http://chaoticcreator.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
chaoticcreator.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2007-03-05 03:49 pm
chaoticcreator.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-03-05 03:49 pm
Log Ongoing
When; March 4, the last night of the Shang Yuan Festival (backdated)
Rating; PG-13 for mentions of adult things, and maybe sadistic violence
Characters; Deidara![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaoticcreator, Kimimaro ossuarybouquet and Orochimaru legendarysnake
Summary; Deidara takes his newly re-discovered companion, Kimimaro, out for the final night of the festival. Orochimaru, on his way past, discovers the existence of one he lost.
Log;
It was a perfect night. The streets glowed red like fire, and fireworks lit up the sky. To the man sitting, observing all this, it was like something out of one of his fevered inspirations. A festival, celebrated under the full moon, characterized by grand lanterns, and even grander explosions. Everything beautiful, everything aesthetic--but all waiting for that one thing. The great explosions, the pyrotechny, the artistry of thousands of flaming colors smashing into each another for one dazzling moment--then fading into the memory, awe-inspiring.
It almost felt nostalgic, like something he remembered from Iwagakure in his childhood. Maybe it was something that first drove his art. As another surfeit of pyrotechnics lit up the night sky, Deidara admired, a smile coming to his lips.
"Artistic, un. Quite artistic."
A wind blew toward him, spreading the falling embers from the aerial display around where he stood, glowing bits fluttering softly past his face. He took one out of the air, watching it fizzle into nothingness in his palm. "Geijutsu wa bakuhatsu da.." He smiled. "Exquisite, un. Wouldn't you agree?" He turned his head to the pale boy standing near him, inquiring of his tastes.
Rating; PG-13 for mentions of adult things, and maybe sadistic violence
Characters; Deidara
chaoticcreator, Kimimaro ossuarybouquet and Orochimaru legendarysnakeSummary; Deidara takes his newly re-discovered companion, Kimimaro, out for the final night of the festival. Orochimaru, on his way past, discovers the existence of one he lost.
Log;
It was a perfect night. The streets glowed red like fire, and fireworks lit up the sky. To the man sitting, observing all this, it was like something out of one of his fevered inspirations. A festival, celebrated under the full moon, characterized by grand lanterns, and even grander explosions. Everything beautiful, everything aesthetic--but all waiting for that one thing. The great explosions, the pyrotechny, the artistry of thousands of flaming colors smashing into each another for one dazzling moment--then fading into the memory, awe-inspiring.
It almost felt nostalgic, like something he remembered from Iwagakure in his childhood. Maybe it was something that first drove his art. As another surfeit of pyrotechnics lit up the night sky, Deidara admired, a smile coming to his lips.
"Artistic, un. Quite artistic."
A wind blew toward him, spreading the falling embers from the aerial display around where he stood, glowing bits fluttering softly past his face. He took one out of the air, watching it fizzle into nothingness in his palm. "Geijutsu wa bakuhatsu da.." He smiled. "Exquisite, un. Wouldn't you agree?" He turned his head to the pale boy standing near him, inquiring of his tastes.
no subject
His appreciation of this 'display' made by the city's deities had certain differences from the relatively simplistic view his companion tended to take--but he could still appreciate the gleam in Deidara's eye, not quite danger and not quite awe, regarding him expectantly. He took his time--there was indeed no merit in passing rash judgment on such an evening; like a warm bowl of sake, one could savor the cooling as well as the dregs.
"... A true masterpiece," was his pronouncement, finally, quietly wry but not altogether sententious. Gods would be gods, whatever games they desired to play, but there was no inclination in him, nor was there the pretense to such, to place their deeds.