1 Just for this Moment [Tré/Private/No Kill] Sat Aug 13, 2016 2:13 pm
Shinako
D-rank
A wedding party found Lord Shikashige in a crowded tavern, surrounded by friends and foes alike. An honored guest of the wedding party, Lord Shikashige was invited into the private rooms for special wine and conversation. His retainers stood guard outside, and, upon seeing the slighted enemies of their lord exit the tavern, sent a page to inform Shikashige of the good news.
The pages found their master unperturbed, drinking heavily of the special wine and laughing at the jokes of the groom. Mortified, the page returned to the retainers and reported that their master had let his guard down, dishonoring their vigilance in protecting him.
When asked angrily about the drinking and conversation with his enemies outside the door, Lord Shikashige invoked the Warrior's way, stating that a warrior's life was rooted in the present moment. Great warriors master the present moment before discarding it forever, placing it atop a pile of the moments preceding. In this way, a warrior must treat his life as a flammable vapor, which may either dissipate or be ignited quickly. This is the essence of the Will of Fire.
Shinako sipped her sake and looked worriedly at the river motif behind the bar, imagining that somewhere, along the river she had loved so much as a child, lay the body of a young man for whose death she was responsible. The young woman heaved a sigh, catching a whiff of her own perfume intermingled with the smells of alcohol and stale sweat. She had still not become reacclimated to the scent of orchid after so many days in the wilderness. Something about the world still smelled like blood.
Of course, the higher-ups had been duly thankful for her service, but her lingering melancholy had reminded her of a page from her family's history, in which Lord Shikashige had taken a break to enjoy drinks and conversation. Shinako had had enough wine to stir a warm feeling in her cheeks and chest, but had not been able to find a stimulating conversation with the strangers in the bar.
And so, dressed in her dark blue Qipao dress, Shinako drank alone. After reporting, she had shed almost all vestiges of the Shinobi, leaving her tools, forehead protector, and functional clothing at home. She wore minimal make-up, but had taken care in doing her hair in a loose cascade that fell below her shoulders, decorated with an ivory comb from her mother's collection. Her fingernails were painted a pleasant lilac color to match her dress, and she had forgone the heavy pants and boots of her training for bare legs and black high-heels.
Shinako closed her eyes briefly and finished her cup, allowing the sense that she was wearing a costume to fade away. Returning to the moment, she filled her cup again and cast her eyes about the room, looking for signs of life.
488/488
The pages found their master unperturbed, drinking heavily of the special wine and laughing at the jokes of the groom. Mortified, the page returned to the retainers and reported that their master had let his guard down, dishonoring their vigilance in protecting him.
When asked angrily about the drinking and conversation with his enemies outside the door, Lord Shikashige invoked the Warrior's way, stating that a warrior's life was rooted in the present moment. Great warriors master the present moment before discarding it forever, placing it atop a pile of the moments preceding. In this way, a warrior must treat his life as a flammable vapor, which may either dissipate or be ignited quickly. This is the essence of the Will of Fire.
Shinako sipped her sake and looked worriedly at the river motif behind the bar, imagining that somewhere, along the river she had loved so much as a child, lay the body of a young man for whose death she was responsible. The young woman heaved a sigh, catching a whiff of her own perfume intermingled with the smells of alcohol and stale sweat. She had still not become reacclimated to the scent of orchid after so many days in the wilderness. Something about the world still smelled like blood.
Of course, the higher-ups had been duly thankful for her service, but her lingering melancholy had reminded her of a page from her family's history, in which Lord Shikashige had taken a break to enjoy drinks and conversation. Shinako had had enough wine to stir a warm feeling in her cheeks and chest, but had not been able to find a stimulating conversation with the strangers in the bar.
And so, dressed in her dark blue Qipao dress, Shinako drank alone. After reporting, she had shed almost all vestiges of the Shinobi, leaving her tools, forehead protector, and functional clothing at home. She wore minimal make-up, but had taken care in doing her hair in a loose cascade that fell below her shoulders, decorated with an ivory comb from her mother's collection. Her fingernails were painted a pleasant lilac color to match her dress, and she had forgone the heavy pants and boots of her training for bare legs and black high-heels.
Shinako closed her eyes briefly and finished her cup, allowing the sense that she was wearing a costume to fade away. Returning to the moment, she filled her cup again and cast her eyes about the room, looking for signs of life.
488/488