A lock of dark hair framing a round, pinkish cheek came into view. An intense gaze, the sort that ran nails over one's back, crept into the room before her. She had come around again, to loiter and eat. This was not so uncommon when Chachanji was generally alone, or more recently, training, but for this particular guest to arrive during the day was an irregularity. She wouldn't announce her presence. Perhaps it was simply her training, but despite her controlled stepping and breathing, Virara seemed to almost assume anyone else could, or should, be able to notice her as easily as she herself might. In her ignorance she had begun to wonder why so many people shouted in dismay as a prelude to greeting. First peeking from the bottom of the window, not difficult for her to do given her height, then sneaking a furtive glance around the doorframe, as if trespassing, she might never arrive without reason, but the overall impression Virara gave was nothing less than a stray cat looking to make off with a pilfered meal.Â
Virara, after all, swore her entire day over to continuous training in order to triturate all complacency to nothing. Frivolities such as play or excessive rest never came easily to the intense girl. Other people too were counted among frivolities. Her memory was finely tuned; Master saw to that with the switch, but the names of others weren't to be valued. She could not forget them, so she instead endeavored not to use them. If she didn't use them, with time they would surely fade away into the world of the -vulgar.- "Chagenji" was an exception, a compromise. She very rarely compromised.
Her round, placid face peered about the door frame in silence to watch his work. Much the same as always, with pure focus, honed efficiency, intense diligence. She had needed to be instructed in the most vicious of ways to even begin to grasp the essence of the dutiful student. The ability to learn was never as much a challenge as creating the will to do so. Replacing empty space with fullness was as much natural fact to her mind as it was to the world around her.Â
Virara blinked twice, shifting her gaze to the much taller woman at Chachanji's side, lingering there for a moment. A doll's eye in red that seemed crafted from glass, granting nothing but more questions, and questioning in equal degree. Virara's was not the sort of stare most wanted to endure for any longer than absolutely necessary, even when she clearly bore no hostility. She seemed to have followed Jana's morose tail to the forge, but the sight of the assortment of characters within seemed to uncoil her spring, and her half-face seemed to retract slowly from view. Hesitantly, though. It was difficult to keep her greedy eye off Chachanji's blacksmithing. Still, she seemed ready to retreat. Words were an enemy she needed preparation to overcome.
Virara, after all, swore her entire day over to continuous training in order to triturate all complacency to nothing. Frivolities such as play or excessive rest never came easily to the intense girl. Other people too were counted among frivolities. Her memory was finely tuned; Master saw to that with the switch, but the names of others weren't to be valued. She could not forget them, so she instead endeavored not to use them. If she didn't use them, with time they would surely fade away into the world of the -vulgar.- "Chagenji" was an exception, a compromise. She very rarely compromised.
Her round, placid face peered about the door frame in silence to watch his work. Much the same as always, with pure focus, honed efficiency, intense diligence. She had needed to be instructed in the most vicious of ways to even begin to grasp the essence of the dutiful student. The ability to learn was never as much a challenge as creating the will to do so. Replacing empty space with fullness was as much natural fact to her mind as it was to the world around her.Â
Virara blinked twice, shifting her gaze to the much taller woman at Chachanji's side, lingering there for a moment. A doll's eye in red that seemed crafted from glass, granting nothing but more questions, and questioning in equal degree. Virara's was not the sort of stare most wanted to endure for any longer than absolutely necessary, even when she clearly bore no hostility. She seemed to have followed Jana's morose tail to the forge, but the sight of the assortment of characters within seemed to uncoil her spring, and her half-face seemed to retract slowly from view. Hesitantly, though. It was difficult to keep her greedy eye off Chachanji's blacksmithing. Still, she seemed ready to retreat. Words were an enemy she needed preparation to overcome.
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AV by Kura-Ou
Wiki (Last updated 01/16)
My Balmung profile.
AV by Kura-Ou
Wiki (Last updated 01/16)
My Balmung profile.
