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Erebus
show me
- Joined
- Apr 11, 2015
now ive got your teeth on my tongue,
see, i told her,
the devil is a lie.
Valerie did not rise to the bait, nor to the challenge. She looked both squarely in the eyes and said, sotto voce: "That depends entirely on you."
As the beautiful snake shed its skin, Valerie was hypnotized in an instant, charmed. She stared, bare-faced and shamelessly. Recall her incurable fascination for the arts, and the conclusion was plain to see. The stranger was no longer a human body commandeered by signals from the brain but a walking and breathing personification of sheer artistry. It was the amalgamation of the souls of master craftsmen who spent decades perfecting their work, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into every nook and cranny.
She knew of people who knew people who would do unspeakable acts to have this woman mummified and strung up for display. But nowadays, buyers had a moral backbone as rigid as their wallets. It took a truly disgusting individual to tread that gory path. That was good news for Zuki and, by extension, Valerie, who hated getting her hands messy - more so when friends were involved, however shortlived. This was for her selfish gaze, a fact which pleased her immensely, more so than any other mundane sight her companion had offered tonight.
Hungry for more, Valerie peered a little closer. A sakura tree bloomed gorgeously in the center of two Tuscan suns, pink branches spilling out like water. On a pale limb, a mottled carp splashed up a waterfall aimlessly. A tiger and dragon were locked in a fearsome battle in a tapestry largely reminiscent of other great works. When Zuki turned, the heavy steam had already obscured part of the back but by then, she was already musing on the healed wounds and weaving her own sordid tales. An errant bear trap covered in autumn leaves, bullets coated in silver; mayhaps a whip coated in arsenic, or simply an impudent child with a Bic lighter and unsteady knees.
Because her brain was busy admiring, she did not do the math. One plus one did not equal two. Yakuza were the Japanese mafia and highly respectable folk who had a stereotypical relationship with swords and smuggled Slavic guns. They also (mostly) had severed finger joints in an incredulous act of repayment; this was the most important fact. Zuki had all her digits intact, so one plus one did not equal two. It equaled, instead, a window of opportunity. But the window was gamely shuttered tight and boarded with hammer and nail.
It should not have come as a surprise when the canvas pushed past her; it should not have shocked her when the canvas was warm. She was surprised and shocked by both. "There is nothing boring about logic," Valerie managed to say; unfortunately it was mostly to empty air, a silent room. Unnatural. This was the first time, in a very long time, that she found herself truly alone. Without family, dead or alive; without guards, without the halting whispers of the night. There was that boredom creeping on the hinges, curling long fingers around the frame. There was curiosity cowering in the corner as suspicion loomed, the white-hot knife of indelible emptiness accompanied by the sharp twang of a wire.
She ducked her head and trailed politely after the onsen's proprietor, and the doubts slithered away as the claustrophobic interior opened to an oasis. The scene was picturesque, lifted straight from an oil impression. Instead of dirty city puddles and gummed-up sidewalks, there were large, uneven stones flat as pancakes marking the trail. Instead of corporate buildings inlaid with pulsing neon lights, there were trees she could not name. It was a vast upgrade to the constant petrol-and-diesel notes, the gentle burble of heated water subduing the tremor.
"I won't," Valerie said, unwise to the thought of the hypothetical and rhetorical unless it was borne first from her lips. "Begging is a human right - it should be done from the heart." She did not think she could make Zuki do anything, and that did not rankle her as much as it might have in the past. It was this place, having not seen a single soul but the birds and the cicadas -- and could not begrudge this tiny village for its being. On the contrary, she almost felt some strange fondness toward it - the way a butcher might look upon a mud-soaked pig.
The pool rippled outward from the first touch of her foot, quite literally testing the waters, and found the temperature lacking. It warmed her from the inside out, loosening the tightness of her muscles and flushing her blood to the surface. She was almost content to sit and splash her legs back and forth, but the night air was cool, and even Valerie found herself vulnerable to the rapid heat drop. The rest of her body followed after, the towel quickly sticking tightly to her skin. Valerie had decided not to take it off. Despite Zuki's adamant announcement, etiquette was the last thing she wanted to damn.
Submerging herself, she was not quite within touching range of the other woman, but close enough where she could continue her admiration of those tattoos without having to squint through all that heavy fog. At its shallowest, the water bobbed below her shoulders. Hair as fine as blue silk floated around her, spun cotton on air. The liquor had long since left her system and the pleasant blanket layered over her consciousness was gone. Now it was just white noise.
