tampered | Log: Ongoing

When; Sometime later this evening
Rating; PG
Characters; Kimimaro (

chaoticcreator)
Summary; Two ninjas set out to investigate the 'sabbuwei' in the middle of a snowstorm.
Log;

Visibility even in the narrowest of city streets had been reduced to zero; the snowfall was such a solid mass that the shadows of various overhead buildings and trees caught like motes across the wind. It was freezing, in the drafty hallways of the half-inhabited apartments as well as outside; but Kimimaro didn't even seem to notice the elements tearing at his clothes and hair as he stood still between snowdrifts and silence.

Motion seemed to come to him easier than breathing in the icy air, and the billowing robes at his wrists and knees didn't appear to impede him at all as he flowed through complex arcs and fluid lines, eyes closed serenely as he stepped through the fundamentals of his dance--each move deliberate and deadly even without the edge of his kekkei as he allowed instinct to guide his oustretched hands, each gesture a killing blow.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Feet crunched against the packed powder, and eyes glittered in the faltering light of the city within the storm. Steam, slipping from lips, unfurling into the open air, pushed in a expression of wonder.

There was something artistic about Kimimaro. His body, in motion, every point fluid, placed in perfection, white against white, bones against the backdrop of snow. The other nin's flowing garments seemed unattached, an embellishment upon the swirling alabaster ribbon that danced along the air, leaving almost no trace in the gathering precipitation, as if he never touched it at all, as if he was nothing more than a spirit, caught in the hands of the frozen gales.

One sound pierced the air, shattering the silence in which the Oto nin danced.

"Beautiful, un."

At the half-muffled sound, almost immediately snatched away by the gusts, Kimimaro gathered himself and stilled, graceful as a lotus flower coming to rest on water. A slight inclination of the head acknowledged the Akatsuki's compliment before he rose to his full height, approaching the dark figure being steadily erased in the drifts.

"Shall we go? This way." Kimimaro led the way a few steps ahead, glancing over his shoulder once to watch Deidara following.

The artist grinned slowly, watching the boy cease his fluid motion, and acknowledge him with a nod, now seemingly all business. Kimimaro was an enigma, to be sure..and a very beautiful one at that, echoed softly through his mind. Deidara shook his head slightly, as if to clear the unbidden inkling away, wondering for a moment where it may have come from.

He wandered across the snowscape, following, eyes not able to leave the silken pearl thread that hung from Kimimaro's head, slipping to his shoulders. His exotic look was something that intrigued Deidara, it was artistic in a way that he had never considered. Faintly he wondered if this was the kind of art that Sasori-danna had always spoken of. So lost in his thoughts was he that he did not even notice when the footsteps ceased, and before them a gaping stone maw that led deep into darkness. It was only when the howling of the wind blew across the opening with a strange hollow sound that Deidara actually noticed, eyes widening at the sight before him.

Kimimaro felt Deidara's gaze on his back all the way to the entrance of the sabbuwei (more than a little difficult to find in this storm, but having grown up and fought in the cold and dark had done wonders for his innate sense of direction; in addition, the still-nameless snake coiled lazily about his neck began to roll itself against him with excitement the closer they got to its home), and his own awareness was heightened both by this and by the consciousness of having an Akatsuki at his back. Although he'd taken a chance and entered the odd web of not-quite-alliance stretched across the surface of the city, it did not mean he'd thrown all of his caution to the winds.

They reached the place where the underworld seem to yawn from straight out of the snow itself, the darkness deepened and more frigid in contrast with the whiteness of the world. Without a word, Kimimaro began descending the echoing steps to the Underground, one hand sweeping upwards to ward off the melting snow dripping from the ceiling of the arched doorway.

The artist's gaze was attracted by the strange flicker of movement around the other shinobi's neck, as he walked a little closer to actually bring whatever it was into clear vision. His nose wrinkled a little, as his eyes marginally widened, a small venting of his surprise.

A snake.

In a snowstorm.

That was odd, giving the common knowledge that most had of snakes. Snakes did not like the cold, being cold-blooded, and though at some points they'd like to stay 'cool', this was pushing it a bit too far not to be considered strange, or at least noticed. And yet, this snake was here, out in the frigid, sub-zero temperatures, lightly wrapped around someone's neck, taking the brunt of the wind, which even Deidara thought was cold and harsh. Deidara loosely wondered if it was a trait of the snakes of this world, to be hardier than the snakes he knew of. Also, he mused, that it made a splendid neckpiece upon the other. An eccentric accessory for an eccentric man..This very thought made Deidara's mouth shift into an even deeper grin.

In the same silence as the one he was following, Deidara wandered after Kimimaro, taking a breath as the darkness engulfed them.

The staircase wound deeper and deeper underground, but visibility never quite vanished... It hardly mattered.

The sleek black form curled against his nape was now still and silent, as though the snake itself were waiting, anticipating, tasting--he could feel the silken flicker of its tongue in the air against his cheek. There was a certain part of him that was calming, detaching the way it never did aboveground, because here in the dark and echoes was where he'd been born, raised, trained--where he'd been given everything he was.

In a short time, he'd become comfortable enough with the darkness to notice right away when the soft glow started--and it grew, until they stepped out into the macabre circus-paint sidestreet that he'd seen once, passing through on his way to the sabbuwei... It was noticeably different, this time of day and situation--the noise level, for one.

Deidara walked slowly behind, raising his hands out, feeling about him, in the dim light. The stairway seemed like it was leading into nothingness, though the stone about them almost reminded him of the residence of the Akatsuki. He constantly wondered what he would find...anticipation now rising within him, like oil within water. His innards squirmed with excitement, as finally the bottom of the stairs came into view, leading into a deeper corridor. As his feet finally left the last stair, he began to wander about, a little away from Kimimaro, his curiousity finally overtaking him.

Log: Ongoing

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject