#divinidy

[konohans]

❛ i have time for this. ❜ hinata to sai haha

❛⠀i apologise, hinata-san. i was not aware i'd caught you at a bad time, ❜ sai says so pleasantly, and it is true : there is no air of malice in the way he speaks. not even a hint of irritation that might otherwise run down his body at the fact that this might be a dismissal. sai is used to being dismissed. danzō-sama had quite taken to dismissing him many times when he found sai dissatisfactory, whether that be in his service, reports, or reaction.

sai doesn't typically mind it when danzō-sama isn't satisfied with him. it is when he takes his meals and sleep away that sai wishes, perhaps, he could've performed better.

to hyūga hinata now, sai remains his smile. he waits, for one moment, for her to gesture him away. this is habitual. so far, only yamato-sensei and kakashi-sensei would recognise this particular habit of sai and would properly dismiss him or explain that there wasn't anything, at all, to dismiss. that sai is free to leave if he chooses to; and if he doesn't, and assesses that he is still welcomed within the vicinity, he is always free to stay. sai wonders now if he could still stay.

he has always been fascinated with the byakūgan. but more than that, sai must admit that he has liked spending time with the hyūga heir. under her silent countenance, she holds a lot of opinion. sai has found that he likes listening, though ugly has always also told him that part of the reason why he does is so he could ask his questions persistently throughout. sai does not think that there is much wrong in that strategy. he wants to understand the world, after all. wants to understand the bonds and the friendship and the sacrifices.

❛⠀is it the affair of your clan, perhaps ? would you like a listening ear, hinata-san ? ❜

@divinidy — prompt: the bear.

[taoreshi]

'Tis has been the fifth revision that Izuna's killer had him make on the blueprints for Konoha's new centralised medical centre, turning what was Madara's passion into a total chore. After this whole project was over, Madara decided he'd never draw a line again ! … Well, at least for a week ! For a week, he'll only paint nice colours and scenery, instead of drawing lines on parchment. Yes. Now he wants to go home, have a hot bath, and cry himself to sleep over why the hell did he need to work with this devil of a man ! Speaking of sleep, a gloved hand came up to shield his lips from opening a yawn, but his eyes betray his control, blinking multiple times to seek alleviation from dryness and fatigue. ❛ I hear you. Allow me to take this back, and I'll have a new one drawn up for you within two days. ❜ // bully him bully him bully him bully him !!!!

|| Unprompted Ask: ALWAYS ACCEPTING mmmuAH "Unnecessary." Tobirama grated icily, pivoting the swing-arm of his protractor across the schematic from a point on the roof to a conjunction of where a load bearing support was meant to be. Already the flow of red ink had scored the paper in more places than one, this time, in the form of an arrow and a measurement. Then, Tobirama pulled the paper away from Madara's grasp entirely, laying out a fresh, blank one on the desk nearest to the Uchiha. "Evidently, it is a waste to have you work without supervision. Now..." He cast a cold eye, expectantly. "Get to it. You can sleep on your own time." Late as the hour was, grinding the midnight oil was a state as natural to Tobirama as breathing was. Only, when a project was as overdue as this medical center, the Senju was known not to sleep at all, much to the detriment of those who had the displeasure of having to satisfy his sky high standards.

Mindlessly, he pushed a mug what was perhaps at one point an enticing cup of hot coffee towards Madara. Only, what remained was half-drunk and cold. Caffeine, however, was caffeine. Madara needed to be sharp if they were going to correct this ongoing delay. No yawning would do.

[kisamc]

Obito might be falling asleep behind his mask, eheh.

The slowing of his heart rate, the steady change in his breathing pattern. Kisame could tell Obito was falling asleep. He rarely saw him rest ( was it an Uchiha thing? ), so it was no surprise that he was tired. However, he wished he would pick a more private place to fall asleep. Somewhere safer. Kisame didn't like the thought of anyone seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

Not that there was anyone else around right now. Could that be why he was finally allowing himself to sleep? Kisame was in a predicament. Should he wake him and advice him to find someplace more private to sleep? Or should he be glad his leader was finally resting, and instead try to make this place safe?

The latter was obviously the best option.

He moved, carefully, placing his large body so that it would hide Obito from most angles. He would stand here for as long as necessary. For as long as this much needed sleep would last. He kept his senses sharp, and would instantly know if anyone was approaching ( in which case he might have to wake Obito up ). At least the other was still wearing his mask... Uncomfortable as that must be to sleep with. Kisame tried to not think too much of the fact that surely what he was being showed right now was trust?

