Post by Emiko Kisaragi on May 13, 2017 20:34:55 GMT
Days into Nights... One Continuous Haze.
Days and nights began feeling like one continuous haze as Kisaragi wadded amongst the cloudiness of his memory. The lone teen had walked for - what seemed like - hours after being released from the gentle care of the hospital bed. It wasn't until he reached the secluded banks of a serene, fresh river, that he felt remnants of the potent medicine still coursing through him, altering his already confused state of mind.
He trudges along toward the sound of rippling current, and in one fell-swoop, Kisaragi crashes to his knees and begins puddling as much water as he can into his palms. He pours it on his face, drinking as much as he can in gulps then proceeds to just drink the water more calmly, doing so until something else suddenly drew his attention...
With a rustle and a splash, Kisaragi caught a glimpse of a small school fish gracefully riding the gentle stream passing him. He was apprehensive at first, being in a foreign country and all, but his grumbling stomach was beginning to overtake him. They swam abundantly in various colors, shapes, and sizes - all looking delicious and his alone for the taking. The longer Kisaragi sat there and speculated while receiving the pangs of hunger, the more he convinced himself to set camp right here, right there in this moment, and have a grill-out.
Without another moments notice, it was decided. Kisaragi threw himself back onto his rump, creating a cloud of dust that puffs up as his bottom makes contact with the soft, grassy mound beneath him. He swiftly reaches into the satchel resting on his hip and retrieves a steel-wire mesh net that is attached at the ends with weighted rocks; and attached to all of that: a single threaded line that, when pulled tightly enough a certain way, will collapse the entire net again capture whatever's inside - without fail.
After firmly placing the net in his hands, from his seated position, Kisaragi loosely tosses it above the river, allowing it to float and expand in the air. He then tugs on the line causing the weighted rocks on one side to reel and pin themselves forcibly to the riverbed while the others idly soar atop the surface, effectively allowing water to pass through the net while creating a secure barrier for the fish to round-up in.
Kisaragi sat back with a smile and content look on his face, and contemplated where he was going to collect wood for the incoming night...
...Sunrise the very next morning.
Kisaragi had his belongings slung over his shoulder and was traveling upstream toward the busy sound of society, leaving behind a makeshift cot, pile of fish-bones and dwindling embers in his wake. He arrived about midday at the docks of a wooden ship, its massive frame similar to the marvels he had seen out on the open Blue Yonder. Before moving on he took a second to appreciate and admire the intricate craftsmanship of the boat. Not only by those who built the ship, but those who have been nurturing it ever since.
"She's a 'beaut ain't she," a burly voice rang out from atop port-side of the ship, right above Kisaragi. He looked up placing his free-hand across his forehead to protect his eyes from the dazzling sun as he sized-up who was speaking to him. To his surprise it was a barefooted old man with a great, big bushy beard wearing nothing more than a sooted white tank-top and blue stripped pants.
"You the new deckhand then, 'ey, lad'o?" Bring yerself up 'ere so we can hit the next port." Trying not to be rude or hasty by not acknowledging him, Kisaragi merely shakes his head and casually says, "No thanks. You must have mistaken me for someone else," whilst lowering his arm and continuing onward to the bustling Bazaar ahead of him. Before he could properly react, the old sailor had already leapt from where he stooped and landed just a few feet in front of Kisaragi, halting his progression.
"Well ain't t'at a shame. How's a lad'o like yerself ever 'possed to live without earnin' some coin, then?" The old man chuckled as he poised the question. "Well," Kisaragi replied, drawing a sharp breath. "I was actually on my way over there to see if I could sell or trade some fresh fish." He then rolls his shoulder, almost shrugging, trying to adjust the strap of his satchel more comfortably.
The old sailor cackles again as he waves left his arm and beckons Kisaragi closer, "Aye, lad'o, c'mere and lemme see dem critters. If de're worth anythin' I'll gladly give ya coin for 'em." Kisaragi blinks blankly at the sailor. Considering his options at this point: at the very least the old man would be able to tell what he could get for the fish, which would make them much easier to barter with, and buying them outright would be a cinch - there weren't many downsides to those scenarios.
So, he does. Kisaragi swings the pack around to the front and, after digging through it, hands over a smaller pouch filled with several wrapped fish carcasses; gutted, clean and ready to eat. "Oi! Poor lad'o... The sailor scoffs. "You ain't from 'round 'ere..." Kisaragi nervously shook his head while he waited for the sailor to stop examining the fish and hand them back. "These 'ere are coi, sacred ta those mooks of Tōrōgakure."
"...Hidden Lantern?" Kisaragi asks softly, confused. The terms and accent the old sailor used had Kisaragi in a spin, however, the diligent teen honed his senses and would make due with what little resources he has. "Aha! The old sailor belligerently enters Kisaragi's personal space and hooks his arm around the boy's neck, roughly pulling him in against his will before he even knew it. "A'right now, lad'o! You be comin' with me! Thar be a man with less parts than a shipwreck that'll tell yar all about it!"
