#orochimaru ic

[valtiels-darkness]

With eyes closed, he rubbed his temples and was seriously considering voluntary amnesia...

[hatredcurse]

The height of Summer: where it was never too late for the cicadas to sing their songs and the fireflies to dance with their lights. It felt like the sun would never set, biding its time as it hugged the horizon with the light purple gradients of gloam tailing behind it. Moisture clung to the air, thickening the horizon with vapor and the the smell of hearth.

The conditions were near identical to a time decades ago. Back when Princess Senju was young, reckless, without a fear for anything in the world. Her corded arms would wrap tightly around the two boys that would bracket her down the beaten paths of old Konoha. Said arms hugging them down to her height as they both argued her out of poor financial decisions. If she were lucky, they'd comply with her demands, and on an especially good day, they'd be encouraging.

Better times with better people. Those who wouldn't turn a cold shoulder on an estranged heiress, lost and alone in a world that wanted her for what she was worth in cash, never in talents nor leadership.

Orochimaru ( the forsaken attendant; he who sought the Sun and only landed on the moon ) would return like an omen to this once illustrious village. No longer the pinnacle of youth with his unblemished white skin and round golden eyes. He no longer looked towards the world with wonderment and his temperament was no longer timid and meek. Ironically, it would not call to question whether or not the heiress would recognize him without the boyish innocence of childhood. Even with such a distinct physical blueprint, the two sannin were bound by blood; entangled by duty and fate, by purpose alone they would acknowledge each other.

Stalking through the dead of night, this accursed one would walk himself silent along wooden balconies and new metal architecture. Slinking around familiar corners and hidden paths until he found himself before the ornate window of a woman whom returned home. Where others would hesitate, Orochimaru did not. Despite his obscene mark and betraying absence, he welcomed himself into the moon-kissed room, no different than he would have before. Back when the world was lit aflame between borders and the lot of them adorned the headband proper on their forehead.

"My, my," he sighed into the vacant darkness between himself and the body that existed somewhere in this room," I would have never believed it if I never saw it for myself."

No need for light to see the uniform, the details— Tsunade's mere existence in Hokage Tower was telling enough.

"Here I thought you'd be busy running with your tail tucked between your thighs far, far away from this place, yet you let yourself be found. Even worse, at service to the very place that renounced you."

Closed starter — @senjufound

[valtiels-darkness]

Well, he was officially inebriated...if him laying in the middle of a snow laden field was any indicator. Mattered not, eyes slightly hazed watched the distant stars flicker and Orochimaru marveled at just how clear the winter night sky truly was.

[valtiels-darkness]

A scroll on his lap and a bottle of umeshu next to him, he sat under a pine and watched the fog roll on in. Orochimaru's mind rebels at stagnation and there hadn't been much going on as of late.

[valtiels-darkness]

The insanity and near depravity were still going on. Sure, he was known to indulge in both, quite a bit actually. Yet this? This was on a whole other level, and it required a bottle of red wine...

[valtiels-darkness]

Orochimaru, can you smell with your tongue?

"Yes. A clan quirk." He didn't sound too thrilled. Nor was he, when he and his team went through those godsawful hormonal fluctuations. Puberty, he could practically hear Tsunade's voice.

[valtiels-darkness]

((Plotted Starter for @thetoaddaddy ))

It had been three years since he was caged bound by these seals. Two thirds of his chakra locked away behind swirling ink that covered eighty percent of his body. Three years that he forewent his usual attire for the longer sleeved furisode to hide his prison from himself as best he could. All mirrors within his house smashed in the wake of his burning wrath. Having been forced to taken the brunt, the full blame for it all.

He couldn't even begin to describe the bitter ache, the fury when it was Jiraiya who was tasked to imprison him. Only to up and leave Konoha a month after....

How long would he be forced continue to carry this pain of constant abandonment?

Moreover, he had been embittered with the realization that he couldn't up and leave Konoha at any point before all this. He knew he'd be labeled a missing-nin and hunted down the moment he left.

Now, he was forced to stay. To stay as the fine tuned weapon he was crafted to be. Sheathed and chained, but no less fearsome.

Alone. No one. Not even Sakumo, to pull him from the brink of the abyss. Nothing to keep his ever turning mind occupied, save for tomes and scrolls, and heavily monitored experiments (which were rare).

There were times where he felt as though he had already fallen. As if he were a shadow, suspended on dust. Unaware of even himself, at times.

Truly ironic, if one were to indulge, that a mind so sharp and adept at manipulation, would so easily conspire against itself.

Fitting and not entirely cruel...

Three years and Orochimaru found himself at a low table in his home, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands, his grip tightening, incrementally. Wisps of steam curled about, yet he did not see. No, he had overheard that Jiraiya had returned. The ceramic cracked, fingers curling further. A vicious emotion bombarded him at the thought of the man.

The ceramic shattered, scalding tea mixed with rivulets of red spilled before him. Shards of ceramic clung to his palms and fingers.

Yet, all he could do was just stare...

[valtiels-darkness]

"Those hearts are not anatomically correct..." Orochimaru arched a brow, wondering why there was so much pink and red all over the place.