citynet | @osamudazai

Yes, I am certain they will. And if we are too busy laughing and dancing to notice these clues when they do show?

i assure you i am great at multitasking.

Your skills continue to impress, but the same cannot be said for most.

Have you any way to prepare for the inevitable?

and so? strength doesn't come in a single form. as long as some of us manage to guide and sniff, it's fine if some of us aren't as tuned in.

i yearn for it, you see.

[ He's speaking to the 'guide' of her group of fellows back home. They do their best to keep her from her own dark yearnings. ]

Yearning is always dangerous.

i coulndt agree more.

Then you invite danger, hoping to spot it before the others so that it may whisper your name first? Spoken, waiting, like an old friend. Until then, I suppose you will be certain to keep others laughing and dancing while you ask your questions and yearn for what they can't see.

Are you able to see beyond your yearning?

i invite danger because such is living, don't you think?

at times. are you?

Perhaps I want for nothing.

then you're dead already! some of us wish for nothingness!

Hm. And here we are in the City of Nothingness.

and yet we breathe.

shall we drink to nothing?

Which drink would accompany such a toast?

whatever might soothe your sullen mood!

[ Impossible. Maybe cannabis, but she's getting low. ]

Brandy, then.

meet you soon. where would you like?

The statue garden.

[ If you aren't always a little unsettled, what's the point to 'life'. ]

(not like it unsettles him whatsoever, very little does, if anything at all. he grew up in a world of gore, blood, the worst of humankind in front of him or performed by him. it's nothing to him.

so, by a statue, she'll see dazai - bandaged from neck to ankle, hands bare, and he drinks from the bottle.)

[ Blood and death are a simple things, but statues that seem to draw out one's soul? Then, she was warned that her soul was lost to the night. She might argue, but she knows better. With the cemetery already one of her regular haunts, it's natural for her to have found some ease among the statues and their siren songs. Especially since people don't often go there, and at the moment conversation in person can be dangerous.

It can also be enlightening, and so she goes.

Her hair is tied back in a wispy bun, a small bag always draped over one arm, though Vanessa has temporarily exchanged her London dress for something cleaner while it lays out to dry. She has yet to find any fashion here that's familiar, but she's settled on finding a black blouse and skirt with red trim. She thinks it overly simplistic in design (where is the embroidery, the beading?), and the corset beneath fits all wrong, but she's still managing quite well she thinks. Even if everything here is simply...lacking. Now that her curiosity has worn off, the design of this world is dull.

Nobody else is in the garden currently, so it's easy to find him. She approaches slowly, gathering the sight of him before creeping close enough to engage. What had she expected? The bandages are curious, but they garner no visible reaction from her. He's young, but not sheltered.

Her words creep low to the ground in a course purr. ]

A gentleman would have waited.

(the first month here, he barely showed his face around. he made a connection or two, but mostly, he moved in the shadows, found a place for himself that is not too different from where he used to live. the container he lives at here is not surrounded by poison, chemicals so toxic that not a single organism would like to step foot in it. here, it just sits in an alley, quiet, lonely as he is. the small space makes him feel somewhat protected, and so does the fact that no one would truly think a person lives and breathes in there, when there are apartments up for grabbing.

truth is, dazai never really wanted much. profits upon profits, and he still preferred to live with his fridge, ventilation fan, a table and chair, bedding, and also a naked light bulb. here, no different how it is inside. now, with oda, it pushes him in a direction he isn't quite sure where his feet are leading.

a sigh as he takes quite a sip from the brandy he brought along. a woman who enjoys such a strong liquor might be partial to a cigarette, which he offers.)

A gentleman has many forms, wouldn't you agree?

[ At least some have found a place to stay. This one still exists here like a vagrant with a different spot to 'sleep' every night, though she is meticulous and clean enough it would be difficult to tell. If it looks like she doesn't sleep much, well that would be the case no matter where she laid her head. ]

Most gentlemen are mundane, but there are a few exceptions, yes.

[ The reminder only makes her further miss her own company of fractured but exceptional gentlemen. They had said they would protect her, but where are they now?

At least the cigarette is a welcome distraction, even if tobacco isn't to her taste. Her own style of release is looking like it may run low before she is to escape this dollhouse, and she's smoked enough standard cigarettes to appreciate the effect. Hardly the same as cannabis, really rather the opposite in some ways, but it will do. It's enough that she nearly begins to smile in appreciation before bringing it to her lips, waiting for him to offer a spark to initiate this new companionship.

He isn't so unusual a gentleman he would leave a lady without a light, is he? ]

There is no mundane person, I have to point that out.

(neither does he sleep much. light-sensitive, ears trained for every noise, a slumber poured by alcohol might not be productive. his fingers, slender and elegant, fish for the lighter that is resting within his breast pocket, lighting the fire to offer and right after, taking a drag on a cigarette of his own.

offering the brandy seems like a logical next action.)

[ She would disagree, but Vanessa is unimpressed by most. One might even consider her cruel when regarding most of her fellow man and what they are capable of.

But she is far too captivated by the spark of the lighter to think of debating or even noticing the brandy when offered. The cigarette gathers ash while she stares in fascination. Such a simple thing, really, but he struck the flame with such ease. ]

May I...?

[ She motions past the bottle, not really here for the alcohol as much as she is anything at all. Boredom is the slowest death. ]

(when dazai was younger, his views on people were as depressing as his soul. once he grew up to change, walk the path of light, even when he takes cover in the shade, he came to realize - ordinary people do not exist. no one's more impressive than another, one must just know exactly where to look to see them tick. humans, much like himself, are flawed and foolish, but he doesn't find it too awful of a fact.

the bottle is passed over, along with a smile, and a drag from his own stick. the smoke leaves through his nose, and once he opens his mouth to speak, that's what shapes it afterwards.)

Ah, I forgot to catch your name! Perhaps we can put me in the 'forgetful gentleman' category! I'm Osamu Dazai. Just Dazai's fine.

@osamudazai - text

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw subtle suicidal ideation

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw suicide ideation

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject