[ These are illusions, that Asura knows. Taishakuten is not here. Asura's heart does not beat, lives still and cold and shuttered in his chest. It does not even ache with longing, for Taishakuten loved the world over but not once yearned for himself. Asura inherits that burden, and for their love he bears it. He walks silent through the amber lotus fields, fingers trailing over sun-kissed fronds, and does not wander.
In his periphery, just out of view, there are snatches of pale skin, of white-gold hair. Asura does not track them with his gaze, but he does savor each hint of memory. He basks, and he sharpens the blade of his resolve.
If there is an entity behind these ghostly taunts, he will split them stem to stern. Taishakuten's memory is not for others to desecrate, to sully.
For now, he walks on.
When his space is encroached upon by a stranger, he is at first content to ignore his fellow traveler. What others do is of no concern to him. He is not a part of their world. Not then, not now. Not then, not here.
But then the phantom dances between the distant trees, a rustle of white, the glint of gold. Asura's arm thrusts out, forcing the person he's been ignoring to stop in their tracks or collide with it. ]
Leave. [ It's not a request. ] He's not for your eyes.
[ wedding night ]
[ It's without dignity or grace that Asura is swept out of the wedding room like floor crumbs on spring cleaning day. He stumbles out, alternating between grousing and spluttering, disgruntled and red-faced as he's forced over the threshold, turning just in time to have the door slammed in his face.
He's well drunk by now from the revelry of the day. What appears to be a long serrated blade snakes out from under his clothes to pound determinedly at the door, Asura offended at the principle of the matter, being thrown out so unceremoniously for a game he'd been asked to play when no one bothered to check if he wasn't already spoken for. And why should that matter, when this is a game and the fox bride is certainly not his type?
Well, that's not entirely true. Asura could be convinced to be attracted to just about anything, but the point is, they should have been more discerning about picking groomsmen if waiting on someone else was a deal breaker!
A second long, flexible set of bladed teeth emerges from Asura's other side, joining in on the offended knocking. ]
You could've taken issue with me before getting so intimate! [ Asura shouts, gesturing to the bloody welts over his chest and neck, also known to him as robust foreplay. ] You'd understand if you saw him anyway! [ Who wouldn't? Taishakuten is the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Asura turns to look at the assembled retinue. A third tentacle of black blades whips out to seize the closest one to the front, dragging them close enough for Asura to air his grievances out to directly. ]
Right?? [ he asks the unfortunate soul, grip squeezing. ] I've been perfectly nice. Cast from the heavens again, just fucking figures.
[ Have we mentioned he's drunk. Oh dear, those bladed teeth on his tentacles appear to be shredding the stranger's clothes a bit. At least they haven't cut you? Yet? ]
onmyoji / asura / existing player
[ These are illusions, that Asura knows. Taishakuten is not here. Asura's heart does not beat, lives still and cold and shuttered in his chest. It does not even ache with longing, for Taishakuten loved the world over but not once yearned for himself. Asura inherits that burden, and for their love he bears it. He walks silent through the amber lotus fields, fingers trailing over sun-kissed fronds, and does not wander.
In his periphery, just out of view, there are snatches of pale skin, of white-gold hair. Asura does not track them with his gaze, but he does savor each hint of memory. He basks, and he sharpens the blade of his resolve.
If there is an entity behind these ghostly taunts, he will split them stem to stern. Taishakuten's memory is not for others to desecrate, to sully.
For now, he walks on.
When his space is encroached upon by a stranger, he is at first content to ignore his fellow traveler. What others do is of no concern to him. He is not a part of their world. Not then, not now. Not then, not here.
But then the phantom dances between the distant trees, a rustle of white, the glint of gold. Asura's arm thrusts out, forcing the person he's been ignoring to stop in their tracks or collide with it. ]
Leave. [ It's not a request. ] He's not for your eyes.
[ wedding night ]
[ It's without dignity or grace that Asura is swept out of the wedding room like floor crumbs on spring cleaning day. He stumbles out, alternating between grousing and spluttering, disgruntled and red-faced as he's forced over the threshold, turning just in time to have the door slammed in his face.
He's well drunk by now from the revelry of the day. What appears to be a long serrated blade snakes out from under his clothes to pound determinedly at the door, Asura offended at the principle of the matter, being thrown out so unceremoniously for a game he'd been asked to play when no one bothered to check if he wasn't already spoken for. And why should that matter, when this is a game and the fox bride is certainly not his type?
Well, that's not entirely true. Asura could be convinced to be attracted to just about anything, but the point is, they should have been more discerning about picking groomsmen if waiting on someone else was a deal breaker!
A second long, flexible set of bladed teeth emerges from Asura's other side, joining in on the offended knocking. ]
You could've taken issue with me before getting so intimate! [ Asura shouts, gesturing to the bloody welts over his chest and neck, also known to him as robust foreplay. ] You'd understand if you saw him anyway! [ Who wouldn't? Taishakuten is the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Asura turns to look at the assembled retinue. A third tentacle of black blades whips out to seize the closest one to the front, dragging them close enough for Asura to air his grievances out to directly. ]
Right?? [ he asks the unfortunate soul, grip squeezing. ] I've been perfectly nice. Cast from the heavens again, just fucking figures.
[ Have we mentioned he's drunk. Oh dear, those bladed teeth on his tentacles appear to be shredding the stranger's clothes a bit. At least they haven't cut you? Yet? ]