[LOG] By the Tree that Grows Into the Sky
Who: Suou Katsuya, Valeria
Where/When: Himorogi, Week 1, Day 2.
Status: Closed
Style: Paragraph, third person -- predominately past
Rating: Not sure.
For a Persona-user based in fire, cold was the anti-thesis of his being. He loved summer. He stayed in the southern city of Sumaru so he could enjoy the longer months of sun and heat. He spent his time missing fireplaces but dreading their necessity. The complex nature of cold and Katsuya could be expounded on in great detail, but primarily he thought only of summoning Hyperion to set a small brush fire for his survival. He had used him last night to cook, after all. But without a certain amount of privacy to his movements, he felt it best to avoid the obvious revelation any sort of power might give him.
There were people who could tear open the world, after all.
His blazer, carrying cooked remainders from last night's work -- again, Hyperion's help to start a fire -- slung over his shoulder, Katsuya walked to the tree that met the sky for a woman he wasn't sure he'd recognize in person.
He fumbled in his pockets. Five left. If that woman could bring stoves, she could certainly bring cigarettes, right? Would he have to practice a foot rub? Just like Trish, this woman demands more than she would ever need. He set the filter between his lips and paused, fighting with the lighter. It took too many tries to get it to light, and that further set his nerves on edge. He wasn't ready to quit. He'd tried, after all, and then Nyarlathotep and Philehmon thought they'd make humanity prove their worth.
He found himself frightened at the prospect of what quitting again would bring. Inhale, exhale. Ah, nicotine.
Better make it last, regardless.
Where/When: Himorogi, Week 1, Day 2.
Status: Closed
Style: Paragraph, third person -- predominately past
Rating: Not sure.
For a Persona-user based in fire, cold was the anti-thesis of his being. He loved summer. He stayed in the southern city of Sumaru so he could enjoy the longer months of sun and heat. He spent his time missing fireplaces but dreading their necessity. The complex nature of cold and Katsuya could be expounded on in great detail, but primarily he thought only of summoning Hyperion to set a small brush fire for his survival. He had used him last night to cook, after all. But without a certain amount of privacy to his movements, he felt it best to avoid the obvious revelation any sort of power might give him.
There were people who could tear open the world, after all.
His blazer, carrying cooked remainders from last night's work -- again, Hyperion's help to start a fire -- slung over his shoulder, Katsuya walked to the tree that met the sky for a woman he wasn't sure he'd recognize in person.
He fumbled in his pockets. Five left. If that woman could bring stoves, she could certainly bring cigarettes, right? Would he have to practice a foot rub? Just like Trish, this woman demands more than she would ever need. He set the filter between his lips and paused, fighting with the lighter. It took too many tries to get it to light, and that further set his nerves on edge. He wasn't ready to quit. He'd tried, after all, and then Nyarlathotep and Philehmon thought they'd make humanity prove their worth.
He found himself frightened at the prospect of what quitting again would bring. Inhale, exhale. Ah, nicotine.
Better make it last, regardless.