September 18th, OE 102
Citadel City, Perindor
Perindor Citadel Garden
The hour was late.
A cool breeze filtered through the gardens of Perindor, past the bridge, the only sound being the distant hooting of owls, the chirping of crickets, and the gentle babble of a stream. A man sat cross legged beneath a tree. His brow, lined with age, was set deep in thought, and his arms folded within simple, functional robes. It wasn't that he had any particular dislike of the ceremonies associated with Heidel - but, it was perhaps in this attire that he felt most comfortable. A boxy flame lamp rested by his knee, its glass sides blackened with age, but which cast his stern features in a warm light that intermingled with the evening gloom.
It had been a long, long day for Kusanagi.
War with the Giants loomed large. He was reminded of it every day by the lines which crossed his skin, the distant howling of the captives becoming more and more distinct, more clear, with every passing day.
His fingers dipped to the sword laying across his legs, and he let them play across the hilt, thoughtfully.
What felt like an eternity ago, they had fought the Giants. Every one of those who had stood by his side had been a hero, a legend in their own right.
How could those surface-dwellers, that eclectic collection of strangers, hope to accomplish what they had failed to do?
Even now, the memory of that day lingered in his heart, like a hunk of cold stone gripping his ribs. It would never allow itself to be forgotten, even if by the grace of God they -prevailed of this, he was certain.
Still. He had learned through the years not to make assumptions. Yes, what needed to be administered was a test.
Now all he needed to see was if that woman's pride would permit it. Kusanagi looked out upon the quiet peace of nature, his memories of conflict intermingling, overlaying with the sight before him... and spoke, as if to himself:
Citadel City, Perindor
Perindor Citadel Garden
The hour was late.
A cool breeze filtered through the gardens of Perindor, past the bridge, the only sound being the distant hooting of owls, the chirping of crickets, and the gentle babble of a stream. A man sat cross legged beneath a tree. His brow, lined with age, was set deep in thought, and his arms folded within simple, functional robes. It wasn't that he had any particular dislike of the ceremonies associated with Heidel - but, it was perhaps in this attire that he felt most comfortable. A boxy flame lamp rested by his knee, its glass sides blackened with age, but which cast his stern features in a warm light that intermingled with the evening gloom.
It had been a long, long day for Kusanagi.
War with the Giants loomed large. He was reminded of it every day by the lines which crossed his skin, the distant howling of the captives becoming more and more distinct, more clear, with every passing day.
His fingers dipped to the sword laying across his legs, and he let them play across the hilt, thoughtfully.
What felt like an eternity ago, they had fought the Giants. Every one of those who had stood by his side had been a hero, a legend in their own right.
How could those surface-dwellers, that eclectic collection of strangers, hope to accomplish what they had failed to do?
Even now, the memory of that day lingered in his heart, like a hunk of cold stone gripping his ribs. It would never allow itself to be forgotten, even if by the grace of God they -prevailed of this, he was certain.
Still. He had learned through the years not to make assumptions. Yes, what needed to be administered was a test.
Now all he needed to see was if that woman's pride would permit it. Kusanagi looked out upon the quiet peace of nature, his memories of conflict intermingling, overlaying with the sight before him... and spoke, as if to himself:
"The light of a candle
Is transferred to another candle—
Spring twilight."
Is transferred to another candle—
Spring twilight."