[kazuma's eyes open as though waking from a nightmare. whatever he was feeling before he stepped through the archway is still there, but starting to fade, as he takes in the surroundings he's in.
he's inside a very familiar room inside a very familiar Japanese style home. there's a floor desk, surrounded by papers neatly organized. there's the comforting smell of paper and tea and home cooking in the air. at his hip is the comforting weight of the blade karuma. he must have only nodded off for a moment, his work and his travel papers for great britain spread out before him. nearby, a gentle looking young girl in a kimono sits, serene, a large encyclopedia in her lap, eyes downcast as she appears to read over the pages of the entry she's stopped on. months of time, strange awful events, feel like a distant memory now, or perhaps only a dream. was any of that even real?
no subject
he's inside a very familiar room inside a very familiar Japanese style home. there's a floor desk, surrounded by papers neatly organized. there's the comforting smell of paper and tea and home cooking in the air. at his hip is the comforting weight of the blade karuma. he must have only nodded off for a moment, his work and his travel papers for great britain spread out before him. nearby, a gentle looking young girl in a kimono sits, serene, a large encyclopedia in her lap, eyes downcast as she appears to read over the pages of the entry she's stopped on. months of time, strange awful events, feel like a distant memory now, or perhaps only a dream. was any of that even real?
welcome home, kazuma asogi.]