Invited Persons:

The blankets were askew on the bed, half hanging off and half on. The black silk sheet was intertwined within his legs, so much so that he couldn’t move them all that much as once again he flipped over onto his stomach. His breathing had changed drastically within the past few minutes from a gentle and calm rhythm to more ragged and forced, and his heartbeat had likewise gone from being a calm and gentle beat to one akin to some one having run a marathon. Still, none of this woke the male as his mind simply delved deeper into the dream world – or rather, deeper into the nightmare that had all but consumed him at this point.

He was running for his life, yet from what he was not sure. The ground was much closer than from what he originally expected. Tiny arms reached out in front of him as if he were grabbing for help that simply wasn’t there, only they weren’t his limbs. They were the arms of a child, a young boy. People, or rather their legs which was all he could really see from his small vantage point, ran past every which way in a kind of confusing dance before him. He darted between them when he could, though on several occasions ended up being knocked down and into the wet mud underneath – the heavens had opened up and water had begun to pour down on the scene while lightning flashed, cracking the confusion and illuminated the darkness and thunder momentarily drowned out the panicked screams of those fleeing around him.

However, this water was not enough to drench the flames that had consumed the village: it only caused the smoke to thicken, so much so that the young boy began to cough and cry: snot and tears running down his rosy red cheeks as he struggled to find breathable air. “Momma!”, he called out, as he had done so half a dozen times before. Momma wouldn’t come though – she was dead – murdered by the very male who had started this chaos and mayhem. Murdered for nothing more than being in the way, a casualty of cruelty and nothing more. An example among examples of those who had fallen first: though his Momma surely wouldn’t be the last.

It was several long minutes before the young boy broke free, before he broke free, and when he did he took cover near a crate outside of a shop, watching as many more adults rushed past in terror – some clutching their children or possessions, and some each other. The shouts from each of them drowned each other out, only adding to the very confusion that the little boy felt. Where was his Momma? Where was his Daddy?

Wait, he knew the answer to that question: his Daddy was attempting to fight his way through the crowd to the bad man who had caused all of this. That was his Daddy’s job after all: he was a shinobi of the village, a fighter, a protector of the people – and he did his job well. Or rather, so the young child had heard from the stories the elders of his clan had told. His Daddy was a good man, and good at what he did, maybe even one of the best. Yet, he was loving all the time, and focused on his family too – that was why he had made sure the young boy and his mother were sent off in the direction of safety before he left… not that that had made a difference, though, eh?

“DADDY! DADDY COME FIND ME PLEASE!”, the young boy screamed out, his throat burning from the process due to the smoke he had already inhaled. As a fresh set of sobs racked through the child's small body, he curled himself further into a tiny ball, small arms wrapping around himself. Where was his Daddy at? Was he standing against the evil male who was hurting and killing his people? Or, like his mother, would he too fall? Would he too be just another victim?

As more people rushed past the child, not even noticing him there, the puddles that had quickly formed from the falling rain were being stepped in, causing mud, ashes and water to splash up on the child, soaking him to the bone. The adults didn’t seem to notice, and neither did the already soaking wet child.

Minutes passed, and as they did so so too did the people until finally fewer and fewer seemed to dwindle behind. The shock of the suddenly lack of people caused the child to stop crying and screaming out for his father for the time being. Sniffling to himself and no longer bothering to wipe away his tears due to how wet his face already was, the child slowly leaned forward and looked around the crate he had been hidden behind: not a single person was in sight, though he could hear the dim sound of violence over the thunder that still rumbled from time to time. “Daddy…?”, he called out much softer as, despite the fear that had his little limbs trembling, he got up and stepped out from behind the crate. He made his way down the street much like a frightened animal, hiding and ducking down behind obstacles in his way as he could each time he heard a clap of thunder or an overly loud moment of the violence and fighting going on. Given how clear the street was it didn’t take the boy long to reach the area the main destruction was going on in: buildings that had once stood strong and proud were crumbling or completely destroyed, hollowed out from the fires burning across what was not soaked beyond repair from the waters. Bodies and blood littered the street, causing the whole thing to look like some sort of aftermath of a natural disaster.

But there was nothing natural about this. The violence that was going on was horrifying, bodies flying backwards, explosions rocking the landscape and causing the very ground beneath the boys feet to quiver and shake. Those fighting were shouting to each other, attempting to communicate among all of the chaos to formulate some kind of plan to take the monster they were fighting down – a monster surely, because what man could do this? Only monsters out of children's books caused this kind of chaos, only legends from old myths told to keep children in line caused this kind of destruction, only demons caused this kind of death.

