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iMarionette

A touch that never hurts-

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iMarionette


  • Fruits Basket inspired RolePlay~
  • Original Characters


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rainaria

Name: Takanaki Yuuya

 

Age: 19

 

Chinese Zodiac: Horse

 

Position: Seke

 

Mini-History: One of the thirteen members that didn't manage to evade the curse, Yuuya was raised in the other side of the world, as a result of his overprotective mother not wanting the curse to destroy his life. He had been in the US for as long as he could remember, or rather, for as long as his mother wanted him to remember. Once he hit 15, however, they decided to move back to Japan as a result of a near-divorce argument between his parents. His best talent had always been in the arts and his studies, his physical being had always been neglected, mainly, his health. His actual figure seems to be unaffected by how much he's eating unhealthily. Being short-tempered had always been his weak point, as a result of this and the curse, some of his girlfriends have always thought of him being gay. Which is, really, not the case.

 

Additional Information: Needs his glasses rather badly, as he can barely read what it says on the poster on other side of a moderately sized room without his glasses. He's quite the gentleman, provided the ladies in question do not try to hug him. Why do you think only his previous girlfriends (and a minority of people) think he's gay?

Also, blond is not actually his real hair colour.


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iMarionette

Name: Fumio Tsubaki

 

Age: 18

 

Chinese Zodiac: Snake

 

Position: Seke

 

Mini-History: Taught to be wary of other people, Tsubaki grew into a cautious, if seemingly cold, young man. He is a bad communicator, though graceful and soft-spoken in his actions. While he was being raised at a distance, the parents who could not deal with his curse finally left him to the care of his aunt; the only person who seemed willing to protect him from the world. It was Auntie who taught him the elegant voice of cello, her treasured instrument that she took patience in showing to Tsubaki. It was Auntie who sat with him through the nights of confused tears, because, why couldn’t his parents ever love him?

At school, Tsubaki was a loner, though not by choice. People were drawn to him, but apparently not enough so to talk to him; and Tsubaki was too caught in his suffocating caution, determined not to let anyone know of his secret. There was always a wall between him and his classmates; if it brought any good, then at least it was the fact that Tsubaki could stay focused on his studies. Throughout elementary school he was always in the top three of his class, and through the three consecutive years of high school, he rose up to number one; making himself completely untouchable.

Though he’s been confessed to before, Tsubaki never went out with anyone.

 

Additional Information: Tsubaki appears to be calm on the outside, though there is often a whirlwind of thoughts troubling him from the inside. He tends to overanalyse and think about things too much. When it comes to personal items, if they are important, he can be very possessive.

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rainaria

"Uungh," a loud groan was the only response from the boy under the sheets (very comfortable, soft, 500-thread count, might he add) as the alarm clock next to his bed rang loudly. Truth be told, he'd rather not do anything today - he'd stayed up until it was three-o'clock in the morning, finishing his latest article for the university's weekly newspaper. All he needed to do now was to spell-check a little here and there, and do a little editing before submitting to the actual editor of the university paper - the week's editor is known to, well, not actually edit. He could as well as volunteer to be the editor again, but he'd been the editor for the last four weeks, and as much as he loved all the work, it'd be very selfish of him to hog all the experience. Not to mention, he's behind on three of his assignments.

 

Calmly, he pushed his blankets away, sat up and woke his mind up, all while his alarm clock was still ringing. He wondered idly if anyone else could hear this annoying sound, as he pushed a button on his rectangular clock, then reached for his glasses. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he put them on and rubbed his head, before he actually made an effort to get ready for classes.

 

--

 

"Ehhh, you're wearing the same hat again!" a brown-haired girl, Rin, one of his friends who'd remained friends with him from his secondary school, exclaimed when she bumped into him on their way to school. He appreciated her a lot - she'd been there through the embarrassing moments of his life when he'd first arrived in Japan and had been there to help him all the way.

 

"But the hat's pretty," he stated. Really, he liked the hat, even if it wasn't purple like he'd preferred it to be, because the hat somehow attracted more love letters into his bag. His appearance was boosted with the hat. He'd never admit it in a million years, but he liked the attention he got from people, strangers. They chatted a while before Takeshi, the week's paper editor, walked up on them.

 

"Hey, did you guys see the banner? The Cherry Blossom Festival one?" was the first words he spoke. Yuuya groaned, inwardly, as he was unwilling to ruin his reputation in from of Rin. "Another one? I thought we just had a festival last month?". He would never get used to how people in Japan had a lot of festivals. As much as he liked festivals, Yuuya knew he'd be one of the people who had to be there, not to have fun, but to work. It had always been either to help with the setting up of the booths, covering of the events happening for the paper or even helping his friends run the booth, he had always been assigned something - even in school, he had to. He disliked this, (not that much, but still) even if he doesn't show it.

 

They continued chatting as they made their way into the university doors, mostly Takeshi explaining the difference between last month's Doll-Viewing Festival and the Cherry Blossom festival, with feigned interest coming from the blond as he nodded, unable to catch every single word the other was saying.

