NIGHTMARE
RANK 3
Kotemon
SPIRIT
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Post by Kimura Kyōryoku on Sept 22, 2017 12:54:22 GMT
There he was, in a corner sect of Shibuya where only the most profound losers go. Yes, he meant losers, the only people Kimura could help to despise are those whose personalities were built entirely on how they looked and what inane bullshit they believed in. Exactly why he was here, because one of those losers managed to get his phone number. Again. This is the third time this has happened, the young man didn't even give it to her, that was always the weird thing. Never in his life did he ever have a conversation with Samara that ended in her asking for his phone number. Instead, they made small talk, discussed whatever she wanted to, and then the next day, she would fucking call him.
No one was ruder-- even though many people wouldn't consider this rude, this was the one unspoken rule of Kimura. Do not contact his smart phone unless he's specifically given you permission to do so. The first time, he let it slide, losing that phone relieved him a little until he got a new number and she managed to find that one too. There weren't even that many people in Nightmare with his number, where the fuck did she get it? Maybe all this paranormal shit she spoke actually happened, because it was beyond reality how she always managed to pull this shit. Even worse was the fact she could somehow coerce him into buying coffee and sitting down with her.
Don't get him wrong, Samara was an okay person, generally polite, usually didn't smell too bad. Fucking terrible sense of style though, always wearing gothic lolita fashion that was so 2003. The worst of it was she hung out in places like this because 'no one knew about it' and they had 'the best roasted coffee she'd tasted'. To him, it was complete and utter shit, along with the people he'd seen there. The true invalids of society that just didn't fit in with modern times, so their identity was this collective of black eyeliner and talking about shit that didn't affect their lives. It slowly drove him insane knowing that this wasn't the first time he'd been there-- he was there enough that the cashier fucking recognized him now.
You'd think things couldn't get from bad to worse-- some people also told him this wasn't bad by the way. This was fucking agonizing, being in such a darkly lit room at the start of your fucking morning. Come out straight blinded by gods light as if you were some vampiric cretin. Pretty sure he's seen a dude use that on a pick up line at the girl by the register. Holy shit, it was the same fucking girl, he hadn't been here for a year and she was still working here. Maybe this place defied all time, like it was its own pocket dimension he'd magically slipped into it. Whatever, it was time to make his order, always dreading it for some strange reason.
As the only normal looking person, you'd think they'd meet him with some kind of disgust, like he didn't belong there. No, they were polite and pleasant, given they had to get money from him somehow. Today, it wasn't like he was tolerable, especially not after the flirtatious tone this girl was taking with him. Who the fuck was she to ask him where he'd been and why he only comes here with that girl? Sadly, he never had it in him to say exactly what he was doing-- selling drugs and fucking bitches. Probably would've been taken up on that offer if he did, anyway, not like he wanted this girl.
When it all was said and done, he had a piping hot insulated cup of black coffee with some caramel syrup drizzle mixed in. Probably the only cute thing about Samara at this point was her choice of coffee in the morning. To be honest, they used to flirt before, when they originally met and barely knew each other. Now, he couldn't really stand to try to play into what she thought her charms were. The young man saw just enough to know she wasn't cute, pretty, or hot, plus she seemed a little psychotic at times. Yet, no matter how annoying it got, he continued to drag himself out because she could raise her voice a slight pitch higher and ask please the best that she could. |
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DARK TAMER
RANK 1
GRAVEMON
SPIRIT
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Post by Samara Boseki on Sept 23, 2017 12:36:15 GMT
This place - this dim, dark, obscure place. It took a small wit to find it, it was in the back of an alley and wasn't exactly brightly lit up. In fact, it didn't even have a sign of any sort, just an unnamed black little shop tucked away in a grungy corner. It was almost paranormal in nature, and that's exactly the atmosphere that dragged one such as Samara in. And then, there was this man - Kimura.
Oh, where could she start with this man.
How they had met? Not exactly an interesting story. Nightmare hideout. Midnight. She remembered the exact time, even. Twelve minutes past midnight. The commons room. He was doing his usual rounds, you know, selling his product. Or trying to, anyway. He was out of it, probably didn't even remember that he gave her his number first. For whatever reason, he listened, listened to the stories about Bigfoot and specters. He was likely just waiting for a sale that would never come. Anyway.
