Is it a coincidence that Johnny's been hearing more from him since he reawakened, or is it a result of someone meddling with his Shard in the months he was "away?" He doesn't know, and - quite frankly - he doesn't really care to find out. The advice is eerie and difficult to understand, as always; he doesn't speak Latin, and considering he's not even able to strive for the rest of the Saint's parts at the moment, he's not even sure what he's being advised on.
Or... is he?
There's a familiar feeling in his arm as he makes his way down one of the busy market streets - one he hasn't felt in ages. Like something unseen is bypassing his skin and tugging directly at his bones. He's in his wheelchair today (not particularly speedy, but less risk of accidentally having his horse step on someone), his groceries neatly packed in a bag he's attached to the back of it, and the sensation together with that phrase again, Pete tenebras, is so sudden and overwhelming that his hand jerks coming off the rim of the wheel. The movement is unconscious - and, unfortunately, it leads to him accidentally smacking a passerby in the ass with his wrist and forearm. ]
S-shit! Sorry. I was, uh...
[ even more unfortunate: that ass belongs to Dark. Johnny is thankful it wasn't a woman, but that also means there's less plausible deniability... ]
Edited 2023-09-17 01:26 (UTC)
extremely delayed!!! october will be hiatus, so slow replies... T_T
[ There’s a lack of surprise when Dark feels his ass hit.
He’s standing otherwise quietly in front of the herb seller at the marketplace, sculpted giant of a man that he is only idly looking back over his shoulder to notice who’d smacked him. His eyes pass over the wheelchair with discord-afflicted indifference; he sees Johnny, but there’s a lack of care or interest. ]
—Don’t hit my ass anymore.
[ Dark’s head turns. The ends of his white hair graze the other’s wrist. There’s a dismissive eye roll from him when he collects the herbs he’d been in need of and he consolidates them into a large, crinkled sack that’d been tucked beneath his tattoo-littered forearm.
Thick chime candles clack and shift together. Just visible to Johnny is an assortment of items needed for rituals. Jesus’ arm isn’t with him today, but still is its magic presence intrinsically connected to Dark in a way that opposites are— earth and air, water and fire. Christ, and the Antichrist. Not that even Dark would understand.
For whatever reason and for the past few days straight now, he's tried resurrecting Jesus through his own means out of curiosity alone.
Not that any of that's Johnny’s business, right? ]
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action!!! whenever dark would have been shopping in springstar for rinchan
Is it a coincidence that Johnny's been hearing more from him since he reawakened, or is it a result of someone meddling with his Shard in the months he was "away?" He doesn't know, and - quite frankly - he doesn't really care to find out. The advice is eerie and difficult to understand, as always; he doesn't speak Latin, and considering he's not even able to strive for the rest of the Saint's parts at the moment, he's not even sure what he's being advised on.
Or... is he?
There's a familiar feeling in his arm as he makes his way down one of the busy market streets - one he hasn't felt in ages. Like something unseen is bypassing his skin and tugging directly at his bones. He's in his wheelchair today (not particularly speedy, but less risk of accidentally having his horse step on someone), his groceries neatly packed in a bag he's attached to the back of it, and the sensation together with that phrase again, Pete tenebras, is so sudden and overwhelming that his hand jerks coming off the rim of the wheel. The movement is unconscious - and, unfortunately, it leads to him accidentally smacking a passerby in the ass with his wrist and forearm. ]
S-shit! Sorry. I was, uh...
[ even more unfortunate: that ass belongs to Dark. Johnny is thankful it wasn't a woman, but that also means there's less plausible deniability... ]
extremely delayed!!! october will be hiatus, so slow replies... T_T
He’s standing otherwise quietly in front of the herb seller at the marketplace, sculpted giant of a man that he is only idly looking back over his shoulder to notice who’d smacked him. His eyes pass over the wheelchair with discord-afflicted indifference; he sees Johnny, but there’s a lack of care or interest. ]
—Don’t hit my ass anymore.
[ Dark’s head turns. The ends of his white hair graze the other’s wrist. There’s a dismissive eye roll from him when he collects the herbs he’d been in need of and he consolidates them into a large, crinkled sack that’d been tucked beneath his tattoo-littered forearm.
Thick chime candles clack and shift together. Just visible to Johnny is an assortment of items needed for rituals. Jesus’ arm isn’t with him today, but still is its magic presence intrinsically connected to Dark in a way that opposites are— earth and air, water and fire. Christ, and the Antichrist. Not that even Dark would understand.
For whatever reason and for the past few days straight now, he's tried resurrecting Jesus through his own means out of curiosity alone.
Not that any of that's Johnny’s business, right? ]