Zhao Yunlan (
wildguardian) wrote in
thenearshore2018-10-29 10:46 am
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Curiosity killed the... [open]
Who: Zhao Yunlan & OPEN
When: The second week of February
Where: Far Shore - the library, near Ebisu's temple, the Western District; Near Shore - the ruins of a burned-out department store
What: Exploring, unwisely.
Library
[Zhao Yunlan is becoming a regular sight at a corner table in the library; he's accumulating a stack of books, filling them with bookmarks, taking copious notes in a cheap black notebook, swearing at them and not putting them away again when he leaves.
Research! He hates it. He needs an assistant who will do it for him, but in the absence of that helpful whoever, he's stuck hitting the books himself. It's going to age him posthumously.
Hopefully, no one minds the fact that a largely useless pile of books keeps being renewed on the corner table, and filled with paper scrap bookmarks that have to be removed before they're put away.]
Ebisu's temple
[Since he's died young regardless, Zhao is seriously considering switching from lollipops to cigarettes. There's something enticing about the smell of burning tobacco, and, besides, importantly: smokers can take smoke breaks. As a non-smoker, he's having to find some other excuse to sneak outside and see the sun every once in a while during his workday.
His excuse today is picking flowers. He doesn't recognize the flowers sprouting from the grayish soil clinging to cracks in the temple's modern-looking concrete courtyard, but they're bright, colorful, and have a non-zero chance of brightening the day of the poor white-collar workers typing their fingers to the bone on either side of his temp desk. Fresh flowers, an important part of office feng shui: or something like that.
(He's considering bringing in a houseplant. Those also make great excuses to take a break.)
He nips off the stem of a bright red daisy-looking thing, considers it, and turns with a shameless grin. Whoops, there's somebody, has he been caught skiving off?]
Here! It goes with your eyes.
Western District
[It's late on the night of the 12th, and Zhao had been working his way back home to Bakugou's place after a long day doing accounting and a few drinks out afterwards, except, annoyingly, his stomach is killing him. All right, so he'd skipped breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and: all right, the last time he ate something was yesterday when Bakugou'd made breakfast. But it's not like he ever gets more or less hungry no matter what he eats! He'd thought it was no big deal.
Apparently even dead men can get heartburn from strong liquor on an empty stomach, he reflects, and slumps down onto a comfortable rock at the edge of the road, indulging his solitude with a wince as he bends over and puts his head on his knees.
This is really embarrassing. He'll just give it a few minutes, and once he feels a bit better, he'll just drag himself back home to bed....]
Department Store
[Mysteries abound. These mysteries, though, don't look like they're going to be solved anytime soon. Zhao ducks under plastic disaster cleanup sheeting and looks around the dripping, ice-cold, smoke-blackened floor of the unlucky department store, and shakes his head. Any clues that might've once been here are long since gone. If the fire hadn't gotten them, the months of abandonment and subsequent investigation would've.
Maybe he can sneak in and pull the investigation files somehow. Shinki do tend to go unnoticed, so he's willing to bet he can shadow a cop into any police office he wants. Getting keys to get into their files might be a little trickier, of course....
Sighing, he turns to go, just in time to spot a pale, whitish, sheet-like thing that's not plastic lashing out towards his ankle across the debris-strewn concrete floor.
With a shout, he jumps back, landing in a puddle. Filthy water splashes everywhere, and the sheet rears up like it's been possessed by a cobra, striking out at him again. The edge of it brushes his hand as he scrambles out of the way, raising an instant, aching, purplish welt.
Well, fuck. He's just found his first ayakashi all on his own, he realizes, turns, and bolts for the stairs with a possessed sheet in hot pursuit.
This is making a lot of noise.
Hopefully someone's passing by.
Help?]
When: The second week of February
Where: Far Shore - the library, near Ebisu's temple, the Western District; Near Shore - the ruins of a burned-out department store
What: Exploring, unwisely.
