Izaya Orihara isn't the type of person to fall in love. One doesn't need to know him well to know that. The very idea of it ever happening was just inane.

He loves humanity, that much is true, at least; if love is the right word to be used. It's the one he'll spout to any who'll listen — Izaya Orihara, lover of all human kind — but not one that honestly fits. He likes to watch them tick, that's all, really. He likes figuring out what makes each one laugh until they cry, shout until they're blue in the face, or sob until they can barely breathe. Most of all, he enjoys delving into the darker workings of the human mind, reaching in to glimpse at the deep impulses and dark secrets that they attempt to keep hidden away. Like a puppeteer on high, twisting the strings of his marionettes, Izaya adores nurturing those twisted ways until they bloom for him like a ghoulish flower, grown under a blackened sun. But the thought that he could ever love just one? Ridiculous. They're all but playthings, mere pawns to move on the game board he presides over. How could one ever hope to achieve the impossible?

Not that he's the type to care about that, and definitely not the sort to go seeking a deeper connection. Love is that Izaya needs to survive. He has loftier ambitions, and more concrete ideals to keep him going than the affections of someone far beneath him. He's long since learnt to deal with not being liked, let alone not being loved and really, what could be a better way to live than that? Sex complicates things, love even more so — it was a monster, a fallacy, and what does he need with something like that? He walks in enough shadows as it is.

Still — simply because he has long since dismissed the idea of falling in love doesn't mean he has forgotten it altogether. Often Izaya finds that there is no better tool for achieving his goals, or even just having a little fun, that toying with the heartstrings. It's almost laughable, really, how easy it is sometimes — and he has to wonder how humanity still believes in the myth of love when it all comes down to it. Many a game has been dedicated to trying to decipher this, to see just how far he can pull and push that clinging hope before it shatters entirely. Izaya's latest project is just another in a long string of twisted games, but no less humourous or entertaining for him because of it. Love is a monster, after all, but apparently so is he — and how could two of a kind ever get bored of one another?

It was almost too easy to set up an account on one of the dozens of online dating sites he'd found, and not simply because he was used to computers. The whole process is pathetically easy, and can't help but find it hilarious how easy humanity makes it in their desperation for companionship. Izaya makes quick work of filling in the latest profile — he's used to the process of it by now. This isn't the first time he's used this medium for a game or five, nor is it the first time he's assumed another identity. Chrome, Nakura, Kanra — he's had a whole host of names and stories at his fingertips, each with their own personalities simply waiting for him to bring them to life. He's good at pretending, even better at lying — and really, is that so unexpected given his job and the seedy paths he walks? It's part of who he is. Perhaps in another life, Izaya might have walked a more reputable career because of it; he might have taken to the stage or the movies, or even to the field of writing to craft such elaborate stories as he does — but this is not another world, and the dark path is all that he knows, all that he adores.

There's always a glint of honesty to his tall tales, however. Every lie is easier to swallow if it contains a hint of something real, after all. That's a lesson he's learned well over the years, and one he's almost perfected to an art. The trick is to balance just the right about of reality with falseness, because Izaya will be damned to the depths for good before he lets anyone delve inside of him the way he does to his toys. The name is always fake, and it's no different now, because there's hardly a soul who walks the streets of Ikebukuro and Shinjuku who've yet to hear of him: Orihara, Information Broker and snake in the grass. Nakura is the one he chooses this time, and there's almost a sense of nostalgia in it. It's been a while since he's used this alias in his games — but a little change didn't hurt now and then. The age was a lie too, because Izaya refused to admit to the caress of time aging him, but the appearance details were all as honest as could be. There was no promise of him choosing to meet with his newest target, whoever it might turn out to be, but on the chance that he did, it was far easier to just give his own description rather than have to explain away the lie. Filling in the reasons for joining the site always made him a little sick — truly pathetic, this was — even as he filled it with a slew of practiced, meaningless nonsense. It was the generic sort, really, stuff that most people seemed to lap up — oh, woe! he'd given up all hope, and though he didn't normally do this sort of thing, why not give it one more chance and — blah, blah, blah. Izaya rolled his eyes as he saved the profile, sans a display photo.

Yet leaning back into the comfort of his chair, he can't help the grin that curled across his lips. He half wonders if he should order Namie out for food, better to enjoy the beginning gleefulness of a new game. All he has to do now is wait — and see who wants to play.

