Cho Hakkai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reformedsinner) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thenearshore2018-11-13 01:15 pm
reformedsinner) wrote in thenearshore2018-11-13 01:15 pm
(no subject)
Who: Cho Hakkai and you
Where: Around the Far Shore; at the Tokyo Marathon
When: Feb 15 - 25
What: Naming a new shinki, attempting graphic design, grounding a wayward shinki, considering White Day gifts, helping runners out with a small ayakashi problem.
Warnings: Shinki naming thread may include reference to violence & death.
Closed - Joscelin
[Sometimes, it's been quite a while between Ayumu's disappearances and reappearances. Hakkai hasn't wholly abandoned hope. And yet...
... yet, it's not easy taking care of a prickly young shinki who he hasn't named. Joscelin has been fitting into the household well: he gets along with Chikusa and Ken, he hasn't tried to murder any of Amaterasu's shinki since his ablution, and he's looking tired, lately.
If he's going to be a part of the household, then Hakkai is going to have to take care of him properly. It's time to broach that subject, and so, tonight, he's pulled Joscelin aside into the front room after dinner.]
You've been spending a lot of time here lately. I thought it might be time to make an offer.
[He gestures to one of the couches, settles down in the armchair himself, and crosses his legs.]
Would you like a name?
Li Tieguai's Temple - Open
[Chikusa is grounded. Ken has been informed that it's Chikusa's responsibility to do all of their chores all week long, and that he isn't allowed to help. Hakkai, therefore, finds himself unusually free: although he could sit around inside and enjoy watching Chikusa dust the bookshelves in slow motion, that palls, and so he's easy to find during this week sitting out on the new wicker couch on his temple's front patio, either with a book or with a pair of knitting needles, a massive spool of soft white yarn, and a ... thing he's knitting.
It's not clear what the thing is. It's a strange shape and there are strange divots in it. It's possible, if it gets long enough, that it will become a scarf.
It's also possible that it will become an eldritch horror and eat the mastiff snoozing comfortably at Hakkai's feet.
For a man knitting an eldritch horror, he looks remarkably cheerful when he glances up to spot passersby.]
Good evening!
Abandoned Temple School - Open
[The shinki looking for interviewees, or just comments, for their new magazine edition are everywhere. Hakkai has already had to politely decline several interview offers: apparently Gods of Fortune are new and exciting. He's told them to go ask Chikusa, the new hafuri of a new God of Fortune.
Chikusa's going to hate it; Hakkai feels thoroughly self-justified. He's not over those awkward dates yet.
There is one thing he'd been happy to hear, though: the magazine is accepting advertisements, and, with his new income stream, he can take out a full-page ad for teachers and students at the school. It's not just the new gods and shinki who might find it useful, after all.
This is, in short, why he's sitting in the downstairs library at the abandoned temple, at a table strewn with tape, glue, bits of neatly cut paper and photographs, and a mock-up of the ad. There's at least five different fonts. The text is crowded in and far too detailed. He's put a photograph of the school itself behind some of the text, which is unreadable as a result.
He looks distressingly proud of his work.
Someone is going to have to stop him before this monstrosity goes to print.]
Tokyo Marathon - Open
[Hakkai hadn't meant to be at the marathon. He's doing his usual morning deliveries of medicine to his followers most in need; unfortunately, one of their apartment buildings turns out to be right next to the track. And therefore surrounded in a seething, cheering crowd. And almost totally inaccessible.
He's never been to that apartment before, and he doesn't trust his teleportation well enough to risk unknown destinations. Cradling his giant duffel bag carefully in his arms, he's making his way grimly through the crowd, throwing elbows wherever he needs to. A few bruised ribs will serve them right for not being fast enough to get out of his way.
When the crowd starts to open up, he thinks for a moment that it's because he's finally drawn enough attention to make them give way. Then he looks up.
A massive, waist-high frog, purple-gray, stares unblinkingly at him from three paces away.
"You smell good," it croaks, and licks its lipless mouth with a long, long tongue.
Hakkai turns to the nearest person, pressing his bag into their arms without even looking.]
Excuse me, can you hold this? It's heavy and fragile, please be careful.
[The frog leaps. Hakkai, expression freezing, dives out of the way.]
Where: Around the Far Shore; at the Tokyo Marathon
When: Feb 15 - 25
What: Naming a new shinki, attempting graphic design, grounding a wayward shinki, considering White Day gifts, helping runners out with a small ayakashi problem.
Warnings: Shinki naming thread may include reference to violence & death.
Closed - Joscelin
[Sometimes, it's been quite a while between Ayumu's disappearances and reappearances. Hakkai hasn't wholly abandoned hope. And yet...
... yet, it's not easy taking care of a prickly young shinki who he hasn't named. Joscelin has been fitting into the household well: he gets along with Chikusa and Ken, he hasn't tried to murder any of Amaterasu's shinki since his ablution, and he's looking tired, lately.
If he's going to be a part of the household, then Hakkai is going to have to take care of him properly. It's time to broach that subject, and so, tonight, he's pulled Joscelin aside into the front room after dinner.]
You've been spending a lot of time here lately. I thought it might be time to make an offer.
[He gestures to one of the couches, settles down in the armchair himself, and crosses his legs.]
Would you like a name?
Li Tieguai's Temple - Open
[Chikusa is grounded. Ken has been informed that it's Chikusa's responsibility to do all of their chores all week long, and that he isn't allowed to help. Hakkai, therefore, finds himself unusually free: although he could sit around inside and enjoy watching Chikusa dust the bookshelves in slow motion, that palls, and so he's easy to find during this week sitting out on the new wicker couch on his temple's front patio, either with a book or with a pair of knitting needles, a massive spool of soft white yarn, and a ... thing he's knitting.
It's not clear what the thing is. It's a strange shape and there are strange divots in it. It's possible, if it gets long enough, that it will become a scarf.
It's also possible that it will become an eldritch horror and eat the mastiff snoozing comfortably at Hakkai's feet.
For a man knitting an eldritch horror, he looks remarkably cheerful when he glances up to spot passersby.]
Good evening!
Abandoned Temple School - Open
[The shinki looking for interviewees, or just comments, for their new magazine edition are everywhere. Hakkai has already had to politely decline several interview offers: apparently Gods of Fortune are new and exciting. He's told them to go ask Chikusa, the new hafuri of a new God of Fortune.
Chikusa's going to hate it; Hakkai feels thoroughly self-justified. He's not over those awkward dates yet.
There is one thing he'd been happy to hear, though: the magazine is accepting advertisements, and, with his new income stream, he can take out a full-page ad for teachers and students at the school. It's not just the new gods and shinki who might find it useful, after all.
This is, in short, why he's sitting in the downstairs library at the abandoned temple, at a table strewn with tape, glue, bits of neatly cut paper and photographs, and a mock-up of the ad. There's at least five different fonts. The text is crowded in and far too detailed. He's put a photograph of the school itself behind some of the text, which is unreadable as a result.
He looks distressingly proud of his work.
Someone is going to have to stop him before this monstrosity goes to print.]
Tokyo Marathon - Open
[Hakkai hadn't meant to be at the marathon. He's doing his usual morning deliveries of medicine to his followers most in need; unfortunately, one of their apartment buildings turns out to be right next to the track. And therefore surrounded in a seething, cheering crowd. And almost totally inaccessible.
He's never been to that apartment before, and he doesn't trust his teleportation well enough to risk unknown destinations. Cradling his giant duffel bag carefully in his arms, he's making his way grimly through the crowd, throwing elbows wherever he needs to. A few bruised ribs will serve them right for not being fast enough to get out of his way.
When the crowd starts to open up, he thinks for a moment that it's because he's finally drawn enough attention to make them give way. Then he looks up.
A massive, waist-high frog, purple-gray, stares unblinkingly at him from three paces away.
"You smell good," it croaks, and licks its lipless mouth with a long, long tongue.
Hakkai turns to the nearest person, pressing his bag into their arms without even looking.]
Excuse me, can you hold this? It's heavy and fragile, please be careful.
[The frog leaps. Hakkai, expression freezing, dives out of the way.]
no subject
[It was following orders, Chikusa. Accept responsibility.]
And what kind of punishment would it be if I picked a chore you enjoyed?
no subject
[Except cooking, maybe, possibly. Sometimes.]
no subject
[If he claims he hates every chore...]
no subject
There's so much fur.
no subject
[There is absolutely no sympathy on Hakkai's face.]
no subject
I didn't invite the cats. They followed me, and then you messed up in getting me away from them.
...And you're keeping Bon.
no subject
[So, you know, if you want to take the walking furmountain of dog away from your dog boyfriend, Chikusa....]
no subject
...Why does he have to be part dog...
no subject
[His tone is teasing; he turns the misshapen knitting in his lap and begins another row.]
It's only a few more days, Chikusa. You'll manage.
no subject
[And he falls into silence.]
[Eventually he'll get back up and shuffle to chore hell again... but for now, he's apparently just going to stay in this very debatable position, listening to the sound of Hakkai making a knit eldritch horror.]
no subject
It's extremely domestic. Hakkai will bask in it until Chikusa slumps off towards vacuuming hell.]