Post by Shinpei Minamoto on Dec 3, 2016 0:36:58 GMT -5
In a certain part of Karakura, neither too far from the center nor too close. On the outskirts of a town, neither a city nor a hamlet. In a sort of mishmash of a biome, with a forest to one side and a set of plains to the other--
There was Shinpei, youngest son of the Minamoto family.
He was dressed the same way he usually was, as if he'd just casually thrown something on as he left his house. Like an afterthought: "Oh, I should probably wear something outside." He was the kind of person who would have been perfectly happy in that fable with the king and the clothes. As long as the day was warm and the breeze was slight, clothing was less a blessing and more a hassle. Maybe that could explain why his flowery, powder-blue robes were in a perpetual state of almost falling off. Light, toned skin showed through here and there as the lazy breeze tugged at him. Besides his arms and his stomach, there wasn't much muscle to see: he was wiry, not musclebound. No lummox he.
Of course, that didn't stop him from showing off.
Why was he here, of all places? Well, his small estate held no allure today. He was a moody sort now and then (especially once annually) and even the sweet words and sweeter kisses of this week's visitors couldn't always cheer him up. At least it was a nice day for a walk, and his sister's garden was well-kept for now.
Why was he here?
Did a man need an excuse to visit the site of his childhood home?
Even if now it was a sorry piece of razed land.
If he squinted just right the building re-appeared, at least a ghost of it, in the shadows and the bare patches of grass.
It wasn't a particularly good feeling.
Shinpei stopped moping around and pushed himself off the rickety fence, or what was left of it. Now what he needed was a drink.
And maybe some good company.
He walked on through the Rukongai as the warm afternoon beat down upon him. He passed estate after estate, barely giving each a glance.
There was Shinpei, youngest son of the Minamoto family.
He was dressed the same way he usually was, as if he'd just casually thrown something on as he left his house. Like an afterthought: "Oh, I should probably wear something outside." He was the kind of person who would have been perfectly happy in that fable with the king and the clothes. As long as the day was warm and the breeze was slight, clothing was less a blessing and more a hassle. Maybe that could explain why his flowery, powder-blue robes were in a perpetual state of almost falling off. Light, toned skin showed through here and there as the lazy breeze tugged at him. Besides his arms and his stomach, there wasn't much muscle to see: he was wiry, not musclebound. No lummox he.
Of course, that didn't stop him from showing off.
Why was he here, of all places? Well, his small estate held no allure today. He was a moody sort now and then (especially once annually) and even the sweet words and sweeter kisses of this week's visitors couldn't always cheer him up. At least it was a nice day for a walk, and his sister's garden was well-kept for now.
Why was he here?
Did a man need an excuse to visit the site of his childhood home?
Even if now it was a sorry piece of razed land.
If he squinted just right the building re-appeared, at least a ghost of it, in the shadows and the bare patches of grass.
It wasn't a particularly good feeling.
Shinpei stopped moping around and pushed himself off the rickety fence, or what was left of it. Now what he needed was a drink.
And maybe some good company.
He walked on through the Rukongai as the warm afternoon beat down upon him. He passed estate after estate, barely giving each a glance.
