fcxrcin

[fcxrcin]

if you're around the mistwood and hear a woman singing, don't freak out! It's just your favorite Gumiho walking around her dojang and fixing things up!

#It's been a bit omg #isola mini

[fcxrcin]

"It is a little strange if you're not used to the peacefulness." It took her a bit to get used to. Though, luckily for her, Hansol was used to being in a modern area like Spirale as well.

"I take it you're relatively new here?"

"I just find a city that isn't screaming at night, a bit odd. Its too peaceful... then again this city is really small compared to what I'm used to."

#kurokumocap

[fcxrcin]

"Yes, close. But," Hansol adjusts his stance once more and looks at him with a smile, "it's okay if you make mistakes." Hansol steps back once more and demonstrates her steps once more.

"Using weapons can be scary. You don't wanna hurt people, but sometimes it's necessary when your life is on the line, right?"

" Oook... " Eiden slowly responds.

He's admittedly a little nervous for various reasons. For one, aside some gym sessions he's barely maintained exercise schedule of any sort but also even less battle training he can't say his confidence was going skyhigh. Another thing was... well, he was still nervous about using weapons.

All the more reason to keep a keen eye on Hansol's directions though. A little shakily follows after them he ...sort of follows there, if with a little less confident movements.

" Err.. something like this? "

#It's totes fine! #kleinstar

[fcxrcin]

Hansol walks a little closer, looking at the now empty ball that once held her blue flames. She can't bring it back. The cold temperature prevented her from doing so. It's never been like that before. It's never been where her foxfire refused to come out. Hm.

"It's true. I feel the cold just as much as you do." Perhaps that's why a couple of her tails are wrapped around her to keep her warm.

"Here. I know this may not be necessary, but," Grabbing a blanket, she wraps it around Sukuna and sighs. "This isn't ideal at all. The temperature is too great." On another note though, it was a good thing that both of them were good with their survivals.

ㅤ"There's no need to," he responded flatly, his expression distracted. He no longer held onto his city-issued phone himself, instead entrusting its communications to Uraume, and when the alert sounded, they did not ask for his response about the deal; his opinion was obvious. Instead, his thoughts lingered on the energy seal accompanying the deep freeze. Meandering to his room's window, his four eyes lingered not on the accumulating snow outside but the empty lattice basket hanging from the ceiling, where Hansol's ball of foxfire once refracted light. He huffed. "Even spirits are bound to be affected under these circumstances. Surely you already feel it. But if you ask me, a winter like this is nothing worth compromising over."

#bimeval #UNBELIEVABLE

[fcxrcin]

@bimeval

"You didn't pick a guardian?" She may look surprised but in truth, she knows she shouldn't be. "I suppose that checks out," She says with a nod. In fact, she didn't choose one herself. "Sukuna, are you going to be okay? It's going to be freezing cold." And she's been noticing something off....

Her expression shifts into concern.

#bimeval #isola event endless aurora

[fcxrcin]

@kurokumocap

"I couldn't help but notice you looking around a little bit unsure. Did you need help with anything?"

#kurokumocap

[fcxrcin]

I need more interactions on Hansol. Catch her at the Dojang or her Cafe or anywhere else really!

I'll cap this at 3!

#isola rp ad

[fcxrcin]

@kleinstar

"Eiden, when you have the upper hand with not just one, but two escrima sticks. Not to mention you're a whole lot taller than me as well. Use your reach, but also be mindful of protecting yourself here," She swiftly taps Eiden's open area around the neck and chest. "You want to always make sure that you are protected in these areas."

Stepping back, she grabs safe and wooden Escrima sticks. "Follow my lead, okay?" Her right foot steps forward and she swings with the same hand, steps back, steps her left foot forward, and swings. All the while, whichever arm doesn't swing, she's making sure it's shielding her neck and chest area.

"Like that."

#Since we did talk aBOUT her training him with the escrima sticks #kleinstar

[fcxrcin]

@limitlessazure

"Not the egggssss." Hansol's tails droops downward into a sad position. Ah, if she had animal ears to go with her mood, they'd be dropped back in such a sad, pathetic way. She sniffs as a pile of dozen eggs is cracked and shattered by her feet.

"I knew today was going so well." It was just too good to be true.

#limitlessazure #Poor eggs

[fcxrcin]

ONe more slot is still open

Hansol isn't as active as I'd like for her to be, holy shit. Anyway, I'm going to try and keep her active, so give this a like. I'll cap at 2 though!

