a. arrival (cw: he arrives in the nude because that’s how devilman rolls; also some minor canon-typical injury description)
[Akira doesn't awaken so much as he's ripped out of a blood-loss induced unconsciousness. It takes a few seconds for the shock to wear off to let him to realize a few things: (1) he was no longer in his devilman form, (2) his injuries have mysteriously vanished, and (3) Sirene was similarly gone. Was he dead? Surely, she would have killed him without a second thought. If that were the case, he probably wasn't in any sort of heaven, considering his merging with a demon as vicious as Amon.
A hand lowers to pat his stomach, double checking in slight disbelief to find his innards no longer exposed to the elements by Kaim's horns. There was nothing - not even a scar left behind. Akira doesn't think to check the bag on the ground for clothes as he stands up. Beyond the disregard for his own nakedness, he looks entirely human at the moment. The only odd features on him were two long scars on his back. The markings snaked over his shoulders to the chest, and were far too symmetrical to be from any accidental injury.
Not that Akira is expecting any company to actually see him. Instead, he’s taking a moment listen to the rustle of leaves and twigs above him, to the sound of rocks embraced by the edge of a creek, to the chirping songbirds fluttering from tree to tree. He lets himself soak in the calm of the natural landscape, unbothered by the exposure to the temperate air. It was incredibly peaceful here. So much so that a single, sure observation comes to his head:]
This can't be hell.
b. good pickings [Once half-clothed and introduced, Akira quickly finds himself busy enough with the task of survival. No convenience stores seemed to be on the island, sadly, so it was back to basics.
Perhaps it should be natural that a devilman would take some fondness for hunting. The visceral impulses of a demon fit perfectly well in untouched wilderness as much as they clashed with life in a human city.
But of course, killing things wasn’t the only way to gather food. Sometimes, you’re on foraging duty.
For all Akira excelled in picking out elusive game and landing his marks, he couldn’t escape the grasp of boredom picking fruits out of a tree. Standing comfortably between two branching trunks of particularly large, old and magnificent looking one, he digs into the leafy branches hovering twenty feet into the air. Every dozen seconds or so, an apple gets picked from its base and is lazily tossed downward - presumably, to someone below.]
[Not that he’s paying any particular attention to where he’s throwing them, he’s just chucking them to the ether. Rather than an orderly pile, the grass below is going to be scattered with fruit all over the ground.
Eventually, his head appears out of the green:]
Is that enough? Can we call this done?
c. two weeks in
[Fight-hungry devil blood and youthful impatience mixes into quite the powderkeg after weeks of a threatening thing hovering in Akira’s periphery. The viscera left behind was familiar enough for him to assume some kind of demon was fucking with him, even if the typical demon he knew tended to leave more intact displays of gore. The moments of uncanny quiet left him with a sense of urgency, and soon enough he was itching to find monster flesh to rip apart with his bare hands.
Needless to say, a first proper sighting of the creature finally sets that powderkeg to blow. Through the fog and the dark of night, Akira is quick to spot a glimpse of the massive, vaguely canine shape near the wooden walls of a dark cabin. In the half-second it takes to register in his head, a fearless staccato drumbeat instantly flares up his veins.]
Finally revealed yourself, have you?
[ He was going to kick this thing's ass for all it’s damn trouble.
With an inhuman speed of his own, he slams his forearm square through the wooden door behind the shadow. Whether the cabin was inhabited or not seemed to be lost on him - to hell with the consequences at this point.
The planks shatter into pieces as the hinges snap clean off. Splinters and nails bounce across the floor and opposite wall with the larger pieces of wood. Akira bursts in with his fangs locked together, footsteps heavy and breaths agitated as he looks back and forth for the beast. Of course, there is no monstrous opponent waiting for him. The creature melted into smoke the moment he got anywhere near melee distance.
Instead, all he had was his mess, the cold wind from outside, and whomever was around. Well - at least that was one way to make an entrance. ]
d. wildcard!!
