Oh the irony... the way his body creaked and groaned and scraped with every move, well worn from past battles and what felt like an eternity of wandering aimlessly. Draped over his frame was an equally worn hooded cloak concealing himself almost entirely.
Never in his life had he felt so directionless. Or rather, he might've been feeling this way for the longest time but had diligently masked it with the deep passion for his art.
Art... that was breaking and chipping away before his eyes painfully slowly. He was missing his left arm, the rest of his body deeply battered, inner mechanics likely rusted. And yet the heart within his core still beats.
He still hated to be kept waiting...
Surrounded by trees and thick foliage, Sasori's unsteady steps slowed, joints finally beginning to give out. Glassy gaze then fell on what appeared to be a cabin. Was it empty? In any case, he found himself drawn towards it - but barely made it to the door before his legs failed him, falling harshly onto the earth with no strength left in him to move.
— At least, like this cabin, this body could be reclaimed by nature in time. Artistic, in a sense.
@goresugars || Plotted starter
