Old August 18, 2011, 03:26 PM   #1 (permalink)
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That One Darkening, When... (Shiro)

Continued from here...


Unfortunately, on this typical hot and humid brightening Callianari was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was still busy at the Greasy Galileo's Gyro Shack at this time of the candlemark, elbow deep in bread and meat and that special tzatziki sauce. Summer season after all often saw a major spike in business, the busiest of the era even, as throngs and throngs of mainland tourists line up outside the rickety food stall, eager to sample a taste of authentic-local-food, and a specialty delicacy at that. She possibly won't be sighted anytime soon around the city, not until it was fully darkening when The Gyro finally closes shop.

And it was not yet darkening... though the signs of it were clearly showing. The golden circle in the sky was now a bright orange ball, dipping just above the horizon of the vast sea. A mixture of blue, orange, pink and red, with a dash of white from what little fluffy clouds dotting above, bathed the unlimited canvas of what sunset in Secyclion is, amidst the backdrop of lush pristine beaches and swaying coconut trees. Truly, it was beautiful, as if paradise that it was no wonder why the mainland tourist flocked in droves towards her shores.

Here and there, perched on top his vantage view, Shiro could see them - the living enjoying life at their fullest. Numerous couples, not necessarily in pairs, nor of opposite genders, gathered at the beach, to either swim, play, frolic, or simply lay down or sit to watch the sunset. They held hands or had their limbs intertwined around the waist, some even going towards bolder areas of the body, while a few others were already locked in an embrace, their lips glued together.

Then they were the couple-less, the bigger groups of people. Shiro could spot a very big group on the beach of what appeared to be local boys, playing the local game Pilbolas, while a large group unusually comprising of even mainlanders watched on and cheered together regardless of the language barrier. While those slightly further inland, upon the walkways and entryways of the beachside taverns, mingled with each other; chatting, laughing, drinking and dancing to the merry-making music.

And lastly, they were the individuals. Those like Shiro-- sitting apart like little private islands in a sea of mortals, detached from the rest.

-- yet not like Shiro.

Their loneliness was not permanent. Every now and then, someone would cast out a life line towards them, be it a wink, a smile, a gesture, some even obscene, and they would answer and be reeled in to join the ever growing crowd. And then they were those that somehow got left out. Perhaps the spots of happiness were limited, and for every new entry, some had to be kicked out. But it was only a matter of time before they eventually re-entered, and the circle continues...

Some... no, many were wanting to cast that same life line towards Shiro. Many eyes had gazed at him. The young half Kemite might not be one to bother with his sex appeal, but in the eyes of the hopefuls, they saw an exotic creature. Half breeds were an oddity, more so, that this one had unnatural hair color which they found strangely attractive. Not even the katana strapped to his back managed to dissuade their interest.

The first of the many came, a tall Medonian man who was perhaps in his early twenties. He was topless, revealing an athletic built, although he looked a little too red from having spent too much time under the sun. He was what one could define as 'good looking', with light hazel eyes, dark brown hair, a chiseled face and a killer smile. "Chairete!" he greeted Shiro, his pronunciation totally off. "I can't help but notice you being alone... would you like me to buy you a drink?" he finished, and waited eagerly for an answer, with that smile that was as deadly as his katana, flashing so dangerously.
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Old August 29, 2011, 10:37 PM   #2 (permalink)
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Disgusting.

His frown blossomed and curled across the entirety of the lower portion of the boy's face, making his expression both biting and sour in a single look. A hand released and moved up to shade what it could of his turquoise eyes from the heat of the suns. Secyclids were hedonists and not the least bit ashamed of their depravity. The summer heat was a shallow, flimsy excuse at best for such displays of naked skin and bared chests. It fooled no one. They just wanted more reasons to couple like rabid animals without the least thought to the repercussions.

On one hand, it was a good thing that Callianari was not in attendance; part of the Kemite boy couldn't handle the thought of the delicate elfin girl standing in the midst of this dirt and grime. Instinctively, his expression softened when his mind recalled her name. It had been far too long since Shiro had paid her a visit. He would have to change that, and soon. Ever since those strange events eras past, he had found himself slightly tender about her--feelings that he had thought died long ago when he last buried his sister. Now, though, they would be tempered by fear. He couldn't bring anyone, no matter how kind, into this enslaved world of his own making.

