Night 58: Kitchen (Second Floor)

[princeofthemoon.livejournal.com]

[ from here ]

At first glance, there seemed little different in this room than there had been in the last one, especially in the dim light cast through the open door, and Sesshoumaru nearly growled in frustration. He felt weak, he felt drained, and if had all been for nothing once again....

But, he saw a moment later, this room was different. It remained to be seen if there was anything useful in the drawers and cupboards that lined the surfaces, but perhaps. After all, the area still smelled of the food that had apparently been prepared here - when he focused the light headache he was beginning to carry began to intensify, but he could nonetheless smell raw ingredients that had been used here - meat, eggs, spices.

Perhaps there would be something useful here after all.

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[princeofthemoon.livejournal.com]

His eyes narrowed a little at the beam of light, but he didn't attempt to shield them or turn away. He seemed almost more like a statue than a man, only the smallest movements showing that he was still alive.

"I have no more idea who trained you than you have," he said. "Only that it has been done, and you have been taught well.

"You said you knew nothing of your past. It seemed prudent to discover at least this much."

[ultimagi]

Her left hand tilted, the beam of light sliding from his face; the girl wasn't sure what to make of that explanation -- wasn't sure what to make of him at all. She frowned, glancing once toward the knife. It wasn't near enough blood for heavy droplets to roll off blade, but a thin stain still marred its edge.

Even though he hadn't managed to hit her, and she was the one who caused injury to him, she was the one more unsettled by the affair. For a long moment, she had nothing to say.

"... There's two doors on the back wall. Should we split up to check them out?"

Well, she wasn't going to thank him, and certainly not apologize.

[princeofthemoon.livejournal.com]

He expected neither and so was not disappointed. His eyes left her face for the first time since he had lept from her, as he looked over to the doors she mentioned, seemingly as casually uninterested in them as he had been in being cut.

"If you prefer," he said, voice still almost bored. Then he looked back over at her, raising an eyebrow. Which door would she prefer?

[ultimagi]

She shrugged her shoulder. What did it matter? They didn't know what was behind either. They could each simply take which door was closer.

[princeofthemoon.livejournal.com]

Sesshoumaru nodded, a very small gesture, and then walked forwards again. His stance seemed as casual as ever, for all that he was focusing on her very intently now, with all his senses trained on her. He could hear her breath and heartbeat and the small sounds that her shoes made on the wet floor as she moved, he could smell her uncertainty, and as she stood uncertainly in the light of the flashlight he was holding, he'd be able to see if she moved too quickly. He had no intention of being cut again.

He picked up his flashlight when he came back to the drawer and slid it away, then carefully reached into the drawer again. When his hand came back out he was holding a paring knife by its short blade. His eyes flicked over to his companion as he held it out for her. After waiting for her to take it he reached in for the final knife. After a moment of thoughtful silence he slid this under his belt, as he might carry a sword. The handle and a belt loop caught it, keeping it as secure as was likely possible at the moment, and then moved for the closest door.

[ to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1169506.html) ]

[ultimagi]

She was not at all sure what to make of 'this Sesshoumaru,' but it seemed what little fight had bubbled between them had disintegrated into nothing. She was wary when he approached once more, but the girl did not step back for fear; nor did she lash out. She watched as he took the light, and then a second knife -- for her, she realized, shifting her inventory of hand to take the small thing by its handle. A third knife went with him, the blade longer than either of hers, but it was more uniform in width, and possessed a jagged lower edge. All the blades were single-edged; she knew that none were really all that suited for stabbing or combat.

They'd do.

The smaller knife went carefully into a slim pocket, for it was much too small, narrow, and unevenly balanced to tuck into her belt. She should have kept her beret, she thought now; she could have cut into it with the knife and slipped that firmly onto her belt, and use that to carry such small items as this. Lesson learned.

She waited for her companion to disappear through his own door before moving to hers, reaching for the handle with the knife still in her grip. The handle of the weapon was narrow, and braced on her thumb she could easily manage something as simple as a door.

The girl crossed the threshold.

[to here]