#Isola rp ad

[fcxrcin]

@reversedpsync

"MM!" Hansol says as she wipes off a bead of sweat from her forehead. She has just finished deep cleaning the ENTIRE Dojang. Exhaling out a HUFF, she turns to face the other, "I've had the Dojang for already 3 years and some change now." The Gumiho wipes her hands against her pants and gets a good look at the interior. Man! She really did go all out, didn't she?

"Anyway, I'm relieved that my blue flames guided you here. The woods can be pretty dangerous." She did locate her Dojang here knowing the dangers that it could bring. It's why she's made sure to keep this area specifically safe.

"Would you like to come in? I have tea currently brewing."

#reversedpsync #I kept this simple and short! #let me know if you need something longer though

[fcxrcin]

Hansol isn't as active as I'd like for her to be, holy shit. Anyway, I'm going to try and keep her active, so give this a like. I'll cap at 2 though!

#Isola Rp ad

[fcxrcin]

As Sukuna's body began to transform further with every attack hit, the air only thickened, the animals around the area began to flee and any remaining creatures hid away in their respectful homes. They knew not for what was to come next. if anyone was smart enough they would have stayed away from the proximity if they knew what was right for them.

With the amount of flames that shoot up from the grounds and around them, smoke begins to blur their surroundings. Hansol doesn't slow though. With every move that Sukuna dodges by a hair, another flurry of attacks will follow right after.

Step, side step, right hook, a jab, a roundhouse kick, and flames to go with every attack, she uses her momentum and strength.

Despite how quick she moves and how much force she applies to every attack, she isn't blind to the scent or sight of what is happening in front of her.

Drumbeat.

She steps back when a pillar of fire is dodged by Sukuna. He had staggered back and away from the blue flames. Behind the smoke of the flames, she notices the larger form, and a breath is exhaled from parted lips.

"Sukuna..."

the ritual, it was complete.

@aforerime

ㅤThe sky, darkening and dusty-hued in the day's remaining spectra, accentuated the trees' shadowy outlines and the way their bare branches swayed silently in an approaching storm's wind. Plumes of blue firelight scattered the darkness in bursts of otherworldly incandescence, but Sukuna did not need the help of illumination to see the wrinkles of the branches, the color of the trunks, the tangles of roots -- in his current state, he could perceive everything he knew to imply, from the direction of the wind to the historical chronology which beget this very ritual.

He waltzed to the drumbeat, and so too did Hansol's attacks match the tempo. Although he continued to dodge her fire and fists, his afterimage, fundamentally too slow to avoid anything, bore the damage, and as his images synced, his flesh charred, flame-dried wounds cracked open, and his space in time contorted on itself. Drumbeat and drumbeat, he seared and staggered, but his ritual dance continued within the pillars of foxfire. Bright with pain and inspiration, the mass he wore distorted, stretching and tightening around his blooming soul as the fire marred his features unrecognizable, rending his body an object, an implication of something living.

Anything he knew to imply, he could perceive.

Hansol struck a blow across his face, snapping his head to the side and smearing his vision. Caught in a microsecond of insight, his fire-blinded eyes peered beyond the pulsating wall of light around him, the blue-hot spectrum breaking open into distinguishable strata, quantifiable as time. He experienced each stratum at once, from his namesake's prehistoric beginnings as a local kami to the destruction of the modern day Shibuya, and with a drumbeat, the limits of the strata cracked apart again, revealing to him a reality he knew to be true but he had not yet experienced himself--the nationwide culling, the opportunity he had awaited, the clearing of his skies, the resurrection of his blood. In a second indistinguishable from the next but larger than any century, he assimilated the knowledge with the familiarity of reciting his mother tongue--an aspect of his Self indistinguishable from his Self.

He staggered out of the pillar of fire, skin aflame on his blurred image, and disappeared into the dark clearing.

Drumbeat.

The trees stilled, the ghost-lights of the lingering local spirits faded in retreat, and the unintelligible chants of the shamans quieted. In the otherwise consummate dark around him, embers winked where they smoldered on his skin, muted illumination wisping up on their trails of smoke -- and that blue light seemed to pulsate and expand until they exhaled their life, from the implied space around their imprints emerging a figure larger than was there before, an artifact of Hida's history.

The incarnation of Ryomen-sukuna's soul.

↠ @fcxrcin

#bimeval #FINALLY #I WISH I COULD GIVE A MORE PROPER RESPONSE

[fcxrcin]

As they get closer, the presence is nearly suffocating. The height of Sukuna's power in this mummified form wasn't even all of it. There was more and while Hansol was rather terrified much like she was when they had first met, she wanted this for him just as much as he wanted this for himself. THIS was important.

