neverplaysfair | Game 043 [Voice/Written]

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Game 043 [Voice/Written] - Nothing Wrong Here

[ The entry opens with audio. ]

Wha--

[ But the voice is cut off almost immediately by the sound of sudden coughing. Red splotches appear on the page, and after only a few seconds, the feed audibly cuts off as the journal is quickly shut. A few minutes later, a written entry starts up in its place with the splotches still visible. ]

What day is it?

And who decided to poke around my home while I was gone?

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I'd like to think I look quite good, thank you.

A good-looking corpse, sure. [Yes he sees the irony in that.]

[ Good. It would be quite a shame if he missed it. ]

There are worse things.

If you want help, ask for it the right way. [Use your big boy words, Josh.]

Hisoka, will you pretty please come over and keep me company?

[~~With sugar?~~]

How much bleeding are you doing? I'm not a healer. [Spoilers/canonramble: He's totally a healer in his gut and would be incredible at it if he bothered to learn the basics. Healing rarely involves blowing things up though, so fuck that.]

I'm not, don't worry.

[ Well, not any more. Admittedly he hasn't checked his back recently but that tends not to start spontaneously bleeding without some other sort of warning. ]

[He doesn't bother writing a reply, and simply makes his way to Josh's house, linefacing all the way there. This had better be an actual emergency and now just some trolling, Josh.]

[ Well, now. Josh didn't think that would actually work. Still if Hisoka gets to Josh's house in time, he might be able to catch him as he's changing his sheets. There's a rather impressive bloodstain on this set, considering where said blood came from. ]

[Hisoka pauses in the doorway, scowling.]

I thought you said you didn't need a healer.

I don't. [ Also you are imagining that very faint dried blood trail coming from the side of his mouth. 'Scuse me, going to go dump these sheets in the bathroom if you don't mind. ]

[Yeaaaah that's not even a little bit convincing.]

Joshua, do you keep an inkwell around?

No. Why?

[ And dump on the floor. He will wash these later when he feels less like puking or passing out. ]

Because it works better with real ink. [He'll just be tugging a fuda-sized strip of ricepaper from his jeans and leaning against the wall in an attempt to scrawl proper calligraphy with a ballpoint pen.]

What does?

[ And he catches sight of himself in the mirror just long enough to notice the remains of the blood. A quick splash of water later, and it's gone. ]

Don't worry about it. [He casually activates the charm and slides it into Joshua's pants pocket. It's been marked with archaic kanji for good health, and a normal human holding it would feel alternating pulses, tingling numbness to dull the pain, and the slightly minty feeling of accelerated natural healing. He has no idea what it'll do to Joshua's physiology, and has even less of an idea about what's wrong with him in the first place, but REALLY who the hell wants to gain proficiency in stupid defensive magic anyway?] Just. Keep that around you for the next day or so. Okay?

[ Joshua instantly pulls it out of his pocket to inspect it. Not that he has any reason to distrust Hisoka, but sigils are easy enough to sabotage or mess up. When he first notices what's written on it, though, he nearly does a double take. ]

... Ink, hmm?

[He shrugs. Please don't make him talk about it.] Old magic doesn't work right without old tools.

Edited 2011-07-16 04:46 (UTC)

[ But this is so interesting! ]

How old? [ He makes a soft, thoughtful sound. ] And does this always go on paper?

Not sure how old. The fuda channels it the way it's supposed to be channeled. [More shrugging, because he really doesn't know how the origins of his magic, just that the Chief back home kept telling him how ~gifted~ he is at it.]

[ Curiouser and curiouser. Still, Joshua puts it back in his pocket. Fine, Hisoka. He'll humor you. ]

I see.

[ That wasn't the sort of character he'd ever expected to see again. ]

Since you're here, can you cook?

It probably won't do anything. I told you I'm not a healer.

That depends on how much work you're about to drop in my lap.

They didn't seem to feel it was within their infinite mercy to feed me.

...What do you even eat?

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