Garden of the Gods

A roleplay hub for characters from original lore [by yukarelinquere]

[taoreshi-a]

// making the gradual transition to the new blog here. Same name, but as a legacy blog, it has the ability to message other blogs, unlike this one. I will gradually be posting my replies there. <3

[taoreshi-a]

// making the gradual transition to the new blog here. Same name, but as a legacy blog, it has the ability to message other blogs, unlike this one. I will gradually be posting my replies there. <3

[taoreshi-a]

// making the gradual transition to the new blog here. Same name, but as a legacy blog, it has the ability to message other blogs, unlike this one. I will gradually be posting my replies there. <3

[taoreshi-a]

// ig we will do a sinday HC; Kisame!

Yes. There are two. Yes it's a thing in sharks as modified pelvic fins called 'claspers' technically.

Yup. That's the post.

[taoreshi-a]

// home now, regular scheduling / order soon to resume. Mobile posts will soon BEGONE and I will be able to trim and stuff again.

And actually add threads to my tracker.

And follow the order of the tracker (maybe) ;)

[taoreshi-a]

A plotted starter for @suturedninja

At this point, it was likely they had been written off as casualties. Their two-man cell had been missing for too long now, and, perhaps by all rights, Kisame and Itachi should have been dead. Reconnaissance deep in Konoha territory was a precarious mission, one that originally had two primary objectives; acquisition of a strange, potentially useful weapon and opportunistic intel on the nine-tails. Now, Kisame's only objective was to drag himself and the dead weight on his shoulder through the underground doors of the Akatsuki. Disaster, to say the least. But.. they were breathing. Somehow... Somewhat. 

Dumping Itachi's fragile form on the common room couch, Samehada slipping from his grip to the ground, the ningyo trudged onward, step by uneven step. It was a shame; it smelt noxiously of bleach here. Konan must have cleaned. Pity those efforts could not stem the tides of blood in their halls again. Try as she might, poor thing. 

But Kisame had no room for sentiment. Even when an overly excitable Deidera came crashing out of his room to the commotion, the rogue-nin's dead eyes glittered darkly down. His face flashed with his ever-sharp smile, but all it's usual humor had been bled dry. "Excuse me." He said, polite as ever before dismissing himself before the young artisan could so much as also where the hell they had been. He shouldered past the blonde, his natural bulk allowing him little contest. Never did this hall feel as long as it did how. Longer than than the trek to enemy territory and back, even. He had made it. Graceless, but here. 

He collapsed on his bed, body battered, broken, and bruised. The tatters of his cloak barely held to his frame, doing little to obscure the grevious wounds that oozed beneath. Oversoaked bandages hardly clung to his agitated, sandpaper skin, and that was to speak nothing of the shard of his mangled rib that impaled him on his own flesh. A true mess. 

But he made it. Alive, even just barely. 

So when he heard footsteps, quiet as they may be, come down the hall, Kisame grimaced. He planted a dirty palm on his sheet as though he intended to abuse his poor body further and get up; but no adrenaline would come to fuel him. His attempt failed. 

"...'Tachi's in the commons." He rumbled low to the approaching figure. If only he had shut and locked the door. "Samehada's ... Poisoned." He thought to add, staring blankly at the semi-shut door, willing it to remain that way. Untouched. 

[taoreshi-a]

// Kisame's goosebumps make his skin feel like sandpaper. This response can also be elicited if agitated or excited.

[taoreshi-a]

A plotted starter for @angelofamegakure

There was was much to be said about Amegakure from a multitude of many mouths. A village that always wept, ravaged in the crossroads of countless conflicts. And in the circles Tsubaki ran, he could hardly go too long without mention of that village becoming the fixation of his less than savory clients. Amnesty there was more valuable than gold. Few, if any major villages wanted to deal with the hassle the political nightmare it would be to deal with anything Amegakure related. But it was not without risk to go. Perhaps it was why Tsubaki had delayed expanding his operations there... 

But opportunity was not to be passed up. His liaison had done well to secure the sale of an old, run-down tea shop tucked beneath an abandoned upper story which was likely once a multi-purpose home. But in a place that always rained, up until Tsubaki has repaired the roof, it had been uninhabitable. A soft knock at the door to see his attention, and he grumbled an acknowledgement. One of his staff downstairs had come. Not unusual, had they come with a client. "Hagetake-san..." A brief exchange was drowned by the downpour before the haggard man descended the creaking wood stairs to the humble tea shop below. 

