The Rain [open] Oct 12, 2012 18:04:20 GMT -8
Post by Yoichi on Oct 12, 2012 18:04:20 GMT -8
天の下の最強 ————"Now this is how it is, we try to handle biz, and make moves in this land where the power lives. Where they devour kids and acts of cowardice rule from a tool of violence and a shrouded bliss. I try to release my malice, and develop my inner peace in a place so callous. Maybe I'll go to Angle or other Gold Coast and blow smoke with the old folks cause they know most"
[/color]Beckoned forth from his midday slumber, his eyes pried open in response to the droplet that fell upon his cheek. He shuffled slightly from his prone position in the grass, shifting his upperbody further up the stone boulder into a sitting position. The shinobi couldn't help but to yawn, extending his arms outwards in a loud uproar, but this rejuvination was cut short by another drop, and so he directed his gaze to the barren sky above. A sea of gray, plagued with the angry torrents of the gods, which gradually began to increase, and that one droplet multiplied into many. Before long, rain fell hard.
But Shiroji chose not to drift far from his nest, opting to sit upon the boulder, tucking him away from the rain and beneath the branches of an old willow tree. His undergarments no longer lay exposed to the conditions, for in his transition from grass to stone, he had thrown his white coat over his shoulders and buttoned it at the neck. The temperature resistant cloth serving to keep him at a well regulated body temperature, even in the icy torrents of wind and rain. Bringing his knees to his chest, he tucked his head down, gazing forth slightly from beneath the edge of his bandana. The Hilt of his blade rose from folds of his coat, most likely resting between his legs.
To onlookers, it'd appear that the shinobi had drifted back into the realm of slumber; consumed by the dreams of REM. However, his sealed eyes relocated concentration to his ears; Shiroji listened intently to the sound of the rain. And moreso, the sound that suddenly broke that steady fall. Who approached him through the meadow, he wondered, and his eyes shot open. Cobalt pools darted to the source of these footsteps, unable to identify the dark mass that approached. The ivory digits of his right hand coiled around his sword in anticipation and he remained motionless to the bare eye. Movements concealed beneath the vail of his cloak, his left hand found comfort on his right side.
"Fond of the rain, my friend?" he mused, a subtle grin reaching the corners of his face.