1 Fresh Cotton and Smoke: The Scent of A Thief Tue Jul 09, 2019 4:12 am
Okeami
D-rank
7:51 pm
Kumogakure | Residential area
Interacting with Watsuji
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The feeling of sun's warm rays on her cheek roused Okeami from her sleep. Groaning, she pushed herself up from the ground and towards the sound of rushing water. She would dip her head into the stream letting her long pink locks get swept in the stream before turning her head and pushing her face into the stream. After she couldn't hold her breath any longer, Okeami would surfaced wiping her face then begin to work on her foot.
The heightening of her senses since her loss of vision had been helpful in this way. She retained some light sensitivity as well, enough to know day from night at least. It was morning from what she could tell. The song birds were singing and the sun had only just started it's ascent into the sky. She was adapting quickly to her illness, all the better for a woman on a mission.
As she pulled the shreds of fabric, the thick scent of iron filled the air around her. She dipped her foot into the water tentatively, hissing as it made contact with the wound. With how she'd treated it, the girl was lucky it didn't smell infected. A sigh passed her lips as she lifted her foot carefully from the stream and propped it up on the bank. The cool metal againat her thigh reminded her why the cut was worth the gain.
Within the last two days she struggled to catch foods. Rabbits were far too fast and she was far too clumsy without her sight. Berries and foliage were risky and becoming sparse as she scaled upwards towards kumogakure. A sense of dread settled in her stomach as her second day without food passed by, it felt like the beginning of the end. In her haste to scurry further up the mountain side towards the war torn city in hopes of food and shelter, she stepped down hard on what she assumed was only jagged rocks. Smothering her screams with her fist in her mouth the young kunoichi toppled over onto the hard ground. Using her free hand she grabbed the wound and applied pressure by tangling it in the long train of her dress.
Removing her fist from her mouth the kunoichi reached her hand out patting the ground in a desperate attempt to feel for something to lift herself up on to. Jagged surfaces were all about but she hadn't yet felt anything tall enough or sturdy enough to push herself again. As her hand flailed about, she came in contact with an unusually smooth surface. Smooth and warm to the touch like it had been laying in the sun all day. Okeami plucked it off of the ground, twisting and turning it in her hand. Diamond shaped, thin, sharp edges, it was a kunai or at least the blade of one. Hurriedly she would cut the train of her dress into strips and bandage her foot. A spear shred of fabric was used to secure the weapon to her thigh. Within a few hours she'd found the stream and brush to hide under. With her new kunai head, any small animal unfortunate to cross her path would become dinner.
For a week this is how she lived, until today. Feeling the tender area around the wound Okeami sighed with relief when she felt the scabby skin. It was healing quickly, she could likely move again. Finish her trek up to Kumogakure, with that in mind Okeami wrapped her foot with haste and grabbed the long wooden pole she'd become acquainted with. Using it to guide her path up to the mountain she made her way up into the village.
Dense with the smell of smoke, the village was nothing she'd remembered it to be. There was no sounds of children playing or even fighting at this point. All that existed in the space was silence and a looming feeling of doom, nonetheless it was the perfect hideaway for her. None would expect a defenseless woman to thrust herself into a war torn village, yet here she was. Using her keen nose, Okeami singled out the first pleasant smell since her arrival. Gentle and clean, the smell of laundry detergent brought her to what she believed to be a residence. Not hearing anyone outside, she could only assume they fled leaving their laundry in the hurry. She didn't dwell on the sadness of the thought for any longer before hopping the wooden fence and making her way over to the clothing line. Okeami vowed to take only what she needed as age felt the variety of fabrics hanging from the line. It was bad enough she was looting from those less fortunate. Finding a pair of women's pants she tugged them down and held them against herself to measure.
WC | 814