kenoslogs | 2024 catch-all

[ Once Liem shares word, and the delivery of the shard is made, Akua Sahelian begins her search. The first day, or two, she passes soft words amongst the high ladies of Highstorm, using her swan form and her connections to ask subtly around with them. Many know the name, but each description is different. Liem had called her a shapeshifter, and it was truly a hallmark of one, that each person had a different face to connect to the name. Some called Kiritsubo a man, some a woman, or something else, an androgynous presence that was somewhere in between or not at all. None knew where they lived, or whom they associated with beyond Zenith. There was a parlor, but as soon as the location was mentioned, Akua had to redetermine her approach. After all, she couldn't get away with this, if Amos Burton would be involved, she knew it.

Akua, however, was rather dogged, and had connections beyond just the topside in Highstorm. Her suppliers in Kowloon were next, money exchanged hands as they dropped off deliveries to the Burning gardens. Supplies of components, metal, whatever it was that Bondrewd sequestered away in his sections. They were all given a small payment, before they were sent away, to return with information about this Kirutsubo.

Again, and again, she was left with more questions. But there was more information than there had been before. This time, there was whisper of more faces, more individuals. Haunts. It takes a few days, but finally, she has a location. A dive bar known for it's... other altercations as much as it is known for the poor drinks. She swept toward the bar dressed with intent, a strappy, bright thing (it was red) with the intent to seduce whomever this shapeshifter was, and leave destruction in her wake. ]

[Things have been moving in Highstorm. Things have been moving in Springstar, in Kowloon, in so many corners of this stitched together scraps of world called Kenos. They have never been "still" as long as Kiritsubo has inhabited it, but... now, there is a hum of energy and urgency in the air. Her eyes, in their natural state a black darker than any, could「see」connections forming and breaking all around her, saw possible deaths popping up in the fates of citizen and shard-bearer alike around her. Something would happen.

But despite knowing that ("sensing" that, she was no prophet)... Kiritsubo said nothing to anyone. She has never been particularly invested in things like the outcomes of wars or the battles between various forces in the world. What would happen would happen... and she would adapt and continue on, doing what she wished and what she needed to accomplish the goals she never spoke into existence aloud. For all most people would be able to tell... the woman, man, or child they knew as Kiritsubo continued on as she always had. She went where she liked, she fucked who she liked, she took only the clients she liked...

Recently, it seemed... She was in high demand. The sort of demand you came into when someone was searching for you, and your name is on far too many lips than usual, all asking the same questions. "Do you know Kiritsubo?" "Kiritsubo, the tattoist... Where can I find her?" "What do you mean you do not know how to contact her?" Eventually, though, her seeker will find enough people to mention a specific bar, and at that bar...

Is a woman who sits in a corner seat, wreathed in smoky hints of fragrant leaf emanating from the long kiseru pipe held loosely in long, elegant fingers tipped with a perfect manicure. Her dress, layers of nearly sheer fabric in shades of sage and jade, seems designed to advertise her skills and the primary business people in Kowloon seek her out for, baring hints of tattoos that depict a deadly hornet on honeycomb dripping down over her left breast, a crane in flight over pale blue clouds on one arm and a turtle over dark blue water on the other. Brief glints of metal catch the light when it shifts, on a jeweled stud in her nostril, silver hoops along the shell of an ear, and a piercing rounded on both sides of a rosebud nipple.

Does she notice when the woman named Akua enters the bar, her eyes flitting over for a brief, lingering moment of admiration for what she sees? Yes. Oh, what a canvas. Does she know that statuesque woman's name is Akua, and all that could be gleaned about her from the public happenings of the Harbinger Oracle trial? Also yes. But does she greet her or approach her? No. She is far too busy coaxing the bartender into trying something new with her requested liquor and flirting idly with the man beside her at the counter, a tall, svelte humanoid of the Ryad, a fan himself, it seemed, of colorful ink.

Surely Akua could wait... ?]

Edited 2024-02-05 07:06 (UTC)

[ So many descriptions had been leveled to her, that Akua had been careful to annotate them in a small booklet she kept in her lab in the Burning Gardens. Truly, she was not so foolish to bring it with her, but she had a memory to envy, and she had reviewed it before she arrived, and when she scanned the bar as she entered, one face piqued her memory — or rather the description matched what she saw, and her golden eyes met Kiritsubo's for only a split second (though, it was a broken split-second, for she did take a second to visually look her from top to bottom) before she moved toward the bar — her arrangement of braids and jewelry tinkled in the relative silence of the bar.

