[catch-all] i know i can be so cold

[lyingstars]

⌛ Who: Scaramouche & YOU
⌛ What: Catch-All - TDM and Other Things
⌛ When: Throughout November
⌛ Where: Places - Both East and West
⌛ Warnings: A smol angry - Will add as needed

OPEN		CLOSED
East ■ Love is Blind ■ A Boy and his Bug West ■ Visions of the Future		■ For Kazuha ■ For Ei ■ For Diluc

Comments

[leafwhistle]

[Maybe Kazuha prefers it this way. The less that Scaramouche seems interested in knowing him, the less he runs a risk of growing further attached to the Harbinger. The more he knows about him, on the other hand, helps him gain familiarity with how he works. If he asked, he would answer honestly— though the Fatuus does not often ask more than a brief question.

He is very pretty though, and fascinating and interesting in so many ways. Kazuha would be untruthful with himself if he tried to say he hasn't enjoyed any part of their interactions. The samurai is almost content to just watch him do something he enjoys, even if it's apparently to stare at bugs.]

Do you want to go into the butterfly room?

[It's a non-sequester in the conversation, but the more he looks at the other Inazuman, the more the thought had possessed him. He takes a moment, reeling himself back to respond to their earlier conversation.]

Aah, it would be nice to never get sick. When I'm traveling, the times in which I get a cold are the worst. I've once had a fever so high I wasn't able to get out of my bedroll for days... I thought I might die there.

[lyingstars]

[The question goes unanswered as the samurai continues on, speaking of the times he's gotten sick while traveling. There isn't much to think on at first, humans got sick, it was a way of life, but when Kazuha mentions how he had gotten a fever that left him feeling as though he was on his death bed, he can't help but frown. The thought of the man that sick feels unpleasant, digging up more thoughts about Tatarasuna. Of people that had cared for him that he'd been unable to help.

He never should have brought up his home.]

And yet you insisted on lending me your scarf. It's nearly winter, if I get a little chill it won't kill me.

[That he had also offered his haori goes without saying, the look he gives the vagrant entirely judgmental. It's a kindness he doesn't see often, but it 's also one he doesn't need - not in the way a human would. It remains something he can be appreciative of, when it's genuine concern for his comfort and wellbeing, but he can't even be sure that was Kazuha's intentions.

A likely reasoning, given how the man had begun treating him after their initial scuffle - how he's treating him now - but he's much too hard to read to know for certain.

Scaramouche has little intention of being the reason the other Inazuman ended up sick, though he makes no move to remove the scarf. If Kazuha requested it back then he would have no trouble in doing so, and if he didn't and got sick from it, he had every right to tell him how he was wrong.

But spending the rest of their day scolding him won't make for a good birthday, and the immortal forces himself move away from the display and towards the butterfly room - happy to drag the man along if he wishes to continue holding onto him.]

The butterfly room sounds pleasant.

[leafwhistle]

[These near brushes with death is just part of being alive, being human. There's been other times he's nearly died. Many of them just since the war began. He's been sick many other times without falling that ill though, and he laughs a little at Scaramouche's tone. A clear lecture.]

You think someone whose favorite season is autumn would be unused to the chill?

[Scaramouche would likely not fall ill from a lowered immune system from the cold, but seeing him dressed so unprepared for it brought out the fussier part of him. He's a bit unprepared for the Fatuus to suddenly drag him along— he's the one that prosed the change of location, so he expected to lead.

It seems like, at least inside this place, he was going to be helpless to get dragged along behind him.

Once they're past the double doors and into the butterfly room, the temperature difference is like a slap in the face. It's hot and humid within, enough that Kazuha is glad to not be wearing his scarf at the moment. Butterflies flutter around and rest on almost every surface, with mazes of lush green plants and colorful flowers.

Kazuha only releases Scaramouche's arm with one hand, though he drops it to the man's wrist, circling it and lifting it up.]

Open your hand. One might land on you.

[lyingstars]

Being used to it does not make you immune to it. Your health is important.

[There isn't much else he can say on the matter, having already decided to not spend the rest of the day scolding him. If they were ever to do this again perhaps he would need to invest in something a little bit warmer, if only to keep Kazuha in all of his clothing.

The lack of protest on his movements only adds onto his lack of concern for dragging the samurai around, not stopping until they're deep enough into the butterfly room. While he notices the shift in temperature it bothers him as much as the slight chill in the air outside does, and holds his attention even less as he looks over the vibrant flora and insects surrounding them.

Not quite the same as the memories of his youth, but no less beautiful.]

Why would I be interested in that? They may be fascinating, but I can see their beauty without needing to be that close.

[Regardless he opens his hand as told, not commenting on how Kazuha is being much too familiar to hold onto him as he was. Like he hadn't been holding onto his arm just moments prior.

When a moment passes and nothing happens the immortal opens his mouth ready to comment on how foolish the action was, wasting time when they could be enjoying just observing the bugs as they flew about. But as Kazuha had claimed one finally does land on his hand, instantly forcing him to stamp his mouth shut. It's a particularly beautiful thing, completely delicate looking among its bright colours.

He's always enjoyed watching insects, enchanting not just in appearance but in how something so small and fragile could manage to survive as they did, free to do as they pleased before their brief lives came to an end. Only alive for a moment.

A faint smile finds its way to his lips as he watches it. Another butterfly coming to rest among the maples in his hair.]