@theaterrush // Inbox / Starter Call!

@theaterrush // inbox / starter call!

October had always been an... interesting time of year for them, even before all that had happened with God, the blood upon their hands, and the strange company they've found themselves with. It was also now a particularly dangerous time for them, as all eyes turned 'pon the rat that wiggled its way out of a hole it shouldn't have. It'd be festive, the way they turned into a worldwide legend like cryptids do after long enough. they couldn't tell if they liked that or not.

In spite of all these little thoughts, they decide ━ inexplicably, or perhaps just to be annoying ━ to bink Icarus in the side of the head with a small round candy, painted to look like an eye.

" did you have candy, where you came from? " the question is abrupt, and perhaps with anyone else, it'd be considered rude; but with Icarus, they genuinely can't tell if they were from their world or somewhere else entirely, and odds were, they'd never know the answer.

they fiddle around with more of the eye-candies like cue balls in a pool game only they knew how to play, atop the table they've hunched over, a small hoard of treats and wrappers surrounding them, alongside the bitten pieces of sunflower seeds. " for years, humanity's been making these tiny gummy faces because of God, like some kind of act of devotion made of gelatin and sugar and commercialized. How weird is that? "

━ memory is a smokestack bleeding out ghosts. ;; ind semi-selective multimedia multimuse, crossover and oc friendly, featuring muses from sources such as persona, disco elysium, bloodborne, hades, i was a teenage exocolonist, and more ;; beloved by captain ━ rules & roster & interest checker.

x x x x x x x x x

// i know there's about a grand total of Two People here who plays Harry but PLEASE i wanna write a thread formed around their dynamic & specifically a scene of asking Kim for his glasses for w/e reason when alone, and in turn asking him to trust him. Kim trusts Harry, trusts him with his life, but actively testing it, reaching out and getting Kim to consciously relinquish control over to him through the medium of something he was so often bullied for as a child, revealing his face in totality without obstruction, the vulnerability of both self and emotion? the examination, the fear, the way his eyes have hurt him and others before, the test of faith?? the difficulty in which that comes to Kim, the gentleness yet unhesitating, the way it is still being asked???? 'although you beg me, curse me, hate me, i will not look away from you, you will not persuade me to stay my hand' 'i am asking how to endure it' 'on the strength of my having asked you' BEGGING shit

@lunaright // inbox / starter call!

there was nothing too strange, too far fetched to find in her dreams.

each one, each door, was a labyrinth folding into itself. paradox of sound and color and motion and direction, never to find stability, eternal elsewhere. a dull life led to an overflowing inner-something, the what she could no longer describe ━ though, in this same way, she did not want to. the vague of the void and the mind drifting between it. she could feel her hands skimming consciousness like ripples on a lake that does not exist.

━ did this make this beautiful not-thing the minotaur, then? to be stunning as daylight filtering through stone like coiled thread, but stuck within the statue and brick you were banished to. a world unto itself, incapable of charting, changing always to keep you. ( she does not think that they would be here, if it were not true. to be trapped here inside where she came freely. an internal constant, the labyrinth changing. )

" what kind of animal are you. "

@vendettavalor

initially, Kim paid no mind to the opening of the main entrance. People came and went in the repurposed mill, two chimneys like stalks from the perceived head of the oversized animal made of concrete and metal as, within, a few rubber mats desperately tried to keep the rainwater at bay, doors left relatively open in the rampant shuffling of morning and the influx-outflux of officers coming for work or leaving for home after nightshift, chatter filling like white noise. it's when Harry makes his approach that Kim notices.

I told you comes the part of his mind that proposed the idea of him waiting ever so patiently in the first place, midway through him re-establishing an old organizing system in the drawers and little places in his desk, as it hollers in its newfound victory ━ I told you he'd be here, he'd be waiting, hours for the best detective on the force? you're off your game, Kitsuragi!

the Lieutenant subtly shakes it off, twirling one of his pens in his hand as he looks towards Harry's approach properly. The grin upon worn skin slowly relearning itself as the onslaught of years of damage has at last called a ceasefire & beneath the bristles of facial hair it seems almost almost out of place, mismatched. It reminds Kim of a large dog, forgetting itself as an elder and remembering only its youth, in the way Kim finds himself thinking it apt for him, suitable; he liked it when he truly smiled. ━━ His own face refuses to betray him, but there in the margins of his cheeks, the skin around his eyes, a ghost of a smile lingers. ( he was wrong. a pleasant surprise, regardless of how major of a miscalculation. later, he'd blame it on the early morning instead, or perhaps his own out-of-touchness with Harrier's timing, given how fleeting their engagements... )

" Bonjour, Detective. " he answers, resuming his motions as he squirrels little things away ( stationary, paperwork, the ledger, his notebooks, sticky-notes, umbrella leaned and carefully hooked against his desk ; ever the practical man he'd like most to seem, aren't you, Kitsuragi? )

" Wet, but it's too early to say. " is the sentence he settles upon for the inquiry, it's hard to tell if he's joking. " I have been here about eight minutes, not counting the commute, so you haven't missed very much. Ask me again in an hour or two, if you really want to know. Though, are you always here this early? " ━ an eyebrow raises as he casts him a brief glance, a momentary pause before returning to the task; attention nonetheless focused upon the yefreitor.

