hi

          “the hair.” stark white, it almost mirrors the ghoul’s, its appearance telling. kaneki feels a suspicion, a half-connection he couldn’t prove without asking. he resists touching his own locks as he looks at the other’s. “is it your natural color - ?” @vilaap

despite the prevalence of heavy hearts, ( a wild cry as stranger’s begin to discover the body ), kaneki knows he can’t stick around. it was not him, not at all his fault, but he felt like the death on that quiet sidewalk was partially under his blame. he was tracking a ghoul, this one chaotic and messy and possibly part of a secret group, but it had caught on. kaneki’s trail had fallen short earlier on and then the heavy scent of blood transcended through the streets. the ghoul had killed and then vanished, leaving kaneki at the crime scene. he ignored the mangled human, flesh upon flesh, and tried to slip out from the forming crowd. what stopped him was the face of a younger boy.

          “you shouldn’t look,” kaneki suggests, pulling the kid’s arm just a bit. “go home.”

“hey, woah, cool outfit !” he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. the exhaustion was plain on his face - ghoulish embodiment of death, dark circles resting beneath his eyes. he sat on the curbside, simple black pants and sweater, observing what he could. the exhaustion plagued his focus just a bit, but his senses were still listening, seeing, smelling. it was easy for him now to pick apart every small beat of the city, its nerves twisting and bursting through every bit of crowd. but tiresome mannerisms persisted, and his thoughts, though mostly kept to himself, couldn’t help but fall out for the nearest person to hear.

          “oh, i didn’t mean - well, i guess i did. cool outfit.” @explde

the investigators were sly — the wound at his shoulder was dripping blood, trailing behind him as it attempted to close. while he tried his best to hide, he had trouble preventing the slip of red against black concrete. it was a pointed map straight to him. he tried circling once, then twice, but they were hunters. they could smell his flesh, his breath, his rush of thoughts as he ran away. it wasn’t that he was scared - no, rarely was he frightened nor incapable of handling himself. it was that he was alone, without back-up for the night, a wanted man burdened. 

there was a building in front of him with a fire escape. as quickly as he could, kaneki dropped the soaked jacket he wore ( a favorite piece of clothing to be mourned ). the ladder to the escape was higher, way out of reach, but he simply bent his knees and jumped. rough hands grasped the rusted railing and he climbed up and up and up until, finally, there was an apartment that seemed unoccupied. quietly, he pushed the glass up and disappeared inside.

the sun’s demise was a blessing for night-dwellers, their bodies convulsing with need, angels turned demonic beneath the steady rising moon. skyscrapers block the hum of orange and gradient pinks, shadows beginning their bloom, teeth of predators protruding. the halfling was born to it, meant for it, but he rarely partook in it. his stomach was empty, teeth clean of another but coffee. this did not bother him - not yet. he spent most nights watchful, gaze for monsters only, and it kept him busy enough. he vowed to ignore what did not involve him, but the vow was one which often broke. he walks up to her, inconspicuous, calm as he could be.

          “nights in the city are dangerous,” he tells her, then shakes his head as it comes out ominous and unwarranted. the lick of his voice is cold and rough, but he doesn’t mean for it to be. “do you have a friend to accompany you?” 

#nah but... ive enjoyed this particular portrayal for a rlly long time#what an icon @silvaer

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my dadsona, fai sun ✌