Izunia Lucis Caelum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
founderinglight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
phantasmalrift2018-04-06 03:57 pm
founderinglight) wrote in phantasmalrift2018-04-06 03:57 pm
one day the light of love, though it may seem far away
Who: Grandpa Sleepy and you!
What: Izunia has some projects catchall!
When: Late march and a couple days into April
Where: vvvvvarious
Warnings: None YET
March 28-April 3, daylight; space between the station and the lighthouse
[Sticking out in his black coat against the outline of the roof, here's Izunia -
And then he suddenly isn't, with an impressive throw of a greatsword that's nearly his own height spinning through the air. It embeds in the ground, kicking up sand, and he follows in a flash of blue before it vanishes. And then again, straight up into the air - and back down with an explosion of sand.
Or perhaps you catch him with a series of... cards? floating in an array around him, before he suddenly sets one to spinning and conjures a burst of water or ice from the ground. Or, rapier in hand, setting fire to the blade in a... mostly controlled manner. Ignore the singed grass.
Either way, it's clear that he's practicing - putting his abilities on full display for probably the first time, aside from that fateful seagull fight. And perhaps a sparring buddy wouldn't be out of the question...?]
April 4th, east laundry, afternoon
[Well, it's not a total mess. But a keen eye will spot Izunia at one of the sinks - for once, sans scarf. In fact, sans shirt entirely. The reason why is clear in what he's bent over - a bit of dark metallic blue dye and a teeshirt that used to be entirely white. Clearly, he didn't want to risk the rest of his clothes getting stained.
And, well, he was right to be worried, considering that there's a streak of the blue dye running up his forearm to the elbow from where he mistakenly leaned it against the edge of the sink as he works. Also, there's that tattoo on his chest - a flock of crows, indeed, an entire murder, flying away from a series of cracks directly over his heart.]
I suppose I should have done a test run, first...
April 4-5th, late evening/early night
[And once the shirt is finished and hung up to dry securely in his room (and a towel streaked with the dye that mostly came off his arm), Izunia settles himself back in the kitchen again. There's the smell of something in the oven - cheese? garlic? - and while he waits for it to finish, he sets with a notebook at one of the bench-style tables. There's an array of sketches (mostly, now, people around the station), a deck of what seems to be metal playing cards, an empty fountain pen, and directly in front of him, a journal written in neat handwriting...
...Completely in what someone from Earth would recognize as Latin. And unlike the majority of writing around the station, this doesn't seem to want to translate if you sneak a peek.
Good luck sneaking up on Izunia, though, because chances are he hears you and closes the notebook when you approach. There's that usual smile in place, but it seems a bit emptier than usual.]
Good evening.
And also the usual places at the usual times
[If those projects don't interest you, perhaps you've caught him somewhere having a nap, or out on the viewing deck some sunrise or sunset? Strange as he is, even he has a routine.]
What: Izunia has some projects catchall!
When: Late march and a couple days into April
Where: vvvvvarious
Warnings: None YET
March 28-April 3, daylight; space between the station and the lighthouse
[Sticking out in his black coat against the outline of the roof, here's Izunia -
And then he suddenly isn't, with an impressive throw of a greatsword that's nearly his own height spinning through the air. It embeds in the ground, kicking up sand, and he follows in a flash of blue before it vanishes. And then again, straight up into the air - and back down with an explosion of sand.
Or perhaps you catch him with a series of... cards? floating in an array around him, before he suddenly sets one to spinning and conjures a burst of water or ice from the ground. Or, rapier in hand, setting fire to the blade in a... mostly controlled manner. Ignore the singed grass.
Either way, it's clear that he's practicing - putting his abilities on full display for probably the first time, aside from that fateful seagull fight. And perhaps a sparring buddy wouldn't be out of the question...?]
April 4th, east laundry, afternoon
[Well, it's not a total mess. But a keen eye will spot Izunia at one of the sinks - for once, sans scarf. In fact, sans shirt entirely. The reason why is clear in what he's bent over - a bit of dark metallic blue dye and a teeshirt that used to be entirely white. Clearly, he didn't want to risk the rest of his clothes getting stained.
And, well, he was right to be worried, considering that there's a streak of the blue dye running up his forearm to the elbow from where he mistakenly leaned it against the edge of the sink as he works. Also, there's that tattoo on his chest - a flock of crows, indeed, an entire murder, flying away from a series of cracks directly over his heart.]
I suppose I should have done a test run, first...
April 4-5th, late evening/early night
[And once the shirt is finished and hung up to dry securely in his room (and a towel streaked with the dye that mostly came off his arm), Izunia settles himself back in the kitchen again. There's the smell of something in the oven - cheese? garlic? - and while he waits for it to finish, he sets with a notebook at one of the bench-style tables. There's an array of sketches (mostly, now, people around the station), a deck of what seems to be metal playing cards, an empty fountain pen, and directly in front of him, a journal written in neat handwriting...
...Completely in what someone from Earth would recognize as Latin. And unlike the majority of writing around the station, this doesn't seem to want to translate if you sneak a peek.
Good luck sneaking up on Izunia, though, because chances are he hears you and closes the notebook when you approach. There's that usual smile in place, but it seems a bit emptier than usual.]
Good evening.
And also the usual places at the usual times
[If those projects don't interest you, perhaps you've caught him somewhere having a nap, or out on the viewing deck some sunrise or sunset? Strange as he is, even he has a routine.]
April 3
It's not as much of a rarity to him anymore; he's dating two Wildcards and his own talents have been...forcibly expanded, after all. But it's still got a fair way to go before it becomes uninteresting.
Even without that, he's been fighting too many creatures of limited creativity and capacity. They don't stretch him and the combat is unsatisfying.
Kurama drops off the edge of the roof casually, his flight kicking in only feet above the sand to settle him with a soft landing. One hand lifts to pull a rose out of his hair and transform it to his whip.]
Is there any special etiquette for asking royalty to dance?
no subject
In this particular instance, Izunia is surrounded by the spin of cards - he snaps them back into the single pack of the Deck with a flicked wrist and a smirk.]
Even if there was, I'm a little old fo standing on ceremony anymore. Ground rules?
no subject
The cards are an interesting weapon, too, less familiar than greatswords and rapiers.
Kurama is probably looking forward to this more than he should. But he's a demon; fighting is in his blood.]
Restrain to flesh wounds, preferably. Beyond that, I'm something of an 'anything goes' sort of fighter. Any of your own?
no subject
I'd prefer to avoid any sort of magical healing, or magic that manipulates darkness, if you have any.
[He doesn't offer any explanation as to why.]
no subject
He doesn't ask why.
He has scars of his own, after all.
So he just nods agreement to Izunia's restrictions and smiles, sharper than usual.]
Well, then. Shall we?
no subject
[And that's likely all the warning Kurama gets before Izunia is gone in a flash of blue - the thrown card isn't intended to strike, but rather for him to get a gauge of his opponent's reflexes. It deposits him a good few feet away, still, a bit behind and to Kurama's left.]