“Daddy! Daddy, where are you!”, the little boy called out, though his voice didn’t carry over all of the noise. Still, the boy edged closer, fresh tears running down his cheeks. “Daddy! Please---”, the boys voice faltered as for the second time that evening his young and innocent gaze took in the sight of the monster causing all of this: he couldn’t see him exactly due to his father being in the way.

The young boys father was fighting against this man, sword to sword. The clashes of blade against blade, steel against steel, drowned out by everything else going on. Then suddenly the tables turned, the boy watching in sheer shock and fear as a blade came out from a hidden sleeve, both sword and dagger plunging into her father’s gut and piercing straight through him. Using both hands, and keeping his hands on the hilts of the weapons, the boy watched as the violent maniac lifted his father into the air by use of the weapons, causing blood to spew forth from the elder male's mouth. The male held the child's father in the air for several seconds before tossing him aside like trash; wiping his bloodied blades on his outfit. It was then that the male turned and looked toward the child who had begun to scream without noticing.

This male… he was tall with red hair that spiked backwards in a windswept sort of way. A mask was obscuring his eyes and the top half of his face. It was an appearance he knew well: because it wasn’t the child's, it was his. He was the monster. He was the one who had murdered all of these people.

As the murderer began to make toward the child the child's screamed started up again...

---

Kensei’s lungs burned as his own screamed filled the air, loud enough that it finally jarred him from the horrible nightmare that had consumed him. He sat up with a start, startled and panting as he looked around in the darkness around him for any signs of the chaos, death, and destruction that his dream self had caused. There was no rain, no thunder and lightning, no scent of blood. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

“A dream… it was just a dream.”, he murmured to himself, rubbing at his chest as he felt his heart beating heavy and hard – so much so that he could hear the sound of it in his own ears.

Reaching up Kensei rubbed his face with his right hand, frowning as he realized it was soaked in sweat. What a dream to have: or a nightmare really. To have murdered all of those people, innocent women and children, people who had been just trying to protect their village. Why? None of it made any sort of sense. He would never do something like that. It wasn’t in his nature, hell it wasn’t in his soul. He wanted to help people. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could ever cause him to do something like. But why the hell had he had a dream like that? Was it some kind of future sight? Some kind of omen for what was to come? Was he going to turn into some kind of monster, a killer of innocence, a murderer of women and children?

No, no he could not think like that. He would never, ever do something so horrific and so disgusting. There was nothing in this world that could make him commit such horrors, such crimes against the innocent people of the village, any village for that matter. That was not him. This was not an omen of things to come, this was not a warning that he was on some kind of wrong path. This was nothing more than a seriously fucked up dream that was a mental torture and absolutely nothing else.

Kensei repeated those words in his head over and over again for several minutes as he waited for his heartbeat and breathing to settle once more, and for himself to calm down. Eventually, the mantra worked, and he calmed completely – though, he still could not get those images out of his head. It was as if they were burned into the back of his eyeballs. Disgusted with himself over having such a dream he threw the blankets off of himself after spending a few seconds untangling them from around his legs and then stood up. He stretched skyward until bones cracked and muscles stretched in protest, holding the pose for several long seconds before releasing it with a groan.

He glanced behind himself, contemplating returning to the warm and inviting mattress, but thought better of it. After a dream like that he had no interest in allowing himself to have another, and surely with his luck his dream would only end up picking up where it had let off were he to go that route. No, better to stay awake and just go about his day.

Coffee… or a shower. A contemplating decision that had him pausing for but a second before a plan formulated. He wandered from his bedroom and into the kitchen, heading over to the glorious machine that made every morning brighter – coffee commercial much? A filter was tugged free from the brunch and thrown into the machine. A canister of coffee was then brought down from the top cabinet, the top popped open with ease as the grounds filled the room with the delicious smell of the brew. He took three scoop fulls and filled the coffee filter before closing the lid and placing the canister back. The pot was grabbed next and filled with water before being deposited into the machine. With everything filled and ready he returned the pot to its position and flicked it on, standing there for a moment as he listened to the machine begin to kick on and go to work on brewing a delicious cup of gold for him.

With the coffee brewing he turned and made his way back toward his bedroom, heading into the bathroom right nearby. He closed the door, but did not bother shutting it completely, before turning to the shower and giving the knobs a turn. He adjusted them both until the spray was just hot enough for him to stand it. After a nightmare like that he felt the need to truly cleanse himself, and the hotter the water at this point the better. After removing his boxers, the only thing he bothered sleeping in, he stepped into the spray directly, ignoring every urge his body threw out to move away and out of the way of the super hot water. He stood there for a moment, letting his body just adjust enough that he could think of anything else outside of “Ouch, that hurts”, before ducking his head under and getting his short red hair wet. Once it was thoroughly soaked with the heated spray he reached over and grabbed his usual shampoo. The lid was flipped open, some of the unscented mixture deposited into his hand. He pressed the lid against the wall, closing the lid offhandedly, before putting the bottle back onto the shelf. He then rubbed his palms together, depositing the shampoo onto both hands, before rubbing it through his hair and causing suds to coat every inch of every strand of hair. Once he was satisfied that his hair was coated enough in the shampoo he tilted his head back into the spray once more, rubbing his hands through his hair as he ensured that every last strand was cleaned of the soap until his hair was finally squeaky clean. With his hair clean he reached for the washcloth that he had hung up after the shower curtain rod the previous day. He then reached for the bar of soap, placing both beneath the spray as he rubbed some of the contents of the bar onto the cloth until it was good and covered in a white film of the unscented bar. With enough soap on the wash clothing he began to wash himself after finally stepping out of the way of the spray, starting from the top and working his way down his body thoroughly, making sure that every inch of himself was good and properly clean. Once every inch of himself was covered in soap he stepped back under the spray, making sure to rinse his body free of every last bubble of soap, leaving himself totally and completely clean.

With nothing left to wash, and the smell of coffee and soap now mixing in the air, Kensei finally turned to the knobs and shut the water off, first the cold tap and then the hot, causing the water to become momentarily scolding against his back back the flow of the water ceased. With a sigh he opened the curtain, the coldness in the air like a physical assault against his skin as he reached out to the towel rack on the back of the door and pulled the terry cloth free. He rubbed it in his hair first, pulling as much of the moisture out of his hair as possible before following with his face, arms, chest, and down the rest of his body – removing all of the water as he did so and causing the towel to become increasingly wet in the process. Once he was finished with his drying process he took a moment to hang the towel back up before stepping out of the bathroom, goosebumps breaking out across his flesh in protest to the coldness of the air compared to the warmth of the bathroom, and heading into his bedroom where his clothing resided.

He pulled the top drawer open first, fishing out one of his favorite pairs of boxers and placing them on the top of the dresser. The top drawer was closed, and the second opened, pulling out a black t-shirt which was likewise deposited on top of the dresser. The second drawer was closed and the third open, revealing pants. He removed a black pair and placed them with his other clothing before closing the drawer and making quick work of getting dressed.

As he finished adjusting his clothing comfortably enough he heard the beep of the coffee pot that indicated the delicious brew of gold was finally finished. With a small grin on his face, and the horribly nightmare he had had finally beginning to fade in the background thanks to the newest distraction, he headed out of his bedroom and back into the kitchen. He pulled one of his favorite mugs out of the cabinet – one that was slightly larger than normal so that it could hold more of the delicious concoction he was about to make – and placed it down on the counter near the coffee pot. He then proceeded over to the fridge where he pulled out some creamer. He grabbed the bowl of sugar on his way back to the cup and deposited equal amounts of sugar and creamer into his cup followed by capping the rest of it off with a good and fair bit of coffee. A spoon was removed from a drawer next and used to stir the delicious liquid. Ignoring the fact that he needed to clean up his mess and put the sugar and creamer away for the moment he picked up his cup in both hands and then leaned his ass against the counter behind him. The cup was promptly brought up to his lips and sipped at for several long moments. The hot liquid was nice making its way across his tongue and down his throat, and the delicious taste only made things all that much better. As did the idea of the rush he was about to get from all of the caffeine and sugar that the cup contained.

He stood there for several long minutes, just sipping slowly at the cup in his hands, the liquid inside warming the mug and therefore his fingertips. Once the cup was halfway empty he finally bothered to turn, placing the cup down on the counter after doing so. He looked to the creamer and sugar, picking both up. The sugar was placed back alongside the flour and spices, and the creamer was placed back into the fridge. He took the sponge from near the sink and turned the tap on, getting it slightly damp before shutting the tap back off. Using the wet sponge he cleaned up the little bit of sugar he had left on the counter and then tossed the sponge back into the sink. Satisfied his mess was clean he returned to his cup of coffee, picking it up once more and returning to leaning against the counter. He could have sat down, he should have sat down, but he didn’t even bother. Instead, he just brought the cup back up to his lips and proceeded to sip at the delicious liquid inside while contemplating what he planned on accomplishing for the day, especially seeing as he was up a lot earlier than normal.

