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tampered2008-06-07 04:14 am
metousiosis.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-06-07 04:14 am
[log ; incomplete]
when; Sunday, June 8, morning.
rating; PG-13 for now.
characters; Sakurazuka Seishirou (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sakurazuka_san), Clow Reed (i_themagician).
summary; A rendezvous underneath a sakura tree ain't as simple as it seems.
log;
The evening before had been profitable - a little smoke, a little dirt, a lot of blood, and more magic still. And then the hit had gone down quicker than it should have. Not that he minded so much - the glass all looked the same when shattered, didn't really matter how it was crushed into those splinters. "Could've fought more." That was the eulogy, the last kindness to the victim that Seishirou himself gave before... well, good magicians never told their secrets.
Magician, indeed.
A brief sleep was all he really needed, in all honesty. The grey suit laid before him on that hanger, begging to be worn and maybe dry-cleaned soon. But he preferred that smell - one part cologne (expensive and in good taste), one part heady blossoms, one part earth and rain, the rest all smoke. It was a subtle sort of scent... and that was how he preferred it. Even then he was imparting more of such subtlety into that fabric, a lit cigarette being his morning accomplice as he took his pilgrimage through the park.
He only hoped it hadn't become too obvious... although he did often rise at an ungodly hour in the opinion of the general populace. Old habits, they were die-hard; who else would have opened that veterinary clinic in order to hide those victims of sakanagi? And even now, he had some evidence to hide. The tree certainly didn't do everything itself, and neither did he do everything by his own powers. A casual hum - was that the Pink Ladies, or was it some strange commercial jingo? he couldn't remember - and he was within metres of Mecca.
rating; PG-13 for now.
characters; Sakurazuka Seishirou (
sakurazuka_san), Clow Reed (i_themagician).summary; A rendezvous underneath a sakura tree ain't as simple as it seems.
log;
The evening before had been profitable - a little smoke, a little dirt, a lot of blood, and more magic still. And then the hit had gone down quicker than it should have. Not that he minded so much - the glass all looked the same when shattered, didn't really matter how it was crushed into those splinters. "Could've fought more." That was the eulogy, the last kindness to the victim that Seishirou himself gave before... well, good magicians never told their secrets.
Magician, indeed.
A brief sleep was all he really needed, in all honesty. The grey suit laid before him on that hanger, begging to be worn and maybe dry-cleaned soon. But he preferred that smell - one part cologne (expensive and in good taste), one part heady blossoms, one part earth and rain, the rest all smoke. It was a subtle sort of scent... and that was how he preferred it. Even then he was imparting more of such subtlety into that fabric, a lit cigarette being his morning accomplice as he took his pilgrimage through the park.
He only hoped it hadn't become too obvious... although he did often rise at an ungodly hour in the opinion of the general populace. Old habits, they were die-hard; who else would have opened that veterinary clinic in order to hide those victims of sakanagi? And even now, he had some evidence to hide. The tree certainly didn't do everything itself, and neither did he do everything by his own powers. A casual hum - was that the Pink Ladies, or was it some strange commercial jingo? he couldn't remember - and he was within metres of Mecca.