"She.. she wants a cup of water..." The timid, but strangely motivated staff member anxiously whispered into his ear. She had a pleading sort of expression, and it caused Tsubaki's brows to furrow. 

"... Ok." Tsubaki responded flatly. 

The female staff member bit her lip. "A hot cup of tea would be really nice in this weather, don't you think?" She gently hinted.

Tsubaki stared blankly, from his staff at his side to the woman at the order counter. And then, his gaze met another employee's, hopeful, and relieved. Beyond the shop front, there was a commotion, not uncommon in these streets, but Tsubaki's hyperactive right or flight could not dismiss the coincidence of this woman's arrival, the strangeness of his employees, and whatever it was going on outside.

With a swift gesture upwards towards the strange woman for her to follow, he said, "She can have water upstairs." After lingering a touch longer down in the shop, pale eyes awkwardly making and breaking contact with the woman, he eventually turned and stalked back up the stairs he had come. 

"I-i'll bring up the water!" The female staff member said quickly, dipping behind the counter. "It's.. it's ok to go up.. Angel-sama..." Even if a new arrival like Tsubaki did not know, it was hard pressed to find a denizen of Amegakure who did not recognize the divine grace of their beloved village.

[angelofamegakure]

For the bounty on her head being as high as it was, Konan was genuinely surprised more people hadn't tried their luck.

She wouldn't blame them. She certainly wouldn't hurt them for it. She had even thought of turning herself in if she could trust anyone enough to put the reward into the village... but that didn't mean she liked dodging blades and grabby hands when she walked past dark alleyways.

The man following her the past 3 blocks was hard to read. That in itself was a give away that this man was no civilian...

Not wanting to give away the discomfort she played it off as best she could, turning into the small cafe and as much as her title would make her cringe, it was a relief to hear it spoken. That title was a good indication that this might just be a safe zone, even if just for now.

She would bow her head in respect to all the staff before quickly following the man up. "Thank you." She barely whispers whilst trying to fix what she could her her appearance. A week without a home was beginning to show, and despite her best attempts to keep uo appearances, the cracks were certainly showing through now. "Forgive me for bringing any discomfort to your door." She simply didn't wish to lead them to them to the only place offering her any sanctuary, the orphanage.

[taoreshi-a]

It was a modest second floor, few furnishings, almost stripped bare of what was rotten and useless to give way to the gradual transformation of a usable space. Perhaps, his employees could reside there. Perhaps, it would be just for negotiations. At present, there was a mat on the floor with a partially deconstructed wooden chair, the parts and wood shavings of Tsubaki's project neatly contained. There was a cushion on the floor facing the mat. Evidently, this was how he currently 'handled business'. At least for now.

In fact, Tsubaki even lowered his haggard frame, down to resume. It did not appear until the woman spoke that he had any intent to converse at all. He 'looked' or rather faced upwards, his blank eyes leading most to believe he had some sort of blindness. Poor vision, certainly, but not completely. It did enough to prevent his lineage making him a target. "Hn." He acknowledged, staring through the woman. Her blurry shape offered no means of recognition, nor did he recall her voice. They must have never met.

"Do you want it hot; the water, that is?" He said, glazing over the woman's gratitude and apologies alike. They were strange to him. The circles he ran, such pleasantries were entirely absent. That said, even he could hear how abrupt his question was. Small talk too, however, left much to be desired. "... Angel?"

It was indeed a clarification of what she wished to be called.

He took up his wood planer, feeling along the edge of the moisture warped leg where to next shave.

