↳ ㅤrealm ²。

dont brood. even if i do die. not worth it. /tsking softly, i shake my head, my eyes only opening when you pull yourself from my grasp, and thiugh i want to rebel, there’s not much strength in me, and i snap my hand back with a frown
fine. forget i asked.

( heading to bed — see ya later! )

i'm going to end up brooding if you die on me. /with your fingers tucked into the fabric of my sleeve to keep me from leaving, i shake my head once more and gently withdraw myself from your grasp
i'm not leaving. i just— i'm not a doctor and whatever is wrong with you... i can draw all the cats in the world and it won't really help you except give you a little temporary relief maybe.

but would you really? do the whole, brooding thing? /mumbling under my breath, i keep myself tucked against the cat as it purrs, and i reach out blindly to grasp the fabric of your yukata
dont... dont leave.

precisely. /the cat, as it were, is content to be snuggled with and offer what body warmth it has, while i run my fingers along the inside of my wrist to stem the very slow bleed and my eyes run along your form as you speak of your stomach, and of feeling like you might pass out again
try to rest. i'll watch over you. maybe i'll figure out what to do about getting a doctor for you.

brooding doesnt, no.. /with the cat hugged to my chest, i let out a small sigh, cuddling into the warm fur for comfort, though my body wracks with shivers and trembles as i finally let my eyes close once more, staying silent for a long moment before i speak
what do you mean? you’re speaking in tongues. i feel like.. like im gonna pass out again... oh, my stomach hurts...

because brooding doesn't help you. /as you call the cat and hug it to your chest, the bundle of fur settles in your arms, content to purr almost immediately and a faint sigh of relief follows from my lips until you ask about the second tail
it would only have one if you didn't distract me. cats are supposed to be healers. the purring... or something. it's all i could think of in the meantime.

oh, thanks. c’mere kitty. /gently reaches to pick up the cat, hugging the form to my chest, my fingers running along the fur and between the two tails
i cant really tell anything. i feel utterly... naive, and out of place.. mmn, i feel like... like.. ooh i dont feel good. how do they have two tails?

if it is it's an awful purpose. /the cat walks forward on paws that seem too small to be natural and a pair of long, jet black tails flick behind it in tandem as it approaches you with eyes like limpid, colorless pools focused clearly on you and ignoring my presence beside you
i'm trying to tell you that something isn't right. it hasn't been right. but i don't know what's up and what's down right now.

are you telling me your purpose is to brood over me? /tipping my head up, i grin upon seeing the animal, my lipstick smudged and faded as i reach out a sleeved arm for the animal, cooing softly
c’mere— when did that get in here? are you trying to tell me... i have been poisoned? you just told me its probably not true.

here. because what other task would i have in this place but to brood? /with a scoff, my gaze is drawn toward the shadows, as if something lurks within the corner, and only after a rustling to my right do i look away from your place while a black, four-legged shape akin to a feline stands upon the mats as if it had been there all night
and that's enough to be an ant worth squashing. now— let's hope that thing helps.

yeah, im dying and you're just-- here. /lifting a hand up out of the blanket, i gesture vaguely, my voice muffled from under the thick fabric as i tuck my legs up to my chest; only when you speak do i poke my head out from under the blanket, one of my arms winding about my waist
but it feels like im dying. i wouldnt put it past these people here-- im the cute, talented maiko. im the one bringing all the customers around.

then it's gonna be a long night. /as you look away, hiding your face beneath the blanket, i use the hunk of metal's pointed end to prick the inside of my wrist, my thumb running firmly over my forearm to earn at least a few drops of blood from the prominent vein beneath the skin and using the pads of my fingers to smear a crude signature over the bottom of the page which i then ball up as if no longer satisfied and i toss it away from us
look don't... don't think like that. what i said? it's probably not true.

what if that's it? what if i've been poisoned to be killed-- /cut off by a cough, i debate on laughing, though i shake my head a little as i watch you; however, when you tell me to look away, i obey, dipping my face once more under the blanket to hide away from you, though im caught up in another coughing fit as i curl up around myself

yeah i know. but now's not the time when you look like you're dying on me. /with the finishing touches placed upon the art, i inhale deeply and use the hakama to wipe the ink from the makeshift nib and then look to my wrist as i draw back the sleeve and reveal the telltale sign upon my wrist of my identity for only you to see
well i'm not head over for this version that isn't supposed to be you anyway. i don't have a lot of ideas besides trying to carry you to a doctor. now look away cause i don't think you're going to like this part.

