Okay, this is my first try at something like this, so let me know what you think of it.
A young man of approximately eighteen years pushed open the large, imposing double doors. He walked into the hall, slipping his dust-stained cloak from his shoulders and dropping his bag. A young girl appeared as if out of thin air and caught the bulky garment deftly, folding it up and placing it neatly on top of a pile of similar articles near the door. He rolled his shoulders back, letting out a sigh of relief. The bag had been heavy.
The hall was filled with people, mainly males, with only a few, as far as he could see, that were over about twenty. The atmosphere might have been claustrophobic if it hadn't been for the high ceiling, and many windows letting in the dim twilight. He walked slowly around, gratefully accepting a glass of wine from a red-haired girl standing against the wall, leaning against the thick, luxurious hangings. A tall plant stood in the corner. He walked up to it and laid a tanned hand on a withered leaf. With a quick glance around, he whispered one word, his golden eyes watchful. Slowly, the leaf stiffened, regaining its healthy green colour. He rubbed its waxy surface absentmindedly and turned away, unsure why he was so wary of using his powers, here of all places. Sipping the rich, fruity wine, he cast around the room for something to reassure him that he was accepted here. Suddenly, his eyes met a pair of brown ones, belonging to a boy over the other side of the room. The boy nudged the blond-haired boy standing next to him, and the two of them began to walk over to him.
They stood opposite him, the blond boy openly looking him up and down. The other boy opened his mouth and began to talk in a language that was completely foreign to the bewildered newcomer. The blond said something sharply to the other, then turned back, a faint smile on his lips.
"You'll have to forgive my friend." His voice was slightly husky. "He appears to have temporarily forgotten," Here, he turned and glared at the person in question, who muttered something rebelliously under his breath. "that English is the common tongue." He held out his right hand in what appeared to be an apology, but was in fact something closer to an identification.
His entire palm had been henna-dyed a beautiful subtle blue, intended to resemble the sea. A one centimetre by one centimetre circle in the middle of the palm was a deep, jet black, and gave the appearance of sucking the water inside it. In the exact centre of the hole was a tiny white "M". Either side of the hole were two round purple eyes.
Mizuhara? Could it be? I knew that I would encounter the other guardian families eventually, but... The Mizuhara family, the youngest of the ancient families, masters (and mistresses) of water and gravity, had once been a powerful force to be reckoned with, as with the others, but in the past few generations, their powers had diminished to paltry water tricks to impress guests. However, something in this boy's eyes told a different story.
He held out his own palm, seeing the tattoo in his mind.
A large, bold "K" was the centrepiece. It was split by a jagged yellow lightning bolt, the sharp, fierce lines countered by a delicate pink orchid overlaying it. Sharp to soft, jagged to curved, destructive to life-giving, dark to light. Opposite to opposite. Either side were two feline emerald eyes. The tattoo of the Kons, masters (always masters, there had been no female guardians) of lightning and nature.
He heard the two boys draw in a sharp breath.
"So, you're a Kon then?" the brown-eyed boy said curiously. "What's your name?" The newcomer blinked in surprise.
"Kon." The boy snorted.
"No, not your family name, your given name!" he explained.
"Why? It is the correct protocol to-"
"I know what the rules are!" The boy grinned suddenly. "I just don't like obeying them." The newcomer hesitated, once again casting a wary glance around.
"Ray." he said quietly. "Although, I hope you know that it is an affront to refer to any of the four by anything that is not the name the great spirits gave us." The boy shrugged, looking slightly bored by Ray's speech.
"I know what the rules are." he repeated. The blond boy, who Ray now knew to be a Mizuhara, sighed in frustration and grabbed the other boy's wrist, forcing the hand open and holding it up for Ray to see.
A small "K" nestled in the base of his hand. A tornado, tattooed in broad strokes curled upwards from it, a head that Ray had only ever seen in books emerged from the top, mouth open in a defiant roar.
A Kinomiya? Him?
Ray looked more closely at the boy standing in front of him. Kinomiya was the oldest and supposedly strongest of the ancient families, masters of the wind with a legendary disregard for rules and tradition.
"I know what the rules are." the boy repeated yet again. He smirked. "My family invented the rules." A cold wind seemed to whip through the room. Mizuhara stepped forwards a little.
"Well, now that Tyson's stopped showing off, let's go and get something to eat!" he said hurriedly. "I would imagine you're hungry, Kon?" he inquired. Ray nodded.
Could somebody please tell me if I've spelt their surnames right?I never normally use the Japanese, but it sounded better in the context.
Review, please!