Content to soak for a while, Valerie breathed out. "It is... adequate," she finally admitted, sliding her palm down the smooth length of her arm. "Kanbetsu has one redeeming quality. What shall we talk about next?"
As the beautiful snake shed its skin, Valerie was hypnotized in an instant, charmed. She stared, bare-faced and shamelessly. Recall her incurable fascination for the arts, and the conclusion was plain to see. The stranger was no longer a human body commandeered by signals from the brain but a walking and breathing personification of sheer artistry. It was the amalgamation of the souls of master craftsmen who spent decades perfecting their work, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into every nook and cranny.
She knew of people who knew people who would do unspeakable acts to have this woman mummified and strung up for display. But nowadays, buyers had a moral backbone as rigid as their wallets. It took a truly disgusting individual to tread that gory path. That was good news for Zuki and, by extension, Valerie, who hated getting her hands messy - more so when friends were involved, however shortlived. This was for her selfish gaze, a fact which pleased her immensely, more so than any other mundane sight her companion had offered tonight.
Hungry for more, Valerie peered a little closer. A sakura tree bloomed gorgeously in the center of two Tuscan suns, pink branches spilling out like water. On a pale limb, a mottled carp splashed up a waterfall aimlessly. A tiger and dragon were locked in a fearsome battle in a tapestry largely reminiscent of other great works. When Zuki turned, the heavy steam had already obscured part of the back but by then, she was already musing on the healed wounds and weaving her own sordid tales. An errant bear trap covered in autumn leaves, bullets coated in silver; mayhaps a whip coated in arsenic, or simply an impudent child with a Bic lighter and unsteady knees.
Because her brain was busy admiring, she did not do the math. One plus one did not equal two. Yakuza were the Japanese mafia and highly respectable folk who had a stereotypical relationship with swords and smuggled Slavic guns. They also (mostly) had severed finger joints in an incredulous act of repayment; this was the most important fact. Zuki had all her digits intact, so one plus one did not equal two. It equaled, instead, a window of opportunity. But the window was gamely shuttered tight and boarded with hammer and nail.
It should not have come as a surprise when the canvas pushed past her; it should not have shocked her when the canvas was warm. She was surprised and shocked by both. "There is nothing boring about logic," Valerie managed to say; unfortunately it was mostly to empty air, a silent room. Unnatural. This was the first time, in a very long time, that she found herself truly alone. Without family, dead or alive; without guards, without the halting whispers of the night. There was that boredom creeping on the hinges, curling long fingers around the frame. There was curiosity cowering in the corner as suspicion loomed, the white-hot knife of indelible emptiness accompanied by the sharp twang of a wire.
She ducked her head and trailed politely after the onsen's proprietor, and the doubts slithered away as the claustrophobic interior opened to an oasis. The scene was picturesque, lifted straight from an oil impression. Instead of dirty city puddles and gummed-up sidewalks, there were large, uneven stones flat as pancakes marking the trail. Instead of corporate buildings inlaid with pulsing neon lights, there were trees she could not name. It was a vast upgrade to the constant petrol-and-diesel notes, the gentle burble of heated water subduing the tremor.
"I won't," Valerie said, unwise to the thought of the hypothetical and rhetorical unless it was borne first from her lips. "Begging is a human right - it should be done from the heart." She did not think she could make Zuki do anything, and that did not rankle her as much as it might have in the past. It was this place, having not seen a single soul but the birds and the cicadas -- and could not begrudge this tiny village for its being. On the contrary, she almost felt some strange fondness toward it - the way a butcher might look upon a mud-soaked pig.
The pool rippled outward from the first touch of her foot, quite literally testing the waters, and found the temperature lacking. It warmed her from the inside out, loosening the tightness of her muscles and flushing her blood to the surface. She was almost content to sit and splash her legs back and forth, but the night air was cool, and even Valerie found herself vulnerable to the rapid heat drop. The rest of her body followed after, the towel quickly sticking tightly to her skin. Valerie had decided not to take it off. Despite Zuki's adamant announcement, etiquette was the last thing she wanted to damn.
Submerging herself, she was not quite within touching range of the other woman, but close enough where she could continue her admiration of those tattoos without having to squint through all that heavy fog. At its shallowest, the water bobbed below her shoulders. Hair as fine as blue silk floated around her, spun cotton on air. The liquor had long since left her system and the pleasant blanket layered over her consciousness was gone. Now it was just white noise.
Content to soak for a while, Valerie breathed out. "It is... adequate," she finally admitted, sliding her palm down the smooth length of her arm. "Kanbetsu has one redeeming quality. What shall we talk about next?"
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