good. at least you know. /tsking softly, i peer with wide eyes toward you, though my focus rests mainly on the art that rests on the paper in front of you; snuggling down a little more, i give a small shrug
the point is to try not to seem like me, anyway. good to know you arent really into this. i - i am being patient. im just asking questions. my stomach hurts..

no i got the memo. /lifting my gaze briefly as my hands draw the last upon the page, i'm caught by the sight of you looking small beneath the blanket and upon the futon, though i'm uncertain that this will prove of much help in the end, though my distraction results in a very distinct second tail lined upon the page
i don't know. i like you. this doesn't seem like you. and it's not cold but i'm trying to warm you up you just have to be patient.

you should've already know that, though. /grumbling under my breath, i debate on staying quiet, though i know i cant, even with whatever this is wracking through me, hugging the blanket tightly to me as i watch you
but... you dont like it at all? mmph - im cold. is it cold for you? i feel faint again...

i'll remember that for when it matters. for when— /cutting myself off, i decide against saying "when we're out of hell" and instead my focus remains on the page before me, scratching lines over it, layering the ink into a shape that looks only vaguely like a domestic animal at first, i give a slight shake of my head in response and keep my eye on the page with all of my focus and intent on that single task
you were gorgeous without it. don't worry about what i'm doing.

i like hearing them more often. /watching you through the slit in my mask, i tsk softly, fighting the shivers that wrack my body, and i dip under the blanket, rubbing my face dry and nudging the mask aside before i pop back up, the mask adjusted over my face once more
mph. you dont like long hair and makeup? what're you doing?

i've given you nice words. /exhaling heavily as i kneel down, placing the small pot of ink, the sheaves of paper, and the closest thing to a nib i could find before myself while lifting my head to look to you
yes, without the lipstick. and without the wig. /speaking quietly, i bring the makeshift nib, a small hunk of metal with a pointed tip to the open pot of ink and dip the tip within to begin scratching over the page

i prefer nice words. /setting the bowl aside, i keep my body covered as i sink down into the blanket, tugging it up toward my masked nose as i shiver violently, though sweat still pours from my skin; when you speak, i peek open one eye, peering through the slit
without the lipstick?

you prefer silence. got it. /the sound of your distress behind me draws my attention, and i glance over my shoulder to you with my eyes wide behind my mask, and yet when you mention the shelves i tip my head, heading to them to collect what i need before returning to your side
you look better without it anyway.

bring him back. i like him. /shaking my head a little, i squirm a bit in my spot before i turn my head, all of a sudden regurgitating what little was in my stomach into the bowl, and once more i raise my sleeve to wipe at my mouth
and now my lipstick is ruined, great... paper? shelf against the right wall, on the topmost shelf.

he's a facade, another layer of white porcelain. /with the tip of an index finger i tap against the featureless mask and then continue my circuit of the room in search of paper and ink even as you settle beneath the added blanket
i don't understand this place at all, but i know you, and i know we've seen each other. if i could just find some paper—

what happened to the man that came in for tea? /grumbling to myself, i shake my head a little, though the action proves to be a bad one, and i groan as i raise my arm to wipe at my head with my long, fanciful sleeve while you bring the blanket over me
i dont know who would be my enemy...

and i've kindly decided to disregard it. /growing more at ease, and therefore more verbose, i watch over you while you shiver and then push myself from the floor once more, when i check the closet i'm lucky enough to find a duvet which i pull out and bring to you, draping over your legs up to your waist, and i draw the door shut with a quiet sigh
i meant what i said before about enemies you know. we've all got them.

you know what i meant... /shakes my head a little, though my eyes stay shut, fingers holding the bowl tightly, sweating profusely as i hold onto the bowl tightly, shivering a little
i dont really know. i just know-- god i feel sick. im so cold...

sure thing. i'll watch it come out. /as you shift on the futon, a relieved exhale parts my lips and I rest on my heels with a furrowed brow as you hug the bowl to your chest
better you don't. but you can start telling me what's going on around here.

you should watch your language, especially when in such a formal setting. /grumbling a little, i shift on the futon a little, essentially hugging the bowl to my chest as i tip my head to mumble into it
m'not calling you by name.

yeah. you'll get a place in the ing ground. /having offered the bowl to you, i resume a place on my knees beside you and the futon with my eyes roving over your form laid out, though hearing you call me sir has me scoffing rather than appeased by the sight of you
you can cut that out. i know who you are.