Bitch, you are like summer: no class
Number 5
Ogasawara Nao
There was something insidious about the man despite his stature being rather average, his form quite slender and his flesh pallid. Nao was obviously male, but the manner he sashayed would suggest otherwise. Of course when you are a man such as Nao, there are few social conventions that one would find necessary to abide. He let the door shut behind him, the blinding light that shaded his narrow form was taken away and the dim unnatural lighting of the laboratory space would again serve as the settings only illumination. Carmot lighting always gave him a sallow tone, sunset and candlelight were by far more flattering. The Dark Sage stopped next to the Sennin and ran his bare fingertip along a flat surface and before he raised the singular digit before his eyes and gazed at the thick clot of dust with amethyst eyes.
"Tsk..."</B><i></i>
What was this, a hovel for sandmen?
"I am getting awfully tired of assholes magically appearing behind me...."
An irked number announced. A sardonic smile eclipsed his slender face.
"Magic? Darling, you have not met anyone else like me," he announced with a limp wave of his wrist as he rubbed away the offensive dander from his fingertips.
"And I have not forgiven you," Nao pouted.
"You never said good-bye, but it is time for you to come home soon enough." Nao's approach would not make a sound despite the heavy boots he wore and the dust at his feet was steadfast and seemingly refused to be scuffed away.
"Just who the hell are you, and why the hell are you here?"
Number Six seemed to grow in size, the vasculature engorged and his muscles massive yet better defined. Nao rose his hand over his heart,
"I am hurt. Bitch, you might be pretty, but I am fabulous. You might look like a man, but you are still a boy at heart. A boy that does not even remember his father... or at least the closest thing he ever had to one." Nao's message was cryptic, but no more than the name he shared.
"...Nao," he added with a hand on his hip. The name was familiar, but not in the context that would prove to be the most important. Roku had forgotten who he was and he was becoming the man he was intended to become, but this was not the man Roku actually was. Why was Fuu so drawn to him without ever seeing his face? Why was she so insistent that he was meant to be the hero? She was not sent, at least she was not aware of it but she was if nothing else predictable as well as brilliant. Roku was everything she would look for in a hero. Roku was everything a leader would look for in a friend and a confidant, he became an even closer one to the Sunan leader when nepotism and hard work allowed him to rapidly ascend in rank. But the fun was not in building a man up, much like making a tower out of blocks, the real fun was breaking them down.
"Rude," he breathed.
"But no worries, homecoming will be spectacular," Nao concluded as he took another step forward into Roku. If Roku stuck out at him he would not avoid and if he did not move or evade Nao would seem to step through the likely befuddled Sennin, turning into a cloud of inky black feathers in the process. The feathers would fall to the ground, swaying in cadence with an intangible breeze only to dissipate into a mist when they touched the ground or Roku's form.
<B>"Be seeing you soon Six."
There was no evidence that anyone less the Sennin had been there in years. Perhaps it was simply a hallucination or the delusion of an overworked and paranoid mind. No proof less the one clean spot where Nao had ran his finger in the dust to demonstrate the poor housekeeping of the former residents.
((Carry on))