[taoreshi-a]

While not trained like a shinobi was, Tsubaki did not lack muscle, and just as before it was easy for him to pull up his strange guest to the steady grounding of the dock. He hauled far heavier things over the years. And, like a well-oiled machine, he drew in his boat with a foot, securing it with a rope before rejoining Kakuzu up the floating, ramped stairs to the loading bay. "Hn." Tsubaki agreed. "It was quite the battle." There were a lot of dead. Now that they were both on the same level as the elevated boardwalk, the full extent of the operation Tsubaki ran was in view. Various stages of unloading, and repackaging were neatly organized per client order, a few ready for delivery. Pushed up against the side of the rocks was a grindstone and associated shelving for repairing weapons and armor. Plenty to keep a man occupied. "If we are quick, you can catch the mid-tide before it rises." He gestured to the mouth of the cave where the submerged jagged 'teeth' was. "Otherwise..." Tsubaki trailed. Maybe a shinobi could scale and wedge themselves into the cracks in the ceiling? It sounded painful, given how sheer and sharp the rocks were. But what did he know? He ultimately did not finish the thought. Instead, he began sifting through the bags, habitually setting the goods in particular piles, although as to what they meant was not readily apparent. "Mindful, of that one." He pointed to the bag closest to Kakuzu. "Poisoned equipment. Corrosive, something." Black, tarrish, and incredibly caustic to the touch. Whatever it was did not appear to be harmful to the metals though. At least he hoped... It would be a horrible waste otherwise.

[bishopofgreed]

Kakuzu stepped onto the dock and away from the water, taking in the expanse of the “restoration area” that the other was working with. That was a lot of weapons to be working with. Business must be fairly good. Hopefully that meant things were organized enough that finding the sword in question shouldn't take too long.

At the mention of catching the mid tide, Kakuzu cast a glance back towards the toothy entrance. He didn’t need to elaborate. If they took too long, Kakuzu might be more or less stuck in there for several hours until the tide turned again. He was sure neither of them wanted that. 

He glanced down at the bag in question, a touch curious about such weapons but not allowing himself to be distracted. Instead he pulled the diagram out again and looked it over.

“We're looking for a black Damascus blade, and the handle is black with copper accents,” he said. “It says here that it's also a chakra blade.”

[taoreshi-a]

While 'business as usual' was not the most accurate descriptor of what took place in Tsubaki's day-to-day living, there was something to be said about the mechanical nature he opened, withdrew, and placed each individual treasure he had gleaned from the field of the dead and dying. Thinking too broadly on what dangers could come of this rogue laying eyes on what was a trove to pillage was a futile effort. He would cross the bridge of greed provoked troubles if/when it got there.

"Oh?" His interest piqued at the description. A fine blade indeed... One which tickled Tsubaki's curiosity, mind drifting to that schematic which the stranger had shown him before of this 'Kakuzu'. Surely, within there it detailed how many folds of Damascus, its pattern and acid stain. Was the copper oxidized? Would it benefit from polish and wax? Such things set the solitude scavenger's heart aflutter. Chakra infused to boot-- in the very least it would make it far easier to find.

Immediately, Tsubaki ceased. In the coil of his stomach, he molded chakra, then, released a series of bombarding pulses to see beyond the burlap and dull metals, making short work of a task that might have required a more meticulous hand. "Ah, ther--" Tsubaki began to say, but choked.

He had forgotten. And his heart quivered to be made aware again of an old, primal fear. The flesh-wearing threads hearkened to something ancient and terrible, unknowable.... Five unique, beating sources, separate, but integrated. How horrifyingly... Transfixing.

If this thing has a schematic, just what would it say ..

Perhaps it was the self-preserving side of Tsubaki that continued to move on auto-pilot, extracting that sought blade with rattle of metal on metal and turned it over in his hand. How beautifully balanced. In his heart of hearts, he might have wanted to keep it, let the guilt of his unworthiness fill every crevice until he could not bear to have it a minute longer. Perhaps, it was a mercy that this rogue had come to collect it. Spare Tsubaki the heartache.

"There was no sheath." He muttered breathlessly. "Certainly... Nothing like yours." A thought more than a conversable intent... Gods, he felt his heart might just stop if he kept peering into that writhing void, the sutures the... He...

He handed the blade, horizontal, admiring the craft a little longer before intending to release it. Secretly, he had hoped there was a looseness, a sharpening, a honing of any kind that would serve as an excuse for him to keep it a little longer, find pleasure in the blade's journey of continued use.

"I would... Like to keep the schematic you showed me. Read it, one day. If these eyes can find it in them." Perhaps it was a bold request for a trembling scavenger to ask of a far more formidable predator but .. despite his ardent attempts to quash his inherent curiosity, it always had a way of writhing back up in the most inconvenient ways.