Several ideas ran through his head as he sipped at his coffee, including doing some reading, and even getting some training done. He did not jump onto anything right away, though, and instead just kept running ideas through his head. Finally, he decided on a game plan: he was running low on food and needed to stock back up, plus there was some training he wanted to accomplish at some point, as well as a book he wished to finished. Considering how early it was in the day he figured it would be possible to do all three were he to time things correctly.

He drained the last of the coffee in his cup, downing it in one last giant gulp, before placing the cup into the sink. He turned on the tap, filling the cup about halfway with water and giving it a swirl before dumping it out to get the last bits of sugar out of the bottom so it didn’t stick later when he went to wash it. He shut the tap off then, grabbed up his weapons, and threw on his jacket, shuddering for a moment as he remembered back to the dream he had had and the horrible things his dream self had done. It almost caused him to stop and take the jacket back off… but no, the jacket was him, and he was not that evil person, no matter what his mind was trying to pull.

3538 WC

Flames reared up, seeming to lick at the very sky as if hoping to burn it, too, as it was the buildings and market stalls. Crying and screaming filled the air, the noise of anguish thickening the air just like the smoke billowing about. Death was everywhere this evening, and it was taking all who crossed its path. It was no discerner of persons, there was no discrimination. Children and elders. Mothers and fathers. Sons and daughters. Friends and enemies. It mattered not who the hand of death touched, it claimed them all just the same – making them all equal in the end: nothing more than food for the worms and other insects that would claim their flesh as their bodies were returned to the earth from which they came.

Out of place then came a noise, one nearly drowned out by the chaos surrounding the young female individual: giggling. Yes, this female who was no older than a ten year old child was giggling as she strolled through the chaos at a leisurely pace. There was no fear within her, and none to be had: an emotion she had been deemed incapable of even feeling. Even with bodies littering the streets, and people running in a panicked fashion every which way – sometimes even bumping into her – her pace never changed and her direction remained true.

In truth the people around meant little to her.  She knew very little of them, and the ones whom she did know still garnered no reaction. They were bakers, shop owners, and even fellow shinobi such as herself. Yet, she didn’t pause in her approach of her goal. She never once voiced a word of concern or encouragement, she never once checked if a person – some of which she was stepping over – were alive or simply severely injured and in need of medical attention. There was… nothing there. No reason within the child’s mind.

Instead, she kept pushing herself forward. Making her way over and around obstacles in her path, covering her mouth and nose only when walking through the thicker smoke filled areas. All the while heading directly toward where she assumed her father would be.

Never once did the thought cross the child’s mind that anyone outside of her father had caused this. Never once did she even contemplate the fact that her father might be injured like those around her, or even equal to the other corpses littering the streets. The child’s mind simply refused to focus on such thoughts, refused completely to entertain them. In her eyes her father was a God. Gods were incapable of true death. Even in the case of her father’s body dying she still believed strongly that he would live in not in a physical state, but in a mental one. So even as she moved toward her location as a leisurely pace she feared nothing and no one.

The child’s pace, along with the obstacles in her way, caused time to pace fairly quickly – making it nearly twenty minutes into her arrival at the village before she made it to the house she shared with her father. The door was open, hanging off of its hinges as if it had been forced as such. Blood stained the floor, and the bodies of servants littered the floor and the grand staircase which led to the upper floors the bedrooms were on. Stepping carefully over the bodies she made her way to the stairs and upward, trailing her little fingers of her right hand along the railing as she did so. Each step took her higher, and she never faltered or paused. At the top she headed to the left, and down the hallway that would lead to the private quarters for both her father and herself. Her own door as she passed it was broken open, and from what she could see her stuff had been scattered everywhere. If she hadn’t thought her father had decided on a random murder spree she would have likely entertained the idea that someone had smashed all of her things and overturned her furniture in the process of looking for her. But, she was still under the delusion that her father had decided to play a bit with the neighbors: a game they surely didn’t like.

