Post by EriChar on May 11, 2012 8:26:36 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:400px; border-radius:20px 20px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 20px 20px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 20px 20px 0px 0px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/S9CXo.jpg);] [/style][style=font-family:times new roman; font-size: 27px; color: #7f7f7f; letter-spacing: 5px; margin-top: 15px; margin-left: 3px;] The Cook: Envied There are sayings in various parts of the world; in the east, a phrase originated from a young man who was both passionate and wise beyond his years regarding love, and how it was as wild and powerful as a hurricane, but this is not the saying we should currently be focusing on, no, the expression which should be our focus for the moment should probably be ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’. When something or someone is missing, the absence it causes will often increase the desire that one holds for it, perhaps even to the degree that the item or person if once hated, will now become loved. Perhaps even two people who, at one point, disliked one another to the point of loathing may, with the passage of enough time, come to regard one another very dearly. The relationship between the green-haired swordsman and the blonde and bearded cook had the potential to develop into a strong friendship; similarities that, before their separation two years previously, neither of them was comfortable enough to acknowledge. If they united, with their ability and potential, there was nothing that would be beyond them; no foe that couldn’t be defeated, no goal that couldn’t be achieved, nothing would have stood in their way. However, the fickle face of passing time held no assurances; there was no guaranteed fate for a pair, even if a preferred one held such potential. Following the witticism of the cook’s associate, with whom he had only recently reunited, the now bared teeth of Sanji can tell us one thing; whatever amount of absence that was needed to make him grow fonder feelings towards the moss-ball headed Cyclops had yet to passed by him. A thick, cross-like vein began to throb in the suited gentlemen’s temple, and in the lone eye that was seen through his parted hair, a fire of pure hatred burned as he looked at his crewmate. Easy, easy… No need to ruin this idyllic scene with Robin-chwan which for so long I have longed for… Ready to launch into an attack and finish off this constant thorn in his side once and for all, the tremendously skilled chef forced himself to calm down a little bit, deciding that since he was plainly the wiser and more chivalrous soul, it would be better for him to sting Zoro with a well-aimed retort rather than a firm boot to the man’s ugly mug. “Hooo? The Marimo is envious of my manly beard?” The romantic and gentlemanly Sanji smirked a little, stroking the developed goatee at his chin, before the cook pulled cigarette from his mouth and blowing a fountain of white air above himself. “I suppose it can’t be helped, when he shows up here having developed a taste for women’s clothing…” Giving a slight chuckle at the end, Sanji looked at the green gown that Zoro was now wearing, and felt himself amused at the thought of how much the garment resembled a dress. Of course, this was perhaps a dangerous area of conversation for Sanji to get into, since he himself had been briefly forced into cross-dressing two hellishly long years ago. Of course, this was something that the others didn’t know, and they also didn’t ever need to know; such occurrences were better left to be forgotten, to be lost in the annals of history. Turning his attention away from the Marimo, since any time spent on such a meat headed moron would be wasted, Sanji decided that it was a much more divine design to enjoy his long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long-awaited reunion with his dearest darling Robin. It was a deep disappointment for the cook that the pair of them had to be joined by a ‘third wheel’ like the moss-headed and mentally deficient now mono-vision using muscle freak that was Roronoa Zoro, but it was also a blessing that ‘Black Leg’ had met her so soon after returning to this island. Having ditched the freaky companions he had arrived with, the blonde chef had sought out contact with any sort of ‘real’ woman, and someone certainly had smiled upon him when the delicate, developed and frankly deific beauty that was his beloved ‘Robin-chwan’ had been pushed so quickly into his life. Two years of suffering in a hellish landscape of weirdoes seeking to strip away after aspect of himself; sometimes all that had pulled ‘Black Leg’ Sanji through such hardship was the thought of him being able to again gaze upon the beauty of both Robin-chwan and Nami-swan once more, and the hope that this time, finally, he could do more than look. With his cheeks reddened, the cook’s face had by now contorted into an almost obscene disfigurement of a goofy grin, flared nostrils and lust-filled eyes. The merest thought of doing things beyond looking had been enough of a trigger to send Sanji into reverie, sinfully sensuous symbolism sucking the chefs senses away for a moment, before the sensation of wetness on his face startled him back into the moment. “What the?” The cook touched his top lip to find that a dribble of redness had seeped down from his nostrils, and the scent of an inward breath reminded him of the taste of pennies. Blood again? Sanji recalled that only moments before, for no real reason, he had developed a slight nosebleed, but that had seemed to cease during his debate with the stupid-swordsman, so why was it spurting to life again? One of those kuso-okama must’ve done some lasting damage… Most of the blonde’s hellish two years had been spent battling people with unusual tendencies, and despite their apparent disregard for social norms, some of them could pack quite a punch. In his battles, he had taken more than a few heavy knocks, and whilst he was too tough to acknowledge it, some of them had hurt him a fair bit. I’ll need to get Chopper to take a look at it… Unlike the useless idiot that for some reason their captain had taken on to… Sleep or something, the cook had a great deal of respect for the usefulness of their doctor. Not only was he, usually, one of the more intelligent and adept members, it never hurt to have a little bit of extra meat prepared for hard times. Quietly, the cook gave a small smile and recalled his first meeting with the somewhat shy saw-bones, and found himself curious as to how the young reindeer had matured over the two years in which they had been parted. While he had already seen the swordsman had somehow got dumber, and Robin-chwan had gotten prettier, the cook found that he held an inward inquisitiveness as to how the rest his unmet family had gotten on in the time that had passed. Though he would probably never acknowledge it, he looked forward to their first rowdy meal where they could all catch up, and taste the impressive new levels of cooking he had developed. With his absent minded thoughts, be them hopeful or sinful, Sanji had covered quite a distance with his companions, and when he brought his focus back to his surroundings he found that there was now a gathering of people in front of him. It was then that he saw the second beacon of light that had drawn the chef to this reunion; amongst a gathering of people was the sight of a head of silky, auburn hair! Without a second’s hesitation, the man occasionally referred to as ‘the curly cook’ spiralled out of reason or control, spinning like a top towards the mikan-coloured locks with his arms thrust into the air. ”NAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-SWAAAAAAAAAANNN!!!!” The composure of the tough, trash talking chef, which had been slipping during his earlier imaginings about Robin, was completely lost the instant he locked his eyes onto that familiar, vibrant, shoulder length orange hair. Finally, I am reunited with them both! It was surely a glorious day for the cook, being finally brought back together with the pair which he had spent so long yearning for, it almost almost made those two years of soul destroying hell worthwhile to see the beauties that had developed and waited for him. ”Your beloved knight has retur-” Sanji’s speech was stopped mid-sentence, as was his twirling hurricane of love, when the chef finally rounded the crowd and laid his eyes upon the person he had been lustfully gravitating towards. In an instant, the keen eye of the cook took in the appearance of the woman in front of him. Orange hair; certainly. Short skirt; of course. Pinwheel and mikan tattoo; plainly obvious. But there was something off about the Nami in front of him, there was something wrong. Very wrong. W-who is this?! Black Leg Sanji fell to his knees, and then forwards onto his hands, facing the dirt as it was made wet by tears of anguish. ”When will my torment end?” [style=float:right; margin:10px; border-top-left-radius:5px; background-image:url(http://i1176.photobucket.com/albums/x331/tuxedochar/Sanji/Sanji_sob.png); height:100px; width:100px;] [/style] The Cook: Despairing |