this is my sundown, attn: open

[Himura Daisuke]

Daisuke strolled the little backstreet of London idly chewing on a granola bar. He'd skipped lunch in favor of not having to pay for food in this area, and he was only window shopping anyway. He didn't have the cash to really buy anything, despite how much he was sure his grandmother would love the scarf two storefronts down. No, he was just looking, just trying to find something to do to pass a lonely Saturday afternoon. His boots ground against stone and cracked pavement. The air was cold, despite being the warmest part of the day, and he huddled inside his jacket. Gloved hands were tucked into pockets as he lowered his face to avoid a gust of cool air. His fingers and toes were frozen. He could only lament what true winter would be like this year. It was so much... wetter here. Not colder perhaps, but the air was thick and moist all the time. He let out a sigh. Four years hadn't taught him tolerance.

He was just spoiled. Not that the weather in Kyoto was much different, sans perhaps being dryer, but he usually wasn't wandering the streets by himself and he suspected that that was the major reason he was feeling so down about it all. He didn't like being alone so much.

A sign caught his eye, just down the way. He gave it a passing read and shrugged lightly, glancing into the window. Dark, hard to see. He considered for several moments before he pushed the shop door open and entered. The room was thick, musty, heavy with the scent of things like sandalwood and dried herbs. He coughed, sneezed (sandalwood always did that to him) and felt the corner of his mouth tease upward before he entered. His nose might be burning from the incense burning lazily from a counter to the right of the store, with smoke curling in tendrils before disappearing near the roof, but Saiki’s eyes lit up as he spied the shelves upon shelves of books. If he was not mistaken, this store was one that’s focus was on the occult. This type of store, despite being obviously European in layout and design, reminded him more of home than any other place in London had.

Grinning ear to ear, he completely ignore the possible presence of anyone else and hurried to the back of the store where the shelves were all lined up. He chose one aisle and strolled down it, looking over hundreds of titles. Some were old, leather bound and the words on the binding barely legible. Others were fairly new. He reached a hand up and almost touched a binding before he hesitated. He didn’t want to damage it, but from what he could make out it sounded like a book about ancient magic of the British Isles. He fought a small war with himself and finally eased the book off of the shelf. He slid to the ground, opening the book in his lap, and poured over page after page.

He was disappointed that it wasn’t English. At least, not the English he knew. Maybe an old dialect. Probably, he noted as he flipped further into the book. The drawings were lovely. The book was obviously copied lovingly by hand. The pages were yellowed, the drawings were fascinating. He didn’t even bother to look for a price tag. Even if it actually was for sale, he couldn’t afford if even if he tapped all of the resources he had. And then he’d have to learn this dialect. English was hard enough for him, and he’d been dong that for the last 19 years, since he started schooling.

He sighed to himself, and put the book back with the utmost care before moving on to another aisle. Why in the world did Western magic have to be so interesting? He noted titles and subjects as he walked. He wondered at any number of things, including how they cast things like kekkai. Spying a book on a low shelf that caught his eye, he knelt and ran two fingers over the binding, to better read the stamped title. Magic of the Orient. He was both excited and curious when he removed that book and flipped it open. Onmyoujitsu was not spoken of outside of the old families who still practiced it. It would be fascinating to see an outsider's perspective, if that's what this book was really about. It seemed to be, and it started with a history of Abe no Seimei, though Saiki assumed much of that was just rumor or legend. As he read, he idly leaned against one of the stacks, just engrossed.

[Samantha Crickmore]

What Samantha was doing in the Muggle part of London that day, she really didnt know. The term was to begin soon, and she would be heading back to Hogwarts, so maybe it was just that she needed a small break. Besides, Sam thought the shops along the streets of London were interesting, and she always found herself something when she decided to go shopping.

Samantha came upon a bookstore. She peered inside, and then decided to head on inside. Sam loved reading, and all the books in Diagon Alley were all about magic and the wizarding world. It was interesting to see a Muggle's point of view on things, and the books they wrote about had a range of topics, from serial killers to mysteries that needed to be solved to romance. Grinning, Sam headed down the first aisle, trailing her finger along the books. She reached the back shelf and turned, stopping when she saw a familiar face leaning against the shelf, buried in a book. She certainly hadnt expected to see Himura here, that was for sure. Sam knew him from school, as they had been working together for a couple years now. They got along pretty well, but she had never really seen him outside of Hogwarts. And Sam hadnt expected to find him in a muggle bookstore, of all places.

"Hey Himura." Samantha greeted her colleague, smiling at him before picking a random book off the shelf and examining the cover. "Didnt know you were into Muggle literature." She joked.

[Himura Daisuke]

OOC: it's worth noting that Himura is his family name and Daisuke his given name. It's fine if your character doesn't wish to show that much familiarity to him as to call him by his last name, but he encourages the other professors to call him Daisuke or Saiki.

- - -

Saiki glanced up, distracted, at the sound of his own name. The book was held lightly in his hands, gingerly, as if he were afraid to cause damage to old pages. He was. He had great respect for Muggles, but he wished that wizards and witches could step in enough to at least preserve Muggle books. It was a shame to lose such things for the sake of secrecy.

Then again, he came from a world whereby he did not have to hide his magic, because it was so much a part of the cultural history that the Muggles chose to believe or not as they wished without risk to the magical world. Of course, even that was changing now. With the influence of western magic in Japan came secrecy, and it felt strange to him to hide what he was.

The person who had called his name was a fellow professor, and the Head of Ravenclaw house. Samantha Crickmore. He was surprised to see her. It was rare to see students or staff in Muggle London. His great enamoration of the place was hardly common among the others. With the term beginning in a scant few days, he would have expected the Charms professor to be elbow deep in lesson plans. Or something.

"Ah, hello," he said distractedly. He took a moment to clear his head and offered a cheerful smile and an instinctual bob of his head. "Well, I do like Muggle literature, but, this is not really what that is. It is an old Muggle account of eastern magic, with surprisingly alacrity in some areas." he spoke up. "I suppose that I was surprised to see such insight from an English Muggle." he laughed at his own previous narrow mindedness.

[Samantha Crickmore]

OOC: Whoops. Good to know

Samantha returned the book to the shelf, and then selected another one next to it. It was pretty much the same subject as the previous book she had in her hands before, and the Professor sighed and returned it to the shelf as well. There were so many Muggle books she had seen that were false information on witches and wizards. Like how they were evil and all that.

Sam turned towards Saiki, and then glanced at the book in his hands. She couldn’t see the cover. “Really, now.” Her eyebrows perked up. It was certainly something that seemed interesting to read. There were many books that she knew of that were accurate accounts of magic. “Who’s the author?” She asked curiously. Sam would definitely have to look into the author. He sounded interesting.