http://smoking-gun3.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
smoking-gun3.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paixaorpg2006-05-02 07:00 pm
smoking-gun3.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2006-05-02 07:00 pm
Entry tags:
Closing Your Eyes For a Second is Suddenly a Danger [solo/completed]
Character(s); Genjyo Sanzo, open to all at the moment.
Content; Sanzo finds himself suddenly in Paixao, and is generally not a happy camper.
Setting; Joutenheim gates. [k8]
Time; Sunday - afternoon.
Warnings; Swearing.
-------------------------------------
A single, particularly ugly feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. It twisted his insides, little by little opening up a yawning void within. Sanzo recognized it immediately for what it was: dread.
The priest considered himself well-traveled. Not by choice, but well-traveled enough.
So he'd thought he'd seen enough weird shit to last him a lifetime.
They had pulled over for a break. Hakkai had insisted that they should stretch their legs, but Sanzo suspected that the other man had sensed a certain patience (already reaching its daily limit) about to snap. Hakkai did things right, on occassion. Unlike the other two idiots.
Sanzo been in the middle of fishing for a cigerette. Looked down to search his sleeves, looking away from an irritatingly familiar horizon.
After a few seconds, he found the cigarettes, took one out (half-crushed, thanks to Gojyo's inability to move with even the tiniest semblance to grace), jammed it into his mouth, and began another search for a lighter. A shake of it revealed that it was low on fluid. Sanzo's irritation jumped another notch. The first drag did nothing to lessen it.
He blew it out, closing his eyes. Took another drag.
And another.
This was going to be one of the rare moments of peace - of precious silence and privacy - that he was going to get for the next few hours. Days, even.
Sanzo was determined to savor it. For several long minutes, he only concentrated on the smell of smoke and the taste of tobacco. On the light breeze.
....On the silence that was strangely unbroken. There was no sounds of Goku and Gojyo bickering nearby, nor the soft murmur of Hakkai speaking to Hakuryuu.
At this, he finally looked up.
And froze. There was no familiar horizon. There was no sad excuse for a forest, nor a dusty trail. There was no sign of Goku, Gojyo, or Hakkai. This was something entirely different.
"What the fuck?"
This was not China. The part of China they'd been traveling through was wasteland, scattered trees, the occasional rustic village. China didn't have cities that looked like over-sized bubbles.
Sanzo stared. Closed his eyes for a long moment. Inhaled another lungful of smoke, for good measure, before exhaling. He had been tired, yes, but...
He opened them again. The scenery didn't revert back to China.
Sanzo let the cigarette drop, putting it out with the sole of his sandle. He frowned.
As a whole, youkai tended to do one of four things whenever they ran across Sanzo: if they were feeling particularly brave or particularly stupid, they'd try to combine any of the four.
They tended to either, 1) try to collect the bounty on his head by assassinating him, 2) try to steal the sutra, 3) try to kidnap him and the sutra, 4) try to eat him alive. Supposedly the flesh of a Sanzo granted immortality. It went to follow that consuming priest flesh while it was living must mean even more benefits.
Youkai logic at its finest.
So Sanzo's first inclination, once he got over the initial surprise and then the following irritation, was to mark this as some new attempt on his life and the sutra. His first thought was that one of them had finally succeeded.
//Killed by a shitty youkai//
That grated. It pissed him off to no end to fall for something so idiotic.
However, he still had the sutra around his shoulders. He still had the gnawing urge for another cigarette and right now, some very strong alcohol. He couldn't feel any pain, so he hadn't been injured, and he wasn't staring any hermaphroditic boddhisatvas in the face.
So he wasn't dead.
But he also wasn't in India.
"Shit."
While neither Gojyo, Hakkai, or Goku were anywhere to be found, he certainly wasn't alone. He was on a road leading into a large, domed city. There was a strange gate, flanked by two giants brandishing clubs at each other, and a long line of people waiting to get in underneath them.
He didn't know what possessed him to get into the long line. Logically, it was a good start towards finding out more about this place. And a way out of it. But there had been something else behind the decision, as if he'd been drawn to it.