Nobody ever listened. For this reason, the gothic girl spent a lot of time tracking down his various numbers. It wasn't that hard, but it was still a little more effort than she usually put into something that wasn't horror related. And so here they were, at the same little hole in the wall they've been going to for the past few months or so. The common man may think something was going on between them, but anybody who knew better would know that neither of them were interested in that sort of gushy business.
"Had a little interesting run-in at the Shinagawa cemetery the other night." Her crimson eyes glowed in the little light that existed in the place as she slowly stirred her drink, barely consuming it.
"Set up some losers for a standard cash grab." Cash grabs. Nightmare never did like stating their business outright. Words like robbery, mugging, and fighting weren't often directly used. "Made out decently, but I met a man whom I swear was some brand of supernatural. He wasn't human, I'd say, maybe a government android." The silver haired tower of a man certainly was something else. He disposed of Digimon with his bare hands, something that she had never personally seen before. Maybe he was something else - an alien, perhaps?
Definitely not human, though.
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NIGHTMARE
RANK 3
Kotemon
SPIRIT
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Post by Kimura Kyōryoku on Sept 24, 2017 0:09:00 GMT
Placing the coffee on the table where Samara had been sitting, he'd follow suit and sit right besides her. Where there was usually some kind of charming saying he could've put effort into, there was just a simple hey. Not even a good morning, just hey, not like she put any greeting forward either. Instead, she went straight forward into whatever she wanted to talk about, starting with her time in a cemetery. She was always in the fucking cemetery, it was hard to remember a time where their conversation didn't start with her being there. Thank god she never dragged him there, probably the only way for him to tell her to fuck off.
Here we are, talking about a mugging in a cemetery, drinking shitty black coffee-- at least he wasn't drinking it. Once, the young man got a muffin here, literally the worst baked good he could have probably bought. Tasted bland and was pretty close to throwing it up due to the rough texture, how does one fuck up a muffin? Back to the mugging, doing well with it, until some kind of strange man came up upon her. Here it is, the start of the batshit insane lies, although not all were unreasonable. He remember the time she detailed digimon to him, originally assuming she was pulling his leg, then he'd seen more than enough of them.
She described him as a government android, which only brought so many ideas to his head. Maybe she meant a cop, a very dull, lifeless cop, but a cop nonetheless. Makes sense, people aren't supposed to be in the cemetery after dark, probably making his usual beat there. The fact that a cop may have had a usual beat inside a cemetery only amused him, because it meant there was more than just Samara and the people she mugged there. "Elaborate, what did this government android look like? You sure it wasn't just some jacked, tired cop?" He'd question her, almost interrogation like, even if it was the minimum amount of care.
The way she sipped coffee drove him fucking insane, she never finished the fucking cup. When he decided to leave, which was whenever he was bored of her company, she'd take it with her and barely half would be finished. Never did this lady take more than a second of a sip, as if to just remind her that such a thing was there. It was almost as though she used it simply as lip liner, which only drew his attention to her lips more. By this point, Kimura actually enjoyed looking at her lips, which only meant he was wrong earlier. Her choice of coffee and her lips were cute. Or maybe he was just developing fucking Stockholm syndrome from having done this so many times, as if he was trapped in this fucking room with her.
In return with her share of her week, Kimura returned with the highlights of his, "Went to a party last Friday, made quite a bit through the usual." The usual was pretty well known to her, given they probably met while he was well medicated. Had he ever offered her any? In this whole time, he'd sorta forgotten, which probably meant no. Not like it'd fix her personality to partake with him, nothing could fix her bland, void persona. "Starting to hit the gym more, planning on getting my six pack back before the winter," More boring words that she probably wasn't going to say much about over her own bullshit. |
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DARK TAMER
RANK 1
GRAVEMON
SPIRIT
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Post by Samara Boseki on Oct 1, 2017 17:55:45 GMT
Oh Kimura, always jumping to the logical conclusion. If only if this man we're a jacked up cop, that would make things so much easier. No, this man was able to tackle her tedious traps without solving them, he simply broke them. It certainly wasn't anything any human could accomplish. And then there was his cold mannerisms, never smiling, and never showing an ounce of fear. The smug girl sipped upon her coffee, not so much afraid of this information as she was fascinated.
