1 浮遊し浮浪児"The Waif & The Stray" {Kisei/Private} Sun Jun 10, 2018 10:15 pm
Honnari
D-rank
When Honnari awoke this morning, a tall, dark-haired man knocked on his door. When he answered, he was introduced to a chuunin who said that he was employed at the adminstration's building. Furthermore, there was a note that was waiting for him, and he had to come pick it up in person.
That made it more a chore than anything else, and with spiteful mutters, he'd add it to his list of errands. The friendly light-eyes of the chuunin dissappeared with a wave, and Honnari stared daggers into his back.
If he hadn't been the least bit interested that someone had written him a note, he would have rolled back into bed.
Sometime between hair-knot wrestiling and tail busheling, Honnari had neared the administration building, more wanderlust towards the of hokage level of affairs and elitism. Hard to believe a hardy, scruffled man, barely in his thirties, ran this fiery province with a will of iron. Literally.
When he approached, the light-eyed man from that same morning had graced him a second time. He had such a toothy grin. "Honnari, right? Glad you came. The guy here waiting has the patience of a saint."
He saw the confusion register on Honnari's face before he could hide it. A small, nervous smile played on his lips, he probably sees things like this happen a lot. It wasn't what he said though, his words were like vanilla pudding, sweet in their ordinary sort of way, it was the richness of his tones – luxurious and warm. "Someone is waiting for me?"
There was a delicious moment where the chuunin's face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from Honnari's wide eyes. Every muscle of his body just froze before a grin crept onto her face, it soon stretched from one side to the other showing every single tooth. He was a pleasant man, beyond reproach; it was so out of place.
He gestured to a corridor, and smiled lightly. Honnari hesitantly meandered in the supposed to direction of this mystery man. His amble excursion allowed him to access his aquaintances. Could it be Akito, wanting to see him again?
Another chance to fight along side Mokuzai? Or another awkward lunch with Tamago and that drunkard. He cringed at the last one.
The lazy wind pushes against the unkempt grass like a child sending a dandelion seeds on their way: one o'clock, two o'clock, three. Above the white wisps trail and the late spring sun brings a welcoming warmth that coats Honnari as good as caramel over a harvest apple. The sun says it is near noon and somehow his memory of the time is no more than ten minutes, twenty at the most. With a long exhale he can detect the tell tale signs that his brain is still waking from a nap, there are the vestiges of a dream, turning in nonsensical ways, grasping to remain. Then from nowhere comes the memory of where he supposed to be, and what he was doing at this time.
At the end of the corridor, a young boy, hair like jet, and eyes like a violet in spring, awaits in a self-effacing way. He is clad in a plum tinted shirt with straps tracing his shoulders, and one across the middle of his torso. Umbrella to boot.
Unsure, Honnari ask, "You. Were you the one who asked to see myself?"
That made it more a chore than anything else, and with spiteful mutters, he'd add it to his list of errands. The friendly light-eyes of the chuunin dissappeared with a wave, and Honnari stared daggers into his back.
If he hadn't been the least bit interested that someone had written him a note, he would have rolled back into bed.
Sometime between hair-knot wrestiling and tail busheling, Honnari had neared the administration building, more wanderlust towards the of hokage level of affairs and elitism. Hard to believe a hardy, scruffled man, barely in his thirties, ran this fiery province with a will of iron. Literally.
When he approached, the light-eyed man from that same morning had graced him a second time. He had such a toothy grin. "Honnari, right? Glad you came. The guy here waiting has the patience of a saint."
He saw the confusion register on Honnari's face before he could hide it. A small, nervous smile played on his lips, he probably sees things like this happen a lot. It wasn't what he said though, his words were like vanilla pudding, sweet in their ordinary sort of way, it was the richness of his tones – luxurious and warm. "Someone is waiting for me?"
There was a delicious moment where the chuunin's face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from Honnari's wide eyes. Every muscle of his body just froze before a grin crept onto her face, it soon stretched from one side to the other showing every single tooth. He was a pleasant man, beyond reproach; it was so out of place.
He gestured to a corridor, and smiled lightly. Honnari hesitantly meandered in the supposed to direction of this mystery man. His amble excursion allowed him to access his aquaintances. Could it be Akito, wanting to see him again?
Another chance to fight along side Mokuzai? Or another awkward lunch with Tamago and that drunkard. He cringed at the last one.
The lazy wind pushes against the unkempt grass like a child sending a dandelion seeds on their way: one o'clock, two o'clock, three. Above the white wisps trail and the late spring sun brings a welcoming warmth that coats Honnari as good as caramel over a harvest apple. The sun says it is near noon and somehow his memory of the time is no more than ten minutes, twenty at the most. With a long exhale he can detect the tell tale signs that his brain is still waking from a nap, there are the vestiges of a dream, turning in nonsensical ways, grasping to remain. Then from nowhere comes the memory of where he supposed to be, and what he was doing at this time.
At the end of the corridor, a young boy, hair like jet, and eyes like a violet in spring, awaits in a self-effacing way. He is clad in a plum tinted shirt with straps tracing his shoulders, and one across the middle of his torso. Umbrella to boot.
Unsure, Honnari ask, "You. Were you the one who asked to see myself?"
WC: 590/590
Last edited by Honnari on Wed Jun 13, 2018 7:54 pm; edited 1 time in total