It wasn't all that odd, Akua was used to being looked at more than once, and leaving a room silent upon entrance. This was a normal reaction to her, being one of the finest of Praesi stock, her curves perfect, her makeup and hair with not a line or strand out of place. The delicate artwork of braids pulling her hair up and around her head in something that could have almost been called a halo of dark, gold-adorned braids. A hairpin, with her sunbeam, was nestled into her hair, where it glinted in the light occasionally.

She moved to the bar, to sit, requesting a drink that fit surprisingly well with her surroundings, a cheap wine that this woman was clearly too good to drink.

She did not approach Kiritsubo, but instead made sure to spend her time eyeing most of the bar. The look of a woman on the prowl. Though her eyes did drift toward Kiritsubo occasionally, as if she were clearly the best looking person within. (Obviously) ]

[What fate, that Kiritsubo should have chosen golden eyes for herself today. A paler shade than Akua, yes, but just as striking, just as cutting.

But, they cut away.

After all, why should they not? The bartender has given her what she asked for, the companion who seems to be attempting to corner her attention has opened his mouth to speak and revealed a long, forked serpentine tongue, and oh that is interesting... potentially more than a Meridian shard-bearer? It wasn't like they were outlawed here in Kowloon, even if the tide of public opinion had turned more against them than it had apparently been in the past. She is always interested enough in seeing other work, too, and so for a while, her hands smooth in admiration over the supple skin halfway between snake and man, nails clicking over patches of soft scales and curiously asking how his previous artist had managed to get such a smooth coverage, whether they used hand picking or what she views as more "modern" tools of metal. He seems willing enough to strip and show off piece after piece, she's almost interested enough to want to try to leave her own mark on him just to try that skin...

But she's more intrigued by how he seems to think he might be the aggressor here, smiling coyly as, over time, one drink, then another, he gets closer and closer. He has a suggestion for just where she might ink him, and it seems to be decidedly below the belt, did she wish to ascertain if there was room for her to work? Kiritsubo's laughter is audible across the room, beneath the sound of a table of cloaked figures in the beginnings of a rumbling argument near the back and the owner in the back dressing down a barmaid. It isn't long before her hand does seem to have vanished down his pants, and that tongue that had seemed quite useful to her is slithering slow along the crevices of a pale ear, tangling with the many golden piercings along the shell. She doesn't seem to care that, though the bar is not well-lit and she has chosen a more "private" corner, that they are technically in public. It's just some idle flirting.

But hmm.

By chance?, Kiritsubo's eyes meet Akua's on one of those occasional glances. And rather than dart away or display shame at being watched... they crinkle slightly in the corners as if to suggest a sly, sharp-toothed smile hidden by her companion's pale, glistening-scale shoulder.]

[ She took her drink, and allowed her eyes to continue to sweep the room. She was on the prowl, enjoying the sights before her. There were any number of unusual beings, and though some of them looked at her with disdain, Akua had something of a... reputation beneath the tunnels of Springstar, nearest to the Burning Gardens. Those who had not heard of her, would look on her cool, sharp eyes, her piercing gaze, and they shirked if she directed her attentions toward others.

If, of course, only for a moment. She looked down upon them, one leg crossed over the other, her head tipped upward, and she looked down at one, after another, after another.

Her eyes met Kiritsubo's again, and she flashed a sharp, predatory smile.

Look at that desperate creature, trying so hard for her attentions.

Akua, on the other hand, was at the bar, waiting to see whom would step forward. A few looked interested, but so few dared to even take a step toward her yet. ]

[Honestly, he was a little desperate. But Kiritsubo's tastes in lovers could vary wildly depending on the day, and though she had a "type" she might prefer if asked... Just like the form she chose to inhabit, she could fancy a man or a woman, a meek or strong soul, a bold or subordinate personality, a tender or rough touch... as long as she was at least half-sated by the end of things, she would have little complaint. She could not expect most mortals to be able to keep up with a tanuki's libido.

