[Introduction] Descent and arrival
The snow has started falling again, thick and hard, as if winter has launched another assault, determined to keep its grip on the Mansion and its environs. For a few minutes, the storm intensifies to white-out conditions; then a blaze of lightning closely followed by an earth-shaking clap of thunder lights up the darkness. As suddenly as it came, the white-out snowfall thins.
The air is still heavy with white though, as feather-like bits of the fabric of reality drift over a clearing in the trees, carved out by what seemed to be a lightning strike, the white bits settling on the injured figure lying prone amid the shattered branches...
...He lays stunned in the snow, breathing hard. His exertions, in escaping from his kin turned captors and breaking out of their sub-dimension, have torn open the stab wound in his back; now the scent of his own blood running down the small of his back rises to his nostrils. Damn that shinigami! he thinks, laying there too sore and stunned to move, yet feeling the cold penetrating the thin kimono wrapped around his frame. You could not have done better to add injury to insult, Mr. Tsuzuki, than stabbing me in the back like a coward.... Groaning, he pulls himself onto his knees, the burns on his shoulders starting to sting under the gauze swathing them. The cold air alone could push him into a hypothermic coma in no time, unless he can manage to put himself in torpor. He's not about to risk that: the snow is still coming down around him.
He manages to pull himself to his bare feet and scan the woods around him. As he opened the portal to escape, he had tried to visualize the woods in Kyoto where he occasionally discarded victims, but the spiritual energy of this place does not feel familiar at all. His captors had taken away his eyeglasses, rendering anything in the distance an indistinct mess of color, light, and shadow to his eye. But he can make out an open stretch that might be a snow-covered lawn, just beyond the trees. Gathering what little strength he has left, Muraki limps toward the lawn, seeking out any promise of shelter.
...Anyone emerging from the front door of the Mansion and onto the porch will find a tall, albino man lying prone across the flooring, half-dead with cold, clad only in a blood-stained white kimono, the plain kind that corpses are traditionally wrapped in for a funeral. His one good eye peers dully through the fall of his silvery mane.
Name: Kazutaka Muraki
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Media: Anime/manga
Other relevant info: Taken from after the fiery climax of the Kyoto arc, and it appears he's escaped from wherever he's been held by whoever was behind that blinding white light that pulled him from the flaming wreckage of his underground lab. Be warned, though: he's had the worst week of his life and he's in a nasty mood. Also, those with fangs, metaphoric or otherwise, might notice some semblance of kinship in him, though he can almost pass for human...
The air is still heavy with white though, as feather-like bits of the fabric of reality drift over a clearing in the trees, carved out by what seemed to be a lightning strike, the white bits settling on the injured figure lying prone amid the shattered branches...
...He lays stunned in the snow, breathing hard. His exertions, in escaping from his kin turned captors and breaking out of their sub-dimension, have torn open the stab wound in his back; now the scent of his own blood running down the small of his back rises to his nostrils. Damn that shinigami! he thinks, laying there too sore and stunned to move, yet feeling the cold penetrating the thin kimono wrapped around his frame. You could not have done better to add injury to insult, Mr. Tsuzuki, than stabbing me in the back like a coward.... Groaning, he pulls himself onto his knees, the burns on his shoulders starting to sting under the gauze swathing them. The cold air alone could push him into a hypothermic coma in no time, unless he can manage to put himself in torpor. He's not about to risk that: the snow is still coming down around him.
He manages to pull himself to his bare feet and scan the woods around him. As he opened the portal to escape, he had tried to visualize the woods in Kyoto where he occasionally discarded victims, but the spiritual energy of this place does not feel familiar at all. His captors had taken away his eyeglasses, rendering anything in the distance an indistinct mess of color, light, and shadow to his eye. But he can make out an open stretch that might be a snow-covered lawn, just beyond the trees. Gathering what little strength he has left, Muraki limps toward the lawn, seeking out any promise of shelter.
...Anyone emerging from the front door of the Mansion and onto the porch will find a tall, albino man lying prone across the flooring, half-dead with cold, clad only in a blood-stained white kimono, the plain kind that corpses are traditionally wrapped in for a funeral. His one good eye peers dully through the fall of his silvery mane.
Name: Kazutaka Muraki
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Media: Anime/manga
Other relevant info: Taken from after the fiery climax of the Kyoto arc, and it appears he's escaped from wherever he's been held by whoever was behind that blinding white light that pulled him from the flaming wreckage of his underground lab. Be warned, though: he's had the worst week of his life and he's in a nasty mood. Also, those with fangs, metaphoric or otherwise, might notice some semblance of kinship in him, though he can almost pass for human...