Library
[Zhao Yunlan is becoming a regular sight at a corner table in the library; he's accumulating a stack of books, filling them with bookmarks, taking copious notes in a cheap black notebook, swearing at them and not putting them away again when he leaves.
Research! He hates it. He needs an assistant who will do it for him, but in the absence of that helpful whoever, he's stuck hitting the books himself. It's going to age him posthumously.
Hopefully, no one minds the fact that a largely useless pile of books keeps being renewed on the corner table, and filled with paper scrap bookmarks that have to be removed before they're put away.]
Ebisu's temple
[Since he's died young regardless, Zhao is seriously considering switching from lollipops to cigarettes. There's something enticing about the smell of burning tobacco, and, besides, importantly: smokers can take smoke breaks. As a non-smoker, he's having to find some other excuse to sneak outside and see the sun every once in a while during his workday.
His excuse today is picking flowers. He doesn't recognize the flowers sprouting from the grayish soil clinging to cracks in the temple's modern-looking concrete courtyard, but they're bright, colorful, and have a non-zero chance of brightening the day of the poor white-collar workers typing their fingers to the bone on either side of his temp desk. Fresh flowers, an important part of office feng shui: or something like that.
(He's considering bringing in a houseplant. Those also make great excuses to take a break.)
He nips off the stem of a bright red daisy-looking thing, considers it, and turns with a shameless grin. Whoops, there's somebody, has he been caught skiving off?]
Here! It goes with your eyes.
Western District
[It's late on the night of the 12th, and Zhao had been working his way back home to Bakugou's place after a long day doing accounting and a few drinks out afterwards, except, annoyingly, his stomach is killing him. All right, so he'd skipped breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and: all right, the last time he ate something was yesterday when Bakugou'd made breakfast. But it's not like he ever gets more or less hungry no matter what he eats! He'd thought it was no big deal.
Apparently even dead men can get heartburn from strong liquor on an empty stomach, he reflects, and slumps down onto a comfortable rock at the edge of the road, indulging his solitude with a wince as he bends over and puts his head on his knees.
This is really embarrassing. He'll just give it a few minutes, and once he feels a bit better, he'll just drag himself back home to bed....]
Department Store
[Mysteries abound. These mysteries, though, don't look like they're going to be solved anytime soon. Zhao ducks under plastic disaster cleanup sheeting and looks around the dripping, ice-cold, smoke-blackened floor of the unlucky department store, and shakes his head. Any clues that might've once been here are long since gone. If the fire hadn't gotten them, the months of abandonment and subsequent investigation would've.
Maybe he can sneak in and pull the investigation files somehow. Shinki do tend to go unnoticed, so he's willing to bet he can shadow a cop into any police office he wants. Getting keys to get into their files might be a little trickier, of course....
Sighing, he turns to go, just in time to spot a pale, whitish, sheet-like thing that's not plastic lashing out towards his ankle across the debris-strewn concrete floor.
With a shout, he jumps back, landing in a puddle. Filthy water splashes everywhere, and the sheet rears up like it's been possessed by a cobra, striking out at him again. The edge of it brushes his hand as he scrambles out of the way, raising an instant, aching, purplish welt.
Well, fuck. He's just found his first ayakashi all on his own, he realizes, turns, and bolts for the stairs with a possessed sheet in hot pursuit.
This is making a lot of noise.
Hopefully someone's passing by.
Help?]
no subject
...Weird. [Shun is talking about him...] So?
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I'll make sure to clean up after myself-- [he waves a hand at his table full of research materials] -- if you don't mind answering some of my questions about magic.
no subject
[A faint scoff can be heard under his breath. He wants to do less work, sure, but magic knowledge is valuable here. He's not going to throw it around so freely. He's not Kairi.]
no subject
[Zhao shrugs.]
