Oyamatsumi ⌬ Black Rose ⌬ D-Rank
It was early in the day for Fiore. Cerulean blue skies, not a cloud in sight, the sun bright, free, and glaring down on the soil with it warm rays of light. It was the ideal day for fun and games. Well, for children anyways. It became apparent to the blue haired wanderer that Fiore, or what he's seen of it, was this delightful, peachy place where the sun always shines and there's never not a warm smile to pass around. It was a sight that became so repetitive that it was almost out of a book. If anything, it was irritating.
His ideal day of fun and games was drinking the most bitter, hard alcohol until he passed out intoxicated from its toxins and walking through the streets of an unknown town until he finds something to occupy himself. It's a routine he's done for hundreds of years: drinking, walking, and exploration. Oyama deemed himself a man who welcomes change but this sort of change was beyond him. However, the sunny day didn't always deliver moods of sunshine and joy.
Strolling down dirt roads, Oyama wore his usual thick clothing, his teal robe, and bare feet. But despite the heat, he kept his clothing close to him and indulged in the heat. He broke not a single sweat and let the sunlight kiss his white skin, but never browning in any way. It was a pleasure that no one would be able to understand, his love for nature's warmth.
Making his way further down the path, up ahead stood an idle truck and a seemingly upset man beside it, rubbing his nearly bald head. Walking closer, Oyama's ruby hues took notice of greater details of the vehicle. The hood of the white automobile was popped up, smoke puffing out of its engine.
Oyama whistled playfully as he began to pass by the distressed, stocky man and his clearly broken automobile, "Sucks to be you, mister."
he droned, ruby orbs returning back to the path ahead. But abruptly, thick fingers gently gripped his left bicep, causing the much taller brute to pause and turn, eyes now sharp like daggers and his once indifferent expression now morphing into one of pure irritation. "You got a problem, 'lil piggy?"
Oyama hissed, taking his larger, stronger hand of the opposite arm and grabbing the older man's, squeezing threateningly."P-Please wait, sir! Just hear me out!
the man sputtered, wincing. Oyama released his hand and listened, as asked. "So you want me to do your job for this amount of jewels?"
Oyama surmised, eyes darting over to the relatively small stack of packages awaiting delivery,"Alright then."
he would sigh, stepping over to the pile of boxes and letters and lifting them up, hugging them close to his chest."When will you be back?"
the mailman queried."Whenever I get back, that's when."
Oyama scoffed, then exiting the area and to the labeled addresses. From house to house, he ventured, treating the packages with little care, eventually delivering all of them. He returned to the mailman, who would then pay him his fee, while Oyama would continue on his journey aimlessly.
Word Count: 527
and current appearance.