ϟ RISAKOxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxtagged: shiki, anyone xxxxxxcurrently: at hanami
xxxtagged: shiki, anyone xxxxxxcurrently: at hanami
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利沙子, 嵐の神
[ ree-sa-ko ], god of storms
ooc; sorry if it's a bit short guys, writer's block
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利沙子, 嵐の神
[ ree-sa-ko ], god of storms
ooc; sorry if it's a bit short guys, writer's block
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April; the month of poetry and showers. And, not to mention, Hanami festivals. People would be throwing parties under the tops of blossoming trees, eating to their hearts' desires and praising the gods. At least, the so-called gods that mattered. On this day, nobody would be trailing up the eighty-seven stone stairs that led up to Risako's run-down shrine, and if they did, it'd probably only be to sightsee. So, what did she do? For once, instead of breaking out into a fit of sparks and fire, she went to see what all the commotion was about herself. The humans would only curse her more by this point if she created a storm to ruin their 'flower viewing,' anyways.
"Rei, she called out, with no mind as to where the shinki actually was. He could've been somewhere other than the shrine, for all she knew. Well, if he was around he could tag along if he wanted to, but she would leave that up to him. "I'm going out for a bit." With those few words she rose from where she sat, her long kimono changing into something more 'in-style,' as a human would call it--or, simply, a white sundress. The last thing she wanted to do was stand out in a crowd.
And, with that, she descended down the many stairs of her shrine.
- What she found was nothing from what she remembered; it was noisy and crowded, with little kids running around and teenagers meeting up with their friends. Paper lanterns were being hung here and there in preparation for the night soirees, and every square inch of grass was covered with a different colored picnic blanket than the last.
The twentieth century was surely something not to be underestimated; taking such a once delicate event to... whatever this pandemonium was.
But that didn't stop her from wandering about the aisles of picnics in the park, though she sent brief glares at anyone that almost ran into her. It would be a lie to say she loved Hanami, but it would also be one to say she didn't enjoy it. Once you got through most of the clamor, it wasn't too hard to find some of the more subtle areas. And once she found one quiet enough, she finally sat at an empty picnic table, comparing this 'new' hanami to the ones she remembered from so long ago.
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