Oba Kinnaku, dressed in her normal fashion, wearing a peach blouse that created a modest 'v' upon her chest. She wore a pencil skirt with a slight on the right thigh, designed to give more flexibility, and styling her shinobi high heels. Oh, and her crimped hair style. Classic.
Body gently pressed against the spine of her notably comfortable black leather chair, the Sennin folded her arms and gave the oval office and gentle expression. She was still growing accustomed to having such a decorative work space, and she hadn't even began to think about the responsibilities that came along with her title - well, not in depth. But someone was not well with Kinnaku, there was something massaged deep into her membrane that seemed to show itself so subtly within her smile; something that seemed diluted ever so slightly.
Her arms unfolded and one hand reached towards an opened letter, the seal broken, and the letter uncomfortably resting half inside of the envelope. What did the contents of the letter contain? We wouldn't know, but whatever it was, the text unsettled the woman greatly.
Kinnaku would have already been motioned to hire some form of protection, an official member of the corps to look out for her. She understood that the title of Sennin carried with it certain risks, one being enemies and those who wish to take the title unjustly. This didn't unsettle the woman as much as it should have but that letter, that was another story, and after reading it - her mind swayed over to requesting protection. Kinnaku would be given a certain amount of shinobi profiles or rather just certain levels of information that would allow one to be a candidate for becoming a bodyguard.
None of them cut the bill, none.
Oba would lean forward, pressing her fingers through her hair and sighing lightly. She would move the letter into her dark oak drawer, the metal handles crafted perfectly to allow her hands to sit perfectly. Attention to detail that didn't go unnoticed with each pull of the trusty drawer. Anyway, enough of that. The Sennin would re-address the profiles, shifting her gaze through their experience and records, and a small biography; obviously being case-sensitive and not giving away any sensitive information. Kinnaku had already sent out some letters requesting the attendance of some representatives from well-known family houses. The first letter that she sent was address to the Toraono family, a power-house of strong shinobi, requesting a representative for candidacy.
Hopefully someone would arrive, the Sennin was going somewhat wary. She didn't care about past mistakes, she only needed a friend with a strong heart and a noble cause to look out for her. After all, the relationship between Sennin and bodyguard was not one way - it was a friendship, or at least, it should be a friendship.
Body gently pressed against the spine of her notably comfortable black leather chair, the Sennin folded her arms and gave the oval office and gentle expression. She was still growing accustomed to having such a decorative work space, and she hadn't even began to think about the responsibilities that came along with her title - well, not in depth. But someone was not well with Kinnaku, there was something massaged deep into her membrane that seemed to show itself so subtly within her smile; something that seemed diluted ever so slightly.
Her arms unfolded and one hand reached towards an opened letter, the seal broken, and the letter uncomfortably resting half inside of the envelope. What did the contents of the letter contain? We wouldn't know, but whatever it was, the text unsettled the woman greatly.
Kinnaku would have already been motioned to hire some form of protection, an official member of the corps to look out for her. She understood that the title of Sennin carried with it certain risks, one being enemies and those who wish to take the title unjustly. This didn't unsettle the woman as much as it should have but that letter, that was another story, and after reading it - her mind swayed over to requesting protection. Kinnaku would be given a certain amount of shinobi profiles or rather just certain levels of information that would allow one to be a candidate for becoming a bodyguard.
None of them cut the bill, none.
Oba would lean forward, pressing her fingers through her hair and sighing lightly. She would move the letter into her dark oak drawer, the metal handles crafted perfectly to allow her hands to sit perfectly. Attention to detail that didn't go unnoticed with each pull of the trusty drawer. Anyway, enough of that. The Sennin would re-address the profiles, shifting her gaze through their experience and records, and a small biography; obviously being case-sensitive and not giving away any sensitive information. Kinnaku had already sent out some letters requesting the attendance of some representatives from well-known family houses. The first letter that she sent was address to the Toraono family, a power-house of strong shinobi, requesting a representative for candidacy.
Hopefully someone would arrive, the Sennin was going somewhat wary. She didn't care about past mistakes, she only needed a friend with a strong heart and a noble cause to look out for her. After all, the relationship between Sennin and bodyguard was not one way - it was a friendship, or at least, it should be a friendship.