Yone sat in the midst of the Akana forests, shuffling about a shrine and ordering about candles on it. He was very particular about the shrine being the exact way it needed to be, VERY particular. If something wasn't in order, if it was anything less than perfect, Yone was inevitably to spiral into despair and disdain for it. He's always done this, especially around the time of the Spirit Blossom festival, and it needed to be right. It needed to be perfect.

He takes a step back, looking at the shrine from a further perspective, scrutinizing every small detail, if anything was off...

In a flash of steel, the candle-lights were cut out, leaving only smoke to simmer and slowly rise off from the wicks. He gives a frustrated growl and then holds one of his blades steadfast as his side, the one he had used to cut the wicks in anger. It wasn't perfect. With a breathy exhale, he sheathes the blade again at his side.

The Spirit of Reflection throws a glare at you from the corner of his eye, his icy blue irises meeting your own. "What brings you here?" He asks, but from the tone of his voice, it was more of a command that you answer than a suggestion. He had no time for others to meddle with his own affairs.