уαмαяυ αяαѕнι (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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teahoused2019-09-11 07:13 am
stormgathers) wrote in teahoused2019-09-11 07:13 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Yamaru Arashi and Ashiko Kuzuryu
When: August 30, 2019
Where: Streets of Tokyo en route to the Hidden Moon probably
What: Ever the dutiful retainer, Ashiko finds her master in the thick of the big city after breaking out of the house arrest imposed upon her and Yamaru by his father. Yamaru may be a little worse for wear. Also a handsome hobo.
Warning(s): they're probably going to be stupid cute, i'm sorry
[ He doesn't need charity. If he has to explain that, then the person doesn't understand and Yamaru has never been one to suffer or waste his breath on fools who either lack the desire or capability outright to understand so basic a thing. Even now, covered in stains of all manner, his hair barely slicked down and tangled so that he looks more wild than his standard refined, he walks tall through the streets of Tokyo with his bag slung over his shoulder as surely as though he owned the place and the hustling and bustling in the streets were fortunate to walk upon his ground.
The gaze he turns on anyone who dares to laugh is sharp and unforgiving. It pierces weak hearts and sees them avert their eyes for the primal knowledge that they are, in fact, looking a greater being in the eyes. That is, when he can be bothered to look.
Tyrian eyes settle on the clock on his phone now in discerning the time. It's getting close to time for his shift, but he doesn't see an immediately accessible restroom. It should be down the way if he's correct about what street he's coming up on. He should be. He is. He has to be. A proud son of a noble lineage should be correct in all things and he is nothing if not that.
So why is he so miserable, walking down this road alone? There should be the near musical sound of measured steps from small feet bouncing at his side. A rougher, heavier set of steps, too, and a smooth, light gait; and yet, there's nothing but the sound of his own footsteps echoing in his ears. ]
Tch.
[ He clicks his teeth for a sudden pang of something. Annoyance, surely, and absolutely nothing more. ]
When: August 30, 2019
Where: Streets of Tokyo en route to the Hidden Moon probably
What: Ever the dutiful retainer, Ashiko finds her master in the thick of the big city after breaking out of the house arrest imposed upon her and Yamaru by his father. Yamaru may be a little worse for wear. Also a handsome hobo.
Warning(s): they're probably going to be stupid cute, i'm sorry
[ He doesn't need charity. If he has to explain that, then the person doesn't understand and Yamaru has never been one to suffer or waste his breath on fools who either lack the desire or capability outright to understand so basic a thing. Even now, covered in stains of all manner, his hair barely slicked down and tangled so that he looks more wild than his standard refined, he walks tall through the streets of Tokyo with his bag slung over his shoulder as surely as though he owned the place and the hustling and bustling in the streets were fortunate to walk upon his ground.
The gaze he turns on anyone who dares to laugh is sharp and unforgiving. It pierces weak hearts and sees them avert their eyes for the primal knowledge that they are, in fact, looking a greater being in the eyes. That is, when he can be bothered to look.
Tyrian eyes settle on the clock on his phone now in discerning the time. It's getting close to time for his shift, but he doesn't see an immediately accessible restroom. It should be down the way if he's correct about what street he's coming up on. He should be. He is. He has to be. A proud son of a noble lineage should be correct in all things and he is nothing if not that.
So why is he so miserable, walking down this road alone? There should be the near musical sound of measured steps from small feet bouncing at his side. A rougher, heavier set of steps, too, and a smooth, light gait; and yet, there's nothing but the sound of his own footsteps echoing in his ears. ]
Tch.
[ He clicks his teeth for a sudden pang of something. Annoyance, surely, and absolutely nothing more. ]