So lost was he in the stream of his own consciousness that Shiro didn't mark the man's approach. The traditional Eunesian greeting, spoken with enough slur and accent for even a stranger like Shiro to notice, finally drew up his sharp gaze from the lingering horizon to the man proper. Instantly the boy's olive features contorted into annoyance. This one was even more of an idiot than the rest; he didn't belong and it was quite clear that that fact upset him.

Rolling back off his feet, the boy sat with knees still bent and arms dangling off their angles. The green orbs of his eyes dropped and fell back to staring out at the beach's horizon, focused and yet clearly not seeing much of the ocean's light or surrounding scenery. "Get out," he stated simply, not even bothering to look in the man's direction when he spoke the words. His hands flexed once and then released--a warning sign of the onset of adrenaline. The clang of the katana hitting against its scabbard sounded with each and every abnormally deep breath the boy drew.

His face, too, had changed. Irritation was now wiped clean with a dull, absent anger simmering in the dark pupils of his eyes and the heavy wrinkles drawn in their corners under the tightening of his face. A thin, straight line had formed between his lips. His hands clenched into fists again and then, with slow and deliberate action, released and fell straight, relaxed, down across his knees. But he still wouldn't look at the Medonian; not yet.
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Old November 4, 2011, 12:47 AM   #3 (permalink)
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"Get... out...?" the Medonian repeated slowly, as if he could not comprehend the meaning of these words, that or perhaps too much alcohol had dulled whatever wits he ever had in the first place. He looked so shocked, bothering on horrified, and at total disbelief that Shiro would do so much as reject him outright without even bothering to give him a look! Clearly, rejection did not settle too well on the cocky youth blessed with good looks (and probably a silver spoon in the mouth too). For all one knew, judging from his overreaction he may have never been brushed off before, like such words could ever possibly exist in his vocabulary.

He recovered at last, clamping shut his hanging jaw as those hazel orbs hardened with fury. Just like Shiro, he too had balled his meaty large hands into fists, his posture bristling with hostility, muscles tensed with anticipation. But unlike the Kemite his anger was of a different nature, one sparked out from humiliation due to foolish ego. If only the white-haired boy would give him the benefit of visual acknowledgement, Shiro would have seen that shocked look, and followed now by a furious face burning bright red not just out of anger, but also embarrassment. He simply could not take "no" for an answer regardless what guise it was, being one who was used to only have everything gone their way all the time. Now too Shiro could see the young man reached within his pockets to pull out a switchblade, which he flicked open to hold it menacingly towards the half-Kemite.

"How dare you!" he screeched. "Nobody rejects Kingston the Third son of Van Richardmont! Why you little punk, I doubt you even know how to use that cheap fake weapon of yours!" the drunkard hollered more, fully revealing his identity.

Clearly foolish ego aside, foolish judgment too stemmed from a mind clouded with intoxicants. The difference of size between their two 'blades' was not even registered, and things might have just turned from bad to worse if someone didn't suddenly intervened....

"Would you like some drinks good sirs?" she called out, one of the resident tavern girls, a young female, not much older than Shiro in fact wedged herself between the two males while she balanced a tray of mugs laden with the frothy pale liquid. Just like Shiro she was a Kemite, with long silky hair the color of midnight, stark in contrast however with Shiro's. Dark eyelashes covered her brown eyes, her skin shimmering like pale gold in the setting sun. She wasn't overly pretty, nor can she be considered ugly, but in comparison with the natives and the beautiful faces that plundered Secyclion's beaches, she was only mediocre. A modest plain sleeveless top hugged her petite figure, while a floral sarong was wrapped around her slender waist.

Her emergence seemed to put a damper on the growing sizzle between the men. Kingston the Third made a lengthy pause, and instead of proceeding to try attack Shiro with the blade, he merely threw a sneer Shiro's way as he pocketed the blade out of sight and made a reach for the offered beer.

"Sure hun, thanks for the drink, and nice arse!" he chuckled, rudely slapping the girl's backside in the process. She flinched at his touch, her face grimacing in displeasure, none too please at all with the man's uncouth actions.
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Old November 18, 2011, 10:49 PM   #4 (permalink)
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Idiot.