Obito trusted him more than anyone had ever trusted him before, and that was everything to Kisame. Of course he would be loyal to him. Of course he would guard him while he slept.

[lvyeshou]

from here | @divinidy

A LIMITING QUESTION . What does he not ? Does history no longer paint or illustrate they of the Uchiha, with eyes of the red moon with which they recorded all of their life's desires and struggles? The control organ in their cranium have also adapted to retain and replay such large amounts of information, a heightened ability that translates into their daily life on and off the battlefield. Does the astute Nidaime not disseminate such important data about the enemy ? ❛ What do I not ? ❜ Madara's pride ponders aloud to his magnificent visitor. He never thought that Gai would enter his eyes again, much less at this distance. Once ennobled, now mightily fallen, he still does not forget to preen as the winner of their duel. ❛ At times I have died, such are blanks to me. Though it must not be important to yourself. What do you desire to know ? Ask, and it shall be given. ❜

He supposes he shouldn't have presumed that the man would have thought of him at all. To Gai, their exchange had been monumental, of course. It had pushed him to activate the kinjutsu which he had held so preciously for so many years, waiting, discerning for the right moment, the right cause. A move for which he'd had to leave everything behind, or so he'd thought. To Madara, he must have been barely a distraction, a brief tangent of entertainment in his grand schemes.

Gai contemplates the man: a fallen legend, a living artifact of history. The visual before him is a far cry from the one in the fever dream he had lived just months ago. When he had heard that Madara had lived, he knew he had to come and see for himself.

His question feels silly now -- self-serving and small. But small is what he feels, confined to a wheelchair and seeking out an enemy for a reason he cannot quite place -- perhaps to reconcile with the garish nightmares he had been having. Despite the slight moment of wavering, he persists. "What I mean is, how much do you remember of our battle?"

[ninhand]

thin  layer  on  thin  layer  of  sheer  silk  fold  along  the  second  daughter's  posture.  she  held  her  body  with  an  exacting  grace  as  if  she  had  been  fired  in  the  kiln  kneeling  across  from  hashirama.  the  porcelain  mask  of  a  polite  smile  and  soft  eyes  had  yet  to  break.

"so  you  received  my  letter?"  she  asked.  It  was  coy.  The  head  of  the  senju  paraded  off  the  boat  with  a  jovial  onslaught  that  seemed  natural  for  the  man.  gifts  and  shows  all  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  the  head's  second  born  daughter  of  an  infamously  private  clan.  on  an  island.

finally,  the  edge  of  mito's  perfect  smile  curled  into  mischievous.  the  decision  to  contact  their  long  lost  sister  clan  with  an  immediate  marriage  proposal  had  been  deeply  calculated  a  practical.  yet,  the  young  woman  couldn't  help  but  take  glee  in  her  bold  move  coming  together.  she  called  this  powerful  man  spearheading  a  rebellion  and  he  came. @divinidy for s. hashirama

[maitiests]

@divinidy sent a letter. cold floors of the prison cell separates them. Obito kept his distance from the bar, unwilling to be seen too fully. Even with a mask on, he remained self conscious. ❛ They must be out of their minds, to send you. ❜ because Maito Gai was the kindest person in Obito's memory. Unless .. unless Gai had also been touched and twisted irrevocably. So many things and people have changed, why not Gai, right? ❛ I suppose no one is impervious to the chance at authority and power. I know I'm not. ❜

the sight was shocking, even for gai, he wouldn't dare subject his rival to the same. though. . . didn't kakashi deserve to see obito, no matter how pitiful the sight, more than him? doesn't matter right now, the taijutsu master pressed himself against the bars, as if by will and want alone, he could force the metal to bend and make way. ( he might be able to do that, actually, with the gates ) but they're being watched by the anbu. the sandaime's permission to see the uchiha / his mission to gather information did not prevent the maito from being kicked out. ❝ OBITO!! ❞

truth be told the mission had been accepted solely to see the other, no one would have believed for obito to have survived, kakashi had been devastated. he still visited his grave every morning to pay respect and honor his fallen friend. first obito, then poor rin, forced to be killed by her comrade's hand, the third great war demanded a great price from team minato. ❝ are you hurt!? are you in pain?! ❞

he grits pearly whites, reaching through the gates, in vain, of course. ❝ to hell with authority and power! kakashi is devastated, it's as if he lost his head! ❞ something, considering the circumstance, gai understood very well. asuma and kurenai, all the others of their merry little group, were shocked and devastated - but no one suffered as much as kakashi under this. and yet it was gai, maito gai, to be sent to talk to the uchiha. for his disarming nature, perhaps, as if they couldn't anticipate that, the moment he came face to face with a dear friend he believed deceased, gai couldn't give less of a damn about orders or rules. ❝ i was heartbroken, we all were, and suddenly you live. you damn idiot why would you do this to us?! ❞