She comes to a halt, the hands and noises reaching her, being ignored by the Gumiho.

There's a low humming in her ear that she had heard earlier, but it gets louder and...

Here they come.

Sukuna's warning immediately sets the Gumiho in gear, her tonfas held securely in her hands.

"Ready." And flames circles around both Sukuna and herself, not harming anything in its way.

ㅤTheir footsteps fell dully within the sloped corridor, the tunnel fleshy with groundwater and the walls bleeding spirits. Energy seeped into the damp air around them, gnarled fingers emerging from the porous earth as small spirits struggled to wedge themselves from the rock and soil and follow in the protective wake of the two greater spirits--bottom feeders in search of the safest passage to the whale fall. Sukuna paid their presence little mind, indifferently brushing past their reaching hands and allowing them to ride in the shadow of his aura. They didn't matter.

Ahead, a draft carrying the sharp scent of salt water and the sour odor of decay billowed from the gaping mouth of the tunnel's exit, little else but a shallow pool visible from their vantage point. Thin light radiated from the cavern ahead, the wan bioluminescence of sea bacteria shimmering like stardust in the water, and when Sukuna stepped into the pool, the light fled from the weight of his presence, riding the water's ripple up until it butted against a stationary object in the cave's center.

He paused, peering at the hunched man-shape seated in dead meditation. From its tree-like skin, cursed energy pulsated whale music in droning, omniscient notes; and from its Buddhist robes, the bacteria's blue light shimmered a cool yellow in the creases of the fabric's gold ornamental stitch work. He saw the golden shine and scoffed at the refraction of Buddha contained within.

"It's in poor taste," he droned to himself, wading farther into the pool as lesser spirits splashed past him, clambering for the mummy. "A living Buddha... it's one thing if it's meant to be ironic, but this is..." He trailed off, stopping in front of the sokushinbutsu, then looked up. A moment after he did, a distant rumble shook gravel loose from the ceiling. "Here they come."

#He IS AN ANIMAL #bimeval

[fcxrcin]

The way the ground opened up from Sukuna's attack. It's not the whole extent of his ability, but no matter what, she's always in awe when she witnesses it.

Now that they're underground, Hansol takes a step forward, eyes scanning their area for any potential threats nearby. Ears are sharpened to hear of any surprise attack incoming, but most of all, Hansol can pick up the scent of rotten corpse so much stronger.

"I see..." She isn't surprised by his answer. He reminds her of an animal. One that would eat its own skin after shedding it. He's done it before and he'd do it many times more.

"Let's find it quickly then." She says with a firm nod. "I'll watch your back Sukuna."

ㅤHansol's whispered acknowledgment prompted his attention back above ground, his vision narrowing upon the fox spirit. The wild excitement maligning his expression tapered in distant preoccupation, at once considering and dismissing her interest in the cursed object. Brushing past her, he waved his hand nonchalantly. "Do as you like."

He strode toward where the energy's epicenter beat its tremoring, rhythmic frequency into the skin of the city, stopping upon feeling its whispered vibrations thrum hollowly beneath his feet. Crouching down, he placed one palm on the concrete and uttered a simple incantation, half voiced and half thought--"Cleave, Spider's Thread."--and carved a layered pattern stenciled of uniform webs and the irregularities of his own palmar creases, designing the destruction and foundational stresses necessary to deliver them into a traversable underground passage. The concrete shuddered then caved, fracturing cleanly to drop them into a well-like cavern he cut open. Returning to his feet, he proceeded toward a gaping maw cut rectangularly into the wall, leaving the illumination of the hole above to descend into the earth's guttural darkness.

"Eat it," he answered plainly, his spirit eyes swiveling backward to peer at Hansol's energy-shape in the dimming light. "Cursed objects serve little purpose but to transfer energy. Consume the object, and its power is gained... kuku, but in this case, I'm simply reclaiming what I lost."

#bimeval

[fcxrcin]

This is like the few times Sukuna and Hansol danced. Moving to the rhythm of a beat but only this one was perhaps more important than the others. Uraume's beating to the drum can be felt through the ground itself. It's not terrifying, but there is a feeling to be had.

Hansol takes note of all of it. It isn't terrifying like the ones she remembered in her own past. This ritual was for Sukuna and it was what Sukuna wanted and what URAUME had talked about. To them, this ritual was of utmost importance.

Hansol can tell.

