name Tarium age 24 gender Male job Legally unemployed
Background
Tarium was born powerful.
Not through wealth or standing; this power was raw and untamed magic. Tarium knows very little of how he originally arrived at the academy where he spent most of his youth-- just that he had been brought there as an infant, not yet even able to speak. As he continued to grow, his natural ability became even more evident. With some study he could even consider himself on par with the monstrous student body that made up the majority of the mysterious institution's population. Intelligent beasts seeking an education, whilst snacking on their lessers. Such an unforgiving environment shaped Tarium into a man of questionable morality, and provided a twisted sense of empathy. Thankfully, he was in good company.
Tarium's the same, isn't he? He's all questions but no answers; a wandering mystery swaddled up in blue with no intention of becoming undone. Fujiwara sits in front of him, her hand on the photo album. She's about to open it and—"What about you, Tarium-san?"
She pauses, looking at him. Her eyes are keen like the night.
If their story followed the plotline of a murder-mystery, incorporated with supernatural elements, and her character hosted a looser moral compass... then Tarium should be worried.
Except, it doesn't.
Fujiwara sets the knife aside.
"You can just ask questions, Tarium-san, like any other—"Friend. She pauses, gawking at him. He wasn't a stranger, but he wasn't a friend. He was a little more than an acquaintance. "... person," she finishes, looking at the photo album. Then at his hand. He'd laid claim to it like it was his own property.
It was only a photo album though. She feels more embarrassed than anything.
Fujiwara jumps, startled, and turns. Tarium's unlocked a new outfit change for her: she's clad in a kitchen apron, a brightly pink with a smiling fox face (a gift from her Obaa-san). She's got a kitchen knife too.
She blinks.
"... Eh?"
Her eyes fall on him, then to the photo album. Realization hits like a suckerpunch.
Tarium's in the right place to find the skeletons in her closet. (Literally.)
The first item he'd see is a neatly folded high school uniform. The emblem and her student ID affliates with Shimizudani High School based in Osaka. Underneath them, there's a photo album, a few notebooks, and a smaller box.
WHICH WOULD HE CHOOSE FIRST? » Photo album » Notebooks » Small box
First, thank you for taking the time to read my profile. ♥ I've accepted the fact that I've slapped all that information on there just to realize less than 50% of people will actually read it. huuuuuuuu. Second, yes. I'd love to create a story with you! One of the bulletins you wrote actually gave me an idea! Maybe they've been texting for a while but never met. Maybe they were a fan of the same blog? ( hint hint. )
And they planned a meet-up! Maybe if you wanted to incorporate a bit of supernatural, he wanted to show her his 'magic' because he feels like he can trust her? This is just an idea, so please feel free to let me know what you think or if you had anything else in mind!
Also, the semester hasn't ended for me yet, so forgive me if I take a day or more to respond. ;-;
Her bedroom is... ordinary. There's a full-sized bed, a closet filled with clothes and storage boxes, a desk with a lamp, a book shelf, and a window offering a sight of TMPD Headquarters in the near distance. Like the rest of her apartment, it's clean.
Tarium's lucky. For whatever reason, Fujiwara's occupied enough to not go looking for him yet.
There's a belief about how you can tell a lot about a person by their home.
Fujiwara's apartment is neat, modest-looking (though not in price tag), and adequately furnished, posited on the upper-floors of a high-rise complex in Tōkyō. Though these days, she's seldom in it, and often lost in the midst of the sprawling, neon-lit city offered up by the window view.
"Please, make yourself at home," she says, all in faith and kindness of Japan's A-1 pleasantries.
An unlimited amount of patience must've been part of the job description, because to Tarium's surprise, Fujiwara's right where he'd left her.
"Tarium-san... where will you find an oven to cook that pizza?"
She might've just answered that question herself, though. And at this point, she figures it's better to comply than resist.
As if she has much of a choice, anyway.
The night's early, still, and Tōkyō roars in the distance. The hour winds towards ten. She'd gotten off her shift a while ago, but spent a good chunk of time distributing all of those 'obligatory' chocolates. He'd happened to be the last one.
It's abnormal, she thinks, how often they come together—as if the universe (or dare say it, kami) willed it to be this way. Then again, for Fujiwara, abnormality is her normality.
And certainly, it was for Tarium too.
"... Did you make this?" She gawks dumbly at the card, and then at him. His aggressively festive cape goes very much noticed.
She pulls off the Domino's coupon, flipping it over to skim at the fine details. There's a weighed pause, then.
