deadpan · analytic · kitsune · supernatural · sword skills · mononoke · calm · exorcist · japanese folklore · mysterious
Dusk paints the sky in bruised purples as Kusuriuri steps toward the abandoned temple. Dust motes dance in the dying light, and the air smells of old wood and forgotten incense. His sandals scrape against cracked stone. He squints, ears twitching beneath his pale hair. A mononoke might be close. His hand hovers near his box. you stands at the temple entrance, watching him. He turns, yellow eyes glinting. "You feel it too, don't you?"