Muraki Kazutaka (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letsplaysurgeon) wrote2011-05-26 03:25 am
letsplaysurgeon) wrote2011-05-26 03:25 am
Case 004 [Voice/Action]
[Due to the recent disclosure from the last experiment, Muraki no longer feels the need to hide his voice--even from the ones who know about him. His tone is warm and casual, as if he didn't realize there isn’t a filter over his post. Or that he was the type of gent who didn't need a filter because he was a good banana, through and through.]
It's difficult not to notice the recent stream of newcomers over the journal system and in the village. Salutations are in order, as you will be staying here for quite some time. And don't be offended if I don't refer to you collectively as "New Feathers." [As it sounds like something a four-year old came up with.] ...But I will welcome you. I'm Muraki Kazutaka, a doctor that has settled into the local clinic. It is always open if you ever need anything. And of course I offer my own services in any way that I can.
[He stops for a moment, and noise can be heard in the background: a sharp metallic click, and then a steady release of breath. He lights a cigarette and proceeds to smoke while he talks.] If this place has anything going for it, it's the variety of medicine that different people bring with them. I've seen practices similar to my own, and some that my colleagues back home would consider crude, if not primitive.
I have to wonder, with this irrefutable evidence of other universes, if perhaps there is a world where medicine has advanced to the level that I had always dreamed of: one that is past sickness and death. [A offhanded chuckle.] Or perhaps that would only cause sickness to evolve the way a mouse finds a way to outsmart the updated mouse trap.
[Despite the nature of his journal entry, Muraki spends very little time at the clinic that day. He leaves after a few hours and goes by the flower shop, picking up a bouquet of light pink roses and brings them back to his apartment. They are arranged with care in a vase next to his bed, on the side that he rarely sleeps on.
He doesn't care much for the heat wave, or the sensation of his clothes sticking to his skin like an envelope. He stays inside until the late evening, when it cools--and it's more likely he'll run into the one he is most interested in seeing.
Muraki was more of a night owl, anyway.]
It's difficult not to notice the recent stream of newcomers over the journal system and in the village. Salutations are in order, as you will be staying here for quite some time. And don't be offended if I don't refer to you collectively as "New Feathers." [As it sounds like something a four-year old came up with.] ...But I will welcome you. I'm Muraki Kazutaka, a doctor that has settled into the local clinic. It is always open if you ever need anything. And of course I offer my own services in any way that I can.
[He stops for a moment, and noise can be heard in the background: a sharp metallic click, and then a steady release of breath. He lights a cigarette and proceeds to smoke while he talks.] If this place has anything going for it, it's the variety of medicine that different people bring with them. I've seen practices similar to my own, and some that my colleagues back home would consider crude, if not primitive.
I have to wonder, with this irrefutable evidence of other universes, if perhaps there is a world where medicine has advanced to the level that I had always dreamed of: one that is past sickness and death. [A offhanded chuckle.] Or perhaps that would only cause sickness to evolve the way a mouse finds a way to outsmart the updated mouse trap.
[Despite the nature of his journal entry, Muraki spends very little time at the clinic that day. He leaves after a few hours and goes by the flower shop, picking up a bouquet of light pink roses and brings them back to his apartment. They are arranged with care in a vase next to his bed, on the side that he rarely sleeps on.
He doesn't care much for the heat wave, or the sensation of his clothes sticking to his skin like an envelope. He stays inside until the late evening, when it cools--and it's more likely he'll run into the one he is most interested in seeing.
Muraki was more of a night owl, anyway.]
[Filtered // Video]
Really he was doing the man a favor.]
Fair enough. [He leans back in his seat and takes a drag off his cigarette.] The boy seems to be getting along just as well as you, getting close to other human beings in ways I didn't think possible.
[Another stream of smoke released into the air, which he watches.] I hope that hasn't been hurting you too much: not being needed anymore.
[Filtered // Video]
[Unfortunately, it's not a comment that shocks him into closing the journal. Instead he will be bothered by the implications later, letting it run in the hamster wheel of his mind. Tsuzuki licks his lips, staring Muraki down.]
I'm happy he's making friends. It just shows that you couldn't break him.
[Filtered // Video]
So he just smiles at him.] Is that so?
Though I believe I already mentioned that we're talking about you right now. I'm a little surprised, considering that's not the sentiment I remember coming from you before. I personally agreed with you: that the boy should be with someone his own age. Surprising as that might be, given what I did to him when he was still alive...
[Muraki hums.] But I suppose a lot can change in a few months.
[Filtered // Video]
[The conversation has already managed to make Tsuzuki feel unclean because of it. Muraki crosses a line mostly because he muses on what he had done to Hisoka when he was alive, not because he points out that Tsuzuki isn't good for the empath.]
Stop talking about him like that! It was different when we [He hesitates. It would be true to say they were friends, but considering their history together it feels wrong.] worked together.