Chichiri stomps his feet as he enters the palace. "Whew! It's really
cold out there, no da!" Tasuki looks up from polishing his tessen. "T'aint
nuthin. This' mild." Nuriko puts a hand to his frozen cheek. "Easy for you
to say. You lived in the mountains." Hotohori, dressed in his elegant
garments, watches the other seishi from a distance, not wanted to get the
melting snow on his silken slippers. "How did it go?"
The monk shakes the remaining snow off his kasa. "Very quickly, no da. It was just a few poorly trained warriors. I expected better from Kotou, no da." Tasuki raises an eyebrow. "Ye expected more from them?!" He bursts into laughter. Hotohori starts to speak, but stops. He looks out the window, watching the sunset. He then turns to the seishi. "It's time for the evening meal. Come with me." Chichiri shakes his head. "If I may, Your Highness, I'd like to decline. I'm very tired, no da."
With a soft smile, Hotohori nods. "Of course you may, Chichiri." The monk bows in thanks, there takes to walking down a hallway. "Suit yerself, Chiri!" Tasuki calls out, leaving as well. Soon, there is no sign of life in the main hall except the fading wet footprints.
After reaching his chamber, Chichiri removes his shoes and lies on his bed, enjoying the solitude. Such a time of peace and quiet is hard to find with seven other people running around. Sometimes, he finds himself missing the old days, the days when it was just him. He begins to doze off, a smile settled over his features hidden beneath his already smiling mask.
Urami, after clearing the forest, nudges the stallion into a full gallop. Sweat was already beginning to fleck the white beast's coat with a dull gray. After just minutes, the palace comes into her view. She slows the horse down to a canter, focusing directly on it. 'Chichiri, the monk.' She muses, slowing the stallion down more so as not to be suspicious as she passes the residential areas. 'You are mine.'
The wind whistles through the dead branches and screams over the rooftops. Urami smiles inwardly. It would cover up any sounds her arrival might cause. As cold and windy as it is, nobody is outside except the homeless. They groan and hold out their hands as the snuggly dressed girl passes. She ignores them, not wanting to linger in their minds. The stallion begins to lag, lethargic. Urami urges him on into the path of the wind. He shakes his head and snorting, tries to get the snow out of his eyes. It comes to the assassin that making him go further would only burden her, so she does the one thing she can do.
She dismounts, untangling her hands from his mane. She strokes his neck for a minute then smacks his rump. He screams in surprise then bolts off, leaving Urami alone. Squinting against Nature's offense, she sets off again towards the palace. She stops but once to pry a large chunk of ice out of her foot. It had pierced the tough leather of her shoes and cut into her sensitive arch. She uses the snow to wash away the blood and hides the slightly pink snow under the fresh, just in case. Taking her foot out of the boot, she rips off part of her sleeve and creates a makeshift bandage. Now slightly limping, Urami faces her slight fear of not reaching the palace until after daybreak. Before, it seemed so close, but now it seems further than ever. Ignoring the fact that she's only human, she begins to walk faster. 'I must get there soon. Night is the most vulnerable time for the palace. Perfect for attack.' She lowers her eyebrows, giving her a characteristically determined scowl she was known for. Blinded by the snow and wading in it up to her knees, she moves forth, unknowing of her direction. 'Man, if my old teacher knew I would be struggling like this, he would have killed me to save himself the embarrassment.' Suddenly, the palace looms above her, casting a defensive façade. Her expression becomes more determined. She would penetrate all defenses keeping her job from her.
Once out of the wicked wind, Urami feels the urge to rest. She shakes her head, denying her body. 'Not until my quarry is dead.' She climbs up the wall then disappears into a window. She hugs the wall, the back pressed tightly against it. She peers at the bed. Nobody is there. The sound of soft laughter and commotion reaches her ears. Glasses and plates clink merrily, announcing that a meal was in session. Another soft sound catches her attention; A rustle, like the sound of bed sheets.
Stealthily, despite her foot, she slips into the hallway and is greeted by a closed door. 'Shit.' She thinks with a silent sneer. She makes her way back into the room then eases herself out the window. Hugging the outside wall, she inches over to the other window nearby and peers inside. Aha! There is an obvious, human-sized lump under the covers. A shock of blue hair is the only visible feature.
Urami slips in the window, a grimly serious expression set into her features. She walks without making a sound, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. After eyeing the lump for a minute, she moves slightly to one side to get a view of his face. It is the perfect picture of tranquility; his eyebrows relaxed and his eye loosely shut. His other eye bears a horrid scar, suggesting he was mask-less. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes steadily. The wisps of breath cause his bangs to rise and fall in turn.
