/jp/ - Otaku Culture

A cackling laughter greeted her words, and the figure emerged out into the open. Green hair and incredibly sharp, calculating eyes. On her head, a cone-shaped cap which was white in colour and stuck out to the sides. No legs, as she had expected. A single ghostly tail, long in length and which flicked slightly as she floated. As Patchouli had suspected, she held something in her hand. Metallic and sharp, the figure raised a knife in her direction. Blood dripped from the end to accompany her wild, slightly insane smile. "'Tis a foolhardy move, embroiling oneself so deeply in the miasma of the Forest of Magic." She cackled again. "A foolhardy move indeed!"

Patchouli merely stared back expressionlessly. Did the ghost think she was impressive? Was this an attempt to attack her, or a sad attempt at comedy? She looked a little closer at the blade. "The blood is the wrong colour." She bluntly stated.

"Such a - Hmm?" The ghost stopped, mid cackle. "What do you mean, the wrong colour? I think I know what blood looks like, thank you very much." She frowned and looked down at the dripping blade. True, it was definitely blood, but...

"It's brown." Patchouli said, pointing at the blade. "Look at it."

"It came this way." The ghost insisted, raised the blade to the light. "I recognise you - You're the magician. From the vampire's mansion. What would you know about blood, sequestered in your library?" More than she'd expected, in truth. That battle in Sekai's world had seen to that. "Why don't you leave this to the experts?"

Patchouli let out a long-suffering sigh. Really, things would go much smoother if people just listened to her the first time she told them something. "Blood turns brown as it is exposed to oxygen. The haemoglobin bursts, which releases the iron in the blood to oxidise." She raised her hand and pulled her sleeve back. "In the time it takes for that to happen, the blood clots. You wouldn't have rusty, brown blood dripping from a knife like fresh blood." Patchouli brought a fingernail down to her arm and carefully applied the slightest magical force. A tiny cut appeared in her skin. A drop of blood bubbled out and ran down her outstretched fingers, pooling at the end before dripping onto the forest floor. "The blood, if it's supposed to be fresh, should be a dark red. It lightens as it begins to coagulate, and then darkens into a black sludge. Please study these things before attempting to frighten me." Patchouli brought her hand back to the cut and cauterised the wound before the loss of blood could affect her. Anaemia was a tricky mistress sometimes.

"...You're as difficult to deal with as Marisa said you were." The ghost finally grumbled. She spun the blade around in her hand and it disappeared in a flash. "Stupid thing. Haven't tried that getup in years. Should have used the staff."

Ah, Patchouli thought. She knew exactly who this was. "Marisa’s mentor. Mima, I presume. I would have expected you in Marisa’s home. Not Alice Margatroid’s." Marisa had mentioned her old mentor, both recently and in the distant past on various library thefts, though Patchouli had gotten the impression that she was no longer around back then. Clearly, that had changed. As had her nature, because...She hadn't noticed it before, but the ghost radiated something. Some sort of...Divinity. "A goddess?" She murmured more to herself than anything else, yet Mima decided to answer her anyway.

"A goddess, yes." Mima replied lazily, floating closer. "And this is my domain. Alice has come around to my thinking." She certainly would have known if Alice Margatroid’s home had a goddess living in it. Well, Patchouli wondered how Alice felt about that. And more importantly, how Shinki felt about that. No, actually. She didn't really care. "So, what's a shut-in like you doing out here? Do tell the truth, hmm? It would be terrible for you to lie to a goddess in her domain."

"I'll tell you nothing, instead." Patchouli walked directly past the ghost-turned-goddess. "Things are-" Suddenly, she paused. She wasn't really sure why. Just some feeling deep down.

She could feel Mima's gaze on her back. "You're quite the disrespectful one, aren't you? Especially in my domain. Why don’t you step into my Shrine and we can speak in a more civilised manor? Or maybe you’re not the type for that? Perhaps I sh-"

"Quiet." Patchouli sharply told her. "I'm busy." Her arm was itching, and she already had a suspicion of what was happening. Sighing, she raised her hand and materialised Sekai's book from its place within the sigil. The nice thing about Sekai's book was that she'd stopped doing notes that slipped out of the pages. Now, she'd just dedicated whole swathes of the book to conversations. Patchouli flipped the book open to a completely random page. Fate would take care of the rest.


I think that she's nicer than she seems!

What could have been...
>>40018534
No pan?
>>40018342
Liked both her hair and the creepy curse god expressions.