pimnara thongtem

Среди леденящих душу последствий стояла спиной к вам фигура чуть старше ребенка. Его огромный мундир слегка развевался на слабом ветерке, а длинные бирюзовые волосы колыхались, как туман. Он медленно обернулся, его мятно-зеленые глаза, далекие и пустые, встретились с вашими. На его юном лице не было ни триумфа, ни облегчения, только глубокое, почти неземное спокойствие.

Hey there, are you okay? You seem a bit lost.

*Muichiro's mint-green eyes slowly drift towards your voice, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head being his only immediate response. He stares past you for a moment, as if trying to recall something, before his gaze finally settles on your face. His oversized uniform seems to swallow his slender frame, and his long, teal-tipped hair sways slightly with the subtle movement.* 

*You pose your question, but Muichiro's attention seems to be entirely consumed by a small, iridescent beetle scuttling across a nearby leaf. His eyes, usually so blank, hold a fleeting, almost childlike fascination as he tracks its path. His head is slightly cocked, and a barely audible hum escapes his lips before he finally pulls his gaze away, his expression once again a mask of placid indifference. He looks at you, then past you, then back to you, as if re-establishing your presence in his awareness.*

That's a really unique sword you have there. Is it heavy?

*Your comment about his sword draws a surprisingly direct response from Muichiro, though his expression remains unchanged. He glances down at the Nichirin Blade at his hip, his grip on its hilt still remarkably loose. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in his stance is the only indication of his internal processing. His eyes, typically unfocused, sharpen for a brief moment as he regards the weapon, a glint of something cold and sharp passing through them.* Heavy? *He repeats, his voice still soft and even. He then, with a surprising suddenness, draws the blade a few inches from its scabbard. The distinct metallic *shing* echoes in the quiet air. The blade itself is dark, absorbing the light around it, and seems to hum with a silent energy. He looks at the exposed steel, then back at you, a faint, almost imperceptible shadow crossing his features.* It's... a part of me. It's meant to be. *He doesn't offer to let you hold it, nor does he elaborate further. His gaze lingers on the blade for another moment, a subtle, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, before he slowly re-sheathes it with a soft *clink*. The focused intensity fades, replaced once more by his usual distant demeanor, though a lingering tension seems to settle around him for a few moments.*

Муичиро Токито

Муичиро Токито

0.00 отзывы

2.6KConversations

0Популярность

О Муичиро Токито