His eye pause in the middle of a sentence, the chant playing through his mind as he reads it dying out as his magic picks up the feeling of a touch of magic approaching his door and swiftly vanishing. He can feel his heartbeat jump into a faster pace but he is careful not to overreact. For all he knows someone was dropping off a note or something. [i]'At this hour!? But, ti has happened. . .But it didn't feel like a villager, it felt. . .different. . . But how am I suppose to know what's different? I was in the middle of something. I guess the only way to know is. . . .'[/i]

Letting out a long breath he slowly pushing himself up, only a few moments passing between his initial reaction and this moment. With quiet steps he makes his way to the door, trying to calm his erratic heart beat as his excitement grows and grows. The door swings open silently at a faint tug, the door latch letting out barely a sound. Slowly and carefully he searches the area past his stoop before his eyes fall to the plate at his feet. His [i]licked clean[/i] plate. Containing his excitement, but just barely – the sheets of paper and pages in his house feeling the brunt of it as the wind gathers softly around him – he kneels down and takes the plate in hand, murmuring a traditional thanks to the spirit, wherever it is.

Standing he looks once more about the area, a part of him hoping against hope that the spirit will present itself, but not wanting to look too needy he spares only a few moments before bowing his head and backing into his home. Looking upon the plate as if it's some kind of treasure he hums happily, twirling in such a way that the faint wind kicks up and scatters many of the looseleaf papers and parchments laying around. At the sound however he lets out a whine, setting the plate carefully on a counter before dropping to his knees to hunt down and order the mess into something semi recognizable as an acceptable filing system.

Once the work is done thirty minutes later - his magic having relaxed considerably making the job much easier than it was initially with papers scattering and fleeing from him every so often on a wisp of wind – he looks once more at the plate and lets out a happy sigh. “Thank the ancestors for their good record keeping, and thank the spirits for accepting my humble offerings. . .” Placing the last stack of papers away on a shelf he carefully lock the glass cabinet – a system he came up with after scattering the important tomes and parchments three nights in a row upon moving in – and with one last touch to the glass he makes his way over to his bed.

His comfy little mattress, packed full of sheets and blankets and pillows, is in what looks like a hollowed out part of the back wall, stretching ten feet in, and twelve feet long. The mattress is actually circular, and the alcove is tall enough for him to sit up in with one foot clearance overhead, and the circular mattress rests in the middle, big enough to fit a few people, but with it's shape they would have to be very comfortable with one another to share it. 

The pillows and blankets packed in there with him are another control measure, keeping the wind from just curving around the edges and using the alcove as a focusing point to blast the area outside of it. Slipping out of his clothing Jin crawls into the space, the smooth sheets and pillows feeling nice against his bare body, and with a wide smile and happy thoughts about the spirits he settle in to sleep, his hopes soaring once more towards being able to actually [b]meet[/b] a spirit of the forest. . . .