Izaya Orihara isn't the type of person to fall in love. One doesn't need to know him well to know that. The very idea of it ever happening was just inane.

He loves humanity, that much is true, at least; if love is the right word to be used. It's the one he'll spout to any who'll listen — Izaya Orihara, lover of all human kind — but not one that honestly fits. He likes to watch them tick, that's all, really. He likes figuring out what makes each one laugh until they cry, shout until they're blue in the face, or sob until they can barely breathe. Most of all, he enjoys delving into the darker workings of the human mind, reaching in to glimpse at the deep impulses and dark secrets that they attempt to keep hidden away. Like a puppeteer on high, twisting the strings of his marionettes, Izaya adores nurturing those twisted ways until they bloom for him like a ghoulish flower, grown under a blackened sun. But the thought that he could ever love just one? Ridiculous. They're all but playthings, mere pawns to move on the game board he presides over. How could one ever hope to achieve the impossible?

Not that he's the type to care about that, and definitely not the sort to go seeking a deeper connection. Love is that Izaya needs to survive. He has loftier ambitions, and more concrete ideals to keep him going than the affections of someone far beneath him. He's long since learnt to deal with not being liked, let alone not being loved and really, what could be a better way to live than that? Sex complicates things, love even more so — it was a monster, a fallacy, and what does he need with something like that? He walks in enough shadows as it is.

Still — simply because he has long since dismissed the idea of falling in love doesn't mean he has forgotten it altogether. Often Izaya finds that there is no better tool for achieving his goals, or even just having a little fun, that toying with the heartstrings. It's almost laughable, really, how easy it is sometimes — and he has to wonder how humanity still believes in the myth of love when it all comes down to it. Many a game has been dedicated to trying to decipher this, to see just how far he can pull and push that clinging hope before it shatters entirely. Izaya's latest project is just another in a long string of twisted games, but no less humourous or entertaining for him because of it. Love is a monster, after all, but apparently so is he — and how could two of a kind ever get bored of one another?

It was almost too easy to set up an account on one of the dozens of online dating sites he'd found, and not simply because he was used to computers. The whole process is pathetically easy, and can't help but find it hilarious how easy humanity makes it in their desperation for companionship. Izaya makes quick work of filling in the latest profile — he's used to the process of it by now. This isn't the first time he's used this medium for a game or five, nor is it the first time he's assumed another identity. Chrome, Nakura, Kanra — he's had a whole host of names and stories at his fingertips, each with their own personalities simply waiting for him to bring them to life. He's good at pretending, even better at lying — and really, is that so unexpected given his job and the seedy paths he walks? It's part of who he is. Perhaps in another life, Izaya might have walked a more reputable career because of it; he might have taken to the stage or the movies, or even to the field of writing to craft such elaborate stories as he does — but this is not another world, and the dark path is all that he knows, all that he adores.

There's always a glint of honesty to his tall tales, however. Every lie is easier to swallow if it contains a hint of something real, after all. That's a lesson he's learned well over the years, and one he's almost perfected to an art. The trick is to balance just the right about of reality with falseness, because Izaya will be damned to the depths for good before he lets anyone delve inside of him the way he does to his toys. The name is always fake, and it's no different now, because there's hardly a soul who walks the streets of Ikebukuro and Shinjuku who've yet to hear of him: Orihara, Information Broker and snake in the grass. Nakura is the one he chooses this time, and there's almost a sense of nostalgia in it. It's been a while since he's used this alias in his games — but a little change didn't hurt now and then. The age was a lie too, because Izaya refused to admit to the caress of time aging him, but the appearance details were all as honest as could be. There was no promise of him choosing to meet with his newest target, whoever it might turn out to be, but on the chance that he did, it was far easier to just give his own description rather than have to explain away the lie. Filling in the reasons for joining the site always made him a little sick — truly pathetic, this was — even as he filled it with a slew of practiced, meaningless nonsense. It was the generic sort, really, stuff that most people seemed to lap up — oh, woe! he'd given up all hope, and though he didn't normally do this sort of thing, why not give it one more chance and — blah, blah, blah. Izaya rolled his eyes as he saved the profile, sans a display photo.

Yet leaning back into the comfort of his chair, he can't help the grin that curled across his lips. He half wonders if he should order Namie out for food, better to enjoy the beginning gleefulness of a new game. All he has to do now is wait — and see who wants to play.