As the child kept putting one foot in front of the other she neared her father’s door. It too was broken open. She made her way into his room, stepping over broken debris in the process. “Daddy?”, she called out, repeating the same thing mentally. No response came, and the child frowned. Reaching out she found the light and flipped on the switch, revealing her father’s broken body.

Her mind blanked. All thought, all lack of fear, vanished. What had been a calm and casual child turned into one of despair. Tears poured down the child’s as she began to scream at nothing and no one, demanding her father wake up...

Demi awoke with a start, her body jumping up and off of the bed. Her heart was beating rapidly, and her breathing was that as if she had been screaming: considering the way her throat was burning she had been screaming for real. Realizing quickly that the room around her was her own, and she was not that little girl anymore, her physical response quickly began to stop – her body returning to its ‘normal’ state. Of course, her mental one was entirely another story. It had been a long while since she had last thought about that night. A very long time since that nightmare had replaced itself across her minds eye and tormented her so. She knew her father really, truly had never left her, but sometimes she wished she had his physical self here too.

I’m here, chylde.

I know, daddy. Sometimes I could use a hug, though.”

Imagine my hugging you tight. Imagine it so hard that you can feel it.

For a second Demi closed her eyes despite the room around her being nearly pitch black, filling her mind with that image and that feeling as she remembered it when she was a child. She held the image and feeling hard, focusing so fully on it until she did, in fact, feel it as if her father really was physicall there with her.

See? I can still hug you..

Show off. As her father’s chuckle echoed across her mind she couldn’t help but smile to herself, feeling instantly better than she had when she first woke up.

With a glance to the left Demi looked to her alarm clock, the red numbers glowing within the darkness and showing that it was only eight o’clock in the morning. Normally she was never up before noon. Normally, had she woken up early she would have just gone to take a piss, maybe grabbed a drink, and then headed her butt back to sleep. But not today. No, she had no intentions of returning to the dream world anytime soon, not after a nightmare like that. She was feeling better about it already, yes, but there was no point in torturing and tormenting herself again. So, instead of curling back up and smothering herself in her blankets, she threw them off of herself and stretched as far as she could to the point to where the tips of her fingers brushed at the headboard of her bed and her toes did the same to the base board. A loud and satisfied sounding groan escaped the female before she slowly – no need to make herself dizzy after all – sat up and moved her legs over the side of the bed.

With a sigh she stood up, feet hitting the bare cold wood and causing her to wince slightly. The urge to jump back into her bed where it was nice and warm rose once again but she just shook it off once more and went on about her day, heading toward her bathroom with a grumble…

Word Count: 1,337

It was definitely a kind of head fuck that he had going on, and he could not help but think as he snatched up his keys from the bowl on the nearby counter that he always placed them in that maybe he was going a little crazy. Surely there was nothing else he had done or thought of that would have caused a dream like that to manifest. Nothing on his part that had poked and prodded at his subconscious to make it produce such a thing, such a horrible act of violence, as it had. Still, that did not sit well with him, because if he hadn’t done something absently to cause the nightmare than what did? It kind of only left the possibility that this was some kind of future sight, some kind of ominous warning that he was on the wrong path, and how fucked up would that be if in a few short years – because his dream self looked exactly like his current self – he turned into a sociopath and began murdering hundreds of people? Single handedly destroying an entire village and its population along with it?

Nope, not him. He would not continue to think like that… ‘course, he could tell himself that all he wanted, but as long as his brain was all fine with poking the fear center of itself it was just going to keep popping up in his minds eye at the worst possible moment. Perhaps what had made the dream so horrible, so realistic, was that the faces he saw and the people who were running about were real and actual people. Some were his friends, some were his allies, and some were strangers he saw from day to day as he went about his business. These were not made up people, imaginary in a sense. They were actual, living and breathing human beings. God, he was going to need therapy after this dream was done head fucking him.

Shaking his head to himself as if that would or could clear his current train of thought Kensei headed toward the door and stepped out of his modest but comfortable apartment. He closed the door behind himself, inserted the key and gave it a turn, and then removed the key from the lock. After pocketing his key on an inside pocket of his jacket he tested the door lock to make sure it was indeed secured and locked: it was. It was not like he did not trust people, nor that he had anything of real value that would make any would be thief very rich, but he just did not like the idea of anyone being able to invade his own personal space. It was one thing if he invited someone in to his apartment, a complete other if they came in by force. Your own personal space was supposed to be your sanctuary, your temple that you could go to for peace and serenity when the world around you was against you or just too cruel or horrible to handle. It would not be the same if someone broke in and destroyed all of that… he would probably end up hunting the bastard down and playing pin the tail on the donkey with a few choice weapons until the bastard bled out. Then he would have to move… yeah, he would definitely have to move. Even if the bastard who broke in was dead he still would not be able to deal with the fact that another forcefully entered into his private space and did… well, whatever the hell thieves did when they broke into your shit. Ransacked it maybe? Went through all of his personal and private possessions? Took shit that did not belong to them while leaving a horrid mess behind? How about all of the above?