And today, she is intrigued enough by the fact that she's found two dicks in this serpentine man's pants. As interesting as that woman by the bar looks... She knows her, at least some of her, from the deluge of information that hit the streets on the tongues of gossipy citizens and front pages of Kenosian papers... No, she is going to deal with these first. She once had an absolutely mind-blowing time with a naga mating ball on her Silk Road travels, so even a hint of that... is enough for her to pull her hand free, snag the front of the man's shirt, whisper something in his ear... and disappear with him upstairs. Did Akua miss her chance... ?

No. Maybe not. In just a few minutes the man comes skulking down down the stairs in a huff of shame, shoulders arched, the front of his pants stained. Unfortunately for Kiritsubo, this particular reptilian person was a bit too human down there, and two dicks had meant twice the sensitivity. She might could have made due with his tongue, but that boastful attitude combined with that performance was just too disappointing to bear. The snake-fellow casts Akua a glare on the way out, muttering something under his breath... But soon enough,]

Men.

[The woman identified to Akua as Kiritsubo slides into a bar stool beside her, casual and free and not at all as if she had just experienced a disappointment.]

So unreliable at times, are they not?

[ Her eyes watched them go up the stairs, but Akua only sat, and remained, waiting it out. She had considered going up herself, just to see what Kiritsubo would do, but she had no need for that, as shortly after, the two of them came right back down the stairs. A single eyebrow rose at the mess staining his pants, but her attention was momentary, as her eyes drew over to her new companion. ]

They get so terribly excited, don't they? Only a small touch, or attention, and they become slobbering fools, only as satisfying as their restraint allows.

[ And her eyes drifted back to the door, where he had already left. ]

And they blame everyone but themselves, when their own restraint is found wanting, don't they?

[ Her lips quirked, before: ] I cannot imagine that someone with as impeccable taste as you would have been satisfied by such a mediocre showing.

Why, they almost sound like dogs when you phrase it like that.

[Kiritsubo smiles, with lips that are not truly hers, with golden eyes that are not truly hers, flicking playfully at the ends of sharply cut, violet-dyed hair that was not truly hers. But she wears all of it as if it is, so natural, so smooth that no one would ever suspect it wasn't unless they literally saw her shift. Or, you know... Had their suspicions because several informants asked "what does Kiritsubo look like?" answered that question very different, in skin tone, hair color, build, age, and even sex.

But why think about that, when Akua's words inspire her to sigh and mime a few disappointing jerks of a cock with curled fingers before "releasing" with a click of perfectly manicured nails and splay of fingers outward.]

I have to admit, I had higher hopes... but that's on me. Most men can't last nearly as long as one needs without a bit of spell boosting anyway, even the good ones.

[The mortal, non-youkai ones, anyway. Ah, she missed the spirit world sometimes... But, of course, as a Zenite, she should mourn its loss and move on. Party line, and all that, it was surely and most definitively gone or already doomed, competent lovers included. This woman, though...

Kiritsubo's eyes return, her subtly painted lips in a wicked little curve.]

How much, I wonder... Do you know about my tastes? I have not seen you in here before...

[Her eyes linger over the veritable buffet of flesh on display, temptingly bared between bright strips of fabric.]

Recommended by a client of mine, were you... ? You have a beautiful canvas for ink.

[ Akua's smile was lovely, a tip of her head almost as perfect as if she were posing for a photo. Her body shifted just right to offer a long stretch of side, down to her hips, slightly forward, to show off her curves. Everything Akua Sahelian did from the top to the bottom was deliberate. Everything. Her lips curled in amusement, and her eyes rolled. ]

All can be made to be dogs, if their eagerness outweighs their usefulness.

[ She said, with a laugh. ] Though I find women a touch less... easy to set off so rapidly, or maybe it is because to set a woman off is to invite a longer night, than it is a man.

[ With a tip of her head, her golden eyes met Kiritsubo's, and she parted her lips just slightly, into a small, suggestive 'o'. ]

I have heard whispers, I will admit. I am remarkably well-informed, though I often frequent... other areas of Kowloon more. For such a small location, it is remarkable how two people could never cross paths, until chance intervened.

[Akua's laugh is not lonely- Kiritsubo's is there to join it.]

Men would call that troublesome, I think. How terribly difficult to rouse we women are.

[Her gaze is sharp, though, far more interested in the details of their supposed chance meeting than in anything else like the troubles that were borne of... what was that little book again? It came to Japan, she had to deal with people quoting it. Ah, yes- of mean being from Mars, and Women from Venus.]

Remarkably, though, you say...