The goth would let her fellow gang member go on about his personal life. Same old stuff, it seemed. They lived quite different lives, almost opposite, in some ways. Her cold smile never changed, she would idly sit and listen politely, occasionally taking a sip and dangling her heel. Only when he was finished would she speak again.
"Looking to get back into boxing, Kimura?" Samara remarked, her smile still present, almost as if she were mocking the delinquent. "I'm sure you'd do fantastic." Her eyes looked towards the ceiling momentarily. The pale teen had no interest in sports, to tell the truth. "No, no, no, much more interesting than a cop. He trashed my traps, and made my ghouls look like total idiots." Ghouls was her way of referring to elite Nightmare grunts that often followed her orders, and they weren't exactly pushovers. "Silver hair, tanned skin, have you heard of such a man? He reminded me of Frankenstein's monster." It was clear without speaking that she wanted to know if her friend had seen the man before.
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NIGHTMARE
RANK 3
Kotemon
SPIRIT
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Post by Kimura Kyōryoku on Oct 1, 2017 18:48:14 GMT
Her remarks seemed disingenuous, most likely because they were, she didn't give a damn to how he answered her question. It was always like this, never was she one for rapport unless you were some sort of underling, like her yes-men. Of course the young woman took what she could get in this organization, women aren't really expected to climb the ranks. More people were willing to ally their wrongdoings with other men, simply because they were too insecure in their masculinity to take leadership in a women. Such is life and Samara always made sure that they were talking more about her life than his. "Maybe, I'll first have to see what university I'll get into," It was a simple statement, one that affected the flow of their conversation very little.
Instead, they went right back to talking about her topic of this unstoppable man. Crushing traps and humiliating her troops, she'd found someone who had been a threat for once. Maybe things would be interesting, everyone had been remaining content without starting trouble. At least not trouble that went right out of its way to destroy all its path, unlike what she described. Honestly, though, the young man paid it no mind, he wasn't in her type of business. Kimura had no use in muscling in on other people, territory was more of a game of speech rather than power. Recent tensions might change his mind about this, having become both upset and disturbed since that monday passed.
First, let's address Samara's people, those who couldn't make it big anywhere else or her loyal fanboys. Either group was aimed for trying to get a sniff of her panties anyway, barely fit to lick the boot heels of people like himself and the girl. Probably why he was so selective when looking for allies, not just any dumb kid who wants to be in a gang will do. That's the sorta mentality that got him to where he is today, commenting on her goons quite easily, "Ghouls? More like clowns. You've always been running with people far weaker than yourself." Of course, tamers like themselves weren't the average, so it wasn't exactly the gravest insult.
Next was more information about the man that she said had ruined her plans, quite a strange sight to hear out. Who in Japan would sport such a look and why did it feel like he'd had an answer? Did he see him somewhere or was the vision coming to mind just a falsehood? Didn't sound like there was any recollection of his existence, so he just shrugged it off. "Anyone going around with those types of aesthetics is certainly some kind of monster. A real fashion atrocity," He finished off with a joke against her own ideas, that there were a Frankenstein's monster on the loose in their very town. Unbelievable what she could think up and how fiercely she defended their existence.
Taking another look at her face, he hated that fake mask of a smile she'd placed on her face. Acting pleasant, lost in her own world, not even truly enjoying life but merely letting it pass her as she envelops herself in her only hobbies. Was she really having fun with all of this? Why did he allow it to take up time in his schedule? Kimura swept his eyes across the table they shared, one of stained wood and little shine, probably hadn't been polished since opening. Their hands both remained on it, hers on her cup as well as the non-dominant hand resting on the table. His hands were clasped, one atop the other, the grip stayed casual without any strain of his tendons to keep it there.
