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 Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 7:44 pm
 Ninjas were not supposed to skip along a sunlit path on feet that might as well have been made of elastic and thieves were not trained to whistle Wutaian tunes about bloody coups off-key - Yuffie Kisaragi happened to be doing both at the same time, and cheerfully to boot. It was a beautiful day and she had absolutely nowhere to be, no obligations to fulfill, and she felt particularly proud of her own liberated status. Back home, she would have been locked in a stuffy room with a dozen advisors and her clinically moronic father, discussing the failing economy and the abominable state of the tourist attraction koi ponds and blah, blah, blah. Wandering around, waiting for someone to come across her and present an easy target, now that was the true path to happiness. Her happiness, of course; everyone else could filch their own when they stopped being dumbtarded and realized that no one was about to offer something like that up to them on a silver platter. (She would have stolen the platter if anyone had even tried and just left the abstract to languish on the ground. Her ethics wouldn't have allowed for anything else.)
The young materia bandit found herself beneath a tree, immediately flopping over into a graceless heap of black tails and overconfidence. She rubbed her sweaty fur on the bark before settling down into a patch of grass and roots, the cool touch of the blades heavenly after so much direct sunlight. The Kisaragi heir stared thoughtfully at the clouds through the branches, blowing the ends of her headband out of her eyes and nearly choking on one of the tails when the material found its way into her mouth and down her throat. Bah. She was going to cut the damn things off at this rate, sacrifice the look for her own safety – they were stupid-long anyway, falling farther than her hair. She'd kept her style suitably short so that no one could grab her by it and reveal the vulnerable space beneath her chin. That foresight did not work half so well when the extensions presented a simple substitute. And, really, if she was about to have her throat slit or bit or what-the-hell-ever method of their choosing, it was going to be because the other guy was way sneakier than her, not because she was trying to make a fashion statement
She stopped pondering asphyxiation and exsanguination long enough to notice one of the clouds looked a little like a fluffy bunny hopping across the blue yonder, and then left it at that.
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Posted: Tue Sep 04, 2007 6:15 pm
 Kadaj was sulking. This, however, was not unusual for him these days, and it was a habit that he seemed to partake in with some sort of twisted pleasure. He had very little left to him, he felt, save to feel sorry for himself and the wretched lot that life had bestowed upon him.
It all revolved around the fact that he had nothing left to him. Well...in comparison. His brothers had abandoned him...Loz was rarely seen, and had a family of his own, Yazoo had...seemed to vanish entirely, without a word, leaving his younger brother to his own designs, and that betrayal had hurt the worst. Mother hated him too, ever since that incident with Dante, and Dante himself was a come and go sort of friend, only passing through every once ina while to offer comfort. The slight kitsusagi could possibly have imposed upon the silver-haired demon hunter, but well...to disturb the harmony of that particular household was dangerous, and Kadaj was aware of the contempt in which he was held by Dante's twin.
All in all it seemed more satisfying to wallow in his own little puddle of angst.
He was plodding down that same path that the ninja had taken moments before, head hung and tails drooping, entire posture one of complete and utter dejection. With only the melancholy squeak of leather as he moved, there wasn't much to mark his passing, and Kadaj was not alert now, not paying the slightest heed to what was on his right or his left, in fact, he would probably pass the Wutaian female without so much as a glance to acknowledge that she existed.
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Posted: Sun Sep 09, 2007 4:17 pm
If there had been a benevolent god in the heavens that particular day, such a deity might have seen it fit to distract Yuffie for as long as it took the gloomy kitsusagi to pass her by. As it turned out (at least in the petite mugger's mind) Da Chao apparently had a bit of a mean streak aimed at anyone who wasn't Wutaian, and therefore at all those people who had failed to leave him rice ball snacks and ritual candies on celebration days. And so it would later be said that the sweet-greedy divinity was the one to blame when the thief rolled over with a bored yawn, deciding that cloud watching was obviously a pastime intended for those who had nothing more interesting to occupy themselves with. She spotted the jacket first, the silver-hair second, and for a moment she thought it was her beloved punching bag caught out in daylight like some powerless vampire who'd wandered too far from his cobwebby crypt. But this form was more slender, almost feminine and most definitely Not Riku even with the addition of a slumping melancholy to further the misidentification.
She was disappointed for a decimal of a second before her pot-metal grey eyes glittered with a coy gleam and she quietly rose from her sprawl to take to the dappled shadows in the boughs of her selected tree. The ninja followed her target with nary a noise while impish glee hugged her heart tight and proceeded to try some ludicrous stomping-dance of anticipation in her chest cavity. In all honesty, she wasn't certain what she was doing or why, only that it absolutely, positively needed to be accomplished, and that she was quite obviously the only woman for the job. Yup, that's me, Yuffie the Martyr, Yuffie the Giver... Yuffie Who's About to Have a Rad, Albeit Preowned, Trench Coat.
She was silent, and fast, two things that her senile old man wouldn't have credited to her even as she positioned herself just above the moping male and waited until the opportune moment. When some unmarked boundary was reached, she leapt...
And came down on him hard enough to bruise, if not break, springing quickly away and arriving at less than elegant footing before recovering all four of her paws. Once she was up, she was ready, prepared to beat him senseless to make him pay more attention to the world around him. And steal his leather jacket, of course (along with the satiny knickers he was bound to be wearing) just to drive the point way, way home.
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