In an instant the boy’s hands were clenched into hard, tightened fists. His feet swept back against the ground’s loose sand to create some semblance of a stable hold to brace his toes. His knees bent and his weight shifted just slightly forward but never quite off balance. Everything was coiled. Everything was taunt. Everything was ready and waiting for the sheerest hint of his mind’s command to go, to let loose all the pent up energy and anger that had been long stored over the last seventeen ordinances of his existence, to destroy that annoying stupid and disgusting face on this man that dared to think him Shiro’s equal…

The sight of the blade merely added to the heat of the boy’s all-consuming anger. The turquoise eyes glinted underneath their heavy white brows, showing both daring and eagerness intermixed in their brilliant depths. Thin lips pushed downward into a sloping frown, wrinkling the skin of his face like a man far more advanced in the cycles of life than what his diminutive stature and youthful mien would have betrayed.

How little they all knew to assume that they could see who or what he was.

The man’s threats and empty boasts brought yet more indignation out of the youth’s twisted, enflamed darkness that continually ate away at and consumed his very soul. Pride was foolishness, especially in mortals who flung themselves heedlessly at the dirty feet of the gods as if they could somehow save them from their own sins and their consequential death. This one, too, thought that names and titles, wealth and possessions, mattered—as if he, too, mattered. This was beyond the disgusting hedonistic desires that had so sickened Shiro from the first moment of his arrival on Secyclion. No, this was just plain idiocy combined with the arrogance to believe that he could wipe it clean with a few fancy, complicated words.

In an instant the boy’s arm was pulled back at the waist with elbow hanging in waiting. His hand stretched out and flattened, using the foundation of his tightened forearm to prepare for the oncoming impact when he finally smashed this cretin’s neck into his spine where it belonged and silenced him forever. His knees relaxed and his weight shifted again from heel to toe, coiling back all while getting ready to spring…

…and then she interrupted.

Anger burst across the boy’s face in a sudden flush of red and pink burning across his skin. His white brows furrowed into a single line deep over the pair of his eyes and his frown had turned from determined to severe. For the moment, though, the girl was saved by the onset of Shiro’s confusion. Her sudden appearance had made him lose his balance slightly forward and required him to take a few moments to try to re-center. That alone had managed to stay his hand from striking the girl in the side of the head instead of his actual target.

The boy shrunk back as a sudden fear took over his senses, wiping away the previous resentment. He watched, puzzled, as the Medonian put away his pathetic excuse for a weapon and guzzled down another of the drinks, bringing out his ever-present lecherous side once more—a single act that wiped all the momentary lull away in its entirety. The slap against the girl’s flesh didn’t merely collide with her skin; it snapped something in Shiro, too.

Bilao. His mother. The young blonde girl with those perfect curls he had known in schola. They all flashed across his vision ever so quickly, then were replaced with the solitary sense of red and anger and blood.

In a dead sprint, Shiro sprung off the toes of his feet. One hand reached out to grab around the Kemite girl’s forearm and pulled her forward and sideways simultaneously, swinging her around and off to his right. Shiro used the gained weight to add to his momentum and launched himself forward with that much more force in his step, still flying toward the Medonian with sprayed hair and simmering, piercing eyes. His right hand outstretched and thrust forward with the solid bottom edge of his palm meant to impact first with the center of the other man’s chest. At the same time, the boy was already bringing up his bent knee to collide with that ever-sensitive region between the man’s legs, intending to throw him down in one single series of strikes.

After all, it didn’t take much effort to dispose of the trash.
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Old December 9, 2011, 03:50 AM   #5 (permalink)
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The girl gave a squeal as Shiro suddenly burst forward, grabbing and pulling her to one side, further away from the vile touches of that perverted drunk, unfortunately too causing the tray of drinks she carried to crash to the ground in a symphony of smashed glasses and splashes of wasted alcohol.

Shiro's plan nevertheless worked, and he found himself hurtling forward toward the man for the inevitable clash. He would have the pleasure, just for that glimpse of the moment before zero-impact, to see Kingston the Third's eyes go wide open in surprise, still gulping like a pig from the stein, trickle of ale dribbling from the sides of his mouth, rooted still where he was, looking as if frozen with stupidity...

