( it's a strange and beautiful contrast.

the persistent theme of grey exhausts the scene of any life, draining it bereft and desolate to the point that he expects rain, and yet the sky is a proud pitch of periwinkle overlooking it all. it appears almost invasive to the scene, disjointing and disorienting in exactly the way that he finds interesting, like an unfinished backdrop to work with. what happened to those painting the scene? did they succumb to a cruel and sudden death, or perhaps unbearable heartbreak? the possibilities are endless and sweep him away, drawing his eyes to the direct contrast above and keeping him under a sliver of direct sunlight. he doesn't notice the men gathering around him or their disapproving glares—if he does he pays them no mind, keeping appreciative of the scenery the architecture presents, as if it's been put on display just for him. his smile is approving, his gaze alight with the kind of sincere excitement found rarely outside of a child.

alas! as much as he enjoys drawing a crowd, the atmosphere of rising contempt is elucidated with a simple order:

to stop throwing those colorful roses just about everywhere he goes.

to be truthful they worked both as a way to mark his presence and as a way to spread "Amazing" to this bleak world. once the color-kissed roses brush along the pavement, Wataru knows they will bleed the love and feelings he's put into them into every crack and crevice, they will stream AMAZING colors in spirit beneath the feet of every inhabitant that is going about their day, and it will be as if he's fastened the wings of mercury to everyone's ankles by showing them such a brightness. every flower has a language to it, every color holds a special conversation... !

and none of this matters to any of the militia, whose hands are all readying themselves in the fashion of defensive grips on spears. one even jabs a spear in Wataru's direction, causing him to hitch his chin and place his hands up in a disarming display. )

Now then! Have I earned your displeasure so much? Could it be possible that you are not ready to receive my message of love and radiance just yet?

( if he's nervous at all, he's hiding it with a painted jovial expression. a hand drops to press his index finger at the spear's tip nearest to him, gently attempting to redirect it even just a bit. )

Or ...could it be that I have not given you the proper message? ♪ To be unable to meet my audience is unacceptable, no, it simply won't do! Let's reconcile, shall we? When we get along, even a colorless city like this can be—

( slippery fellow that he is, he's dropped right out of an attempted grab for him, gracefully pivoting behind the guard. who just ended up capturing another guard in a loving embrace instead. )

... Amazing! ☆

( someone get this guy out of here. )

( Wataru has learned how to transform his own world by will, and shape the worlds of others with whatever he can give and put into it. he's spent years restructuring favor by playing into the bottomless greed of others, that eternal thirst that could never fully be slaked, turning the world into his stage and adjusting the setting accordingly. so when vibrant cosmos and birds of paradise bloom at the heels of his feet and trailing everywhere he walks, when a vivid and fluxing aurora blankets the sky above him, when unseen birds begin synchronizing to lift a familiar melody overhead, bioluminescent mushrooms sprouting up along the body of every tree he approaches... it almost passes his notice as anything odd or off. it isn't until a giant throne starts being constructed right before his very eyes, from the ground up and straight from the island's natural resources, that Wataru floats the possibility that there's something strange about all of this. he was just thinking of a dear friend... how odd. how very odd! how Amazing! ☆ )

Oh, this display ...is it truly an accident, I wonder? There is only one way to find out ... ☆

( and, although the gesture is absolutely unnecessary, Wataru raises his fingers to his temple and smiles triumphantly at the land shaping before him. a tree bends and lowers its leaves on to his head, shaping him a jester's hat and a sharp mask to drop over his eyes. )

Come now, gather around! I, your Hibiki Wataru, shall put on a spectacular display for you!

( that spectacular display? well, he's already trying to construct something akin to a colosseum. no, wait, it is one. he needs to gather a big audience, yes? this might take a while. )

( catch Wataru in a rare peaceful moment, sipping on some of that coconut juice, arms folded behind his head as he soaks in the warmth of the sun bearing down on him and relishes the simplicity of the cool breeze's soft caresses against his face. the ocean spray intermittently gives a timid hello along his skin, carried by the wind as a gift, beckoning him to drift away to a dream.

which would be fine and good if he wasn't doing this in the middle of the volleyball field set up. to his credit, he doesn't want to miss anything exciting or amazing! this way he won't sleep through anything fun. )