God he needed therapy. Or medication. Or at least a distraction so he was not all up in his head space like this. It definitely wasn’t healthy, definitely not. “Come on Kensei, get with it….” Jesus, he was feeling off today.

As he walked down the main hallway of his apartment building he could not help but ponder on whether or not training was a good idea today or not. He definitely felt off his game, maybe even a little sickly. Though the latter was likely more to do with where his head was at compared to actually coming down with something. Then again...a nightmare like that was bound to make any good person sick to their stomach… Damnit, there he was thinking about it again.

With a sigh Kensei pushed the front door of his apartment building opened and stepped out into the sunlight. On the street people passed by, rushing off to jobs or school or even to run early morning errands like what he was about to do. They all seemed perfectly happy, or as happy as anyone going about their day to day business could be. Nothing like they had been in his dream. In fact, it was as if his dream had never touched them. Then again, that was what dreams did, right? They tortured one person in particular, they were not shared. Not unless everyone had drank the same kool aid.

Kensei turned and headed up the street and toward the market; he did not live far away, which was always nice when he had to carry an abundance of groceries home, so the trip didn’t take long at all. As he walked he thought of ways to distract himself, attempting to focus more on the people around him than on his own cluster fuck of a head thing he had going on. After several minutes something, or rather someone, caught his eye. It was a female who had recently moved to town with her dad. She had long black hair which had a wave to it, pale skin which instead of making her look creepy actually put an air of mystery around her, a rather generous breast size despite her somewhat short appearance, wide hips and thick thighs. She was the perfect distraction he needed on an occasion such as this, a goddess among commoners that he could stare at for hours and never grow bored of.

She was…. One of the people lying dead and broken among the bodies of those he had slaughtered in his nightmare.

GOD. DAMNIT. Talk about a mood killer.

Shaking his head to himself Kensei kept going, trying to put the young woman and everyone else around him out of his mind. Instead, he chose to focus on his shopping list, going over in his head what all he needed to grab instead of thinking about that woman or what it would have felt like to touch her smooth skin… skin broken and bloodied--- Right, fuck you brain.

Milk. Cereal. Eggs. Ramen. Salt. Coffee filters. Creamer. Coffee. It wasn’t a long list, just nine items. Though he did plan on stopping and getting himself an iced tea at his favorite spot. He liked to make it a point to try the different flavors, even ones that he might not choose otherwise. Perhaps it was his way of living on the edge? There were always some people avoided, but he was willing to give anything (almost anything) a try at least once even if he ended up regretting it later. So far those regrets had not happened though: even the strange sounding flavors had not been all that bad, in fact one of them had even become his favorite. Something he went back to on the rare day he did not want something out of the ordinary, and just needed a dose of normalcy and repetition in his life. As he headed toward the shop that sold the tea first he focused himself on debating between keeping to something he knew and liked for the day, or trying one of the few flavors he had not tasted yet: it was thankfully enough to finally distract him from the nightmare.

1343 | 4881

Demi grumbled the entire way to her shower, and grumbled through turning on the water, adjusting the temperature, and stripping out of her long shirt she had fallen asleep in which hit the floor without a second thought. She stepped carefully under the spray – no point in being careless and having a nasty slip and fall – and let out a sigh of relief as the water hit her back. She tilted her head back after a moment or two, getting her hair good and soaking wet before following suit with the rest of her body. Once wet she picked up her bottle of shampoo, pouring a squeeze of the lightly scented smelling soap into the palm of her hand. After placing the bottle back onto the shelf and rubbing her palms together she proceeded to deposit the fairly large quantity into her long pale blond hair. She rubbed it through, making sure that every long strand was thoroughly suds up before rinsing it all out just as carefully and thoroughly. She followed this by picking up her conditioner, depositing yet another large amount into the palm of her hand. Once more she would place the bottle down, rubbing her hands together before depositing the load into her hair.

