沖田総司 Okita Souji (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ahappylie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lucetilogs2012-09-19 10:40 am
ahappylie) wrote in lucetilogs2012-09-19 10:40 am
(no subject)
Who: ahappylie and zumo
What: Burning books like a loser
When: Evening of the 19th, coooooold
Where: Behind House 50 in the woods
Summary: Souji likes to be a historical butthat and burn books relating to Shinsengumi stuff. Someone is going to find him. Oops.
Rating: PG-13 WHOOPS, Hijikata-san has a potty mouth :(
[It's cold outside, but it isn't any worse than anything he experienced at home. The autumn cold was a nice sort, even if it was cold and windy. The wind made it hard to keep the fire going, but practice made perfect and Souji was quite practiced at what he was doing.
He'd dug a deep pit in the forest and filled it with leaves and dry wood, set it on fire and had waited until the blaze was big enough that not even the wind and cold could stop it. Then, one by one, he took books from the bags at his side and dropped them into the all consuming fire. The logs snapped and the fire greedily licked at the pages and bindings.
Even if no one was around to read them anymore, he had to destroy them. It was like a ritual to which he was now a slave. He stared as the fire browned the pages of history and waited for the fire to die down to put another on.]
ahappylie and zumoWhat: Burning books like a loser
When: Evening of the 19th, coooooold
Where: Behind House 50 in the woods
Summary: Souji likes to be a historical butthat and burn books relating to Shinsengumi stuff. Someone is going to find him. Oops.
Rating: PG-13 WHOOPS, Hijikata-san has a potty mouth :(
[It's cold outside, but it isn't any worse than anything he experienced at home. The autumn cold was a nice sort, even if it was cold and windy. The wind made it hard to keep the fire going, but practice made perfect and Souji was quite practiced at what he was doing.
He'd dug a deep pit in the forest and filled it with leaves and dry wood, set it on fire and had waited until the blaze was big enough that not even the wind and cold could stop it. Then, one by one, he took books from the bags at his side and dropped them into the all consuming fire. The logs snapped and the fire greedily licked at the pages and bindings.
Even if no one was around to read them anymore, he had to destroy them. It was like a ritual to which he was now a slave. He stared as the fire browned the pages of history and waited for the fire to die down to put another on.]
no subject
Forget about it. I was gonna be up for a few more hours yet, anyway.
[And then he sets out, back in the direction he arrived from. He can't decide if he's eager to get back so he can answer his question, or eager to put distance between himself and the man behind him.]