting her and all but heralding her. Even if a bat were a surprise, the vampire's presence would temper her shock.
Unlatching the window lock, she slides the protective screen and glass open wide enough for one (1) bat with a plastic pumpkin popcorn tub in tow. Warren, however, she fixes with an unamused look.]
You're coming in the door if you're coming in.
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Her attention diverts to the darling Esmeralda and Warren watches Youko's face. He wouldn't expect surprise, really. Ah, how he mourns the loss of the unworldly woman Youko used to be, that he never knew her, never had the chance to see her startle and marvel at a familiar's presence. The uncommon has become common for her. Youko's appeal is in a different sort of ladylike demeanour than an innocent waif but he would nonetheless have liked to see her in that light, too.
The chill of October surrounds him. Warren is unaffected but he has dressed for the weather anyway for no reason other than to fit in with mortals. He looks good. The season's colors suit him; warmth and tenderness manifest in a blend of Autumn hues from head to toe.
Dear, dear Esme enters the small space Youko has made for her and chirrups in thanks. The tub contains not one single popcorn kernel, alas. Warren tilts his head to align with the new gap. What do you mean he can't fit through there? No?]
You've fallen into my trap!
[Warren winks; his words could be nonsense. Whatever he actually means, he finally takes the hint (read: direct instruction) and adjourns for the door, leaving his bat alone with Youko.]
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She looks back to ask Warren, dressed like he would fit right at home with all the splendor of maple leaf piles and with a warm cinnamon-tinged drink in hand, and catches him fitting his face to the gap, killing the question on sight. At least he decides to take the wiser path and use the door before a disappointed look sticks permanently on her face. Idly, she flicks the lock so he isn't left stranded on the balcony, even if the cold can't touch him, and wanders past the familiar and her dining table, bee-lining towards her kitchenette.]
And... what trap is it that I've fallen into?
[Digging in her cabinets, she retrieves a milk glass bowl and fills it with cool water from the fridge, only to carry it back to set it on the table. It might be silly, maybe even fruitless courtesy, but she makes a wordless gesture from the bat to the bowl. A drink for the laborer if she wants it, with plenty of room beside it for her cargo.]
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You invited me inside!
[Not that he hasn't been here before, obviously. Are those scorch marks on the kitchenette's ceiling...?]
Would you happen to have a ripe tomato instead?
[In possibly the world's most jarring segue, made while he notes that he doesn't get offered a water bowl.]
Esmeralda adores them. The perfect mix of mild sweetness and hydration!
[Fruitless or no, Warren observes the courtesy with what might be something like pride in his chest. Youko is already an Empress but damn girl, such a queen! Manners these days are so terribly lacking in the youth, not even a hat to tip in respect of one's elders, etc.]
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A tomato? I might...
[She spares his bat — Esmeralda, and isn't that an extravagant name — a glance before wandering back to crouch down and thoroughly rummage in the produce drawer of her fridge. Being in between grocery trips, there is no guarantee she'd still have something to furnish the request, but after a minute of digging Youko pulls a green plastic basket of cherry tomatoes free from the back and holds it up for Warren's approval.]
Will something like these do?
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They are night and day. Youko's exasperation is a truthful emotion, and exactly what he wants. Not irritation. Just honesty. Especially since she hasn't noticed that being invited really did please him. Why even bother... (the answer's deeply-rooted trauma, of course.)]
Perfect! I'll take a few for her reward if it's no trouble.
[He's happy as a clam, apparently. Warren brings Esme up onto his hand first; the bat is as comfortable with him as if he were family.]
Take some for yourself, in fact!
[As if they're not hers in the first place. Warren plucks a bunch of the gem-like fruits out of the neat little basket and slices one open handily with his thumbnail before feeding it to his eager companion. The look on his face towards the delighted bat is best called smitten.]
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That he looks as taken with the bat as the bat is with her treat is... soothing in a way. Nice. It's a quieter delight than the ones Warren seems content to default to around her, the ones that ruin kitchens and pull her metaphorical pigtails. She shifts a half-step closer, mindful not to make any large movements that might startle either subject of her leisurely observation, and keeping her volume low.]
How long has Esmeralda been with you?
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Since she was born. And her mother before that, and her grandmother, la-la~
[The snacking bat has no idea that her ancestry is so meticulously measured in Warren's memory. Her little mouth moves all over the juicy tomato as if it were the tastiest thing she has ever had the privilege of dining on. It's one of the things he cherishes. That easy pleasure. Youko now has the turn of reading him like a book; he clearly feels a unique admiration for the hairy black thing spilling goopy mush with her enthusiastic bites.]
Bats are quite fragile, you know. So much more than they seem.
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[Watching over a bloodline, one beloved little pet after another after another. That isn't an idea she's considered yet about her own longevity. In all honesty, she's still stuck between the idea of just making it a decade and the inevitability of her parents dying while she looks the same as the last day they saw her. Maybe if she makes it the whole decade, she'll consider raising the progenitor of a chain of palace cats.
Her eyes glance back and forth between the adorable chomping bat and the plainly charmed vampire, though they linger longer on Warren. It really leaves her feeling out of her depth to see him so calm. Nothing on fire, not needling her, just... looking happy. It has her smiling despite any stubbornly clinging annoyance from the song and dance with the window. It is a good look.]
Are they? Her species especially or most of them?
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