Post by lev on Mar 2, 2018 14:28:15 GMT -5
It's the eighth time now.
Lev begrudgingly dragged his feet against the wooden slats, mumbling curses under his breath as he walked away from the Third's library, the ominous feeling of a glaring librarian seared at his back. It wasn't the first time he'd been forcibly kicked out for 'causing distress to the visitors' and for his presence being 'non-conducive for learning'. He usually responded to them by raising his arms to take a whiff at his armpits-- for a body that had a mostly vegetarian diet for more than a hundred years, it didn't smell all that bad. Not even when he lacked a fornight's worth of showers. When he said he smelled better now, they rolled their eyes at him. "What did you smell like before, rotting corpses?" His response was always affirmative, and yet they only scoffed at his 'attitude'. To be completely fair, he was telling the truth.
It's been a while since he was dismissed from his duties until the Third found some use for him that didn't involve screwing up one thing or another on a daily basis. He'd spent most of that time obsessively poring these books, so much that his hunched, anorexic figure had become an eyesore for most of the library's regulars. His strawberry-blonde hair was always left in a mess, at that point it was a valid question whether he'd like to adopt a bird somewhere in that hair nest, or whether burning would be easier than shaving it off.
Odd thing was that Lev was never completely ignorant of everyone's perception of him. He'd see them taking peeks at him, sometimes he'd catch them throwing glances at his direction.Most of them recognized the face this belongs to, after all.Took the position of Third Seat for a very short while under Tokiyo's lead, requested back to unseated upon Miyuki's administration change. Came back some few months later as a corpse in their nonexistent morgue. Found alive and skitttering away on an alley. Forcibly taken back to the Third. From there on, this 'shinigami' looked like it would come in for a complete makeover— the health was deteriorating at an alarming speed. From no makeup, to makeup, to going to a man outright. Sometimes, the brave and those who knew the shinigami would ask what happened. "I've become a different person," he'd say. They'd chuckle at him at how far she'd gone-- he'd gone. To be completely fair, he was also telling the truth. Literally.
The only thing certain about him was that the library was all he ever thought about in these last few weeks. He fucked up. He desperately searched for solutions in a pathetic attempt to unfuck the situation up. He wasn't about to undo centuries of waiting by his own hand. He was constantly teetering the edge of life and death. One mistake from him could completely wipe both of them out. He was paying the price of not succumbing to their fate. and the world was more than happy to let him feel the gravity of its consequences.
He was too preoccupied trying his darned best to live. He felt life chipping at his body with every passing day, the body's incompatibility with the soul screaming at the disarray. He felt life chipping at the loose threads of his sanity with each page turned that did not contain his answers.
It was a daily struggle he had to endure.
And somehow, all these people cared about, was that he fucking stank.
Unlike these people, who took their lives for granted, Lev did not have the luxury of sitting around and worrying about prissy affairs. He told them so, and they said they understood. And yet, his reasons always reached deaf ears. He'd went from pleading to allow a longer accommodation to just flipping and kicking the bulk of whichever is nearest at him at the librarian who'd tell him to go fuck off. He'd scream at them at the top of his lungs, and made sure other people were bothered. He often took corner spots people don't even pass by, or a seat near an obscure topic people usually don't go to. It wasn't that his presence was bothering others to an unbearable degree. Lev wanted to think it was solely because he was becoming their local eyesore. He liked to think that he was only being picked on, and he decided to try his best and voice out his own defenses— and he hadn't been the kindest in giving it to them. Even after being forcibly dragged out, he'd scream from the lobby and get on a row with the staff for the injustice.
All of those times, like tonight, ended up with him dragging himself back to his house, plagued with pathetic thoughts like how long, exactly, he should stay there. Technically, it was his body's residence. It made the place his residence too. But more than that, it was the only source of hope he held to not give up. When he sees the enthusiastic eyes of the vulpine friend kept in the place, he realizes once again that there was someone else waiting for the true owner of this house. Whenever he caught a whiff of his soulmate's scent lingering in the air, he feels compelled to stay away so that it may last longer. He hoped he could at least keep her belongings intact and the house in tip top shape when she comes back.
And yet, in everything he did, he was failed miserably. The air surrounding him felt heavier and heavier. He tried his best to endure it and live with it, and still he felt like it threatened to crush his soul with one moment's worth of unawareness. Lev heaved a long sigh as he stopped by a ramen shop, and walked out with as little fuss he walked in, and the rest was an uneventful walk in the cold night.
If there was even anyone following his uneventful trip as he meandered in the quiet streets, his chaotic mess of a mind was too noisy for him to hear its alarms.