With the conditioner sitting in her hair she would pick up her bath poof and body wash, wetting it before pouring some of the liquid onto it. Once the bottle was placed down and the poof properly bubbly, she washed herself up, starting at the top of her body and working her way down; her face and neck, breasts and stomach, and so on down south. Once every inch of her body was good and soapy she rinsed the poof, hanging it up, before doing the same with her body. As soon as her skin was clean Demi would turn, tilting her head back and into the spray as she rinsed her hair clean of conditioner, leaving it silky smooth – and far easier to get a brush through when she got that far.

Completely clean Demi would shut the shower off before grabbing the towel that hung over the curtain rod. After a quick dry of her hair she dried off her flesh too before wrapping the towel around herself. Wandering back into her bedroom she headed to her dresser where she pulled out her outfit for the day: a black pair of leggings, a black under-shirt, and a yellowish gold tunic styled top with long sleeves. She dressed quickly before picking up her hairbrush and running it through her long locks of pale gold before pulling half of her head into one ponytail and the other side into another: pig tails. Make up was added next, though not a lot: mascara, eyeliner, and a light lip gloss.

Satisfied with her appearance she left her room, leaving the towel behind on the floor because it was simply too early in the morning to have fucks to give, and headed into the kitchen. She went over to the godly machine known as a coffee pot behind which her canister of coffee resided. She pulled the tin of black gold toward herself, opening the lid to find… well, shit, the damn thing was empty.

Cursing in quite a foul manner beneath her breath she practically threw the damn thing into the trash before slipping her feet into her shoes – typical black open toed shinobi sandals. Her pouch of money and keys disappeared into her pockets before she headed out the door, slamming the thing behind herself. She was staying near the market, so thankfully as she left her building it didn’t take more than a few minutes to reach her goal – well part of her goal anyway. She slowed from the quick and brisk walk into something more comfortable as people came into view.

Her mind processed quickly those around her: people rushing off to school, several having what they hoped to be quiet arguments though they couldn’t hide their body language that spoke volumes of truth, people heading off to work, or looking to do some shopping much like herself. None of them really stood out to her outside of processing whether or not they could be considered a threat. Even that though was a weird process: the female was thin and lacked muscle so anyone who even looked stronger than her could be considered one. Yet… she was more worried about anyone who could pose a mental threat rather than a physical.

Shaking her head to herself she wandered on, pausing only as she noticed an individual who stood out among the rest. His manner of dressing was different, and his hair color stood out among so much black – the same as her own coloration did. The male seemed.. off somehow, though she didn’t know him. He was staring at some female before something, something that Demi couldn’t physically see, caused him to go on about his business. In typical Demi fashion she followed, walking only fast enough to catch up. She didn’t know him, she had no reason to speak what was on her mind outside of Malkavia logic, but regardless she opened her mouth and in a soft and beautiful voice spoke, ”You look like you’ve seen a ghost… or perhaps murdered hundreds of innocent men, women, and children in your sleep, eh?”

Cue the creepy awkwardness?

It probably wouldn’t faze Demi, whose gaze was darting around in search of a shop that would sell the delicious black gold she needed so much to be a normal (hah!) functioning human being.

Word Count: 933 | 2,270

Up ahead on the street, pushed just a bit too far into foot traffic he could see the three foot tall sandwich board sign for his favorite tea shop. The faded yellow and blue paint on the edges were slightly brown from where it had been handled over the years by employees who clearly didn’t understand how to wash their hands. No surprise really, they probably didn’t get paid enough to care. But who did nowadays? It wasn’t the worst thing he could think of happening in a tea shop, or in any place that sold beverages or food for that matter. He had heard his fair share of food horror stories to know that you never piss of people who you are paying to serve you your food. Piss some people off and a pair of unwashed hands would be the least of your fucking problems. It was not the sort of thing he liked to think about too deeply, there were way too many he could see that going wrong. Best he imagined he was courteous enough that no one ever violated his food and be done with it than torture himself with the possibilities. He groaned inwardly as he walked, the tea shop was supposed to be distracting him from stress not adding to it. As he walked steadily on down the busy street he could finally start to make out the writing on the rectangular chalkboard of the sandwich board.

