Day Nine - O-Ren Arrives
Who: O-Ren, Jane
Where: Lake. What? I refuse to call it a beach. There's not enough sun for that.
When: Early evening
Rating: R for cursing
Status: Closed, Finished
Summary: O-Ren arrives, and is greeted by Jane. They very respectfully regard each other, dancing around tempers and issues. O-Ren expresses a desire for a sparring partner, but there is none to be found. Other than that, it's a fairly pleasant(!) encounter, though Jane finds herself wishing O-Ren had done something to invoke her anger so she could use her powers on the woman. Eventually, O-Ren departs for the castle.
The first thing O-Ren noticed was that there was no snow. The cold of it no longer sunk into her socks, and the chill air didn't cause her to fight shivers. Not that she would ever portray such a thing outwardly; it was not in her best interest to admit weakness, however insignificant that weakness might seem as she felt it. Sword still poised at the ready as it had been a moment before, Beatrix in a similar position before her, she took in the change of scenery.
Not the House of Blue Leaves, she determined, and certainly not Japan. Nor any other place she could remember being. That was unsettling, but she relaxed slightly from her tense at the ready postion. Her sword remained out, scabbard clutched in the other hand as delicately as she dared without the ultimate control.
Her sandals lay before her and she slipped into them. It would never do to be caught wandering around in her stocking feet, though it was easier to fight in that manner. She sensed that she would not have to fight yet, not assassinate an unknown target - which was something she hadn't had to do for herself in years as a crime lord - but that she would have to do these things in the near future.
If this was real - and she still wasn't entirely convinced that it was - then she would not have been brought to this place for no reason at all. As if to strengthen this conviction, she spotted the paperweight and the sheaf of papers beneath it. She strode over gracefully, kimono rippling behind her not unlike that of a geisha, and crouched to pick up the missive, sword still gripped tight in her hand though the scabbard had since been abandoned in the sand.
Where: Lake. What? I refuse to call it a beach. There's not enough sun for that.
When: Early evening
Rating: R for cursing
Status: Closed, Finished
Summary: O-Ren arrives, and is greeted by Jane. They very respectfully regard each other, dancing around tempers and issues. O-Ren expresses a desire for a sparring partner, but there is none to be found. Other than that, it's a fairly pleasant(!) encounter, though Jane finds herself wishing O-Ren had done something to invoke her anger so she could use her powers on the woman. Eventually, O-Ren departs for the castle.
The first thing O-Ren noticed was that there was no snow. The cold of it no longer sunk into her socks, and the chill air didn't cause her to fight shivers. Not that she would ever portray such a thing outwardly; it was not in her best interest to admit weakness, however insignificant that weakness might seem as she felt it. Sword still poised at the ready as it had been a moment before, Beatrix in a similar position before her, she took in the change of scenery.
Not the House of Blue Leaves, she determined, and certainly not Japan. Nor any other place she could remember being. That was unsettling, but she relaxed slightly from her tense at the ready postion. Her sword remained out, scabbard clutched in the other hand as delicately as she dared without the ultimate control.
Her sandals lay before her and she slipped into them. It would never do to be caught wandering around in her stocking feet, though it was easier to fight in that manner. She sensed that she would not have to fight yet, not assassinate an unknown target - which was something she hadn't had to do for herself in years as a crime lord - but that she would have to do these things in the near future.
If this was real - and she still wasn't entirely convinced that it was - then she would not have been brought to this place for no reason at all. As if to strengthen this conviction, she spotted the paperweight and the sheaf of papers beneath it. She strode over gracefully, kimono rippling behind her not unlike that of a geisha, and crouched to pick up the missive, sword still gripped tight in her hand though the scabbard had since been abandoned in the sand.