YUMEKUI. HIBIKI. (THE GRAVEYARD.)

The graveyard is a forlorn place where ghosts torn between the two worlds. Being cradled in the hands in the hearts of loved ones and laying six feet under, resting, sleeping yet not waking. Fisted in the hands of a mourner lies dead grasses that were woven into a simple braid, berries in a small container in the other and incense stick. Matches are tucked into the sleeve of his cloak.

Yumekui wears white, a stark contrast to the black wings, and his mask is ajar. You could, almost, make out his face.

Xe sets them down in front of a grave, lights a match and burns the incense.

“I…” He doesn’t quite know what to say.

Not to the dead.

She sighs, turns to the side and screams when she sees Hibiki. He was not fucking there when she got here. This is... embarrassing. This is how people get kicked out of graveyards. And other socially acceptable events.

“Oh… my goodness. I simply must apologize for my behaviour... You, ah, appeared to have spooked me."

Fake eyes were pointed toward the mourner, one that the actor had seen before at a distance. He didn't often feel the need to meddle in people's business-- this was different, somehow.

Graveyards, obviously, are a place where bodies rot, clothes the skin and hair and flesh were buried with melt together as bugs swarm for a meal. Memories covered under layers upon layers of dirt and rocks.

He liked it here. But that didn't mean he didn't know what it was for. And he decided to help one of the people that, unfortunately, were not here purely because they like quiet places.

Helping to Hibiki would look like a very small, winged person crouching as tears met your eyes with a very, very large pear. There is no reaction to the other's words, he simply scoots closer and holds out the pear, both hands cupping the sides to ensure it doesn't drop to the floor (joining the bugs and skin and flesh and--).

He’s clutching at his chest. Both hands are folding over the other like a prayer, gripping at the fabric so tightly it bunches up until the cotton hides the shaking coming from him entirely — like a flood, like something dark. It looks like if xie could, xe would reach right into xier ribcage and still their beating heart in anyway that they could. Dae’s eyes are wide and when they look down it reveals that there’s no pupil - no true ‘gaze,’ no true sight. Even though there’s only sclera, it feels like they see right into Hibiki.

They try to gather their breaths, their thoughts, their shaking self into one basket to collect tranquility. With every inhale that they count, soothing an aching chest, they try smiling, a shaky thing that goes unseen under porcelain. Then it’s like the lights turn on and suddenly they can smell the incense again. Cedar wafting up into their lungs, and then back out.

Cyclical.

She shakes off their sudden fear.

…Then they look down at Hibiki, and their pear. Yumekui tilts daer head. The hood flops to the side of their head.

“Do you need help with that…?”

Confusion.

They lean down to their height, hands resting on their thighs.

“Are you lost, little one? What are you doing here?”