hh_mirror | A whole barrel of it ((Closed, Kusuriyuri/Kurama))

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A whole barrel of it ((Closed, Kusuriyuri/Kurama))

Kurama was sure that one of the reasons he didn't like gods and tended to try and stay away from them was because, for some inexplicable reason, they liked to use him as a little cat-toy. Bat him around a little here, let him think he's free for a minute, then start chewing on his head for a while.

It's starting to get old, and the string of his patience has been growing short. He was sick of working in the greenhouses, bored of staying in his office or his room, and not yet intrigued enough to start really exploring the castle. What he wanted now was to be around someone calming.

Kusuriyuri, of course, was the calmest person he knew. Kurama also adored spending time with him, so it was in search of the Medicine Peddler he went, first deciding to check his office.

He paused at the door and knocked politely, in case any students were in or Kusuriyuri was busy.

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"No, not at all, that's not what I..." he sighed and leaned once again against Kusuriyuri, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I think maybe I should stop trying to talk myself around things that have a path right through them."

Kusuriyuri held Kurama close. "It is part of who you are, Shirogitsune." He ran his fingers through the silvering hair. "You seek all the paths, trying to plan ahead many steps beyond the present. It has served you well in the past, but it becomes a hindrance when actions and decisions must be made in the short term." There was no judgment in his tone, only acceptance of who and what Kurama was.

"This place makes it very difficult to stay ten steps ahead of everything else," he said, the beginning of a laugh building behind the words. "I never know what will happen."

"And, in some cases, that is very good," Kusuriyuri teased Kurama lightly. He placed a kiss on Kurama's forehead. "In some cases, it can be frustrating. But, it is what is," he said softly.

"It makes things more interesting, at least," he smiled, returning the kiss. He sat up, still holding Kusuriyuri lightly, and took a breath.
"I think that is enough melancholy from me. Are you too terribly busy today?"

"Nothing that will not wait," Kusuriyuri replied. "Mostly just remembering what was known. What is it you would wish of me?"

"There is some place I would like to show you, if you don't mind a little walk," he smiled, a little secretive expression. Only one other person knew of the place he was hoping to bring Kusuriyuri, and he doubted A would be going back there so soon.

Kusuriyuri nodded. "I should be delighted to go with you, Shirogitsune."

He grinned and stood, taking Kusuriyuri's hand in his own.

"While we walk, talk to me. Tell me how things have gone for you lately?"

Kusuriyuri considered the question while stepping into his geta. "Well. It is amusing to see those things I remember written down in different forms, though. Telling, how Buddha has taken the place of the older gods in their stories. How the older gods replaced those who were not named, even. But, the essence, the truth, remains the same."

Kurama considered this as they made their way down the hallways to the Great Hall.
"Buddha has become a popular figurehead, of late. It isn't uncommon that popular, well-known gods replace their older contemporaries. Makes it more accessible, don't you think?"

After a moment consideration, Kusuriyuri allowed, "It is the truth that matters, more so than the name, provided the name does not change the truth. It is the nature of humans, and youkai to a large extent, to assign names to things that they may be understood."

"Mm, very true. To name something makes it tangible, more real. It's comforting."

"Some names, more comforting than others," Kusuriyuri murmured. "Some more personal, some treasured, even." He glanced up at the ceiling. "A name gives power over that which is named."

"Names can be rigid designators," Kurama murmured. "Now I'm remembering all the classes in philosophy I took during school..." a laugh, "we could go on for hours."

Kusuriyuri smiled. "There was a time when only those close knew more than the family name of a person. Even friends would use familiar names rather than a person's true name for fear of the power the true name gave the other. True names were only given to those most intimate, most trusted."

"Mmhm," Kurama nodded, remembering that he had not yet given Kusuriyuri his true name. Which is why he was taking Kusuriyuri to this particular place. "It is a dear thing, to be trusted with someone's name. Such a thing has lost so much of its power, in this time."

"That may be so," Kusuriyuri murmured. "Or there is more of a supposed intimacy between people now that they do not understand what it meant before?" To him, it was much more intimate to address someone by their name than by a pet name or nick name.

"The rebellion of youth?" Kurama suggested, turning out the doors of the great hall and onto the grounds.

"Perhaps," Kusuriyuri sighed, looking up at the sky and its swiftly moving clouds. "Perhaps the desire to have what their parents earned?"

"Seems logical, doesn't it? What they earned, I should have, and why should I have to work for it as well?" he chuckled softly. "Too bad people didn't grow out of that mindset from generation to generation."

"And, I have heard it said that parents wish to give their children what they did not have, which then devalues what they earned." The wind seemed mournful as it blew between the castle and the forest. Though he was curious, Kusuriyuri did not ask why they were headed in that direction.

"Children, to some people, are models of themselves. My m-" he stumbled over it, just slightly, "my mother wasn't like that. Most parents want their children to fit into a mold better than they did, so they make it easier for them to do so. Mom figured out pretty early that I was going to do my own thing regardless, and never pushed. She was a good mother."

Kusuriyuri squeezed Kurama's hand, drawing him a little closer. "There are those in each generation who remember wisdom. They are fortunate, as are their children."

"That is truth," Kurama murmured, letting himself be drawn in. They had reached now the edge of the forest, and the path to their destination. He glanced up at the sky, clouds were starting to build again. Perhaps, if they were lucky, another storm was on its way.

"Have you ever had children?" Kurama asked. It was a silly question, and he thought he knew the answer, but he was curious anyway.

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