kaibutsu: exactly. kaibutsu: if even their name looks weird, don't trust them. kaibutsu: if you think it's even a little bit weird don't bother. people who are overly happy are probably killers.
hana is typing… … .. .
hana: okay. hana: thanks for looking out for me. hana: you shouldn’t have to, though.
kaibutsu: i'll buy you one. ravaging the infirmary every two days pays off. kaibutsu: there are creepy fucking people on here and probably people who are going to pretend to be your friends then try to kill you.
hana is typing… … .. .
hana is typing… … .. .
hana: thank you! i’ll be sure to pay you back somehow! hana: creepy people?
hana is typing… … .. .
hana: sure there are, i know that. but i know how to tell the diference between someone trustworthy and someone not. i can tell if someone’s lying. hana: sorta…
Nothing but guilt to manifest at that, even if no certain claim it is her fault alone.
kaibutsu is typing . . .
kaibutsu: sabitsuki. kaibutsu: this is stupid. just get a new notebook.
Girl is oblivious, for answer takes seconds to dawn. Even then, reply is hesitant.
hana is typing… … .. .
hana: oh!! hana: um, but hana: wouldn’t I have to have monocoins or whatever for that though? i don’t have any, and i don’t want to go on a scavenger hunt…
Mere watching as other interacts with feline, never to intervene in her stoic observance. From stiff language hinted by body nature, muscle under rippling skin coated by fur of silk’s kin, already can she detect and know full well that animal does not want to be touched or moved by this girl’s means. Mouth shall not part for sake of word, however, and soon focus of eye is to be trained upon that of not fleeing cat but notebook presented.
Out of corner of vision, indeed will she see the pages from that time. For any other being to be struck in fatality by Sabitsuki’s hand, it was never of much importance. People ever .flow, never truly finding death. The blossom before her, no exception, as believed and proven. Hardly much of the girl does she hold knowledge of, yet she finds the same pain brought unto her as if she had brought down the underwater girl, who always stayed with her and produced bubbles in any circumstance of either of their emotion. The last person she can legitimately say in certainty, and perhaps ever in this rusted existence, that is her best friend.
Damn her, then, if she was not to consider beings not of human state in friendship status. Damn her further, more than she could be now. It can always get worse, but it can never get better.
Lips press together for a moment and while she views the inscription on paper before her, she does not comprehend in reading in full definition. Uncertainty, a sensation very quite rare so to ever form plague onto her, yet now it would be so or at least emotion esque of it. The words she give are sudden and almost forceful, and Sabitsuki only wishes to forget.
“ Yeah. ”
“ I had… I could be a cat, if I wanted. ”
In days that had .flowed by her; in days that Sabitsuki wishes to reclaim.
{ ✘♟✘ }
Confusion edges into the sharpenings in her jaw, slightly relieving expression of pleasantry; rather than communicating complaint, however, girl simply stares. Bewilderment is her acquaintance in full, grasping hold of her features and etching them wider almost comically so. Then it releases, and she allows (uncharacteristic) laugher to part her mouth. It sounds strange, faltering; as if the girl is unsure of which sounds to use.
That is, in truth, the reason for it’s sound not that she would know, although, she certainly would understand.
Eyebrows raise while she appraises her notes, response proper lost upon her as she wonders if her friend could, in fact, do as she claimed. It was, in terms of the reality she herself knew, a far-fetched claim made by the morons who truly believed, and exponentially idiotic liars. However, as far as she could tell (and knew, by the nuances in her interactions), Sabitsuki was neither stupid, nor a liar.
At least, she didn’t believe so.
[ really? ]
[ turn into a cat, i’d like to see that. ] voice would steep in her somewhat sceptic thinking had there been an ability for her to utilize syllables in the correct fashion. Eyebrows are kept in their position, leaving crinkles in her brow as she waits for an answer from her. Mouth creases itself in a slight smile.
Even lower lid of eye twitches ― this girl, regularly bearable, that of the highest standard when it came to so, now summoning the disease of irritation to be birthed to Sabitsuki as many would and so did …
Disgusting.
“ Hana, what the fuck ― ” As she reaches for notebook to steal out of owner’s hand.