Sanzo didn't trust that feeling at all. It was one thing to have instincts, another to have a strange draw. And his instincts were flailing against the other.
As he drew closer to the booth, his hand hovered near the Smith and Wesson.
Content; Sanzo finds himself suddenly in Paixao, and is generally not a happy camper.
Setting; Joutenheim gates. [k8]
Time; Sunday - afternoon.
Warnings; Swearing.
-------------------------------------
A single, particularly ugly feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. It twisted his insides, little by little opening up a yawning void within. Sanzo recognized it immediately for what it was: dread.
The priest considered himself well-traveled. Not by choice, but well-traveled enough.
So he'd thought he'd seen enough weird shit to last him a lifetime.
They had pulled over for a break. Hakkai had insisted that they should stretch their legs, but Sanzo suspected that the other man had sensed a certain patience (already reaching its daily limit) about to snap. Hakkai did things right, on occassion. Unlike the other two idiots.
Sanzo been in the middle of fishing for a cigerette. Looked down to search his sleeves, looking away from an irritatingly familiar horizon.
After a few seconds, he found the cigarettes, took one out (half-crushed, thanks to Gojyo's inability to move with even the tiniest semblance to grace), jammed it into his mouth, and began another search for a lighter. A shake of it revealed that it was low on fluid. Sanzo's irritation jumped another notch. The first drag did nothing to lessen it.
He blew it out, closing his eyes. Took another drag.
And another.
This was going to be one of the rare moments of peace - of precious silence and privacy - that he was going to get for the next few hours. Days, even.
Sanzo was determined to savor it. For several long minutes, he only concentrated on the smell of smoke and the taste of tobacco. On the light breeze.
....On the silence that was strangely unbroken. There was no sounds of Goku and Gojyo bickering nearby, nor the soft murmur of Hakkai speaking to Hakuryuu.
At this, he finally looked up.
And froze. There was no familiar horizon. There was no sad excuse for a forest, nor a dusty trail. There was no sign of Goku, Gojyo, or Hakkai. This was something entirely different.
"What the fuck?"
This was not China. The part of China they'd been traveling through was wasteland, scattered trees, the occasional rustic village. China didn't have cities that looked like over-sized bubbles.
Sanzo stared. Closed his eyes for a long moment. Inhaled another lungful of smoke, for good measure, before exhaling. He had been tired, yes, but...
He opened them again. The scenery didn't revert back to China.
Sanzo let the cigarette drop, putting it out with the sole of his sandle. He frowned.
As a whole, youkai tended to do one of four things whenever they ran across Sanzo: if they were feeling particularly brave or particularly stupid, they'd try to combine any of the four.
They tended to either, 1) try to collect the bounty on his head by assassinating him, 2) try to steal the sutra, 3) try to kidnap him and the sutra, 4) try to eat him alive. Supposedly the flesh of a Sanzo granted immortality. It went to follow that consuming priest flesh while it was living must mean even more benefits.
Youkai logic at its finest.
So Sanzo's first inclination, once he got over the initial surprise and then the following irritation, was to mark this as some new attempt on his life and the sutra. His first thought was that one of them had finally succeeded.
//Killed by a shitty youkai//
That grated. It pissed him off to no end to fall for something so idiotic.
However, he still had the sutra around his shoulders. He still had the gnawing urge for another cigarette and right now, some very strong alcohol. He couldn't feel any pain, so he hadn't been injured, and he wasn't staring any hermaphroditic boddhisatvas in the face.
So he wasn't dead.
But he also wasn't in India.
"Shit."
While neither Gojyo, Hakkai, or Goku were anywhere to be found, he certainly wasn't alone. He was on a road leading into a large, domed city. There was a strange gate, flanked by two giants brandishing clubs at each other, and a long line of people waiting to get in underneath them.
He didn't know what possessed him to get into the long line. Logically, it was a good start towards finding out more about this place. And a way out of it. But there had been something else behind the decision, as if he'd been drawn to it.
Sanzo didn't trust that feeling at all. It was one thing to have instincts, another to have a strange draw. And his instincts were flailing against the other.
As he drew closer to the booth, his hand hovered near the Smith and Wesson.