In an act unheard of in their time together and possibly for most of Samara's life since her childhood, the young man moved one of his hands to cover her own. A slight embrace that she probably wasn't used to, didn't seem like the girl many guys wanted to touch. Or could, it was hard to tell what this girls standards were. "Samara. . ." The name hung out of his mouth with a slight pause, as if he were building to something. There wasn't any feeling of romance that this pause could bring, it was obvious to the both of them that they weren't there for that. "Why the fuck do I come to this shitty cafe with you? Really fucking hate this place. I figured you've noticed I don't quite give a fuck about you, so why do you invite me here?" With that, the cat was out of the bag. Not like it'd been making attempts to claw through the cloth throughout these many meetings. |
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DARK TAMER
RANK 1
GRAVEMON
SPIRIT
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Post by Samara Boseki on Oct 18, 2017 19:46:40 GMT
"Aha, yes, perhaps I should call them clowns instead..." Crimson eyes trailed off, focusing on a poster hung up on the wall. Ripped, torn, and having mysterious stains upon it, it was truly an eyesore. Looking more and more at this place, it was becoming quite obvious why it was kept so dark. Because it was an absolute shithole. "A shame they aren't anything like Pennywise." A lazy reference. Oh how it would be nice to have an army of extradimensional shapeshifting clowns at her disposal. Oh, how one could dream.
The porcelain girl shifted her attention back to the drug dealer, who had finally brought up the question of why she constantly insisted on inviting him here. She had been wondering when he would finally ask, and was starting to believe he didn't have as much of a spine as she previously thought. It sure was delightful to be proven wrong. "I have never once forced you to come here, you know." Stern but playful words, she wasn't quite finished being lost in her own world.
"People like ourselves are rare. Perhaps more obscure than anything the scientists classify as cryptozoology." Something about her voice, longer and longer words were being used, reflecting on her intelligence or her feigned intelligence. No, it couldn't be fake. This was a person who spent countless hours behind books, and countless more developing complex traps and schemes. Perhaps there was a bit of madness in all of it, similar to Victor Frankenstein himself. "Talking to any of the stage extras we are forced to interact with...well...I simply cannot stand such situations." She became colder, her focus on the subject stabilizing.
"Like me or not, we're a cut above the rest, and for that reason we must stick together." Samara stirred her coffee, now gone cold, and thus, no good. It was true, she never finished it.
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NIGHTMARE
RANK 3
Kotemon
SPIRIT
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Post by Kimura Kyōryoku on Oct 19, 2017 1:34:08 GMT
American literature hadn't been Kimura's forte, not like he had much reason to read in the first place. Outside of the old magazine or periodical from time to time, the young man mostly used his phone and mostly found pictures. This was the modern era for you, a device in your pocket that could answer almost whatever question you put your mind to. As such, it was hard to catch the whole pennywise thing for him, having a general idea of what they were talking about. Some kind of horrific clown that kills kids or what have you. Honestly didn't even know what made him so scary, but everyone had their own description for horror.
There wasn't much to say when she started her response, simply that this was a request, not a demand. One he obliged to willingly without asking to change the environment, most likely his fault. She wasn't a social girl, that was written all over her face and body language. This would be one of the very few places she'd wish to be seen, given not many people would see her. Only the ones like her, who wouldn't bother another person out of the simple reason of loathing society. Of course, this young lady was changing from this behavior, having to pull others into her plans and lead them.
It all lead to one conclusion; the fact that the further you ascend to the top, the lonelier it gets. This also meant she looked to him as an equal, despite being his senior in rank. Guess he should take it as praise that she enjoys his company, but it was a shallow relationship. One that ensured both were appeased and could ask for help at any given time shit goes down. As much as he wanted to stop being polite to her now that he'd known that, it just wasn't in his nature. Maybe Kimura doesn't really enjoy Samara, but that was no reason to forsake her.
Instead, maybe now he could play by his own terms instead of succumbing to hers. Would be far less boring and far less dark, might actually be able to pay attention to her finer details (if any were to be had). Maybe find her a stylist that wasn't her mom, or take her shopping anywhere that wasn't Japan's answer to hot topic. Going to a uni qlo would be so fucking grand right now, at least he can entertain himself. What if Samara decided while he was spitting game to the sales associate to straight up cockblock him? Would it be worth it to see her have some semblance of a personality and/or dignity.
His hand remained on hers, feeling no need to rescind it just yet. Her fingers were nice and delicate, even if her initial frame was less than feminine. Maybe it'd been to show he'd been fine with this answer, seeing as he did share the sentiment a little. Some of these kids are fucking retarded, of course he didn't want to be around a bunch of them. The less that knew his name, the better, but people just wouldn't shut up about him. Didn't realize he left so many people's lives. "Alright, all I need to know now is that, next time, I get to choose the place," This was more of a demand than a request, but it should be understandable. She couldn't seriously enjoy this fucking shithole, her coffee had gone cold like every time they were here. |
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