He trudges along toward the sound of rippling current, and in one fell-swoop, Kisaragi crashes to his knees and begins puddling as much water as he can into his palms. He pours it on his face, drinking as much as he can in gulps then proceeds to just drink the water more calmly, doing so until something else suddenly drew his attention...
With a rustle and a splash, Kisaragi caught a glimpse of a small school fish gracefully riding the gentle stream passing him. He was apprehensive at first, being in a foreign country and all, but his grumbling stomach was beginning to overtake him. They swam abundantly in various colors, shapes, and sizes - all looking delicious and his alone for the taking. The longer Kisaragi sat there and speculated while receiving the pangs of hunger, the more he convinced himself to set camp right here, right there in this moment, and have a grill-out.
Without another moments notice, it was decided. Kisaragi threw himself back onto his rump, creating a cloud of dust that puffs up as his bottom makes contact with the soft, grassy mound beneath him. He swiftly reaches into the satchel resting on his hip and retrieves a steel-wire mesh net that is attached at the ends with weighted rocks; and attached to all of that: a single threaded line that, when pulled tightly enough a certain way, will collapse the entire net again capture whatever's inside - without fail.
After firmly placing the net in his hands, from his seated position, Kisaragi loosely tosses it above the river, allowing it to float and expand in the air. He then tugs on the line causing the weighted rocks on one side to reel and pin themselves forcibly to the riverbed while the others idly soar atop the surface, effectively allowing water to pass through the net while creating a secure barrier for the fish to round-up in.
Kisaragi sat back with a smile and content look on his face, and contemplated where he was going to collect wood for the incoming night...
...Sunrise the very next morning.
Kisaragi had his belongings slung over his shoulder and was traveling upstream toward the busy sound of society, leaving behind a makeshift cot, pile of fish-bones and dwindling embers in his wake. He arrived about midday at the docks of a wooden ship, its massive frame similar to the marvels he had seen out on the open Blue Yonder. Before moving on he took a second to appreciate and admire the intricate craftsmanship of the boat. Not only by those who built the ship, but those who have been nurturing it ever since.
"She's a 'beaut ain't she," a burly voice rang out from atop port-side of the ship, right above Kisaragi. He looked up placing his free-hand across his forehead to protect his eyes from the dazzling sun as he sized-up who was speaking to him. To his surprise it was a barefooted old man with a great, big bushy beard wearing nothing more than a sooted white tank-top and blue stripped pants.
"You the new deckhand then, 'ey, lad'o?" Bring yerself up 'ere so we can hit the next port." Trying not to be rude or hasty by not acknowledging him, Kisaragi merely shakes his head and casually says, "No thanks. You must have mistaken me for someone else," whilst lowering his arm and continuing onward to the bustling Bazaar ahead of him. Before he could properly react, the old sailor had already leapt from where he stooped and landed just a few feet in front of Kisaragi, halting his progression.
"Well ain't t'at a shame. How's a lad'o like yerself ever 'possed to live without earnin' some coin, then?" The old man chuckled as he poised the question. "Well," Kisaragi replied, drawing a sharp breath. "I was actually on my way over there to see if I could sell or trade some fresh fish." He then rolls his shoulder, almost shrugging, trying to adjust the strap of his satchel more comfortably.
The old sailor cackles again as he waves left his arm and beckons Kisaragi closer, "Aye, lad'o, c'mere and lemme see dem critters. If de're worth anythin' I'll gladly give ya coin for 'em." Kisaragi blinks blankly at the sailor. Considering his options at this point: at the very least the old man would be able to tell what he could get for the fish, which would make them much easier to barter with, and buying them outright would be a cinch - there weren't many downsides to those scenarios.
So, he does. Kisaragi swings the pack around to the front and, after digging through it, hands over a smaller pouch filled with several wrapped fish carcasses; gutted, clean and ready to eat. "Oi! Poor lad'o... The sailor scoffs. "You ain't from 'round 'ere..." Kisaragi nervously shook his head while he waited for the sailor to stop examining the fish and hand them back. "These 'ere are coi, sacred ta those mooks of Tōrōgakure."
"...Hidden Lantern?" Kisaragi asks softly, confused. The terms and accent the old sailor used had Kisaragi in a spin, however, the diligent teen honed his senses and would make due with what little resources he has. "Aha! The old sailor belligerently enters Kisaragi's personal space and hooks his arm around the boy's neck, roughly pulling him in against his will before he even knew it. "A'right now, lad'o! You be comin' with me! Thar be a man with less parts than a shipwreck that'll tell yar all about it!"
...To be Continued: Anchoring Down
