At the very least, despite Jing Yuan's...everything, Shinjiro finds him to be a decent enough partner for these jobs. He knows what he's doing, and there's no need to worry about him like he would for some other people...the old man can handle himself more than well enough.
That being said, it doesn't stop him from halting in the middle of examining another decently sized stone to look up and give a fairly unimpressed glare at the choice of wisecracks. ]
...You think you're funny or something?
[ Smartass.
And it's when he gets up, to turn back to the forest itself, exasperation on the tip of his tongue as fingers wrap around the collar of his coat to tug it higher. ]
I ain't some kind of-
[ -That he cuts himself off, words catching taut in his throat. Not because of the cold, no, nor because of the stretch of bones and death that seems to litter the ground, but because the poison around them seems to shift and ripple in real time, growing darker and darker.
Growing green.
Sickly, eerie green, one that seems to bring a sense of cold unease. If one were to look up, the sky seems to waver, tearing between the white emptiness of the north and the abrupt appearance of what seems to be the moon. It's so full and so bright, and yet the yellow it casts only seem to collide with the haunting hue of the night.
Unnerving. Heavy. Like a weight on your shoulders and on your lungs, pushing down and forcing the breath from your chest.
Shinjiro, for all his griping, seems particularly frozen. Whatever red the cold may have brought to his cheeks seems to fade in the ghastly light, sporting a bloodless pallor over his features as his gaze shoots left and right. ]
no subject
At the very least, despite Jing Yuan's...everything, Shinjiro finds him to be a decent enough partner for these jobs. He knows what he's doing, and there's no need to worry about him like he would for some other people...the old man can handle himself more than well enough.
That being said, it doesn't stop him from halting in the middle of examining another decently sized stone to look up and give a fairly unimpressed glare at the choice of wisecracks. ]
...You think you're funny or something?
[ Smartass.
And it's when he gets up, to turn back to the forest itself, exasperation on the tip of his tongue as fingers wrap around the collar of his coat to tug it higher. ]
I ain't some kind of-
[ -That he cuts himself off, words catching taut in his throat. Not because of the cold, no, nor because of the stretch of bones and death that seems to litter the ground, but because the poison around them seems to shift and ripple in real time, growing darker and darker.
Growing green.
Sickly, eerie green, one that seems to bring a sense of cold unease. If one were to look up, the sky seems to waver, tearing between the white emptiness of the north and the abrupt appearance of what seems to be the moon. It's so full and so bright, and yet the yellow it casts only seem to collide with the haunting hue of the night.
Unnerving. Heavy. Like a weight on your shoulders and on your lungs, pushing down and forcing the breath from your chest.
Shinjiro, for all his griping, seems particularly frozen. Whatever red the cold may have brought to his cheeks seems to fade in the ghastly light, sporting a bloodless pallor over his features as his gaze shoots left and right. ]