 

[uh, is this too much, too little or okay? c:]

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iMarionette

Early morning. Tsubaki was at the Uni much too early again; the classes were not to begin for another hour, at the very least. His peers would not even begin gathering until thirty minutes, and still a maybe, before they had to be there. His destination was the same as every morning; the lonely music room at the end of the hall, behind all the artsy-craftsy classrooms set for future painters, designers, architects and whatnots. The entire building that dealt with such arts and crafts held no place for Tsubaki, apart from that one music room.

He belonged to the same University, but his department was set in the southern building. Literature. His mind was occupied by the wonders, created from the skilful pens of dramatics and playwrights; from Homer, Aeschylus and Sophocles, to William Shakespeare and Calderón; poets that intrigued his very essence, like Joyce, Baudelaire, Petrarca, Poe; and masters of Russian literature, Gogol, Pushkin, Lermontov, Turgenev, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Chekhov.

Traditional writers of haiku were also high on the list; Bashō, Shiki, Rikka… but all of this came after Tsubaki played his cello. Every morning, without exception.

 

Taking his seat at the far corner of the room, near the windows, Tsubaki would care to gently take the cello out of its case. Then came the winding and careful inspection for any imperfections. Finally, when he began playing, Tsubaki liked to begin his mornings with

No. 4. His bow would glide over the strings as he played, fingers dancing to complete the melody that defined him, in a way. His forty-five minutes would pass in pleasure, and he would be slow to move when it was time to leave. On his way out, Tsubaki would run into the Music Department Head Professor, Omura-sensei, whose request to join the department Tsubaki promptly refused each time.

 

With the cello back in its case and secured on Tsubaki’s back, the boy would walk slowly down the stairs, to the exit of the building. He attracted looks, sometimes. After all, students were used to see him leaving from the building, never coming in. No, because his arts were in the southern building, Tsubaki’s face was known, but his name was not.

 

(It’s perfect *.* I prefer the long posts, but of course the length can vary~

I have to apologise for the late reply, again. My allergy’s been making me feel rather unwell these days, so it might take me a while to get into the role-play properly >.

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rainaria

The Cherry Blossom Festival was still being discussed when they arrived at the front of their building - a fairly large building with student's art painted here and there that seemed (and probably is) more recent than the original cream-coloured painting underneath. Each year, five to seven final-year students will be chosen and asked to paint the exterior wall (quarter of the height of the wall, really) with their own interpretation of art, their school years - whatever the group chooses to do, with their mentors' approval, that is. It seemed to capture the difference in style rather strikingly, in one of the years, they decided to make a rather dark art - perhaps as a tribute of the suicide of one of the student that happened that same year. A few walls away, a pastel-themed art was painted on, with really, nothing distinguishable on it. It really just looked like someone threw paint on it - in a happy spur-of-the-moment feeling.

 

It was when the trio almost arrived on the front doors did Yuuya see Tsubaki on the stairs, making his way out when everyone was going in. This wasn't really out of the ordinary - he always comes here every morning - but it never stops annoying him.

"Hey, it's your friend again," Takeshi commented when he saw the raven-haired boy. Yuuya silently gritted his teeth.

"He's not my friend," he replied, soft enough to fool one that it had never been said. The other shrugged his shoulders as he pushed past the front doors to let the other two in.

 

So far, he only knew of four families in the world who had the same curse - the Fumio, Sohma and Takanaki, family in Japan, and this Taylor family in Canada - and while the Sohma and Taylor family he only knew by name, the Fumio family somehow had always been closely related to his family. Perhaps because some of the Fumio family members lived near to his house, he really doesn't know. This doesn't change the fact that he'd never liked the Snakes of both families. Maybe it had a relation to the curse's background, maybe it doesn't, it doesn't change the fact he dislikes the Snakes.

 

Rin smiled as they passed Tsubaki, Takeshi gave him a nod while Yuuya merely threw a sharp look before focusing on the hall.

 

[naw, it's cool. c: oh, btw, d'you wanna go through with the festival, and what 'activity' should they have to do together?]

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iMarionette

Tsubaki did not notice the trio until it was too late; sometimes, if he was focused, he remembered to avoid them. This morning, however, seemed to be the one filled with awkward smiles and hateful glares. His eyes showed that he saw them, but his head turned casually; every morning when he met them on the stairs, eye-contact breaking as Tsubaki refused to acknowledge them. He wanted to. Perhaps he would, was Takanaki not such a hateful bitch. What was his problem, anyway? Weren't horses supposed to be likeable, loveable? Tsubaki had never seen him look friendly towards him. Ah, but perhaps Takanaki Yuuya was a wild horse, that needed taming- He seemed to tolerate his friends, but perhaps deep inside he was really as wild as they got.

 

Tsubaki's gaze slowly shifted back towards the trio; his lips held a smirk. They were just passing by each other; the horse seemed irritated, fixing him with that sharp look of his. Tsubaki's greeting was forcibly cheerful, but as such it would draw attention. Make Yuuya fix those eyes on him again. "Good morning."