{ ✘♟✘ }
A sigh, sound of which she is able to piece together, parts weary lips as notebook is taken out of the thief’s well-intentioned grasp. Staring continues, but as if deciding that message is futile, it stops. Another message is hastily written and
Handed to Sabitsuki, didn’t see that one coming.
[ i can buy another one, right? besides, this is helping me. ]
.flow; originally programmed by rusted self, when disease did not take manifestation with its demon claws gouging into throat and viscera at not simply every opportunity it would so find but rather take residence so that it could indulge itself in every halfth of a millisecond and more, a parasite feasting upon flesh of host that was Sabitsuki. When tendons not so demanding and body never so fragile as the paper armour of supreme futility did she code .flow, a mere video game she made to progress time in mental’s steps. The concept given from womb to new fresh child of it was of simple focus: Collect up to twenty-four items to transform your character, a girl reminiscent of peer’ssister’sbody and appearance in whole, with several worlds to discover the items in. Graphics based upon a pixel portraying laziness, and half-thought in work to show that perhaps her appearance was only taken by needle from beating flesh entity, liquid extracted and shaken so that when injected into digital heart it was not exact clone, and stock images from internet as scrolling background and it rests in simplicity. Nothing more.
Of course when fused with corrupting mind belonging to decaying body of hers would it be so rusted, far beyond what Sabitsuki could have ever been sane enough to program. Well, that wording is questionable ― would she require sanity still to program herself the exact details of .flow? No, with a definite perhaps.
Most of the collectables had been modified, labelled as effects since .flow took its own type of mind, in a sense, but some remain more recognizable and less disease-stricken than any of the others. In fact, Cat Effect remained the exact same if modifying to fit herself in physical being of appearance would be pardoned from ‘ rulebook ’.
The third island under claws of Monobear holds an amusement park, and within his own petting zoo which he presented in high contrast to this Monomi figure’s would be a cat. Several, in fact. One feline obviously of adulthood but youth nonetheless lay in perfect whiteness, seashell colouring of plump pawpads, but more concerning would it be if it held eyes coloured maroon in their irises. Perhaps that is what disables her from acquiring effect here, or simply the fact that overruling bear would simply not allow her so.
As she sits in the petting zoo, however, she hears the rustling of grass in patterns as to allude to steps, and Sabitsuki peers up, hand still fixated in a petting pattern for the fur upon the torso of aforementioned white cat. There, she sees Hana, perhaps the only not girl, but person to be worthy of anything but hatred, dislike or something akin, and rather on opposite positioning of spectrum entirely.
Sixty seven seconds in total lapse pass before she pulls her hand away and gives looking back toward the other, and asks: “ Do you like cats? ”
{ ✘♟✘ }
She walks there when time becomes still, and when boring becomes a word that alludes to her time here; instead of the gross trepidation she knew so well.
At the question, a fondness of memory comes to mind in lazied clarity, sound and picture pertaining to a time before illness had whacked the thin (but still growing) body of child. She herself hardly remembers an era before the knives of illness faire had severed the connections in her brain for senses two; but once-events in series of succession bonded to subconscious she did. They were frailer, certainly, wisps of events in normality, but remember she did and would.
This memory, in particular, could be considered of the positive spectrum of association; the light tone would perceive it to be that way, as well as it contents. The things contained within the memory, as if to answer her friend’s (could she really be called that? yes, she could and she would be) simple query, hastens itself to build a tone of warmth towards those of feline nature.
She smiles, and it disintegrates.
A nod presents itself upon her features,delighting in subtle notions of happiness. Ah, but it does not last, preferring to dissolve into hidden notes of contented being. Notebook is placed sideways, tossed carelessly with pen intact. She rests downwards, bending knees she herself likens to porcelain that could shatter upon slightest tap, and those skeletal hands reach for the close body of one with a tail shortened and pelt tricolour. Instant is bringing into lap, but perhaps too sudden; for creature emits a noise she cannot hear and bolts in a linear fashion.
Notably, and perhaps ironically, the aforementioned emotion of content is still present.
Notebook with pages few from the sea incident are written upon. Harsh lines of scribbled language make note of their hard-to-read message. With ease, it’s handed to white-haired girl and wiggled from side to side. An indication for the slip of parchment to be taken from her.