It was impossible to miss.

His palm strike slammed hard against the man's chest with its bush of curly chest hair that did nothing to cushion the impact. Poor Kingston was made to keel over, doubling forward from the pain while he stumbled backwards and clutch his chest that burned from the inside out. A loud "Oooof!!"was released, involuntary releasing the mug of ale from his weakened grasp, to join its ruined brethren on the floor. Involuntarily too, the blow and the forced cry of pain in the midst of his binge caused the gassy liquid to sputter out of his mouth, up his nose, down his throat, causing more additional discomfort, and more unfortunately, getting splayed all over Shiro!

Despite already being quite out of the fight, the white haired boy had mercilessly followed up with the final attack right at the groin and down Kingston went, to the floor to join the source of his mind-dumbing state, now spilled all over, whimpering and simpering pitifully like the thrash he was.

Just as quickly it had began, it was all over with Shiro emerging victorious. A flawless victory it would have been if it wasn't for the setback of being covered in a mess of alcohol, saliva and snot.

"Oh no! What have you done! You shouldn't have..." the Kemite girl he had saved somewhat exclaimed in a tone more alarmed than it was ungrateful. But her demeanor quickly changed, softening up rapidly as her tensed appearance melted in that one soft diminutive smile. "I am sorry, I should be thanking you instead," she said, her velvety voice shy and gentle. "And now you're a mess, all because of me! Oh my! Please, accept my humble apologies and gratitude by allowing me to help clean you up? And somewhere out of sight perhaps?" she suggested and before Shiro could protest or reject her offer, she promptly reached out to touch him by his arm, her fingers, as dainty as that of a maiden indeed. She tugged at him, trying to get him to follow her along, towards a set of stairs that led up to the rooms located above the establishment, away from the growing crowd that was starting to gather, drawn like moths to the flame in the name of curiosity.
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Old January 11, 2012, 09:50 PM   #6 (permalink)
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Pathetic.

The boy’s lips curled into a disapproving frown. White brows knotted into a single line as Shiro stared down the length of his nose at the man—a feat made possible solely by the imbecile’s crumpled position on the sandy floor. It was far better suiting for him than standing upright on two feet as if he belonged among people. He was a pig, and a stupid one at that. Still, he wasn’t evil and he didn’t cause harm beyond taxing the intelligence of everyone around him. He wasn’t worth anything else, and certainly not deserving of even another shred of Shiro’s attention.

The scent of alcohol and the rest of the contents of the man’s mouth now dressing the boy’s front brought another scowl deep onto its olive features. One hand tightened back into a fist while the other idly tried to pick at the drying-out crusts and stains of the man’s hurled spittle. He didn’t want anything to do with this pathetic creature, as if they had anything in common. Calling Kingston an animal would have been a disgrace to the mindless creatures that had no rational thought to stay their base instincts. This one, though, did it purposely, bringing himself low to the very pits of humanity…

…but not Aeternia. He wasn’t even good enough for that.

The rest of the boys’ mental tirade was shut off when the girl began her ministrations. Surprise took over his face now as the girl turned quickly from scolding to apologizing to…touching him. He was confused—the only reason why he hadn’t torn his arm away from her fingers like all instinct and reason would have demanded, given the time. He shook his head slightly and even managed a slight scuffling backward, but her gestures were too insistent and her actions too fast and complete. He had to follow. He had no other choice.

Or maybe instinct was a far more complicated and complex entity than he typically believed.

He let her lead him out of the crowded street, but already the stunning sense of confusion was beginning to lose its hold. Shaking his arm loose, Shiro quickly removed it from her grasp in a fast, rolling motion emanating from his shoulder. Yet he still followed—quietly, and without argument. He wanted Kingston and his remnants off of him as badly as the girl wanted to help, and that was all.

That had to be all.