[adversitybloomed]

𓂃۶ৎ ✿˚ʚ      letter received from  @divinidy      Èrláng Shén  : ❛ We are not on a vacation. I — ❜ Erlang eyed her incoming form over the golden scroll. He need not see what she was holding, he could smell it. ❛ … I repeat, we are not on a vacation, Lan-er. ❜ // i just winged a nickname for their mortal world escapades~

          the fabrics of her mortal hanfu swayed around her as she came back over from the vender that sold Baozi. she held a package in each hand, one for herself, the other for Èrláng Shén who seemed to be too busy re-reading the golden scroll and not interacting with the Mortals that were surrounding him.

          amusement flickered in her eyes, her stride coming to a stop as she lingered near his right side, hovering slightly.     ❝  you should learn to enjoy life that is around you, for you miss a great deal when all you do is read the same characters that you did when we left.  ❞    not waiting for an answer, she stuck out her right hand, placing the steaming Baozi in front of his nose and waiving it as if to entice him.

        ❝  vacation or not, we must eat. you cannot deny that this realm has so many nice things to offer, food being one of them. there is so much flavor... so many good smells.  ❞    she was teasing him now and it was apparent within her smile and the way she waved the buns. little sounds of encouragement passed through her lips as she tried to entice him some more.

        ❝  time to eat ━━  ❞    bending slightly she adjusted the Baozi in her other hand so that she could reach and pluck the scroll from his grip and replace it with the food that she offered. pleased with the switch, she rolled up the scroll and tucked it under her arm.      ❝  you are not getting this back until you have lived a little. now, finish the bun and then we can go the next vender that is selling Chuan'r and then the one with Bing Tanghulu and then we can explore more a little, i heard they noodles from street venders, can you believe it ? and while we explore, we can ask some of the locals if they have seen or heard of anything suspicious.  ❞

[taoreshi]

Dim, abandoned temple, transformed by the mokuton into a gnarly makeshift hideout, the figure "Madara" rarely left this abode, preferring to send many of his White Zetsu servants out to gather information on the greats and minor countries, where they kept their Jinchuuriki, what type of seal they used, and all such related things. Tonight, though, he straddled his shark companion, Kisame, and not so gently pinned this monstrous lover to the cold floors. This was the only one who had the privilege of the touch of mismatched hands, which was oft concealed by gloves. An alien pale finger traces the ridge and lines of a strong chest, both tease and reverence in his touch. ❛ Kisame, you're quite beautiful. ❜ Obito himself was still clothed, and he could feel the heat which pools near his rear. The gnarly face cracked a smile.

Unprompted Asks: ALWAYS ACCEPTING I grovel pathetically 4 dis

Observance came with the territory of leaving the ancestral grounds and mingling with humans. There was much that divided them from him. There were customs that were strange, morals even stranger. From the food they 'cooked' to the sheer size of their physicals was... different. But where one shied from difference, another, Kisame, found revelry.

Among his kind, the aptitude to survive was king. Some interpreted this as brute strength, and, yes one's prolonged life was certainly made easier if you could kill before being killed. But there were subtleties beyond that never failed to enthrall Kisame. How a clever tongue could make enemies into friends, or a cowardly heart outrun the danger. Humans, in this way, were fascinating. So fragile, and yet... underestimate one for even a moment... One may find themselves half-naked in an old temple, straddled by a human that by every physical right should not have been able to topple someone as large as Kisame. Yet, toppled he was, a little breathless, but with a pleased rumble vibrating deep in his sternum regardless. A sharp grin met the gnarled one, pale eyes studying the way the dim shadows cast on his human lover's face. "Beautiful, hn?" Kisame repeated, teasing. Beauty to humans was very different than ningyo. Naturally, he knew it to be a compliment, but it did not stop a large, paleish blue hand from cupping the side of 'Madara's' distorted face. A thumb traced a ridge of mottled flesh, delicate. "Survival, is beautiful. To me, that is." Scars were proof of life. Another hand settled on Madara's hip, massaging it with his palm in a thinly veiled sort of eagerness which swelled in more ways than one.