deernet | video; un: an.exorcist

[ The image is that of young man with longish white hair that's been pulled back in a low ponytail. Seventeen or eighteen maybe, with a bright red mark on his face that looks somewhere between a scar and a tattoo as much as it stems from a mark that's also halfway between a star or an inverted pentagram. Garishly out of place on an otherwise pale and muted complexion and gentle face. ]

With a lot of the city shut down because of the snow, if there's anyone having trouble finding food or shelter, Sanctuary in Crenshaw will be helping whoever it can. It might not be much, but it can be a meal or warm bed for the night. [ And hope everyone likes fish, because there's a lot of that that's been salted and stockpiled. But also a lot of baked things served with some of the corruption-cleansing jams from earlier in the year.

Which, anyone who already volunteers there... you can bet you were already cheerfully accosted and asked to help, soup kitchen style. ♥ It's a team effort. ✧ Either that or clearing snow; it's a big place... albeit warm itself this month, and shining like a jewel from the lunar lighting and heating within. The renovated Moon Presence monastery seems to be taking the blindingly bright bone moon and reflecting it back in a gentler manner for anyone inside. ]

There isn't a cost. Just try to help out however you can when you're able.

[ He pauses, about to leave it at that but hesitating. Expression still neutrally polite and composed, but... flickering for a moment. ]

...if anyone would like to help closer to when Christmas would normally be, it'd be nice to do something special for the orphanage as well. Maybe donate some presents for them.

[ That's it. He'll just quietly leave it at that. ]

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People do tend to like such simplistic terms, I suppose.

[Unsurprising, of course, but the Medicine Seller has always found that morality is, more often than not, situational. But he's not Lord Enma of the Underworld, it's not his job to spend hours measuring someone's life choices against whatever the present standards are. He slays mononoke and sells medicine. They're rather the same thing in his eyes, but others may disagree.

The long pause is puzzling. Moreso is the young man's response.

A sword like his own, hm? It's not impossible, and he really shouldn't be as surprised as he is, but there's also the fact that swords like that don't just grow on trees (peach or otherwise) whatever Taoist priests might insist.]

Is that so?

If I may be so bold, how did you go about acquiring such a thing?

[ They may not grow on trees, but-- ]

I was born with it.

Although it took me a long time to understand how to use it that way.

So it too is a part of your person.

Does it retain a physical form, or is it something you call into being?

[ "Too." Allen stumbles a bit over that word, to the point where his fingers are tripping over themselves to type things out. They feel too light and unsteady. ]

Both, really.

It's my left arm. When I need to, I can invoke it as a weapon.

I see. Therein lies the difference.

Yours is a part of your body. My own is an aspect of myself, extracted, given a form, and carefully sealed.

If your sword is part of your physical body, does invoking it also cause you pain?

video; un: an.exorcist

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