Not that I know of, it was in the place you saw in my memory, before it was attacked. They'd give out candy for kids in Liberio and try to make them laugh.
No. I just don't like its face. I don't see how children could laugh at something that looked like that.
[Strangely petulant for someone who comes off so mature and composed.]
In any case, I'll wait for you tonight, Eren.
[And he does. Hours later, Itachi lingers at the entrance to the festival, darkly dressed as usual. The only change to his appearance is a strange and unusual mask, tipped up his brow to sit on the crown of his head, so his face will be visible to the individual he's here to meet.]
[ itachi dislikes clowns. something valuable (???) to carefully tuck away . . . late afternoon eventually leads to dusk and eren trekking to the designated meeting spot with no problems. finding a track and separating it: simple enough. following it: also. getting there: takes a few deviations in between, the place held responsible being a tent selling an entire chest of exotic, boxed souvenirs. can’t really say the merchant was upset when a dragon decided to buy his entire overpriced stall without creasing a brow.
he’s even dawning a rather dangerous civic crown hooped through his horns until its base. they’re so tiny. you’d think they aren’t real! luckily, the uncomfortable ends stick up and not down. he’s hauling quite the bag of goods, but nothing that deters his walk any further to the witch with a weasel mask perched over his head (though eren will see a fox, always). ]
Did you wait too long?
[ he might’ve lost track of time for a few minutes but . . . not as bad as it could be. ]
[Dark eyes land on Eren, drawn by the pull of some invisible tether—one he's beginning to recognize as magical in nature, similar to chakra signatures—as soon as the dragon looms into view. Even if the magic didn't give him away, he isn't difficult to miss, a full head taller than those currently in the crowd.
Then Itachi sees the burden of items he's carrying, and... the line of his brow lifts in a mild expression of question.]
Not long enough for it to become inconvenient. [The crowns earns a longer look of scrutiny. As if satisfied by something (yes, they look real, even so tiny), Itachi straightens and steps closer.] Are you all right to carry everything? We can make a detour if necessary.
[There's a noticeable white bandage on Itachi's forearm, visible when he lifts one hand to adjust the mask on his head. That his body tends to run so much warmer now means he's in a sleeveless black shirt for the night, collar loose at his throat. The other wounds appear to have healed—or at least faded somewhere out of sight.]
[ the knife tiara is worthy of approval and nothing less (eren knows). the only thing eren's arms need are adjustments to throw all his products successfully into the leather duffle-like sling across his back and weighing on the shoulders, makeshift at best but usable at least. with that out of the way in mid-walk, eren pats down the fabric with a gaze fixated nimbly onto itachi's, even if he has to tip his chin down some. tongue included and the taste is much the same as the last, and even when the witch hadn't been around but the thought did: appealing. ]
I'd rather them on me, for now.
[ the hoard is personal and very few have the willful consent to enter. maybe eventually, such compliance would be earned, but for now, eren would much prefer his new additions under his nose, then later, under his wing, to count and bask and glide every talon across the iron that made it with not a care for how long he'd take to do it. on a less draconic note, he wouldn't want the other to keep waiting on him, either— he was more curious about what brought him here than going back to his temporary home to indulge in more dragonisms.
itachi hadn't been lying, at least: it's healing, tasting of scabbing blood like week old bread. the rest that his eyes wander upon are barely there, and the same goes for eren. his neck might be a blotchy color right where his trachea leads, but it's easy to mistaken for his scale's occasional mauve hue wherever light bounces off of him. when he nods in turn, it's both in acknowledgment, a passing thank you for the thought, and an eager nudge.
despite coming off as relatively calm, the weather does make him active. ]
It's better than expected. [ the arm. no infection. good. ] Where to?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But I saw one here, too. Is it someone you know?
no subject
[Strangely petulant for someone who comes off so mature and composed.]
In any case, I'll wait for you tonight, Eren.
[And he does. Hours later, Itachi lingers at the entrance to the festival, darkly dressed as usual. The only change to his appearance is a strange and unusual mask, tipped up his brow to sit on the crown of his head, so his face will be visible to the individual he's here to meet.]
no subject
he’s even dawning a rather dangerous civic crown hooped through his horns until its base. they’re so tiny. you’d think they aren’t real! luckily, the uncomfortable ends stick up and not down. he’s hauling quite the bag of goods, but nothing that deters his walk any further to the witch with a weasel mask perched over his head (though eren will see a fox, always). ]
Did you wait too long?
[ he might’ve lost track of time for a few minutes but . . . not as bad as it could be. ]
no subject
Then Itachi sees the burden of items he's carrying, and... the line of his brow lifts in a mild expression of question.]
Not long enough for it to become inconvenient. [The crowns earns a longer look of scrutiny. As if satisfied by something (yes, they look real, even so tiny), Itachi straightens and steps closer.] Are you all right to carry everything? We can make a detour if necessary.
[There's a noticeable white bandage on Itachi's forearm, visible when he lifts one hand to adjust the mask on his head. That his body tends to run so much warmer now means he's in a sleeveless black shirt for the night, collar loose at his throat. The other wounds appear to have healed—or at least faded somewhere out of sight.]
no subject
I'd rather them on me, for now.
[ the hoard is personal and very few have the willful consent to enter. maybe eventually, such compliance would be earned, but for now, eren would much prefer his new additions under his nose, then later, under his wing, to count and bask and glide every talon across the iron that made it with not a care for how long he'd take to do it. on a less draconic note, he wouldn't want the other to keep waiting on him, either— he was more curious about what brought him here than going back to his temporary home to indulge in more dragonisms.
itachi hadn't been lying, at least: it's healing, tasting of scabbing blood like week old bread. the rest that his eyes wander upon are barely there, and the same goes for eren. his neck might be a blotchy color right where his trachea leads, but it's easy to mistaken for his scale's occasional mauve hue wherever light bounces off of him. when he nods in turn, it's both in acknowledgment, a passing thank you for the thought, and an eager nudge.
despite coming off as relatively calm, the weather does make him active. ]
It's better than expected. [ the arm. no infection. good. ] Where to?