Post by theunabashed on Sept 21, 2015 14:10:48 GMT -5
Blues as brilliant as the seas filled the tropical island's sky. The light periwinkle that spread across the sky might have been lesser than its land-based siblings, but it was still gorgeous nonetheless. A day worth celebrating, with no cloud yet visible in the skies. The grays and whites that should have tainted such a beautiful day and provided shade from the harshness of the Sun's rays were nowhere to be seen. For miles, there was nothing but open sky, and warm breezes that tickled the citizen's faces as they went about their daily business.
An odd land, for most who lived and enjoyed peaceful society, Yetse was well-known for its inhabitants strange customs. These included swordsmen training for all. Man, woman, adult, child, all were versed in the arts of swordplay, and enjoyed the speedy methods of fencing best. Swords of various lengths and in various numbers, remained at the hip of each citizen's wondrous clothing. Ruffled collars and pure white shirts, untainted by dirt and grime, were adorned by the men, and women's sleeves were adorned with such. The men furthered emphasized their island's wealth through the wearing of adorned waistcoats. Nothing but the highest of fashions for this island.
Something about this entire place was picturesque, despite its oddities, and the strange appearances of its citizens. A land at peace, where swordplay was used not for war but for peace. An art, a demonstration. There were swordplay dojos surrounding the vicinity, and each one of them rang heavily with the heavy thuds of wooden practice blades thwacking against each other. Even the clustered buildings were like a work of art! Mixing business with home was like a taboo artist's technique used in order to draw attention to the strangeness of the landscape.
Ah. Perhaps contrast was the way to describe such a town. Though its sights were gorgeous, there was another aspect to it entirely. Those dull thwacks. The duels of fencers in the streets were gorgeous, artistic, yet rang with the hard clang of blades. The sights did not match the strange sounds that filled this place. The gorgeous array of buildings was accompanied by the heavy clangs and smoke-billowing chimneys of the blacksmiths who were the nation's pride, even more than their swordplay. Hammers rang out in the heavy, high-pitched tones of valkyries heading off into battle. The smiths were hard at work today, as they were any day. The hard, powerful sounds seemed so different than the gentle feel of a warm Summer's breeze outside of the buildings. The scent of burning and metal was so out of place, compared to the gorgeous, unstained clothes that the citizens wore. A city of oddities, the likes of which littered this strange and beautiful world of theirs.
And yet, most oddly-placed, were the scent and sound of... A single person?
On the southern harbor, a single individual lay on his chest. His short-cut hair was a deep, chocolate brown in color, and blended in well with his skin. The slight tan of his skin was that of a worker's tan. Dark and slightly browned in places, though with displaced areas of light coloring around where his sleeves would have been. His body was toned and relatively average. His hair was damp and hung on his head, blocking his eyes from view. He was handsome-enough, moreso than the average man, and had immediately drawn attention when he'd stepped off of the boat. He was strong-bodied and capable, and he seemed to have a face that could be relied on, even if young. Now, the people around him staring with a mixture of awe, confusion, and disdain.
You see, this man, while dressed in traditional marine garb, had gotten off of the ship that he'd taken to arrive at Yetse, and stepped out onto the harbor, drenched in a stench of sweat that had filled the docks as he'd stepped off. A bag had been slipped over his back, and people had seen that his eyelids had started to droop, and he'd seemed oddly energized, despite the stench that hung over him. As he finally reached the dock, he immediately had fallen over, hunched onto the ground and left unmoving for what felt like minutes. And then, his palms, clad in black gloves, smacked into the wood of the dock. The resounding thud had filled the harbor with noise, and the young man started... To do push-ups. Knuckles bared against the wood and dug firmly into the strong wood that made up this portion of the harbor, away from the stone steps not that far in distance, and the man's chest lowered and raised, as if to some unseen rhythm. The youth had not even bothered to look up to greet the person who had requested his presence. This burly man, with hairy body and stout musculature, stared down, along with the rest of the people at the docks who were preoccupied by this man, with untold confusion. Was... Was he delirious?
Despite knowing he was being watched, Salazar muttered under his breath in a voice so quiet it was as if it were only in his head. "One. Two. Three." Each time he lowered himself, he raised himself up, using his chest muscles and burdening them further and further, pushing his body to the limit that he could manage. Beneath that sweat-stained Marine uniform beat a heart that would never stop. A strong body laced with muscle that had been earned, not gifted at birth like most. His body was artwork that he sought to own and perfect to the best of his ability. If that meant dropping off of the boat and doing push-up in perfect form. His muscles ached from the last set of two-hundred he'd done, and they protested vehemently against doing another set of two-hundred, especially when they were supposed to be doing jobs in order to get promoted. His heart halted all such protests from reaching his brain, yelling at his muscles and kicking oxygen into their asses harder than busoshoku haki smashed into regular Fishmen. His brain burnt with anticipation to do good by others, and his eyes shone like sapphires that were deeper and more focused than the light that shone through diamonds His gaze was intent and straightforward, as he waited for the person who was meant to be his superior, to arrive and give him the all-clear. Until then, he had two-hundred push-ups, four-hundred sit-ups, and three-hundred side-jumps to accomplish, to keep his body at its physical peak.
