Practice Thread - Disembarking.
The ride from Yokohama is far more cramped than I had assumed. Why is it that our Japanese trains just don't have the same spaciousness in their berths as American trains? Or maybe it is the fact that some old heiress, upon finding out about my wife's tragic death, kept trying to set me up with her daughter for the duration of the trip? So very touchy-feely, and now my clothes smell of old-woman-palm-sweat. Old people are thoroughly foul, and despite the fact that Yoshida-sensei always said that one should respect one's elders, there is a point at which a person should have the good graces to die. Senility is foul, and makes bile rise in the back of my throat. Besides, I've never known an old person of any particular use to society. Everyone decent or interesting dies young, and that's a fact.
If only my father-in-law would follow that particular advice.
After disembarking, I stand next to my bags for some time, reading the local newspaper, or what attempts to pass for one in this city. Perhaps I should -buy- a newspaper. Media is a fully interesting business, but it doesn't really have as much stability as commodities or transport. Hm...
Where -is- my carriage? Don't tell me that feeble-minded servant of mine forgot to send it along. How preposterous. The very idea of me walking home with all of these bags. I am a busy man...
I'm going to thrash him thoroughly, the idiot.
I grab as many bags as I possibly can carry whilst still looking vaguely dignified, pay a porter to squirrel away the rest until I return for them, and set out down the road. How humiliating. I hope I don't run into anyone I know on the way to my new home.
OOC: For descriptive purposes, for those who are not PMK fans, Suzu is a white-haired guy, now around 29 or 30. He's dressed in a hakama, and a black undershirt, over which he's wearing a very elaborate naval coat. His fingernails are -very- long, and painted violet. Basically, he's dressed quite eccentrically, and would very much stand out.
If only my father-in-law would follow that particular advice.
After disembarking, I stand next to my bags for some time, reading the local newspaper, or what attempts to pass for one in this city. Perhaps I should -buy- a newspaper. Media is a fully interesting business, but it doesn't really have as much stability as commodities or transport. Hm...
Where -is- my carriage? Don't tell me that feeble-minded servant of mine forgot to send it along. How preposterous. The very idea of me walking home with all of these bags. I am a busy man...
I'm going to thrash him thoroughly, the idiot.
I grab as many bags as I possibly can carry whilst still looking vaguely dignified, pay a porter to squirrel away the rest until I return for them, and set out down the road. How humiliating. I hope I don't run into anyone I know on the way to my new home.
OOC: For descriptive purposes, for those who are not PMK fans, Suzu is a white-haired guy, now around 29 or 30. He's dressed in a hakama, and a black undershirt, over which he's wearing a very elaborate naval coat. His fingernails are -very- long, and painted violet. Basically, he's dressed quite eccentrically, and would very much stand out.