 

Then he was back on his way, gaze set straight, expression slowly melting to its blank constant. His home was with the books, safe within the paper walls and hard covers. Another day of literature, away from the clearly shown emotion of the Arts' building walls.

 

(Sure, it seems like fun ^^ could we say students are assigned to groups, one from each department to try and come up with an attraction for the festival? Yuuya with his art, Tsubaki with something from literature, plus a couple of minor characters we can both play, for architecture, music, design... or you can have Rin and Takeshi here, given they're from different departments, and I'll add a character or two to complete the group? It's also a competition of a sort, to see which group can, working together, set up the best stand; work practise, to see how students act and react with different people, in what may be their working area someday...)

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rainaria

If given the choice, Yuuya would've snarled in his face. If Rin wasn't there to witness it, if they had more time, if there was less people around, he would've probably picked a fight. Verbal or physical, it doesn't matter as long as he could hurt the snake, turn that stupid smile he had on into a scowl. As the other muttered the words, "Good morning,", Yuuya involuntarily scoffed. Thankfully, Rin who had always thought Tsubaki was handsome, was too preoccupied with watching him go. Takeshi, however.

 

"I don't get why you hate him so much."

 

"He's a snake." He really is a snake, and only one of the many reason why he hated Tsubaki so much. Another reason why he disliked him so much was the fact that his own parents have questioned Yuuya. Work harder like the boy, he's got the same curse and yet why can he get better grades, he's got more talent that you'll ever have, you can't get a stable job as an artist, why can't you be a journalist where you can get a stable income, why why why can you be more like him, silent and obedient. It mostly came from his father, but his mother have scolded him in the same way, once. Honestly, how is being a journalist better than being an artist? Was it really such a bad thing, getting his ears pierced? Whoever said being an artist can't get you a stable income? Yes, Yuuya disliked Tsubaki. Maybe even hated him.

 

Takeshi gave another shrug, as if to say, 'whatever floats your boat, man,' and decided to do what he'd always done when it comes to Tsubaki - ignore and drop the topic. It wasn't any of his business, and frankly, he isn't really interested about Tsubaki and Yuuya's problems. Afterall, he's got his own things to deal with, right? As long as they could co-exist peacefully (or, rather, without hurting others), he really didn't care.

 

The first half an hour of his class, his mood was best explained as sour. It was only when the lecturer started dividing everyone into groups for the newest assignment did his mood improve, events of the early morning fading away. The snake deserved no place in his mind.

 

{ sorry! i had a less-than-inspirational week, aha. not to mention my internet. o uo

well, rin and takeshi can be of a different department, taking art as a minor or something. which would you prefer - groups of four or six? if four, maybe not everyone is chosen, like a random picking and all. it'll be easier to control, though.

and, that idea sounds great! the names of people in groups are placed on the campus main board or emailed to them, or something? }

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iMarionette

The dully painted white walls came as a relief, as Tsubaki finally wandered through the hallways that greeted him with their silent stares. Or would have, were classes already in session. As it was, laughs erupted from the solid surfaces; from behind, through them, rather, the cheerful conversations putting Tsubaki on edge. His classmates, everyone, they always seemed to be able to converse so easily. So naturally. Even that Takanaki- ah, but Tsubaki would not bother thinking about him. His apparent distaste of Tsubaki was most unpleasant, and Tsubaki had learned to avoid what he found unpleasant.

 

He entered his classroom silently, as always. Most days he managed to go by unnoticed; on an off day, he'd be shot glances and attempts at socialisation. Tsubaki wasn't sure what to make of this day yet, uncertain whether it had begun well or not. When one of his classmates indeed approached him, he felt cold chills run through his body. Tamao was her name, and her shy smile really did little to help; when she asked to meet Tsubaki after class, he managed a polite nod, already working on how to avoid tears when refusing yet another confession.

 

Tsubaki reacted badly to most people; he didn't know how to communicate with them or what to do with them. There were exceptions of course, his aunt being a fine example, as were a couple other members of his family. But Tsubaki lacked practice.. he lacked tact, experience, whatever it was that one needed to hold a simple conversation. People repelled him; he'd been rejected by the two most important people in his life, so now he was the one doing the rejecting. Those that got to him were the ones who actually bothered to stay - through all his awkwardness, running away, something he still did; outbursts even, however rare, or simple lack of.. well, emotion. People needed emotion, touch. Something Tsubaki had learned to dread.

 

There was one other person. It made Tsubaki nauseous to find himself thinking about that Takanaki again. Yes, the boy was clearly bothered by him. Yet through all the nervousness and desire to avoid him and his little friends, Tsubaki felt as if he had crossed some sort of invisible barrier in order to wish them - him - a good morning. Whatever that would mean in the future; he wondered. Perhaps nothing. Probably nothing.

 

The ring of first bell fixed Tsubaki's focus on the blackboard. Brilliant literature awaited, and required his immediate attention.

 

(No need to apologise~ The groups of four sounds good; the randomly picked names can go on the campus main board, sure. All students would be informed of the event, but they'd have to look for themselves whether they have been picked or not.)

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