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sunshine_ooc2014-05-21 05:22 pm
sunshinemods) wrote in sunshine_ooc2014-05-21 05:22 pm
Entry tags:
Test Drive Post!
| Sunshineverse | ||||||||
| Okay everyone, it's time to test some people out! The rules of the game are simple. You have a character you would like to try out as a native to the setting of this game. You want to see if this is the right setting to play said character in, right? Well, then all you have to do is drop them into this post as a top level comment with this as the header: Character name | Series (OC's just put Original here) | Planned Village Affiliation Then you comment around and play with everyone else! If you need some ideas on how to get started, you can drop your character in during the middle of a mission, have them at an eatery around their village, or maybe even just doing weapons practice. It's up to you how you want to set out, so feel free to put your characters in this version of the Naruto universe however it most seems appropriate. Just be sure to say where you put them somewhere in your post though, otherwise two people might not even be threading in the same country. One last thing! Remember that your character was born in this universe, so whatever else you decide, your character is a world native, even if they might be a tourist in the village you decided to test them out on. And that's it. Just be good to each other and have fun! Threads you do here can count toward future activity checks, so long as the person you're threading with gets in too. These threads can also be used for samples on your application.
|
we now return you to your regularly schedule feels punches
Yamata pauses well ahead of himself and defies any hint of pink that might have attempted to rise had he left himself unchecked a second longer. She doesn't know who he was, he reminds himself. At best, she knows he is someone familiar with the Land of Ice and its history from his inquiry, but that doesn't mean anything beyond that he is presumably someone to be wary of, perhaps even hated. He doubted the sword at his side would help matters if she noticed, if she remembered. Had she? He couldn't be sure of that, but he is sure that he needs to keep as tight a rein on his emotions as possible and not falter in being wary for hopefulness. Her answer had not been an admittance, after all.
He regards her for a moment, then reaches to take a long drink from his cup of sake, as though in consideration despite that his decision has already been made. A private location is necessary for the pending activity. Her proposition has not changed that and he's sure of his ability to control the situation, so when he lowers the cup to the table, he turns his eyes to the woman again and offers a slight nod. Nothing quite curt, but nothing unduly polite. He is himself if nothing else.
"Aa. Lead the way," is his simple reply, his tone level for the taste his mouth was treated to moments before.
woohoo!
Eader, wasn't he? That's fine. It simply makes things easier on her.
She sets her cup down and stands in a single graceful motion. If he thinks that she's some type of traveling lady of the night, that's fine. She had killed plenty of men who had presumed they had some sort of right to her body, and even if this is the first time she has actually encouraged that indignity it changes nothing. Come morning, he'd be dead in the streets, and she would find time to take a trip back to her old village and present that sword at the altar her grandfather had built for their departed masters.
"It's not far at all," she mentioned. "The inn with the peony-pattern on the sign down the street." She begins walking without looking back, save for casting him one last glance over her shoulder as she turns away. She keeps her pace slow and smooth, folding her hands in front of her to keep them from twitching towards her stock of needles and poisons.
When she reaches the inn, and then her room, she doesn't bother turning the lights on after opening the door.
no subject
The occupation of this Kuzuryu stands as one such concern. Servants they are by nature, but a Kuzuryu traveling far from her 'master' and openly offering herself to a strange man in a bar does not lend itself to a kind reality. Little did in the wake of their shared early history and this was a possible, albeit unfortunate course for her life to have taken. It would, of course, prove more unfortunate for her 'danna-sama' should that be the case, the embers of an ire eighteen years in the making stirred only to be hushed, to see questions die on his tongue out of necessity with respect to the public location.
That changes when they cross the threshold of her room, a hand planted flat against the back of the door with minimal weight applied to close it. He doesn't mind the darkness. Doesn't think much of it, but the lock is turned quickly and he straightens, words cutting through the silence. He hasn't forgotten the nature of the intent he sensed earlier. That's the one thing that seems out of place in the midst of all of this and he expects something for it, but he will get a word in edgewise before that something is permitted.
"I've been looking for you," he said, his tone shifting to something more personal in the private dark. "You, the last of the Kuzuryu clan of the Land of Ice, whose loyalty to those born of the Storm has seen us to this present. Look at what the years have done to us."
no subject
It is this devotion that nearly crushes her as an old wound is torn anew in a few short sentences.