The chalk writing was done in a beautiful fluid handwriting, with just the right amount of pressure and care that showed that they had probably both already had their tea that morning and also not been working at the tea shop long enough to hate it yet. The pale pink and blue colored chalk wove together today’s special; The Spiced Iced Tea Float. The male raised an eyebrow at the name as he drew closer, looking at the freshly drawn sign for clarification on what constituted a ‘float’ of tea. In smaller pale yellow chalk letters, unevenly drawn compared to the ones above was a tightly packed description of the strange drink. Apparently it was a silky, sweet in freshly made milk ice cream slowly melting its way down into an ice-cold and slightly bubbly bath of spiced tea. Whatever that was supposed to mean. He had said he was willing to try anything once, almost anything but he thought it was a bit too early for ice cream. Problem with places like these with needed to keep people interested, sometimes they went too far. Ice cream in the morning was not what his stomach needed. He needed to get his damn mind off his dream and settle so he could pick up his groceries and go about his day like nothing happened and his brain wasn’t just being an asshole.

Mint probably then. God damnit. It was just tea, not the goddamn academy exams. He just couldn’t shake the way he was feeling and it was unsettling. The dream, no the nightmare was still there pressing at the back of his mind. It wasn’t real and he knew that, but that was the fucked up thing about it, he could tell himself that all day and it would still make him sick every time he closed his eyes for too long to think about it. Maybe he didn’t need tea after all, maybe too much caffeine was part of the problem? He would sigh and shake his head, still standing there looking down at the folded sandwich board sign on the street. What the hell good was it sleeping if you woke up feeling like shit after? Definitely therapy. And then medication. If the therapy doesn’t work. He would turn reluctantly to go, not wanting to leave without tea but he wasn’t convinced that the caffeine was not part of the problem. “I’ll just come back after shopping.” He muttered the words under his breath, he wasn’t even sure if he meant them. Might just head back to his apartment after picking up the things on his list, training could always wait a few hours or so. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed the woman standing behind him he was so lost in thought. Not today anyway. Any other day he would have given her more than a passing glances worth of appreciation. A gorgeous petite woman with long pale blonde hair, and with a beautifully soft voice spoke straight from his nightmares and left him stunned. He would look her up and down, not certain if he had heard her right, his mind had been fucking with him all morning after all. She seemed ordinary enough, black open toed shinobi sandals, black leggings, and a gold colored long sleeved shirt. Nothing frightening or threatening about her appearance, no murderous or malicious intent. Nothing there to tell him whether he should be worried or ignore her. But the words stuck.

”You look like you’ve seen a ghost… or perhaps murdered hundreds of innocent men, women, and children in your sleep, eh?”

How the actual fuck? He watched as she seemed to be looking almost frantically around for something. What the shit had just happened? Had he imagined that, and was he actually going crazy now? He replayed her voice over in her head as he looked at her. Yep, that was definitely what she said. What. The. Fuck.

“Oh god. Who the hell are you? Buh bye”

He would turn immediately on his heel and stride away in the opposite direction from her, straight back to his apartment. He had to get away from her, there was only three options that he could see here and none of them were good. Either she was fucking crazy and thought it was hilarious to say random shit to perfect strangers. Which on a day like he was having was not in the least bit funny and he had half a mind to tell her so, or she was not crazy in the slightest and she actually knew what she was talking about. That one was way worse because somehow that meant maybe she knew? How the fuck does someone know that? That one was impossible. The third was worst of all though. The third was that he was crazy and she hadn’t said a goddamned thing and he’d only thought he’d heard her. Anyway you cut it though it was bad, real bad. And she was there making it a whole hell of a lot worse. He had just wanted to pick up some coffee, eggs, ramen, and. Fuck. What the fuck was on the list? That was a coincidence, that was all just a goddamned coincidence. Nope, this was way too much for today. The ramen and eggs or whatever the fuck was on the list could wait while he went home to his sanctuary and waited out the after effects of his nightmare. As he walked home, people walked by him, the sun shone and he didn’t give a shit. He only cared about making it back to the serenity of his apartment. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed open the door to his building and relaxed his eyes, out of the bright sunlight at last. Kensei pulled out his keys out of his inside jacket pocket and carefully unlocked his apartment door, stepped inside and threw the keys in the bowl on the counter. He leaned heavily on the door to close it before making certain it was locked, making his hand into a fist and slowly pounding the fist once onto the door. “Fuck man, what the shit was that about?”

~Thread Exit~

1281 | 6162

Total WC: 6162

Fuinjutsu unlearned. Ninjutsu learned in its place. [6162/1200]

4962/1200 x 3 = Bukijutsu | Taijutsu | Senjutsu from D to C rank.

162/60 x 2 = END | SPD to E-1

42 words remaining