Ask my muses questions about themselves. See what they’re willing to tell you and what they aren’t.
Eyeing Bui’s stance, and counting pace, Kurama was surprised by the nonchalant aura, despite an oddly loud entrance. For someone so quiet, too. Kurama’s stance stood firm, legs bent and back straight. The grip on his weapon tightened. He was not a fool, and he knew pure strength could easily overpower him. Even within his Youko form, which was currently unattainable, Kurama would struggle.
He guarded himself within a mental steel cage, attempting to assure himself that nothing could get in. Though, to be fair, not much bravado could be obtained with such an enemy. Until then, however, they would both keep their wards sturdy.
Kurama snorted, “Your first impressions could use work.” He scoffed. The fox repressed a shiver at the depth of Bui’s words, feeling so very mouse-like for only a moment. “What is your purpose for being here?”
A breeze rushed through the blades of grass and the hanging branches of trees as Bui assessed the situation. Kurama had made it known that he did not plan to concede and lower his defenses, so neither would he. He had to wonder what plans were circling through the other’s head and how clouded those ideas were by Bui’s mystery. At least he could pride himself on being an enigma.
He gave no reply to the kitsune’s questions and in the exact position he started in, his body felt no movement. Not a twitch of the muscle or the brush of a hair. He was immobile, like a statue. A suit of armour in a haunted mansion that you’d suspect someone was in but knew not to check, against your better judgment. A vessel from which curious eyes spied. Yet Bui made his presence known, silence in tow. He was hidden in plain sight, and it was up to Kurama to answer the question of whether or not he wanted to check the suit for a host, or continue on exploring the decrepit abode.
He sighed, clenching his fists together as he grew tired of this game. The fact that his only responses were elicited by experiences with one individual made him feel a bit pathetic. “Challenges,” he hinted at no particular target.
“Vocality,” he started, almost discovering this for the first time now, “though I don’t usually listen to the words.”
Bui huffed loudly, the cold breath blowing through his lips, figuring that if he were to break his usual demeanor and reply to such trivial things, he wouldn’t hold back. “I tend to become less willing when the other involved tries to be dominant with me. So when they’ve tried hard and eventually submit, it’s … enticing.” He couldn’t have made the object of his current thoughts more obvious, and mentally furrowed his brow. “And when they are able to endure my force, it’s more pleasurable for me.”
For every ” ✲ ” I get I’ll confess a turn on.
“If you honestly believe I’ll inform you of the things Karasu and I have done in our spare time, then you are mistaken, anonymous.”
“Useless,” he responded to the first word, a bit of clarity in his mind. Not long after, the clarity warped into typical emotion when the next word was uttered. “Useless,” he repeated. And in difference for the last answer he said, “foreign.”