Having lived in Jamrock for so long, the little sensations were lost on Harry. Until now, anyway. Whether by the result of his constantly alcohol intoxication, his assured peripheral neuropathy, or the natural haze that clouded his senses after years and years of being exposed to it all, he'd fallen into a routine at the Precinct. Not comfortable and not comforting all things considered - but a routine. And now, he was learning all but the most fundamental of things from scratch again. The feeling of his desk under his calloused fingertips. The smell of smog-tinted air and the rain on his head as he stepped out for work that morning. To many, it would've seemed a glum day in Jamrock.

But to him, looking at it all and drinking it in with fresher eyes than he's had in years, it was beautiful.

For once, he'd come in on time. He'd tried to be early to prepare for Kim, but in his haste of excitement, he'd forgotten the fact that he'd forgotten where the precinct was. In the end, he'd left so early that by the time he did arrive, he was right on time. (Trant seemed pleased by the fact. Judit seemed encouraging. Jean seemed only mildly grumpy, if a bit surprised. But he does get an earful about walking in sopping wet. So Harry goes to the locker room just to grab a towel and dry off.)

It doesn't take long for him to return. Still damp from the rainwater and a little more disheveled than when he initially walked in. But overall, it seems that the sobriety offered in Martinaise has already begun to work wonders on Du Bois. His skin isn't so flushed and red. He doesn't scratch at his palms with nervous anxiety, nor swing between sluggishness and hyperactivity. His hygiene's improved and his ability to concentrate seems to have followed suit, as he immediately looks over to Kim's newly-assigned desk to find his partner there.

The glee on his face is positively puppy-like. He nearly trips over himself in the rush to come up to Kim, the biggest grin on his face that he's ever had lighting up his worn and overgrown features. "Hey, Kim! You made it! Sorry, I wasn't able to greet you at the door... but welcome to the Precinct! How are you liking things so far?"

Harry, please, it's been five minutes...

⚔️ @quillheel

@vendettavalor // harry & kim!

even the air smelled different in Precinct 41st.

Maybe Kim should've expected that, with Coal City's mines living as a still-breathing recent history for Jamrock bleeding old smog into the wind even as the furnaces have long shut down, the subtle differences there'd be that somehow still catch him off guard in the sheer fact he didn't anticipate them to exist at all. No one thinks about the way the air smells, or how the rain sounds different with different things to touch ground upon and different layers to sleuth through, or the way the sun rose in a slightly different position from the vantage point changing ━ but here he was, thinking about it, because this is what his reality was now. a myriad of tiny changes, but ones felt, under it all. ( there was a tiny, nervous part of him that shied away from it, from the adjustments and changes, and said that they could still back out, nothing has to, we can go. go home, where we are familiar, and our history lies. with the people there we are leaving behind for this. ━ but the part of him that knows why he's here at all, because of Captain Pryce's affirmative, because of his own, because of Harry, the part of him that wanted to stay was the one he trusted, the one he believed, the one he wanted to put his time into. he'll stay, he decides as though its still a decision to make, he'll stay. )

It was raining again in the early morning as Kim enters the Precinct for the very first time where he'd be part of it. ━ He'd visited a few times, throughout a handful of weeks of sorting the logistics of changing precincts mostly to talk to the Constabulary desks and the Captain after the case in Martinaise had reached it's end, but this was the first time he'd truly, truly been incorporated. He was of Precinct 41 now, not 57, like grafting another branch onto a different tree. ━ soon enough after THE HANGED MAN for that change that hung in the air still yet to manifest into whatever it was trying to, but long enough for the bruises that once littered the Lieutenants face to subside, small discolored splotches in what used to be out of control, blood vessels small and tempered beneath the skin with time.

His waterproof boots ignore the weather regardless, bomber jacket striking against the cold-warm humid sky, an umbrella in his hand and a small box of little things in the other as he entered the oddly shaped building. For his desk, mostly paperwork he'd transferred over, some notebooks and stationary, his new badge tucked away in his pocket as the ledger shifted near the bottom of the box. He shudders the umbrella outside the door, closed, and slips in.

It takes all of 15 minutes to find the numbered desk that'd now be his; dark green-blue paint chipping and dried in thick droplets permanent 'pon the woods surface, drawers squeaky but smooth, chair just as dedicated as the people who needed them. its years of service likely grander than most people here, he imagines, in a moment of impulsive thought that he's certain he must've fed into from his time with Du Bois in Martinaise. ━━ Kitsuragi wonders how long it'd take for Harry to find his desk, as he begins the process of acquainting himself with the space. It was still morning, and if Vicquemare was truthful about Harry's old habits ( as reasonably biased as they might be ), he'd give it a few hours. One at best, three at worst he figures.

Part of Kim shoots back that he could have been waiting for you, you know, to meet you first thing on your arrival. Vicquemare could've kept him up to date, after all, and he was the one to offer to begin with. Usually, Kim would dismiss it as unreasonable to expect that from someone, but, well... Harry wasn't usual, so he'd have to wait and see. ( he finds himself amused by the concept, regardless of its validity, anyway. )