Moonbeams && Sakura Trees ||Poet||

[¡§qüee!]

The night's breeze was chilling. It whirled slowly and carefully through the trees, along the path, and over the roots and rocks that scattered along the ground. It barely rustled any leaves, hardly caused a single blade of loose grass to turn over. But it was cold enough to send shivers down any spine, cause rows of goosebumps to rise along the skin and make even the toughest demon to snuggle into their clothes. Yet it's silent travel and freezing effects were completely missed by the form lying before a large Sakura tree.

It was a full moon. It's glittery beams shining down through the tops of the trees and causing shadows to pop up in the most unsuspecting places. It caused the green leaves to sparkle, outlined in silver, like diamonds begging to be pluck from the dark branches holding them captive. The trunks of the trees were drowned in darkness, the branches above claiming all of the moon's light for themselves. The rocks, lying patiently at the trunk's feet, were lucky enough to grab some of the beams, and were painted dark purple and a few were freckled with gold and white specks.

A few critters crawled here and there, nothing bigger then a cricket, and the couple that darted about in the air bathed in the moon's light. They flitted from left to right, seeming to dance along with the night song that the crickets sang below. But these sounds fell on deaf ears. These sights fell on blind eyes, and those fleeting fireflies and bees were missed by the one figure in their vicinity.

Instead, the still form laying upon his back beneath a sloped blossomed tree, was paying more attention to the lightly swaying branches above him. The pink and white buds snugly tied to the tree branches above were glowing under the moon's shine. Those whom have blossomed were allowing their bright petals to sway lightly back and forth with the night breeze. Those still cuddling themselves and holding onto their youth were quite still and stubborn in allowing much more then the swishing branches deter them. But one unlucky flower, who was growing older as the night progressed, plucked itself unwillingly from it's branch and allowed the breeze to carry it away from those diamond laced leaves. It flung out into the night, disappearing from the moon's beams and floating slowly around the dancing bugs. After a few moments of flight, the small bud made it's decent towards the ground, landing, quite gracefully, upon the closed fist of the lonesome figure.

The man glanced up. One eye covered with a dark brown bandanna, his other chocolate brown eye staring at the flower in wonder. Since it's beginning flight, the figure below the tree had rolled over to his stomach, grabbed the bulking bag beside him and started to work. around him were several different palates, with different expressions of colors covering them. The once blank canvas was full of dark hues with spots of pink and white in all the right places. His hands were covered in green and pink paint, the grass around him splashed lightly with several different colors, all in all, it was quite a sight to see.

Rik grunted lightly at the Sakura bud upon his hand, as if it would quickly move from his skin by itself. After a moment he set his brush down, the rest of them scattered about the grass and roots of the tree. He wiggled his hand a bit, watching the bud twirl but never leave his hand, he chuckled lightly. "Stubborn are we?" Rik let a small smile grace his lips as he sat up, cupping the flower with his free hand and lifting it towards the tree, as if offering it back to it's home. Right then, the wind picked up and blew the flower from his finger tips, making it swirl in odd circles around the lonesome painter and bring him back in touch with reality.

At that moment the crickets song reached his perked ears. Rik turned his head to and fro, glancing around him as he tried to determine where the chirps were coming from directly. Night already?

[/color] A dancing firefly caught his attention, and as he stretch his arms skyward a few more joined and danced provocatively around his spread fingers. Didn't realize it had gotten so late...[/color] A wide yawn revealed a few sharp fangs and seemed to scare the small bugs away. With a chuckle, Rik turned from the tree he had been staring at for the last few hours, and took in the clearing around him.

The cold breeze flew past him, sending a chill down his spine and hugging him tightly before working it's way through the trees once more. Goosebumps rose upon the naked flesh of his chest and arms, and Rik wrapped his arms about himself as a shield. "How odd." He breathed aloud, glancing around him before returning back to his painting. "I don't remember falling asleep. I must have been very... preoccupied." He chuckled lightly, laying on his stomach and picking up his brush once more.

Dipping his brush in a light hue of blue, Rik set the brush onto a fresh piece of canvas and with a vertical motion stroked quickly up towards the tree and off the page, "Ame." From the blue paint that had once soaked into the white canvas before him, came a cascade of water lifting up and away from Rik and splashing against the tree, it's branches, leaves and blossoms. Perfect. The figure smiled, a dark grin that refelcted his panther heritage, and showed his pride of the work of art he had created.

