[The streets of Leith are quiet and cold. Smog lingers enough to tinge everything grey, even the sunset obfuscated by plumes of black in the sky. Ash has stopped its steady descent, but an occasional breeze - the sort that ordinarily rustles leaves and blows sun into shade with comfortable warmth - still scatters soot from the rooftops.
It speckles his hair, stark against the black, as Hijikata walks down the street.
He'd come to check on the family he'd left behind - but it's not so easy as walking in the front door. Listening to the talk of the town is a better option. Or it would be, if anyone was talking. An eerie silence pervades the darkening evening, bars still occupied and people still milling about, but their voices hushed.
Until a shout cuts through it all. The words are so familiar Hijikata completes them in his head before they finish. It's all the Company's fault! They're destroying Westerley and they'll destroy us too!
He'd ignore it. He's off duty. Except things are never that simple, and the loudest voices always become self-fulfilling prophesies.
Hijikata reroutes, cutting his path straight to the disruption. A man his age, hair groomed and clothing well cut - everything expected of a Leithan elite.] Oi. Cut it out. [He expects spit in his face, so receiving only an incredulous, dawning look of realization and a muttered Company scum comes as a surprise.
The man ignoring him to yell his mantra once more, however, is all too predictable. Hijikata clamps his hand over the offender's mouth before a words can take form, grip tight and suffocating. The man struggles, uncoordinated and inexperienced, and Hijikata repeats himself.] I said stop.
protestsss
It speckles his hair, stark against the black, as Hijikata walks down the street.
He'd come to check on the family he'd left behind - but it's not so easy as walking in the front door. Listening to the talk of the town is a better option. Or it would be, if anyone was talking. An eerie silence pervades the darkening evening, bars still occupied and people still milling about, but their voices hushed.
Until a shout cuts through it all. The words are so familiar Hijikata completes them in his head before they finish. It's all the Company's fault! They're destroying Westerley and they'll destroy us too!
He'd ignore it. He's off duty. Except things are never that simple, and the loudest voices always become self-fulfilling prophesies.
Hijikata reroutes, cutting his path straight to the disruption. A man his age, hair groomed and clothing well cut - everything expected of a Leithan elite.] Oi. Cut it out. [He expects spit in his face, so receiving only an incredulous, dawning look of realization and a muttered Company scum comes as a surprise.
The man ignoring him to yell his mantra once more, however, is all too predictable. Hijikata clamps his hand over the offender's mouth before a words can take form, grip tight and suffocating. The man struggles, uncoordinated and inexperienced, and Hijikata repeats himself.] I said stop.