Yes. Perhaps, in this place of contradictory sound and sight, the only thing that was straightforward and direct in view and artistic quality, was this young marine, working out, while the burly, apron-clad man, with bald head, spoke to him about ceasing his inane activities, and heading into his workshop, so that they could talk about the mission that Salazar had been assigned on.
An odd land, for most who lived and enjoyed peaceful society, Yetse was well-known for its inhabitants strange customs. These included swordsmen training for all. Man, woman, adult, child, all were versed in the arts of swordplay, and enjoyed the speedy methods of fencing best. Swords of various lengths and in various numbers, remained at the hip of each citizen's wondrous clothing. Ruffled collars and pure white shirts, untainted by dirt and grime, were adorned by the men, and women's sleeves were adorned with such. The men furthered emphasized their island's wealth through the wearing of adorned waistcoats. Nothing but the highest of fashions for this island.
Something about this entire place was picturesque, despite its oddities, and the strange appearances of its citizens. A land at peace, where swordplay was used not for war but for peace. An art, a demonstration. There were swordplay dojos surrounding the vicinity, and each one of them rang heavily with the heavy thuds of wooden practice blades thwacking against each other. Even the clustered buildings were like a work of art! Mixing business with home was like a taboo artist's technique used in order to draw attention to the strangeness of the landscape.
Ah. Perhaps contrast was the way to describe such a town. Though its sights were gorgeous, there was another aspect to it entirely. Those dull thwacks. The duels of fencers in the streets were gorgeous, artistic, yet rang with the hard clang of blades. The sights did not match the strange sounds that filled this place. The gorgeous array of buildings was accompanied by the heavy clangs and smoke-billowing chimneys of the blacksmiths who were the nation's pride, even more than their swordplay. Hammers rang out in the heavy, high-pitched tones of valkyries heading off into battle. The smiths were hard at work today, as they were any day. The hard, powerful sounds seemed so different than the gentle feel of a warm Summer's breeze outside of the buildings. The scent of burning and metal was so out of place, compared to the gorgeous, unstained clothes that the citizens wore. A city of oddities, the likes of which littered this strange and beautiful world of theirs.
And yet, most oddly-placed, were the scent and sound of... A single person?
On the southern harbor, a single individual lay on his chest. His short-cut hair was a deep, chocolate brown in color, and blended in well with his skin. The slight tan of his skin was that of a worker's tan. Dark and slightly browned in places, though with displaced areas of light coloring around where his sleeves would have been. His body was toned and relatively average. His hair was damp and hung on his head, blocking his eyes from view. He was handsome-enough, moreso than the average man, and had immediately drawn attention when he'd stepped off of the boat. He was strong-bodied and capable, and he seemed to have a face that could be relied on, even if young. Now, the people around him staring with a mixture of awe, confusion, and disdain.
You see, this man, while dressed in traditional marine garb, had gotten off of the ship that he'd taken to arrive at Yetse, and stepped out onto the harbor, drenched in a stench of sweat that had filled the docks as he'd stepped off. A bag had been slipped over his back, and people had seen that his eyelids had started to droop, and he'd seemed oddly energized, despite the stench that hung over him. As he finally reached the dock, he immediately had fallen over, hunched onto the ground and left unmoving for what felt like minutes. And then, his palms, clad in black gloves, smacked into the wood of the dock. The resounding thud had filled the harbor with noise, and the young man started... To do push-ups. Knuckles bared against the wood and dug firmly into the strong wood that made up this portion of the harbor, away from the stone steps not that far in distance, and the man's chest lowered and raised, as if to some unseen rhythm. The youth had not even bothered to look up to greet the person who had requested his presence. This burly man, with hairy body and stout musculature, stared down, along with the rest of the people at the docks who were preoccupied by this man, with untold confusion. Was... Was he delirious?
Despite knowing he was being watched, Salazar muttered under his breath in a voice so quiet it was as if it were only in his head. "One. Two. Three." Each time he lowered himself, he raised himself up, using his chest muscles and burdening them further and further, pushing his body to the limit that he could manage. Beneath that sweat-stained Marine uniform beat a heart that would never stop. A strong body laced with muscle that had been earned, not gifted at birth like most. His body was artwork that he sought to own and perfect to the best of his ability. If that meant dropping off of the boat and doing push-up in perfect form. His muscles ached from the last set of two-hundred he'd done, and they protested vehemently against doing another set of two-hundred, especially when they were supposed to be doing jobs in order to get promoted. His heart halted all such protests from reaching his brain, yelling at his muscles and kicking oxygen into their asses harder than busoshoku haki smashed into regular Fishmen. His brain burnt with anticipation to do good by others, and his eyes shone like sapphires that were deeper and more focused than the light that shone through diamonds His gaze was intent and straightforward, as he waited for the person who was meant to be his superior, to arrive and give him the all-clear. Until then, he had two-hundred push-ups, four-hundred sit-ups, and three-hundred side-jumps to accomplish, to keep his body at its physical peak.
Yes. Perhaps, in this place of contradictory sound and sight, the only thing that was straightforward and direct in view and artistic quality, was this young marine, working out, while the burly, apron-clad man, with bald head, spoke to him about ceasing his inane activities, and heading into his workshop, so that they could talk about the mission that Salazar had been assigned on.
