ScatheAriiasqDrayceon
Just cause I read worse don't mean it ain't cursed
Mystic portals were always such a hassle.
Arii's stomach dropped as gravity vanished, sending their heart into their throat with nothing less than the most embarrassing of squeaks. It felt almost like they were underwater—if being underwater was the most stressful, limb-numbing, panic-inducing thing they'd do all day—what with the soft, cool brushes of energy rushing past their skin and seeping into their clothes all in the span of a moment that felt as though it lasted hours.
The particular portal they took was one of their favored shortcuts—the hidden city was smaller proportionally to New York, and it was far easier to simply walk a few miles down there instead of in the bustling, loud streets of the sky-facing city, where any misstep could dislodge their cloaking brooch before they even had the chance to make it to the bus stop.
And what Jet didn't know while he was at work wouldn't hurt him.
Point being, that Arii knew what the other end of the portal looked like—an alley graffitied in nothing but oranges and reds, cleaned meticulously by themself because they quite liked the graffiti on the wall, and it was easier viewing it when the place didn't smell like trash—and the dumpster they were so unceremoniously spat out into was absolutely not their alley.
Something crunched under them as they were launched into the piles of black bags, their limbs flailing every which way as they reacted first to the smell and then to the texture of the environment around them. A hash jitter ran up their nails, and it took everything in their power to avoid gagging as the sensation traveled down their fingers and arms. Their tail—tail? Tail?—smacked against the dumpster's lid, and it was only their surprise that they had a tail that kept them from yelping at the plastic slamming down on their head.
Arii's scramble out of the dumpster was neither graceful nor particularly well-planned, several of their limbs getting nicked by the lid before they managed to stumble their way upright in the—new. Unfamiliar—alley.
The first thing they did was reach for their shoulder, somehow unsurprised to find that their cloaking brooch was gone.
Damn.
The second thing they did was take stock of their surroundings and realize that there are more.
They didn't know why it felt so ominous, even after they realized that what stood in front of them were fellows—other yōkai. They figured it was simply because yōkai were more prone to being rat bastards than the humans they regularly interacted with, but did their best not to bristle as they let their eyes graze over the group.
A particularly loud car passed on the street just outside the alley and Arii's spine prickled.
They couldn't go out looking like... this.
Arii's stomach dropped as gravity vanished, sending their heart into their throat with nothing less than the most embarrassing of squeaks. It felt almost like they were underwater—if being underwater was the most stressful, limb-numbing, panic-inducing thing they'd do all day—what with the soft, cool brushes of energy rushing past their skin and seeping into their clothes all in the span of a moment that felt as though it lasted hours.
The particular portal they took was one of their favored shortcuts—the hidden city was smaller proportionally to New York, and it was far easier to simply walk a few miles down there instead of in the bustling, loud streets of the sky-facing city, where any misstep could dislodge their cloaking brooch before they even had the chance to make it to the bus stop.
And what Jet didn't know while he was at work wouldn't hurt him.
Point being, that Arii knew what the other end of the portal looked like—an alley graffitied in nothing but oranges and reds, cleaned meticulously by themself because they quite liked the graffiti on the wall, and it was easier viewing it when the place didn't smell like trash—and the dumpster they were so unceremoniously spat out into was absolutely not their alley.
Something crunched under them as they were launched into the piles of black bags, their limbs flailing every which way as they reacted first to the smell and then to the texture of the environment around them. A hash jitter ran up their nails, and it took everything in their power to avoid gagging as the sensation traveled down their fingers and arms. Their tail—tail? Tail?—smacked against the dumpster's lid, and it was only their surprise that they had a tail that kept them from yelping at the plastic slamming down on their head.
Arii's scramble out of the dumpster was neither graceful nor particularly well-planned, several of their limbs getting nicked by the lid before they managed to stumble their way upright in the—new. Unfamiliar—alley.
The first thing they did was reach for their shoulder, somehow unsurprised to find that their cloaking brooch was gone.
Damn.
The second thing they did was take stock of their surroundings and realize that there are more.
They didn't know why it felt so ominous, even after they realized that what stood in front of them were fellows—other yōkai. They figured it was simply because yōkai were more prone to being rat bastards than the humans they regularly interacted with, but did their best not to bristle as they let their eyes graze over the group.
A particularly loud car passed on the street just outside the alley and Arii's spine prickled.
They couldn't go out looking like... this.