With the newly added droplets of water, it seemed as though he had caught the tree just after a rain. Giving him more beauty to work with and add to the picture. Diving back into his painting he forgot the rest of the world again.

He didn't notice the disappearing fireflies and butterflies.
He didn't notice that the crickets had stopped chirping and jumping about.
Nor did he hear the cracking of a branch behind him as another figure approached him.

Kawaranu kimi no sugata...[/color] [/size]♪
[/font][/size][/blockquote]

[Lopez]

THE ARCANE NIGHT.

[/color][/font][/size]

Exhilarating, intoxicating, stirring and recherché, the very semblance of it was what had provoked him to reach the summit. Deep, ultramarine waves of stars seemed to expand the skies more and more with each upward glance. A trickle of suave night sounds played upon the bitter mountain air, as soft moonlight wove and enkindled the earth with its luminosity.

But he smirked at the essence of such a night. He smirked at its beauty, making mental notes of its infinitesmal flaws. Shijin thought that the skies should have been more melanistic; darker, more passionate in becoming overwhelmingly inklike. He had several dreams of where the night skies, spangled with the glow of many souls, would become like black water...no, more like the ink from his brush. The earth became a mound of poisoned people, of poisoned truths. The black poison spread until there were none left.

Such was his image of greed. An ever-growing dark point set in the center of a blank plane. The onyx point would grow, flood, and feast upon its world until it became its demise. Shijin called it ultimate power. Others called it sin.

But what did he care for the lives of others when he was among the sleeping wake of the earth? The mountain was calling. 'Irai, was it?' Correct. The mountain was known for its pulchritude, its prodigal beauty.

Nothing more than a blatant smile of self-contempt could be seen in the moonlight beneath the shadows of the hood of his cloak. Divaricated, smooth locks of raven-like hair covered his right eye. It had been a while since he'd felt any pain from it. Then again, he hadn't come across new people in some time. Traveling on a nocturnal basis would have probably accounted for that.

Trekking up the rugged facade of the mountain proved to be more of a tiring experience than Shijin thought. By the time he reached the haven of the summit, his legs were fairly sore, and his hood was pulled down so as to prevent uncomfortable overheating. The strenuous climb allowed him to become accustomed to the chilling winds. But without the hood as his guise he felt somewhat unprotecte-no, no. That wasn't it. Shijin felt as though he was devoid of something? Yes. He was devoid of a guise that kept him satisfied.

While he did lack a black masque to assuage him, his face could have been seen more plainly now. It was handsome, yes. But just as every detail about him, it was deceiving; as if his bloody-amber eyes hadn't indicated some array of dark tidings. A beguiling face like his served as a delectable lure for the affections and attentions of others, particularly women. It was no wonder why he kept it hidden; he simply did not have the patience for most who pursued him and coaxed him.

And yet a face like his had its flaws. A guttural scar, nail-thick, ran down from just beneath his right brow, to the tip of his right cheek. Shijin didn't know how he had acquired such a gruesome wound, but he accepted it for what it was. Although, still more grisly, whatever had caused the clean-cut scar had clawed through his right iris; deep enough to take away his vision and cause a deformity of the pupil. Now, a human's pupil would be normally round, but that was not the case here. It was cut vertically; much like the eye of a beast.

While the beast's eye was blind, the other could see plainly in the dark. For a moment he thought he eyed another person nearby, upon the paint-splattered grass. He frowned at that; wanting to avoid churlish communication with others by all means. But then something strange happened; something so akin to his own capabilities that it sparked some sort of voracious hate within him.

One moment the figure was painting, the next the paint fluttered and contorted itself until there was a coat of water upon the sakura tree, as though rains had traced themselves upon it. It was the power to express what one desired, and have it appear as it was upon canvas or paper to see it evolve into reality. He had that gift.

The emotions that swelled within Shijin began to rupture with rage, and, in turn, generate his movements. Giving a low grunt that sounded more like a growl, he made the first steps to approach the stranger, who, now, didn't seem human at all. A branch cracked beneath his boot.

"What...what are you?"

WORD COUNT : 770
NOTES : RIK REMINDS ME OF BAGHEERA
FROM THE JUNGLE BOOK. :]

[/size][/center]