Snow within Yukigakure had always been one of the most beautiful sights a man could see. Not only was there the backdrop of white melding into an ocean of icy froth that could bring tranquility to the heaviest of hearts, but even the way the moon seemed to glisten across the cold expanse brought a jitter of excitement. Albeit, the man who now overlooked the country, from leagues above its frosty hills, would take years to completely clear his conscious of coalescing emotions which lay beneath his breast.
Black gloves cut off at the wrist and studded with opal, crossed leisurely over the railings of the Epoch, merchant airship turned billionaire personal metal carriage recently purchased under his company’s latest financial gain. Still, the enigma dressed down in his famously, ordinary sleeveless flannel shirt along with semi-casual brown leather pants fashioned around a cloak that only fell from the waist down. Sammael Kyoka practically ignored the freezing air, common to snow country, with an attitude of utter indifference down to the normal temperature his body despite obvious lack of clothing. All around, the ship’s crew bustled back and forth while casting accusing looks, born of envy, towards their lord. Here they were, buttoned up to the neck in cold weather garments and he had the audacity to wear what would be considered summer wear in warmer countries. Nativity had its perks. After all, this was a homecoming one hundred years in the making.
"Kyoka, you bastard." The words belonged to a youth who recently entered the elder statesman’s shadow. Vibrant blue eyes encompassed the reclining gentleman with all the compassion of a rock. It was no mystery that the swordsman had an extreme hatred for anything colder than ninety-one degrees Fahrenheit which unfortunately happened to be an all around impossibility in snow country. "When do you plan on telling the rest of us what this is all about? Scratch that. I'm more interested in why you dragged us all the way out to Yuki! Burn me for a fool if I'm going to end up some kind of midnight snack for one of their fat ass dragons."
Kyoka's laugh was deep and warm, like the flames of a hearth mellowing into a soft glow. His eyes drew towards the horizon as if they could see exactly what they were searching for even from leagues in the distance. The enchanter let the boy's statement linger in the air for a while, instead allowing the cool winds of his home country to soothe the wounds gathered through time. The longer the silence stretched the more his companion appeared to increase in agitation. Yet, it wasn't until the young man was on the verge of taking physical action did he provide him with a semblance of an answer.
"We're here to pick up a lily masquerading as a wall flower." There was no jest in his voice which only seemed to increase the swordsman’s exasperation. Kyoka simply shrugged as the man walked away muttering silent curses underneath his breath.
His expression became dark for a brief moment, before settling into the usual reserved demeanor. Gingerly releasing himself from the comfortable position that had dominated the last half hour of his journey, the former tsuchikage shifted, then beckoned forth a servant adorned in simple black and white. The light of her sunlit eyes were the only indication that the porcelain doll might not have been quite human. Upon arrival the strange, yet appealing woman bowed with each arm cross just above her skirt.
"Notify, Captain Hennigan, that I will be taking a short leave."
"Will you be long, my lord?"
The enchanter paused, standing atop the oaken railings with no heed to the wind picking at his clothing.
"No more than the usual. He will know what to do."
A step overboard saw the man fall abruptly towards the earth to the point where his outline could be seen penetrating through a cloud in the upper atmosphere. Yet, by the time he had fallen parallel to the drifting snow it appeared that he was simply walking through miles of air, rather than plummeting to his impending doom. So, he would continue in that odd, jarringly fluid motion until the evening lights of Yukigakure burned hundreds of feet below his position. When his boots finally made contact with the earth, to the sound of a soft 'thud', the man had already sky walked right into the palace gardens.
Framed in the odd half cloak, which billowed in an ethereal wind, Kyoka strode purposefully towards the garden's central fountain.