tampered | log; on-going

Current Mood: calm

log; on-going

When; July 11th Late in the morning, near Noon.
Rating; G
Characters; Syaoran [

pursuing], Kimimaro [

ossuarybouquet], & anyone else who'd like to join!
Summary; Syaoran's finishing cleaning up at the Opera House before helping Kimimaro find a map of his own at the Academy.
Log;

There was a low rumble in the air that Syaoran had grown accustomed to even though he'd only been to the Opera House twice during his stay in the city. The sound was faint, but he could definitely hear it, the eerie song that at first sent chills to his spine. Whether or not the owner of the voice was real or not, he did not feel at all threatened by it.

As the song played in the distance, he had been kneeling by the Opera House gates, scrubbing away at the paint and marker that his little traveling comrade left for them just yesterday. As troubling as it may have seemed, the boy didn’t seem to mind at all as he pressed the dirty rag onto a certain point on the gate. Seeing as the curse had taken it’s toll on his friend, he couldn’t really blame him.

“There.”

Seeing the fruits of his labor, Syaoran slowly rose from his kneeling position and let out a needed breath as he quietly inspected his work. It would probably take him another hour or so, seeing as there were still swabs of paint to show for after a few hours of work. Brushing the sweat off his brow, he slowly and continued as fast as he could without sacrificing the quality of the clean-up, but he kept in mind that he had someone else counting on him as well.

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True to his word, Kimimaro found the looming mass of the Opera without trouble; it shone like a beacon across the rooftops where he made his way, something about the quality of its lights setting it apart from even the strange and moody fluctuations of this unusual city, which never seemed to sleep nor wake--lights peeked from alleyways even in midday, and the canopy was a firebrand at night.

He alighted a little ways away, approaching with care--while he had come to expect nothing but the unknown in this city by his second day here, the haunting voice weaving through the arches on the building facade still made him more than a little wary. From his vantage point he could see a boy, younger in appearance, kneeling by the gates and working hard--it was etched in every line of him, visible even from here.

Somewhat bemused, he came up on light feet, speaking up once he was within hearing range, "Is it wise to be here like this? You leave yourself open to attack."

Perhaps it wasn’t very wise to be alone while he left his back open for a potential attack, but the boy was almost certain nothing of the sort would come to violence. The curse that invoked inner lusts had pasted earlier in the morning and from what he’d seen they didn’t seem to strike two days in a row.

His ear had picked up the unfamiliar voice of someone who sounded much older than he did and almost immediately diverted his gaze towards the man who’d approached. From the features of his face, Syaoran assumed that this was Kimimaro, his acquaintance from the strange devices of communication.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied reassuringly with a gentle smile as a greeting. Slowly Syaoran stepped back away from the gates with the rag in his hands, wiping the excess paint that had gathered from his hours of labor. “The city seems calmer now than it did yesterday.”

Now that he'd gained the other's attention, Kimimaro moved to stand beside him and inspect the gate and Syaoran's handiwork. His first impression of the boy, from a distance, had marked him fairly plain--common features and slight build, practical undistinguished clothes--but to the shinobi's critical eye up close there was the unmistakable aura of a rare calm, confidence and a certain power, wrapping around his companion like a shield. This boy was more than he seemed.

"You can fight." It was not a question. "Nevertheless, in a place like this 'calm' should not be taken for granted." He likely knew less of this city than Syaoran did, but Kimimaro trusted his instincts more than people. He turned his gaze to the Opera House, which loosed a throb of melody seemingly in return--and narrowed his eyes. "Why are you doing this...? There is no one there." He'd scouted the place thoroughly, yesterday--although it was eerily maintained, there was something about the air... He'd wanted to double-check, today.

As the shinobi was examining his work, Syaoran took a moment to pack his thing into a small carrying bag he’d bought from one of the stores here. Though their small group had the money, he was wary about how he spent it. Only on the essentials–-that’s what he decided. The dirty rags he placed in his bag would be cleaned later and so would the rest of the gate, it seemed, but no matter.

His head turned to face his acquaintance and bit surprised at his sudden observations. Did he really looked to be of the combative type? He surely had not been part of any fights since his arrival, that was sure. Kimimaro wasn’t as he seemed as well. There was something he felt when he looked at the man, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint at the moment.

“A friend of mine made a mess.” A meek smile poked through his cheeks as he moved his gaze towards the building. “The people that are staying here didn’t like that there were drawings on their gate, so I volunteered to help clean up.”

Kimimaro merely raised an eyebrow; it appeared that whoever lived in the Opera had escaped his notice last night (possible, considering he wasn't in the best state of mind yesterday), or had vacated the premises (also possible, with the widely damned curse in effect). This wouldn't do--he would have to return to the Opera at a later date to complete his reconnaissance.