OOC: Post ended badly; sorry. Medicine starting to kick in.
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Old February 11, 2012, 11:04 AM   #7 (permalink)
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The room that she brought him in was small and dingy, with very few furniture about that looks like it had seen better brightenings. A single sized bed hugged the corner of a wall, upon it a pillow and blanket, neatly folded and nicely placed. A footlocker rested beside, doubling as a bedside table upon which a lamp stood. Except for the cupboard beside the door, the only other furniture was a larger table, hugging the wall directly opposite the bed; a dressing table so to speak, at least in function it was if not in looks, being nothing more than a flat board with four legs nailed to it. A stool was stowed beneath, and a small mirror sat on top. There were a few other odd and ends of no interest upon its surface, all of them meticulously arranged.

The girl had steadfastness on cleanliness and tidiness so it seems.

Not a speck of dust could be felt beneath his feet as Shiro was made to enter the room and thread across the bare concrete floor. Typical to Kemite customs, he had to remove his boots before he entered her abode, even if it was just a servant room.

"Come in, don't be shy," she smiled at the white haired boy as she knelt down to place his shoes at the allocated mat beside the doorway. "Please," she ushered him, getting up and then bowing to him in a gesture of respectful greeting. She stood back upright, and gently extend an arm to welcome him in, making no more move to touch him any further seeing how he had pulled away from her earlier. The white haired boy sure was a touchy one when it comes to being touched, she could see that now, and thus decided to respect his wishes.

"I am sorry it is so cramp and not much in way of a house, but please try make yourself at home anyways. Feel free to sit on the bed or the stool," she pointed towards the respective furniture. "Water?" she asked as she scurried towards the dressing table to reach for the mug and jar of water. She handed him the drink, before quickly scurrying off again, this time to open the tiny window that faced a rather depressing view of the neighboring building's wall. At least it let in a waft of cool air and gave the stuffy room some relief from the humid summer heat. Like a busy ant and before Shiro could even offer more words, off she went, leaving the room only to return some brief moments later with a water filled basin.

"Here, you can remove your clothes and clean yourself up," she said as she set the basin on the window sill, and like the waitress she was, again was already rushing off on some new errand. This time it was to the wardrobe.

"You can use this to wipe up," she said as she tossed a small cloth onto the bed, and while Shiro busied himself (so was her expectation that he would comply), she rummaged around to get her newly found Kemite 'friend' some fresh clothes to change into.

"I don't have much boy clothes," she admitted in a timid voice, "... so I hope they don't look too girly for you," she said as she lay on the bed a chiton; a local fashion, of plain pink, considered feminine in Secyclion circles, not so much because of the color but rather because of its blandness.

Next she laid down what the natives would call 'Mainlander clothing' consisting of a shirt with floral patterns, and a pair of tight looking pants.

Lastly she laid down a uwagi, a Kemite style upper body wear that seems to be missing its lower counterpart. It was red in color, with simple embroidery of gold phoenixes as decoration; a legendary beast of power though in Kemite cultures was attributed as a feminine symbol of strength and grace.

Three different clothes to choose from, assuming Shiro decides to replace that current soiled attire of his that is.
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Old March 11, 2012, 03:50 PM   #8 (permalink)
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Honor was something he hadn’t thought about in a great deal of time, but he couldn’t devise a better reason to explain why his feet kept following hers. A few glances over his shoulder ensured Shiro that that pig of a man was nothing more than a memory, but he still didn’t much trust the assembled festival crowds around Secyclion. In truth, he didn’t much trust anyone.

So why did he trust her?

A few kicks from his feet removed the shoes from about them as childhood customs came back to bear, even now. A small movement of his wrist undid the knot of green fabric in the center of his chest and laid the scabbard and katana it held against the doorframe. Turquoise eyes swept a slow, cautious survey about the interior of the room, glancing unseeing at the furniture and instead spending a significantly longer time studying the windows and other potential entrances carved into the wooden walls of the apartment. Instinct that had been sharply honed was not an easy thing to neglect, not even here.

Her comment about his painfully apparent reluctance managed to elicit an abrupt exhaling of air that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Still, he didn’t say anything, not even when she bowed in the way of his father’s people in an attempt to ease his concern even further. He managed an awkward tilt of chin that would have to suffice for a returned greeting. Shuffling in a few steps further, the boy followed her gesture toward the furniture, but refused the offer, opting to stand somewhere nearby instead with feet planted comfortably apart and hands folded across his chest.