A firm, foreign emotion settles in her stomach like a stone. She tries to shake it as she repositions herself at the foot of the bed. She bends her knees, crouching slightly. She draws her tanto, icy cold as ever, and begins to spring.
The monk shakes the remaining snow off his kasa. "Very quickly, no da. It was just a few poorly trained warriors. I expected better from Kotou, no da." Tasuki raises an eyebrow. "Ye expected more from them?!" He bursts into laughter. Hotohori starts to speak, but stops. He looks out the window, watching the sunset. He then turns to the seishi. "It's time for the evening meal. Come with me." Chichiri shakes his head. "If I may, Your Highness, I'd like to decline. I'm very tired, no da."
With a soft smile, Hotohori nods. "Of course you may, Chichiri." The monk bows in thanks, there takes to walking down a hallway. "Suit yerself, Chiri!" Tasuki calls out, leaving as well. Soon, there is no sign of life in the main hall except the fading wet footprints.
After reaching his chamber, Chichiri removes his shoes and lies on his bed, enjoying the solitude. Such a time of peace and quiet is hard to find with seven other people running around. Sometimes, he finds himself missing the old days, the days when it was just him. He begins to doze off, a smile settled over his features hidden beneath his already smiling mask.
Urami, after clearing the forest, nudges the stallion into a full gallop. Sweat was already beginning to fleck the white beast's coat with a dull gray. After just minutes, the palace comes into her view. She slows the horse down to a canter, focusing directly on it. 'Chichiri, the monk.' She muses, slowing the stallion down more so as not to be suspicious as she passes the residential areas. 'You are mine.'
The wind whistles through the dead branches and screams over the rooftops. Urami smiles inwardly. It would cover up any sounds her arrival might cause. As cold and windy as it is, nobody is outside except the homeless. They groan and hold out their hands as the snuggly dressed girl passes. She ignores them, not wanting to linger in their minds. The stallion begins to lag, lethargic. Urami urges him on into the path of the wind. He shakes his head and snorting, tries to get the snow out of his eyes. It comes to the assassin that making him go further would only burden her, so she does the one thing she can do.
She dismounts, untangling her hands from his mane. She strokes his neck for a minute then smacks his rump. He screams in surprise then bolts off, leaving Urami alone. Squinting against Nature's offense, she sets off again towards the palace. She stops but once to pry a large chunk of ice out of her foot. It had pierced the tough leather of her shoes and cut into her sensitive arch. She uses the snow to wash away the blood and hides the slightly pink snow under the fresh, just in case. Taking her foot out of the boot, she rips off part of her sleeve and creates a makeshift bandage. Now slightly limping, Urami faces her slight fear of not reaching the palace until after daybreak. Before, it seemed so close, but now it seems further than ever. Ignoring the fact that she's only human, she begins to walk faster. 'I must get there soon. Night is the most vulnerable time for the palace. Perfect for attack.' She lowers her eyebrows, giving her a characteristically determined scowl she was known for. Blinded by the snow and wading in it up to her knees, she moves forth, unknowing of her direction. 'Man, if my old teacher knew I would be struggling like this, he would have killed me to save himself the embarrassment.' Suddenly, the palace looms above her, casting a defensive façade. Her expression becomes more determined. She would penetrate all defenses keeping her job from her.
Once out of the wicked wind, Urami feels the urge to rest. She shakes her head, denying her body. 'Not until my quarry is dead.' She climbs up the wall then disappears into a window. She hugs the wall, the back pressed tightly against it. She peers at the bed. Nobody is there. The sound of soft laughter and commotion reaches her ears. Glasses and plates clink merrily, announcing that a meal was in session. Another soft sound catches her attention; A rustle, like the sound of bed sheets.
Stealthily, despite her foot, she slips into the hallway and is greeted by a closed door. 'Shit.' She thinks with a silent sneer. She makes her way back into the room then eases herself out the window. Hugging the outside wall, she inches over to the other window nearby and peers inside. Aha! There is an obvious, human-sized lump under the covers. A shock of blue hair is the only visible feature.
Urami slips in the window, a grimly serious expression set into her features. She walks without making a sound, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. After eyeing the lump for a minute, she moves slightly to one side to get a view of his face. It is the perfect picture of tranquility; his eyebrows relaxed and his eye loosely shut. His other eye bears a horrid scar, suggesting he was mask-less. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes steadily. The wisps of breath cause his bangs to rise and fall in turn.
A firm, foreign emotion settles in her stomach like a stone. She tries to shake it as she repositions herself at the foot of the bed. She bends her knees, crouching slightly. She draws her tanto, icy cold as ever, and begins to spring.