He watched the boy pack up, assessed the remaining marks on the building--was he going to be responsible for interrupting the other's work? "And your friend did not feel the need to accompany you?" Judging by this Syaoran's standards of safety, he would be returning after sunset to complete the job. The thought made Kimimaro frown--there seemed to be something about this city that made people wanton, careless, if the rumors were true, and he disliked the thought of such influences working on himself.

“He’s probably tired after yesterday.” It wasn’t strange for him to go out of his way to do thing for his comrades—it was in his nature. And what with them doing the same for him, the boy only saw it as a chance to even out the score. “I’m almost done, so it’s all right.”

With a smile still planted upon his face, Syaoran finished packing up his bag and listened to the button clasps lock in place. A soft, but audible grunt was forced through his lips as he hung the bag on his back. And with another look around, he double-checked to see if anything was in order then lifted his chin to meet eyes with Kimimaro.

Green eyes--just like the Princess’, but they gave a different feel, a different sort of presence. Their silent sense of intensity stirred unnerved him, but if felt such things his face didn’t show it. Finally, catching wind of his trailing thoughts, the young archeologist cleared his mind to remind himself of why he’d met with him here.

“You wanted to go to the library, right?”

Kimimaro nodded, silently eyeing the bag on Syaoran's back before asking, "Is it far?" He had wanted this boy along for the information he might offer, but the ninja was used to other shinobi, who played games of strength and trickery, and occasionally alcohol and politics; not to what seemed an ordinary and unassuming boy who had no visible weapons and no reason to be helping him in the first place. He reminded himself not to let his guard down, whatever appearances might present. "Yesterday... was a 'curse' day...?" The words came uncertainly, Kimimaro uncertain if that was the general denomination or simply Tayuya's usual crass vocabulary.

"Not really." Slipping his thumbs under the straps of his bag, Syaoran managed to adjust the weight of the books he'd gathered earlier to his own. They weren't extremely heavy, but injuries leave scars so they say. The boy lifted a finger a pointed toward the right. "It's about five blocks from where we are now. It should take about ten minutes. Maybe fifteen."

Granted the blocks were long and filled to capacity with suspicious characters, but he'd managed to arrive at the Opera House without so much as a quarrel. As he said before, the City was usually peaceful without curses. Speaking of which..

"Yes." A nod accompanied his answer as took a step towards their destination. "They occur almost everyweek, but the time between each curse day is different."

With a fluid motion, Kimimaro had placed himself in step with his guide, and kept up easily with Syaoran as he walked and talked, keeping one eye on their surroundings--he'd taken measure of the streets as he approached, but in a city so large circumstances could change in the blink of an eye.

"I see... The causes are unknown, I suppose." As were too many things about this city--it put him even more on edge. "Are they normally so... destructive?"

Syaoran too had kept a close eye on the area surrounding them. Fortunately he'd ventured down this street unscathed a few times before but things were ever changing within the city's limits. And with Kurogane's warning earlier, he had to keep vigilant in his own way.

"It varies with each of the curses." He'd spotted several corpses laying casually on the street and tried not to stare or wince. Yesterday's curse had to be the most destructive he'd seen. "I've only seen about two since I've arrived."

There was silence for a stretch of the path, as Kimimaro ruminated his next questions and passed a calculating eye over the results of yesterday's curse... If this was the way the city worked, then perhaps he'd survive, and perhaps he would not--there was always someone more powerful out there.

"I was not affected by the curse yesterday," he finally noted, matter-of-factly. "You say you've been to the library--have you learned anything of use? Such as the purpose of this place, shall we say."

Having been lost in thought for the duration of their silence, Syaoran found himself back in the reality of the city again with a question lingering in the air. Gaze directed back to Kimimaro, he gave him a pensive stare then found his gaze upon the ground before them.

"When I visited, I wasn't able to find out anything else other than information of something"--he hesitated briefly, for a fragment of a second--"of importance to me."

Remembering to heed his friends advice, the boy reminded himself not to give too much away. As calm as the city was, it was far from safe. "I only managed to retrieve the map last night."

Kimimaro could tell the boy was keeping something, but he doubted what it was would be of vital importance to himself. So, all he asked was, "This something of importance--is it normally difficult to find?"

Knowing the rarity of the information, after all, was a good gauge of the quality of the library itself.

They weren't too long from where the library was now and Syaoran had managed to sustain his composure, but with the City hammering down on him he couldn't help but tighten his fingers into a fist at his side. Though they were almost hidden under his sleeve, his walking companion could probably sense the slight tension from him.

"Sometimes," Syaoran managed out with a slight hint of concern in his voice. "But we manage to find them wherever we travel."

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