Post by Shinpei Minamoto on Nov 26, 2016 23:52:50 GMT -5
What wasn't to love about the place where land meets water?
For one thing, it was where things tended to grow. Great gardens sprang up where rivers ran. Do you think Babylon would have been sustained by the measly waters of a few wells? It took a river, the huge Euphrates, to do that.
It offered some pleasant opportunities for a dip, too. When the day was just sweltering and the sweat ran down your back and your hair stuck down like a matted mess, plunging into cool water was heaven itself. Shinpei didn't own a real bathing suit but that was fine: he usually went skinny-dipping on the rare occasions he swam. (Usually, there was a woman involved.)
Besides all that, it was beautiful. He was much better at seeing the beauty in a soft pair of lips and a long set of eyelashes and so on and so on, but he could still appreciate the way the sun dipped low, low, low over the water-filled horizon. Or on the river's bank, how the sun tinted the water with all sorts of outlandish colors.
But the thing he really loved, and the reason he was here right now, were the people who tended to cluster on the banks. Everywhere along the river's path, especially near evening and on the larger roads, merchants set up shops. There were all sorts of eateries and cocktail places if you knew where to look, and Shinpei did. He'd been in this city for a total of half a year over the last several, and he knew where just about anything was.
At least, the things that interested him.
Right now, he was chasing one of the few exceptions. There was a legend, or maybe a myth, about the most delicious ramen stand in the world. Few people ever ate at it because the place tended to move: first one corner, then another, never staying put for long. Some said they'd eaten there, but Shinpei figured most were lying.
So of course he had to see both the stand. Or so he said.
Really it was just an excuse to walk alongside the river and ask pretty women if they'd seen or heard of it. Wasn't that fun enough in and of itself?
Shinpei walked on, enjoying the fading afternoon's warmth. The sun was starting to give setting some serious thought: before long, the lights along the banks would come on. That was probably his favorite part of the night.
He was wearing powder-blue robes that sat a little bit open, like the wind had caught the edges and tried to run away with them. In the last of the afternoon sun some of his toned chest peeked through now and then, and most of his muscled arms were visible. His hair gave the same impression of having been attacked by some gust of wind: it was tousled slightly, a little messy.
He had his customary grin on his face and was watching the scenery with an interested eye. He hoped the next thing he came upon was a pretty woman of some variety. Then he could ask her about the ramen stand, or not.
He loved meeting pretty women. And he loved the rest of the dance too.
For one thing, it was where things tended to grow. Great gardens sprang up where rivers ran. Do you think Babylon would have been sustained by the measly waters of a few wells? It took a river, the huge Euphrates, to do that.
It offered some pleasant opportunities for a dip, too. When the day was just sweltering and the sweat ran down your back and your hair stuck down like a matted mess, plunging into cool water was heaven itself. Shinpei didn't own a real bathing suit but that was fine: he usually went skinny-dipping on the rare occasions he swam. (Usually, there was a woman involved.)
Besides all that, it was beautiful. He was much better at seeing the beauty in a soft pair of lips and a long set of eyelashes and so on and so on, but he could still appreciate the way the sun dipped low, low, low over the water-filled horizon. Or on the river's bank, how the sun tinted the water with all sorts of outlandish colors.
But the thing he really loved, and the reason he was here right now, were the people who tended to cluster on the banks. Everywhere along the river's path, especially near evening and on the larger roads, merchants set up shops. There were all sorts of eateries and cocktail places if you knew where to look, and Shinpei did. He'd been in this city for a total of half a year over the last several, and he knew where just about anything was.
At least, the things that interested him.
Right now, he was chasing one of the few exceptions. There was a legend, or maybe a myth, about the most delicious ramen stand in the world. Few people ever ate at it because the place tended to move: first one corner, then another, never staying put for long. Some said they'd eaten there, but Shinpei figured most were lying.
So of course he had to see both the stand. Or so he said.
Really it was just an excuse to walk alongside the river and ask pretty women if they'd seen or heard of it. Wasn't that fun enough in and of itself?
Shinpei walked on, enjoying the fading afternoon's warmth. The sun was starting to give setting some serious thought: before long, the lights along the banks would come on. That was probably his favorite part of the night.
He was wearing powder-blue robes that sat a little bit open, like the wind had caught the edges and tried to run away with them. In the last of the afternoon sun some of his toned chest peeked through now and then, and most of his muscled arms were visible. His hair gave the same impression of having been attacked by some gust of wind: it was tousled slightly, a little messy.
He had his customary grin on his face and was watching the scenery with an interested eye. He hoped the next thing he came upon was a pretty woman of some variety. Then he could ask her about the ramen stand, or not.
He loved meeting pretty women. And he loved the rest of the dance too.
