Post by Takahiro Midasu on Sept 25, 2010 17:37:54 GMT -5
"Everything's been quiet for months," the man begins, syllables grinding their way out of a hoarse throat, "It's like the Leaf's closed it's doors to the world. Won't let any outsiders even in the village grounds, especially not dockworkers."
"They rely on trade as much as any other village," comes the rely, a more youthful tone to it, no less hushed under whispers and the sounds of the night. "Did they expect this wouldn't rouse suspicion?"
"Hell if I know, I'm just a messenger."
"They're planning something," was the all too quick reply, tone more quizzical than startled. "Something's changed. It's not like them to be so reclusive. Did you hear anything at all?"
"If I knew, I'd tell you," the hoarser man replies, "You know that."
"I'd like to think that I did." The response is no less swift. The sound of rustling fabric as a hand enters a pocket. "It would mean unfortunate things for both of us, were that not the case. For now, I suppose there's a more pressing issue I have to ask. What payment do you request? Coin? Women?"
"Lonely times at sea," the elder states, a wheezy chuckle shortly following. "The women would be to my fancy."
"So be it."
Veins grow more crimson around a glowing pupil of solid gold. Near lifeless the man slumps, suddenly collapsing backwards, his seafarer's clothes smearing themselves in the mud of the floor. Sound asleep to the world, with the largest of smiles etched into his face with all the comfort as if it were his own bed. The younger gentlemen merely sneers at his handiwork, making his way out of the forest with a slow gait to his pace. In part to not ruin the pristine white of his clothing, and in part to not alert the ANBU. If they already knew of this, they could at least appreciate his subtlety.
A few moments walk, and back to civilisation he appears. The bustling streets of dockside Kirigakure, no less a part of the shinobi village, but one that prospered in the full moon. Imports, legal and otherwise, late-arriving ships. A chance for the standard citizen to shine while those who dealt in more cutthroat industries prospered in the day. He blended between the two worlds, as if such a thing could be possible in such ornate robes and such immaculate appearance. Hair, a mix of gold and auburn masterfully groomed. Robes more fitting of a diplomat than a shinobi, snow white and gold trimmed. Were it not for the symbol of his allegiance dangling around his neck in the form of a headband - and the discoloration of the man's pupils - one could surely mistake him for a noble.
"Damnit," he mutters under his breath, expression growing more puzzled with each additional step through the night streets, "This changes things. This changes things considerably."
His intent was clearly not to attract attention. That, by no means, meant that he wouldn't.
"They rely on trade as much as any other village," comes the rely, a more youthful tone to it, no less hushed under whispers and the sounds of the night. "Did they expect this wouldn't rouse suspicion?"
"Hell if I know, I'm just a messenger."
"They're planning something," was the all too quick reply, tone more quizzical than startled. "Something's changed. It's not like them to be so reclusive. Did you hear anything at all?"
"If I knew, I'd tell you," the hoarser man replies, "You know that."
"I'd like to think that I did." The response is no less swift. The sound of rustling fabric as a hand enters a pocket. "It would mean unfortunate things for both of us, were that not the case. For now, I suppose there's a more pressing issue I have to ask. What payment do you request? Coin? Women?"
"Lonely times at sea," the elder states, a wheezy chuckle shortly following. "The women would be to my fancy."
"So be it."
Veins grow more crimson around a glowing pupil of solid gold. Near lifeless the man slumps, suddenly collapsing backwards, his seafarer's clothes smearing themselves in the mud of the floor. Sound asleep to the world, with the largest of smiles etched into his face with all the comfort as if it were his own bed. The younger gentlemen merely sneers at his handiwork, making his way out of the forest with a slow gait to his pace. In part to not ruin the pristine white of his clothing, and in part to not alert the ANBU. If they already knew of this, they could at least appreciate his subtlety.
A few moments walk, and back to civilisation he appears. The bustling streets of dockside Kirigakure, no less a part of the shinobi village, but one that prospered in the full moon. Imports, legal and otherwise, late-arriving ships. A chance for the standard citizen to shine while those who dealt in more cutthroat industries prospered in the day. He blended between the two worlds, as if such a thing could be possible in such ornate robes and such immaculate appearance. Hair, a mix of gold and auburn masterfully groomed. Robes more fitting of a diplomat than a shinobi, snow white and gold trimmed. Were it not for the symbol of his allegiance dangling around his neck in the form of a headband - and the discoloration of the man's pupils - one could surely mistake him for a noble.
"Damnit," he mutters under his breath, expression growing more puzzled with each additional step through the night streets, "This changes things. This changes things considerably."
His intent was clearly not to attract attention. That, by no means, meant that he wouldn't.