See, now, I figured since you were asking me to clean up around here, that's what you cared about. If you want something else, though, I can deal.
no subject
[Chikusa no-]
But I want an actual service besides common sense... Or knowledge equal to what I'm giving out.
no subject
I'm pretty sure I can get the information somewhere else, so is that your price? Useful but not unique information?
no subject
There's plenty of places you could get it, I guess. [One shoulder possibly moves, an almost kind of shrug.] Here in the library, some older shinki... but it would take a lot of time.
[A considering tilt of his head.]
...Which isn't guaranteed here.
no subject
Don't threaten me.
-- And yeah, so, useful but not unique. On the other hand, what kind of service are you looking for?
no subject
Then don't give me reason to threaten you.
[It's as simple as that.]
Do you actually want it or not?
no subject
[He's back to the casually expansive shrug.]
I'd like to know. That's why I'm asking you what kind of service you want in return.
no subject
[Because that's a totally better reason, right... Chikusa doesn't seem to see a problem with it, anyway, which may or may not be part of the problem.]
You should already have been putting the books away... It's a garbage offer. What service can you offer?
no subject
[He shrugs.] Are you looking for help around the library? Errands run? Investment advice?
I don't do laundry or windows.
no subject
[And also a shame about not doing laundry because, honestly, Chikusa isn't above outsourcing the chores Hakkai gives him.]
...And investment advice.... really?
no subject
[He spreads his hands in an injured gesture: how could he not look like he knows how to invest? This is prime young entrepreneur scruffy facial hair and denim he has going.
(Honestly, he can't tell if that question is disbelieving or interested. It's too deadpan to interpret.)]
no subject
[...A compliment? It's really hard to tell. Even when he gives actual compliments, well- deadpan problem. Still, Chikusa seems to consider him a while longer.]
....Why not laundry?
no subject
I wouldn't know where to start with laundry.
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[When it comes to inviting people into their room, after the last incident that got Ken so worked up... He has to be very careful. Chikusa can't make that kind of call all on his own.]
[...But they really do have to get it cleared out a bit so that them and Hakkai can start construction.]
no subject
[That sounds like a room Zhao Yunlan does not want to clean. Not that he seems to have much cleaning skill regardless.]
-- Anyway. I'm not great at chores. I could... teach you martial arts?
[He's got long legs, he could make a decent kickboxer. And Zhao isn't about to teach a kid who likes to threaten total strangers how to use a gun.]
no subject
[Fuckin' RIP in peace, Cho Hakkai. It's both an awkward situation to be bonded to, and a horrific room to have to deal with. They're... working on it. Although they could be working on it much better if he could just have some labor working...]
[Whatever disappointment he has about that, however, is hidden under the faint surge of interest at the replacement Zhao suggests. He falls silent, considering it.]
...What kind?
no subject
[Well, proximity can breed affection. Or contempt, depending. Looks like he's snagged this kid with the offer of martial arts lessons, though, and he has to admit it's a fair balance between magic lessons and fighting lessons.]
I'd have to see if somebody else could figure the style out; I just know it's [he tries a hand-wave.] Kinda kickboxy, focused on putting people on the ground fast?
[Memory loss is a hell of a thing, but at least he's got muscle memory on his side.]
no subject
[It's not something he's ever exactly tried. Sure, he's done some kicks and such, but that's all untrained and winging it. Something more polished is what he needs.]
Then... That would be fine. [He eyes the many stacks of books.] ...Along with you cleaning up after yourself.
[Or he's going to do worse than dropping a book on him.]
What do you know about shinki magic...?
no subject
I know you need a shinki's name to cast a spell on them-- the one their god gave them, not their real name. I don't know any spells so far other than the borderline, though, and I'm working on polishing that.
no subject
[Well, he guesses that isn't too surprising for someone who is very obviously new to the Far Shore. Still, now he has to explain. Ugh. Shuffling over, he goes to get the book he dropped on Zhao's head.]
Then... What are you most looking to do against other shinki?
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