Lev begrudgingly dragged his feet against the wooden slats, mumbling curses under his breath as he walked away from the Third's library, the ominous feeling of a glaring librarian seared at his back. It wasn't the first time he'd been forcibly kicked out for 'causing distress to the visitors' and for his presence being 'non-conducive for learning'. He usually responded to them by raising his arms to take a whiff at his armpits-- for a body that had a mostly vegetarian diet for more than a hundred years, it didn't smell all that bad. Not even when he lacked a fornight's worth of showers. When he said he smelled better now, they rolled their eyes at him. "What did you smell like before, rotting corpses?" His response was always affirmative, and yet they only scoffed at his 'attitude'. To be completely fair, he was telling the truth.
It's been a while since he was dismissed from his duties until the Third found some use for him that didn't involve screwing up one thing or another on a daily basis. He'd spent most of that time obsessively poring these books, so much that his hunched, anorexic figure had become an eyesore for most of the library's regulars. His strawberry-blonde hair was always left in a mess, at that point it was a valid question whether he'd like to adopt a bird somewhere in that hair nest, or whether burning would be easier than shaving it off.
Odd thing was that Lev was never completely ignorant of everyone's perception of him. He'd see them taking peeks at him, sometimes he'd catch them throwing glances at his direction.Most of them recognized the face this belongs to, after all.Took the position of Third Seat for a very short while under Tokiyo's lead, requested back to unseated upon Miyuki's administration change. Came back some few months later as a corpse in their nonexistent morgue. Found alive and skitttering away on an alley. Forcibly taken back to the Third. From there on, this 'shinigami' looked like it would come in for a complete makeover— the health was deteriorating at an alarming speed. From no makeup, to makeup, to going to a man outright. Sometimes, the brave and those who knew the shinigami would ask what happened. "I've become a different person," he'd say. They'd chuckle at him at how far she'd gone-- he'd gone. To be completely fair, he was also telling the truth. Literally.
The only thing certain about him was that the library was all he ever thought about in these last few weeks. He fucked up. He desperately searched for solutions in a pathetic attempt to unfuck the situation up. He wasn't about to undo centuries of waiting by his own hand. He was constantly teetering the edge of life and death. One mistake from him could completely wipe both of them out. He was paying the price of not succumbing to their fate. and the world was more than happy to let him feel the gravity of its consequences.
He was too preoccupied trying his darned best to live. He felt life chipping at his body with every passing day, the body's incompatibility with the soul screaming at the disarray. He felt life chipping at the loose threads of his sanity with each page turned that did not contain his answers.
It was a daily struggle he had to endure.
And somehow, all these people cared about, was that he fucking stank.
Unlike these people, who took their lives for granted, Lev did not have the luxury of sitting around and worrying about prissy affairs. He told them so, and they said they understood. And yet, his reasons always reached deaf ears. He'd went from pleading to allow a longer accommodation to just flipping and kicking the bulk of whichever is nearest at him at the librarian who'd tell him to go fuck off. He'd scream at them at the top of his lungs, and made sure other people were bothered. He often took corner spots people don't even pass by, or a seat near an obscure topic people usually don't go to. It wasn't that his presence was bothering others to an unbearable degree. Lev wanted to think it was solely because he was becoming their local eyesore. He liked to think that he was only being picked on, and he decided to try his best and voice out his own defenses— and he hadn't been the kindest in giving it to them. Even after being forcibly dragged out, he'd scream from the lobby and get on a row with the staff for the injustice.
All of those times, like tonight, ended up with him dragging himself back to his house, plagued with pathetic thoughts like how long, exactly, he should stay there. Technically, it was his body's residence. It made the place his residence too. But more than that, it was the only source of hope he held to not give up. When he sees the enthusiastic eyes of the vulpine friend kept in the place, he realizes once again that there was someone else waiting for the true owner of this house. Whenever he caught a whiff of his soulmate's scent lingering in the air, he feels compelled to stay away so that it may last longer. He hoped he could at least keep her belongings intact and the house in tip top shape when she comes back.
And yet, in everything he did, he was failed miserably. The air surrounding him felt heavier and heavier. He tried his best to endure it and live with it, and still he felt like it threatened to crush his soul with one moment's worth of unawareness. Lev heaved a long sigh as he stopped by a ramen shop, and walked out with as little fuss he walked in, and the rest was an uneventful walk in the cold night.
If there was even anyone following his uneventful trip as he meandered in the quiet streets, his chaotic mess of a mind was too noisy for him to hear its alarms.
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