Her eyes burn, the dim moonlight enhancing rather than hiding her fury as it boils over. But Ashiko is still herself, is still enough of a Kuzuryu to ride that churning maelstrom of hatred and despair, and she growsexacting rather than sloppy. He's close, close enough to murmur, and that made him perfectly positioned for her to strike.
She rolled her wrists, selecting the proper needles and darting forth, slamming them straight into the veins just above his elbows. It's technically a toxin, though it takes days to become fatal. It's a favorite of her Danna-sama for intelligence eextraction; it paralyzes the victim in a matter of seconds while simultaneously leaving them capable of speech. The extremities are targeted first, making it especially effective against shinobi, and the effect spreads from there like ink on silk.
Ashiko speeds matters along, hooking a foot around his ankle as he sways and tugging, sending him tumbling down. She stands like that for a moment, looking down at him with glittering, boiling eyes, and then she bends down. She doesn't quite straddle him, but she half-sits half-kneels at an angle that leavesher leaning up against his chest in a intimate parody of her initial offer. When she has enough composure to speak, it's in a crooning murmur that could have just as easily been at home during pillow talk.
"You don't get to talk about them," she tells him, one hand planted next to his head to support her weight. "I don't know what sick rumors you may have heard, but toting around a stolen sword does not earn you dominion over the Kuzuryu. Not even the human one." Her other hand came up, cradling his cheek with unsettling gentleness. "It only earns you death for spitting on my true master's memory. And believe me, you will die," she assures him, as though speaking of something as banal as the weather. "That's a given at this point. How long it takes and how much it hurts, however..."
She pulls her hand back, using the long sleeve to hide her smile as her eyes crease in a demure smile.
"Well, good sir, that depends entirely on how much you're willing to tell me about when and where you came across that sword. I'm a reasonable woman; shall we negotiate?"
no subject
Yes, he had hoped for this. Expected enough not to be surprised or resist the movement that would see him to his present place upon the floor. He's glad for it, glad to see that burning spirit, to read the sharp edges concealed beneath that pleasant tone and that allegiance so boldly stated despite the reality he knows she believes. It is everything he had hoped for. No, it's more than that. Never has he been so glad to look death in the face and as she poses that question, the sheer absurdity of it sees his lips splinter with a laughter that erupts from deep in his chest and shakes his numbed frame for a moment.
"Oi. You've got a lot of nerve, Rabbit," he finally breathes, lips settling into a very particular smile complementing a very particular expression carried from better days in their shared youth. "I can't steal what's rightfully mine any more than I can tarnish a memory of myself. Am I that unrecognizable to you?"
He's there, buried beneath nineteen years of growth and maturation, that boy from her youth. He just happened to grow up into a man.
no subject
Rabbit, eat these, I don't want to.
Rabbit, we're going out.
My Rabbit.
She stops breathing for a moment, honestly. But her eyes trace over his face when the anger pops like a soap bubble, carefully, desperately, because—because she has had dreams like this, before, but they left her listless and aching in the morning. Hoping without hope only hurts. She doesn't know if she could bear having that tacit promise torn out from under her by the morning light, yet again.
But he—without the pain and fury, with the light of the moon spilling over, she can see the traces of her dearest, most beloved childhood companion. The haughty slant of her master's eyes, the jawline no longer padded by baby fat, his eyes, the core melody of that laugh, his eyes. She defaults to a sort of servile auto-pilot, blank-faced and absentmindedly graceful as she selects the antidote and administers it, much more gently than the toxin. It will take a few moments for him to get back to peak functionality and work through the pins-and-needles.
Therefore, he can't escape when her control finally snaps and her eyes tear up. There's nothing fake about the fragile tenderness when she cups his face in her hands and closes the distance between them, now.
"Ya...maru-sama?" She says, and her voice hitches. "Can I... May... Is it okay to believe it?" She gives a little hiccup and her face crumples, overwrought, and then she throws herself at him, hugging him desperately and against all protocol she's ever known. "You're... alive." She shakes, the first tears slipping loose. "You're... they didn't get you! They didn't!"