[the face that greets him is a handsome but seemingly young one, if it weren't for those too-alert bright green eyes and the scowl that seems permanently etched into the hard granite of his expression, attesting to years of distrust and sternness he has no recollection of, just like every other Haibane here -- just like this neophyte still sleeping away in a borrowed mattress]
[the samurai's own wings are already sprouting proudly from the juts of bone in his back, each scapula a nest for ashen downs, and his halo hangs at a ridiculous crook above his head that slants heavily towards his left eye and threatens his vision with each bounce of footfalls]
[a path that takes him to the bedside, gaze drifting to where fingers search his own person]
[(a weapon, he knows -- why does he know that?)]
You won't believe me if I tell you.
[it's less of a snap-judgment and more about pure experience; who the hell would? "congratulations, you're dead but you're not gone"? is that comfort or just torture? even he hasn't decided]
[there's a length of dirty, sturdy rope in a clenched fist, and its presence seems almost as ominous as his words:]
a
[the samurai's own wings are already sprouting proudly from the juts of bone in his back, each scapula a nest for ashen downs, and his halo hangs at a ridiculous crook above his head that slants heavily towards his left eye and threatens his vision with each bounce of footfalls]
[a path that takes him to the bedside, gaze drifting to where fingers search his own person]
[(a weapon, he knows -- why does he know that?)]
You won't believe me if I tell you.
[it's less of a snap-judgment and more about pure experience; who the hell would? "congratulations, you're dead but you're not gone"? is that comfort or just torture? even he hasn't decided]
[there's a length of dirty, sturdy rope in a clenched fist, and its presence seems almost as ominous as his words:]
You'll just have to experience it.