Post by Osamu Shimazu on May 27, 2017 12:52:45 GMT -5
Ice cold fingers coiled greedily round a hot mug of coffee, siphoning from it much needed warmth. Eyes unblinkingly trained on the rising steam, body unnaturally still, his mind raced. Even in this false body, this gigai, he could feel the presence of that thing.
The café he'd found himself in, crowded as it was, served what seemed an unyielding crowd of consumers; for every one served, two were added to the line. It was perfect, this modern chaos. This constant action. And beyond the café, even, with the roaring of motor engines, honking of their electronic horns -- the sheer noise and magnitude of this concrete jungle would be enough to drown out that thing. Yes, his assignment to Karakura and her surrounding areas was much welcomed indeed.
Karakura, he thought, breaking his trance and turning his head towards the large rectangular window across the row of booths. Somewhere out there, in this not-so-large town, a multitude of spiritual beings thrived both benign and otherwise. As it was relayed to him, it's paramount that agents of the Seireitei be stationed in Karakura, it being the hub of spiritual activity worldwide and all, in a concerted effort to keep Seireitei's allies in check and otherwise protect their assets abroad in the World of the Living. In other words, Karakura was dangerous, and Osamu knew that.
I wonder what treasures you have in store for me, Karakura.
As suddenly as silently, he rose from his cushioned booth, a crisp bill and decent tip on the table, he broke for the door. Outside, the temperature was considerably cooler than this time of year in the Soul Society, so for both the sake of comfort and blending in, he brought a black leather jacket. Paired with a white t-shirt, black jeans with a brown leather belt, and dressy black shoes, he looked indistinguishable from any other twenty-something-looking year old and certainly not like he was the agent of some society in the afterlife.
In the corner of his eye, for just a moment, there was... no, no. It was nothing.
The sun was hidden by a thick blanket of clouds, part of the reason for the cooler temperature, making for an almost gloomy setting. His shoes clacked lightly against the concrete as he made his way through downtown on foot, beginning his rounds. His spiritual senses, however mundane, extended outward as far as he could manage. If anything were nearby -- a Hollow, Arrancar, Quincy, Human, or even an allied Shinigami -- his senses would be alerted and he'd be on the move to investigate. He only hoped with as little skill and training in spiritual sensory as he had, someone or something else didn't get the jump on him first...
The café he'd found himself in, crowded as it was, served what seemed an unyielding crowd of consumers; for every one served, two were added to the line. It was perfect, this modern chaos. This constant action. And beyond the café, even, with the roaring of motor engines, honking of their electronic horns -- the sheer noise and magnitude of this concrete jungle would be enough to drown out that thing. Yes, his assignment to Karakura and her surrounding areas was much welcomed indeed.
Karakura, he thought, breaking his trance and turning his head towards the large rectangular window across the row of booths. Somewhere out there, in this not-so-large town, a multitude of spiritual beings thrived both benign and otherwise. As it was relayed to him, it's paramount that agents of the Seireitei be stationed in Karakura, it being the hub of spiritual activity worldwide and all, in a concerted effort to keep Seireitei's allies in check and otherwise protect their assets abroad in the World of the Living. In other words, Karakura was dangerous, and Osamu knew that.
I wonder what treasures you have in store for me, Karakura.
As suddenly as silently, he rose from his cushioned booth, a crisp bill and decent tip on the table, he broke for the door. Outside, the temperature was considerably cooler than this time of year in the Soul Society, so for both the sake of comfort and blending in, he brought a black leather jacket. Paired with a white t-shirt, black jeans with a brown leather belt, and dressy black shoes, he looked indistinguishable from any other twenty-something-looking year old and certainly not like he was the agent of some society in the afterlife.
In the corner of his eye, for just a moment, there was... no, no. It was nothing.
The sun was hidden by a thick blanket of clouds, part of the reason for the cooler temperature, making for an almost gloomy setting. His shoes clacked lightly against the concrete as he made his way through downtown on foot, beginning his rounds. His spiritual senses, however mundane, extended outward as far as he could manage. If anything were nearby -- a Hollow, Arrancar, Quincy, Human, or even an allied Shinigami -- his senses would be alerted and he'd be on the move to investigate. He only hoped with as little skill and training in spiritual sensory as he had, someone or something else didn't get the jump on him first...
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