Soon it will be harvest season for all the crops, though one man, Mr.Jekis will have the most produce by the end of the season. He always does, and the rest of the farmers are fed up. They want you to go to Mr.Jekis's land and burn it all to the ground. They don't care how, just get the job done.
A large, broad hand had crumbled the small piece of paper in his palm. A wind had just passed by the aged mage, his silvery-white, messy locks of hair had trembled to it's cool, pressuring air. His black leather boots clung to the crust beneath; patches of green blades of grass had adorned it's ugly features. A smug smirk, dancing across his lips as the camera slowly panned up to view the mage's face standing to the scene of the farm in the nearby distance. Blue optics had captured the view of the plains beneath the hill he had stood upon.
The mage had squeezed the matter in between fingers and let it flutter from his palm, to the ground, but was quickly caught by the wind and clawed away from the earthy hands.
The mage had placed a palm to the nape of his neck and began turning it left and right with his eyes closed, just for a moment to stretch. His palm had detached from the dark flesh and was transferred to his hips, leisurely clinging to the belt as his elbows and arm hung from it's joint. And with that, the mage of mediocre power had set off to burn a farm.If anything, he was thrilled at this particular task, and was ready to ignite the destruction. It was exciting! What opportunity does one get most every day to get a chance to burn things? Didn't they love doing this as kids?
With sights set onto the soon-to-be-gone building of wood and the odor of fresh paint, he rubbed his hands together to cease the goosebumps overthrowing his physical body. "I suppose I get going. Though, I shouldn't get this vassal harmed. I only have one, that is." He spoke those words of self-warning with a sigh. He had, within recent months, had just claimed a the body of a young mage with messy black hair and crimson red eyes. He put up one hell of a fight.
Aizenagi ran his digits through the strands of his loose mane, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Though, I could've waited till' night to do this. It'd ought to be that way, that is."
This was a day of thrill and not question to him. - To find answers to his supernatural questions, he had assumed that exploring the dwellers of this world would enable him to answer his questions. He didn't think it would happen. Meeting someone interesting enough to answer his questions or lead him down that path. His hands fell from his head to his chin, and pressed and curled his fingers to the hard place, thinking. But then it hit him, and to announce that, he snapped his fingers with a bright expression on his face. "Ahh... I see. So it must be fate. - The answers must be in that farm's ashes!" He smirked, then sncikered, "Like hell it is. I'll get this done quickly."
And so, Aizenagi-Tsuki, or Aizen for short, had walked down the grassy hill with the most nonchalant of expressions dancing across his lips and little muse glimmering in his ocean-blue eyes, speckled with shades of the ether. Though, he had memories of his appearance being quite different. He had long, snow white hair with golden eyes that resembled the moon's dazzling appearance. His lower body and shoulder area were adorned with assortments of golden jewelry and black robes. His abdomen and other areas of his body covered in tattoos, of various colors, but focusing on black and white. Yes, he was the God of The Moon, but why was he here? It was as questionable to him as to others, so he was here to find out.
These memories were now a cloud of thick fog, and remembering the many thousand years he has been a entity of pure energy only caused him severe head pains. But, he did have some relatively clear knowledge on recent events. - But no, now was not the time to think about the past events, no matter how crucial it was to continue his search with those clues. He had set his undivided attention back to the task at hand. Aizenagi had sped up his pace towards the farm-building, his arms crossed behind his head with a lax expression on his face and a confident smile frozen to his lips. And as he approached the large building, he could help but sneeze to the various odors that greeted him.
Aizenagi sighed, walking closer to the backs of the wooden building and kneeling to a dry-spot. A small hole was towards the bottom of the rustily-painted, old piece of wood. And through it leaked the most abysmal smell he could interpret, and with that, from his satchel came a silver lighter that was found in a dumpster while traveling. Last time he used it is when he found it, and was unsure if it had any juice left. He raised a brow questionably, but with a chipper smile on his lips. "C'mon. I know you don't die so easily." He cheered on the inanimate object as he continued to fail in his attempts to spark a flame, and finally, he did! His ocean blue eyes beamed with delight as his hand descended to the old piece of wood, instantly catching aflame and spreading like a virus onto the other pieces. And within minutes, the entire thing was ablaze! It was magnificent, and mused himself by clapping. "Totally worth it." He smiled, and took off at the screams of the livestock.