["Chance", she also says... even though Kiritsubo「sees」nothing chance about this woman's karma. She sees ticking, clicking, tinkering, such exact, planned little ticks of movements, strings crossing, interlacing...

But she speaks as if she is largely blind.]

Well, now that chance has intervened... Are you going to buy me a drink before I hear the pitch for the tattoo you're not "sure yet" about getting... ?

[ Her sight is true, of course, that Akua is all calculation and planning, everything about her is down to artifice and construction. There is nothing that could possibly exist about her that isn't and if she were to allow herself to become uncontrolled, there would likely be nothing left of her.

Her smile is just as calculated, and her eyelashes dust her cheeks as she lowered her gaze, before she tipped her head to the bartender, and invited them to take Kiritsubo's order with a wave of her fingers. ]

By all means, of course. I'm nothing if not a courteous patron, whether that is of tattoos, or... something else.

[ She, after all, did not intend to mar her flesh yet. The mark of the Iconoclast had done that well enough. ]

I have many ideas about the nature of my first tattoo. [ A smile. ] Who better to guide me, than your expert hands?

[The bartender comes hurrying. Kiritsubo is a regular, in this particular shape, anyway, and Akua is radiating a certain energy... so probably, that is a good call on their part. He is back just as fast with the peated whisky she asked for... and the drink is at her lips soon enough. Mmm. Good enough.

Just like this other woman's insinuations.]

And what shape, pray tell, would that first tattoo ideally take?

[Nails click slightly along the glass as she turns it in her hand, her gaze lingering up and down the other woman's exposed skin under the excuse of professional interest. Actually... it might not be an excuse, she seems genuinely interested. In the canvas, at least.]

I will not heed it, mind... but what you answer will tell me more about what sort of tattoo I will choose for you...

Hm.

[ She said, with a soft note of curiosity. ] I think a spinning coin, just grasped in the talons of a crow with the heart of winter.

[ She described it even as she leaned forward, her fingers moving against the bar in a pattern that was methodical. The movement of drawing a rune against the wood, should Kiritsubo choose to perceive it. ]

Is that too much for a first tattoo?

You have high regard for my skills, I see... It is exceedingly difficult, to depict motion like that with ink on skin.

[Kiritsubo thinks that she likely knows that. For a moment, she pauses, sipping her drink, but in that moment... the look in her eyes grows a bit different, where she regards Akua. Rather, Akua's flesh, and what she can「read」on it. Instead of just looking, she is "reading", deep and intent. Idly, her own finger traces out the exact same rune, interpreting the abstract impressions and karmic signs. The crow... it had to be that Woman, the one she saw bound to her fate, and yet-]

But I recommended a far too similar design to a different would-be client lately.

[On paper she had traced the design for the demon, showing him a red-eyed raven with a sapphire ring clutched in its claws. And he had known, then, that her eyes were as special as they seemed. Even though that man had declined her work... She was not about to give up hope she could eventually convince him. So here...]

For you... I think we would begin with gold ink, and a design that is a little more... diabolical?

[Oh, she thinks she's funny?]

That... or perhaps the strips of color that mark you still?

[It is an excuse to reach out, trailing her fingertips over the other woman's arm and finding a place upon her bicep to start counting out rows.]

Or would it be better to say... the strips of color that were your companions?

[She can see it, draped over this woman like a cloak that belonged to someone else.]

[ A soft, rueful laugh. ]

You must be able to See, can you not? To draw so much from me within moments.

[ Though her eyes drift away slightly, her lips softened, and she turned her eyes to her drink for a moment. It is not quite accurate, the banners of that cloak that had been her prison were the banners of enemies, but then again, were they not her companions at one point? Some of them, at least. The Mantle of Woe had been well on its way to becoming an Artifact, even before Catherine had become the Black Queen, and even before she had been trapped in it.

Shoving her soul into it had only cemented it as such, the Warden had been her jailor, and it had been so appropriate that she had been its first prisoner. ]

Diabolical is what I do best, dear heart.

[ She said, after a long moment, her lips quirking as she focused on the woman, and not on her own past. ]

After all, before I became Calamity itself, I was the Diabolist.

It would be fitting, hm?

[ It was best, to draw her away from thoughts of home, people who were gone. Long gone, and fully decimated by an Angel's gaze — or so she assumed, even now. ]

I happen to possess a certain talent for telling fortunes.

[She had never claimed it aloud as much more, because the moment you started waxing poetic was when people started assuming you could do more than you could. "Prophet", words like that, which she most certainly was not. The future was never clear enough to「see」as well as one actually saw with their eyes, but...

Kiritsubo is smiling, sharp and knowing... but that sharpness is not a weapon. (Not now.) It's the smile of someone who has seen so many secrets... that they have intentionally blunted their claws and hid their teeth, for fear the world itself might change if they were to truly fight for something.]

Is this where you compliment my eyes... ? Or perhaps regale me with your tales of calamity and ask if I might「look」at more of your skin for a reading... ?

[The pale fingers that had been idly stroking over a bicep travel down, slow and sensual along the line of veins and over sensitive, soft skin. A lot of the male patrons at this establishment had tried such moves, but.

She gets the feeling this woman... Has something a bit more in mind for her. Even if she cannot「see」the exact shape that connection between them she can sense will take... she can tell already that it will be strong.]

I could compliment them, of course... [ She said, with a quirk of her lips. ] But eyes are only eyes, hm? Windows to our inner world, but nothing we cultivate.

[ Well, perhaps Kiritsubo did, but she wanted to keep that small indicator left behind, as she flirted with her. Her skin beneath Kiritsubo's fingers prickled with gooseflesh, and she leaned closer to her. ]

I would much rather give you a closer look at my skin, and compliment your eye and knack for your work. I think that is something far more quantifiable, and something I would admire you for.

[ Her tone soft, though the proposition was implicit. She reached up, and brushed her lacquered nails against her arm, gently. ]

Though if that is too presumptuous...

[ She would rethink her approach. ]

[If Kiritsubo has any opinions about "eyes are only eyes", well. Like most things (thoughts, anyway), she keeps it to herself, the only indication of any reaction at all being a little curl in the corner of her perfectly crafted lips. Akua leans in... and she inhales, slow and purposeful, taking in the scents clinging to the other woman. What she had for her last meal, the traces of who she has had laid with recently, where she has been... all of it reveals itself to the sensitive nose of a youkai, even if she does not have the ability to complete the puzzle- she is only collecting pieces. If she wants more of them... ]

I despise the idea of a woman such as yourself thinking you were merely a replacement for my rather disappointing male appointment...

[Her own touch shifts. Perfectly lacquered nails click against perfectly lacquered nails beneath a sultry whisper.]

But I also find that I do not wish to reschedule you at all... So shall we retire somewhere you might allow me to make a more hands-on pitch for that skin of yours... ?

[She finishes her drink with a smile, setting the glass back down with a sound of finality before swiveling on her stool to slip back onto her heeled feet, one more click, a hint of a tattoo rippling beneath the half-sheer fabric of the back of her dress as she addresses the other woman over her shoulder, beginning to retrace her steps to the room above the bar where she "worked". And worked.]

Perhaps if you see my own work you will be inspired...

[And even if she can't get her needles into Calamity... She has a feeling she can get something else that will be just as satisfying, if not far more fleeting. That thread she「sees」between them, though...

She just cannot help but want to tug it.]

[ Her eyes darken slightly, her lips curled, and she cannot help but agree, and follow Kiritsubo further within. Just as she can see, Akua can Appraise, and what she finds, she wants to pick apart, or make sense of, or perhaps even bind in a way only a Diabolist could.

Their fingers and bodies are everywhere, touch and smell and taste, and Akua enjoys the moment. There is no guilt to be found here, for she is a Villain, and they had chosen a Villain to take this step. The corrupted shard is hidden, braided tight into her hair, where she could pull it free when necessary, but it isn't easy to locate unless one needed to pull it free. This was too passionate, and too... focused of an altercation for Kiritsubo to play with her hair, particularly when her body was so easily revealed by tugged aside cloth and dark perfect skin beneath.

When they have both become too tired to continue — which takes a while, pleasantly — Akua's eyes scan the room as she starts to tug her clothing back on, her hand slipped through her hair, and to tug out the shard, before she moves to leave, only staying long enough to slip the shard into the folds of discarded clothing, her movements artful, and graceful. As if she were adjusting her own when she did so. ]

2024 catch-all

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nsfw links included

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nsfw vibes from here bc kiritsubo is just like that I'm sorry

hehehehe

ladies stop playing chicken ur both sexy and powerful

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cw: elusions to nsfw content