She can tell by the feelings surrounding them, the air too, dancing with the beat of Uraume's drum, the spirits, and the way the two important people in her life present themselves. Uraume was engrossed in watching this ritual and being fully immersed in its entirety and Sukuna....something was certainly happening. Physically, with energy, something was happening.

She doesn't slow their momentum down though. The trajectory of her attacks continues, flames dance around them, licking at skin. She'll turn the heat up and the ground around Sukuna only heatens up more into an unbearable heat. Shooting straight up from the ground beneath are pillars of blue flames. They shoot upward, all aiming from the bottom to engulf Sukuna in its flames and as these pillars of flames work on scorching Sukuna, Hansol defaults into hand-to-hand combat.

@aforerime @bimeval

ㅤThough Hansol's attempt at humor seemed clear to him as her threadbare effort to displace her concern, he made no indication that he noticed, instead waving the comment off with a humorless hum of a laugh. Whatever reservations she maintained paled in credence to her participation. "Depends on what you consider a prize."

His aloof response a signal of the conversation's conclusion, Uraume beat the drum's wooden flank, from the instrument's thick shell clapping a tuneless note which opened the clearing to outside observation. Nearby energies heeded their magnetic impulse to the ritual, and with his mind borderless in the fluid world around him, Sukuna experienced a microcosmic omnipotence with a dreamlike clarity--he saw the shimmering motes of the local spirits' individual cells, he heard the whisper-quiet of the early winter's drying branches grazing against one another, and he felt the strain of Uraume's drum as the wood aged rhombic between the surrounding ultra-dense energies. All things material and otherwise flattened onto one plane of existence while his consciousness floated multidimensionally, and from his vantage point, he could see his long-dead shamans crawl out of oblivion, wispy as a memory.

Uraume's drum-song and the plume of Hansol's flames rallied him to move.

He stepped back to the beat of the drum, spine bending to dodge the whip of Hansol's tonfa. Blue flames bright with energy eddied past his face and brushed his skin with heat in one moment, then in the next moment hit him directly. His spiritual mass having been loosened across reality, he moved with a lag like an afterimage, appearing at one juncture in time to have dodged yet simultaneously having not done so yet. But although his image behaved like a immaterial refraction, each frame he occupied immutably connected back to his mass, and his head snapped to the side upon his time-lagged specter receiving a direct hit from the tonfa. In the fraction of a second where the pain synced across his stretched time, he had already begun to move again.

His geta tapped a three-four signature around Uraume's drumbeats, his body simultaneously responding to Hansol's incoming attacks and dancing to the ritual music. Flames smoldered on his face, the embers smearing across space as light lines, and although his afterimage continued taking hits, his body moved unabated in accordance to the music reverberating inside his soul -- he internalized Uraume's rhythm, feeling intimately its nascent yet ancient dialogue connecting him between the undeniable present and the stagnant past, and between those certainties in time his existence bridged their thin margin in a shape which swelled out of history and into his skin.

--!

Inside the heat-wrinkled air of Hansol's fire, the contours defining Sukuna's mass seemed to leap outside their boundaries in sync to the drumbeat, his face stretching to the pull of his soul. He blurred where the flamed clung, the searing of his skin the destruction necessary for change -- and he yet had a body's worth of potential for destruction.

Heaving a laugh that rattled echoic between his images, he continued his dance.

↠ @fcxrcin

#aforerime #biemval #And you know as per usual #fight scenes were never my strong suit

[fcxrcin]

Ding dong! Goes the doorbell. Behind you'll find Christmas sweater with sunflowers on it, gingerbread cookies in the shape of hansol herself, bathbombs mostly floral and fruit, accessories and some light reading - " merry christmas - eiden itadori"

"Uwa! Eiden didn't have to!" She was just thinking about getting a sweater for the cold winter (mainly because it'd be cute) AND she has been thinking about those bath bombs. She's heard of them and has seen them in commercials. Eiden must be able to read people's minds. Giggling, she pulls out his gift. "I kinda wish he'd drop by." But it's fine. She can stop by his house!

----

"Eideeen~" she calls out, ringing the doorbell. Once the door is open, she'll gift Eiden himself the box neatly wrapped in silk cloth. "Merry Christmas! I made you some dishes and here," Once the doshirak is handed to him, she pulls out another gift wrap and hands it to him. She's always been one for safety and being in a world like this, there's all kinds of danger. "I wonder if this is your very first weapon." She laughs. At least it's nothing sharp. Metal escrima sticks. Of course, Hansol'd get him something like this.

#kleinstar