No sooner did Koizuki arrive at the door did his katanas flash. A hilt held in each hand as he hacked at the front entrance, Othello's derisive snort sounded as the doors transformed into revolving doors.
It was what the average Monfreyan would refer to as a "relic of the past." Of course, since they were so advanced, they didn't remember the bygone days of standard mechanics—their world wasn't bound by such trivialities.
But the formidable revolving door didn't care for their opinion. Instead, it simply pushed Koizuki in, adhering to Othello's currently pissed-off mood.
Her eyes narrowed, and Koizuki flinched as he grasped the sensation of a formidable presence staring at him. Then, his grip tightening, he held his katanas level and began scanning the surroundings as his thought power morphed into light purple waves.
Meanwhile, Othello was pouting. In her glory days, a simple blink would've dissolved that Warden's mortal shell to nothingness and his soul would be sent wandering the Met him before the grasp of The Great Tapestry reclaimed him.
Also, how dare a human asshole just casually power through her demonic miasma??? The fucking nerve…the GALL!
She had the sudden urge to aggressively break out into a fit of interpretive dance, our Pirouettetress. Stopping that desire took all the strength she had in her body as she tumbled onto a whoopie cushion. Then, she had to get back to digesting…sigh…
Her eyes took in the clown tent carnival vibe she was working on finishing before the rude intruder forced their way into her mall. Unfortunately, it seemed she wouldn't be able to finish anything for a while, as she would have to deal with the bastard.
Or…
Othello had a devious thought as her cheeks blushed in deep blue. While shaking her head, her fingers clutching her cheeks, and her lips trembling, she rolled around on the ground.
Mysterious, pitch-black eyes took up the bright blue canvas that was her mind. The features of the man she adored appeared one by one, forcing her to list them out.
A man with nigh incomparable handsomeness. He has sharp, masculine features accompanied by a world-weary charm. His face also carries a trace amount of feminine features that add up to give him a mysterious vibe—as one can't decipher his gender with his face alone.
His lips are generally kept in a flat line—so much so that any movements he makes with them amplify his expressions. His eyes are somber and black like a raven's feathers, and there are slight hints of black underneath his eyes that give him a slightly tired yet mischievous look.
His eyelashes are thick and elegant, and the shapes of his eyes are like crescent moons—and seem to be evocative of a feline and snake mixed together. His brows are sharp yet seem soft due to the fact that they don't make much movement—giving him a sort of harmless vibe.
His cheeks have barely any color to them, and his skin is pale like snow. His sclera seems to hold odd, mysterious runic patterns. His ears are rounded.
His hair itself is long and messy-with several strands propping loose from the front as they fall in strands over his brows, eyes, and slightly past the top of his nose bridge. A couple of messy strands swirl down from the edges of the front and fall down level to the lobes of his ears. The long hair is tied around the base of his neck with a random black band, which results in a messy yet sleek ponytail that falls down to just above the midpoint of his back. He often adjusts the ponytail to the side of his front, letting it slide across his collar and flow past his collarbone.
He stands at 6'4 and has an extremely muscular build. His thick muscles are heavily condensed, giving him a measured, half lean, half burly look. His muscles seem to be built for durability and power, but his movements have surprising agility and flexibility to them that work with his theatric propensities. Some have described his body as one carved from the combined statues of gods, a peerless physique that seems more like a work of art than anything else.
As for the secrets of his body that laid beneath the clothes…well, that was something to describe at another time. Somebody could be watching, after all…
Her dearest person, Vere Blanchett, was probably itching for some slight excitement. Othello kept enthralling herself in his mental projection that lived rent-free in her thought nexus as she wondered whether or not to ask him for help.
It couldn't hurt, right…? But, no, what was she thinking?! Could she really just trouble the man like that…!?
The answer was literally staring her in the face as the detective nodded. She deliberated a bit more.
——
Back to Koizuki, who was frankly disturbed as he roamed through the unfinished-looking mall.
Storefronts were like cloth textures, rubble lined the area, and everything was half-formed—for the most part.
If there were Suspects taking root In the mall, they simply haven't attacked him yet. So the feeling of eyes burning into his skull came and went, the unseen perpetrator remembering to hate her invader every now and then while she rolled about on the floor.
A glint crescent arch formed as he felt—yes, felt and not heard—footsteps seemed to inch forward ever closer.
The agile, subdued playful saunter belonged to a certain proprietor of a certain bar. A hand affixed to the worse-for-wear holster fixed along the inside of his light brown trench coat, he inwardly whistled as his gloved fingers settled on the handle of the worn, marred revolver.
Click.
"How nice of you to visit, kid. Hey, you got any housewarming gifts for me?" Vere's lips parted as the cocked barrel of his revolver threatened to pierce a hole into the younger man's head. While Vere looked like he was in his late 20s, the brown Warden before him looked as if he barely stepped into the 20 territory!
Vere snickered at the thought. A man who probably hadn't even tasted the bitter experiences of the adult life thought he could simply come and go as he pleased. He was looking at a mere fledgling, plain and simple.
A finger eased on the trigger as his thumb spun the chambers of his revolver. The bullet rotated in and out of place as a repeated noise of provocative clicks got on Koizuki's nerves.
"Yeah, I've got a present for you, you bitch. Cold, hard, steel."
"Wow. That sounds pretty gay. You should pick a better audience for that kind of shit—as far as I know, we don't have any gay bars in the neighborhood?" Vere laughed, an arm propped up as he theatrically sighed. A slick, tricky-looking smile slid over his expressionless face as he "changed" how he presented himself.
As if donning a new persona entirely, like a newly fitted mask across his face. This one morphed his features into slyness, his somber black irises like abysses that seemed to draw one in with beguiling charm.
Little did they know that the end of that abyssal vortex was a sharp blade, and much beneath it was an even more pointed tongue. With a beauty that caused everyone to question their attraction, he shrugged, then shattered some of the charm he practically oozed with sheer mockery.
It pissed the Warden off. Brandishing Tallahassee and Austin, he grit his teeth and launched himself at his would-be enemy!