His negative head shake at her offer of water wasn’t seen in time, and instinct alone caused Shiro to reach forward and accept the cup. As soon as the girl walked off, though, the half-Kemite slid it against the counter untouched. He watched in unmoving silence as she appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared again, bringing fractions of towels and clothing and new instructions each and every time she reappeared out into the main area of the apartment.

Accepting the towel, the boy pulled off the dark linen shirt in one quick, smooth movement and spread it out over the nearby stool he had so recently refused. The stain of vomit and blood was already beginning to set with all its pungent smell, causing a snarl of a frown to appear in the corners of the boy’s lips. Shiro tried to lightly rub the worst of it off, catching what he could in the folds of the towel. It was futile, and he knew it, but he also lacked the ability to care at the moment. He’d find a particularly distracted merchant too busy cheating a few extra coins out of an unsuspecting tourist and replace it soon enough.

His attention was dragged back over to the girl as she started putting out clothing and apologies in equal measures. A hard shake of his head brought a few rough, thick strands of white hair falling with abandon across his face. “Don’t,” Shiro said aloud, shaking his free hand to add to his expression. “It’s fine.”

The sudden realization that he was standing half-naked and bare-chested in front of a girl hit him like a hammer to the face, causing an instant, bashful flush of red to tinge his cheeks a brilliant magenta. Sheepishly Shiro dropped his gaze, shifting his eyes uneasily from side to side while his feet joined in time.
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Old May 9, 2012, 06:56 PM   #9 (permalink)
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"You... you don't like any of these?" she squeaked ever so timidly, "I... I am sorry, perhaps I could go and borrow-" but her sentence was cut off with Shiro's stern refusal. She looked at him with eyes so wide, it was as if she was in fear, worried that she might have offended him greatly by even bothering to present him with those feminine attire.

In her hands she nervously wrung the phoenix embroidered cloth that was hugged closed to her chest, after yet again displaying such speedy efficiency, in which already she was in motion to stow the clothes away the moment he had rejected them, before his harsh voice suddenly rang out, startling her into rigid anxiety, freezing her in place and effectively rendering all actions to a halt.

Gradually she relaxed, and slowly she broke into a small demure smile. "So... sorry," she apologized again for what was probably the umpteenth time now. "I can have your clothes washed... but in the mean time, while waiting for it to dry, what will you wear?" she pointed out there and then had Shiro not realized it yet that he was bare in the chest, the upper half of his flesh displayed to female eyes.

His reaction however, came across her as most peculiar. Instantly the shy white-haired boy's cheeks glow a glaring shade of crimson while he decided to stare at his uneasy toes. It was just, in her perspective... too cute, that she could not help but giggle, lightly placing a dainty hand over her lips to try stop herself from continuing to do so.

"Or... perhaps, there is no need to?" she suddenly voiced up, grinning so widely, it was almost patronizing. "Secyclion is such a far cry from our home, Zinn'Sunn. In the summer, the weather here is so humid that the men take off their clothes, some even going fully naked. It is so... strange these customs of the island people," lightly she shook her head, not exactly in rebuke but more of amusement, and suddenly Shiro could feel her eyes all over his body, being very... judgmental? Perhaps she was comparing his form to those of the men she had seen? It certainly felt like it. And if Shiro was to dare lift his head to see her, he would find her looking somewhat, appreciative, clearly approving of what she saw.

Without warning she took a step towards him, closing in the distance until they were barely an arm's length away. She stood just slightly taller than he, by a few inches or so. Before he knew it, a hand darted out next, lightly touching him on the right side of his chest, her small hands was warm to the touch but surprisingly callous (or not surprisingly considering her job as a waitress, having to constantly lug tankards of ale throughout the brightenings and even into the darkenings). They definitely had a roughed edge to it, of a girl who did not have the luxury of having others to do the manual chores for her. Yet still, it had the mark of a the fairer sex, as fingers ever so gently traced itself almost teasingly upon Shiro's skin, following the contours of that scar on his clavicle...

"Where did you get that?" she asked with genuine childlike curiously. "And this one..." she asked again, looking intently upon his face, at the scar on his face. "... this one too," she touched his side. "You have so many scars... what did you do?"
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