Welcome to Gaia! ::

Hearing not a word nor a motion Fuuya closed his eyes to sleep again. The world will not change if he just slumbered an hour or two or more.... he thought.

Right now his body moves his eyes to close down and let go all defenses for now. His ears twitch more as he comforts himself to what the sill can offer.

((GAH! *bashes thread with plush-bat* Wake u-uuupppp!!!!))

Sachi returned to the inn soaked to the bone, but feeling better. She knew the layout of the town better than the back of her hand.
She had also purchased one of those strange upside-down bowls on sticks that kept off the rain. Her homeland was rather dry, and storms like this were rare. People stayed home when it was this wet, and they prayed. She'd learned they were called 'umbrellas.' She played with hers, idly, not worried by the rain.

"What are you grumping about?" She inquired as the girl stalked out. "I's not like you aren't getting drenched anyway." She added in a mutter. "And they said I had a bad attitude..." She furled the strange contraption and entered, something her encounter had prevented. Imeidiately her eyes flicked around the room registering where everything and the few members of everyone were located. The pointy-eared fellow still lounged on the ledge, and she idly considered finding a feather to tickle his nose with. Or better yet, those funny ears of his. Who had ever heard of pointed ears? She wondered.
Well... She had had a fellow who was as good as a younger brother, and more who were like older ones. With what can best be described as industrious zest, though that's not exactly applicable, she started helping the maids clean to mask her search for a feather no one would miss. Boredom and Sachi did not always mix well, though sometimes the two got along amazingly well. Her moods shifted like the fire's light, dark, then bright, lazy somnolence, wild enthusiasm. It drove people crazy trying to figure out what this rather laid-back lady would do next-- which was often to her benefit in spars, because she brought the same unpredictable tempestuousness to her fighting. Feint, easy light blows, fast hard strikes, never quite the same.

"Ah-ha!" She exclaimed victoriously, tucking the feather into her hair. It was bright, blue, like a Peacock, and looked rather funny, poking out of her pink hair. She continued with her assisstance, contriving to work her way around the room as she cleaned. She hummed an old country tune from her homeland as she did. One sung at the Summer Solstice, in honor of the Sun, and everything good that year. She was in a pleasant mood, and felt like having some fun. Even, or maybe especially, at that boy's expense. (She'd never admit it, but she was still slightly miffed that he'd called her fat. Her?! Fat?! And here she'd always thought herself quite well put together. Well... She'd get him for that.)
She resettled the feather, putting it at a better angle, and grinned up at it. Such a childish thing to do! She whisked a duster over the mantle, tucking it into her belt as she took a cloth to the nearest table. Not much farther. She paid him no attention as she worked, making sure the table was clean before going to the next.

It may have hidden his eyes to drunks, but not to Sachi's mischief. She finished polishing the table, reached over and twitched the feather against his ear. With a speed that could only be attributed to experience she was back scrubbing the table, the feather once again at its angle in her hair. She continued to hum.

She looked back and gave him a sunny smile. "Not beating the gloom, just giving it a different light. Nothing's ever as bad as it seems." If there was a spark of wicked mischeif in her eyes, well, it could be attributed to her high-spirited mood.
Maybe she'd been dipping into the innkeepers spirits.
Or maybe she was just happy. Either way.

As he turned to go, she tickled his ear one last time. "See ya when I see ya, then." She tucked the feather in her hair, tossed the cloth to its place, and slipped into a handstand, then a cartwheel. Maybe the cook needed help, she thought. And, with a general disregard for propriety, she flipped over a few tables- and a drunk or two- and into the kitchen.
They had chilis! Oh good! She could make that dish Master had been fond of. The one that set the poor, unsuspecting off running for a water trough, or, if they had sense, for the yogurt.