(feel free 2 hit me up over DMs or over on plurk at hematite)
Akira Fudo | Devilman
(cw: he arrives in the nude because that’s how devilman rolls; also some minor canon-typical injury description)
[Akira doesn't awaken so much as he's ripped out of a blood-loss induced unconsciousness. It takes a few seconds for the shock to wear off to let him to realize a few things: (1) he was no longer in his devilman form, (2) his injuries have mysteriously vanished, and (3) Sirene was similarly gone. Was he dead? Surely, she would have killed him without a second thought. If that were the case, he probably wasn't in any sort of heaven, considering his merging with a demon as vicious as Amon.
A hand lowers to pat his stomach, double checking in slight disbelief to find his innards no longer exposed to the elements by Kaim's horns. There was nothing - not even a scar left behind. Akira doesn't think to check the bag on the ground for clothes as he stands up. Beyond the disregard for his own nakedness, he looks entirely human at the moment. The only odd features on him were two long scars on his back. The markings snaked over his shoulders to the chest, and were far too symmetrical to be from any accidental injury.
Not that Akira is expecting any company to actually see him. Instead, he’s taking a moment listen to the rustle of leaves and twigs above him, to the sound of rocks embraced by the edge of a creek, to the chirping songbirds fluttering from tree to tree. He lets himself soak in the calm of the natural landscape, unbothered by the exposure to the temperate air. It was incredibly peaceful here. So much so that a single, sure observation comes to his head:]
This can't be hell.
b. good pickings
[Once half-clothed and introduced, Akira quickly finds himself busy enough with the task of survival. No convenience stores seemed to be on the island, sadly, so it was back to basics.
Perhaps it should be natural that a devilman would take some fondness for hunting. The visceral impulses of a demon fit perfectly well in untouched wilderness as much as they clashed with life in a human city.
But of course, killing things wasn’t the only way to gather food. Sometimes, you’re on foraging duty.
For all Akira excelled in picking out elusive game and landing his marks, he couldn’t escape the grasp of boredom picking fruits out of a tree. Standing comfortably between two branching trunks of particularly large, old and magnificent looking one, he digs into the leafy branches hovering twenty feet into the air. Every dozen seconds or so, an apple gets picked from its base and is lazily tossed downward - presumably, to someone below.]
[Not that he’s paying any particular attention to where he’s throwing them, he’s just chucking them to the ether. Rather than an orderly pile, the grass below is going to be scattered with fruit all over the ground.
Eventually, his head appears out of the green:]
Is that enough? Can we call this done?
c. two weeks in
[Fight-hungry devil blood and youthful impatience mixes into quite the powderkeg after weeks of a threatening thing hovering in Akira’s periphery. The viscera left behind was familiar enough for him to assume some kind of demon was fucking with him, even if the typical demon he knew tended to leave more intact displays of gore. The moments of uncanny quiet left him with a sense of urgency, and soon enough he was itching to find monster flesh to rip apart with his bare hands.
Needless to say, a first proper sighting of the creature finally sets that powderkeg to blow. Through the fog and the dark of night, Akira is quick to spot a glimpse of the massive, vaguely canine shape near the wooden walls of a dark cabin. In the half-second it takes to register in his head, a fearless staccato drumbeat instantly flares up his veins.]
Finally revealed yourself, have you?
[ He was going to kick this thing's ass for all it’s damn trouble.
With an inhuman speed of his own, he slams his forearm square through the wooden door behind the shadow. Whether the cabin was inhabited or not seemed to be lost on him - to hell with the consequences at this point.
The planks shatter into pieces as the hinges snap clean off. Splinters and nails bounce across the floor and opposite wall with the larger pieces of wood. Akira bursts in with his fangs locked together, footsteps heavy and breaths agitated as he looks back and forth for the beast. Of course, there is no monstrous opponent waiting for him. The creature melted into smoke the moment he got anywhere near melee distance.
Instead, all he had was his mess, the cold wind from outside, and whomever was around. Well - at least that was one way to make an entrance. ]
d. wildcard!!
(feel free 2 hit me up over DMs or over on plurk at