[taoreshi-a]

// it has occured to me that Tsubaki would undoubtedly have some hired body guards whenever he comes into a major village or otherwise may be vulnerable. Mogul he may be, but a skilled fighter he is not. The jutsu he knows are to disengage, temporarily immobilize, and create diversions.

... Now I have many things to consider while I fly out to visit my parents

[taoreshi-a]

// I have finally identified Tsubaki's weird energy about living meagerly, his bland meals, and overall lack of self-care;

Survivor's guilt.

He had 3 siblings, him being the second oldest. But when his older sister manifested her byakugan, her treatment by his father in his pursuit to undo the caged bird seal terrified him. And when she died under a seal extraction attempt, he became afraid, and did not manifest his byakugan until much older. (Maybe related? Self-preservation?)

His two younger siblings experienced the same treatment. Born, raised, manifested, then, cursed with the seal. All the whole, Tsubaki has remained relatively safe during this time due to his lack of a byakugan. Safe, because, in his view, was weak. Maybe, even sees himself as a coward. He should have saved them. Maybe, he should have joined them.

I feel this survivor's guilt plays a big role into what Tsubaki feels he deserves. Simple, human pleasures should be reserved for the worthy. Self-accomplishment, a comfortable bed to sleep in, enjoying a food you like-- not for cowards like him.Made his own prison, is his own warden. Still craves human affection, but feels he might as well spit on the graves of those far deserving than he is.

This would certainly segway nicely into his fixation on life and death, his neurotic drive to acquire medicinal knowledge, and his overall habits.

[taoreshi-a]

// do not be alarmed by the -a on this blogs name! I will be transitioning to a legacy blog that still has the old sideblog infrastructure that can send messages to other blogs. Thank you for your patience and inconvenience. I will make a new post when all the spam of moving things over is complete <3

[taoreshi-a]

A plotted starter for @angelofamegakure

There was was much to be said about Amegakure from a multitude of many mouths. A village that always wept, ravaged in the crossroads of countless conflicts. And in the circles Tsubaki ran, he could hardly go too long without mention of that village becoming the fixation of his less than savory clients. Amnesty there was more valuable than gold. Few, if any major villages wanted to deal with the hassle the political nightmare it would be to deal with anything Amegakure related. But it was not without risk to go. Perhaps it was why Tsubaki had delayed expanding his operations there... 

But opportunity was not to be passed up. His liaison had done well to secure the sale of an old, run-down tea shop tucked beneath an abandoned upper story which was likely once a multi-purpose home. But in a place that always rained, up until Tsubaki has repaired the roof, it had been uninhabitable. A soft knock at the door to see his attention, and he grumbled an acknowledgement. One of his staff downstairs had come. Not unusual, had they come with a client. "Hagetake-san..." A brief exchange was drowned by the downpour before the haggard man descended the creaking wood stairs to the humble tea shop below. 

"She.. she wants a cup of water..." The timid, but strangely motivated staff member anxiously whispered into his ear. She had a pleading sort of expression, and it caused Tsubaki's brows to furrow. 

"... Ok." Tsubaki responded flatly. 

The female staff member bit her lip. "A hot cup of tea would be really nice in this weather, don't you think?" She gently hinted.

Tsubaki stared blankly, from his staff at his side to the woman at the order counter. And then, his gaze met another employee's, hopeful, and relieved. Beyond the shop front, there was a commotion, not uncommon in these streets, but Tsubaki's hyperactive right or flight could not dismiss the coincidence of this woman's arrival, the strangeness of his employees, and whatever it was going on outside.

With a swift gesture upwards towards the strange woman for her to follow, he said, "She can have water upstairs." After lingering a touch longer down in the shop, pale eyes awkwardly making and breaking contact with the woman, he eventually turned and stalked back up the stairs he had come. 

"I-i'll bring up the water!" The female staff member said quickly, dipping behind the counter. "It's.. it's ok to go up.. Angel-sama..." Even if a new arrival like Tsubaki did not know, it was hard pressed to find a denizen of Amegakure who did not recognize the divine grace of their beloved village.

[taoreshi-a]

// how would people feel if I moved this blog to a legacy side blog that has the ability to send messages? New side blogs don't have the ability and I feel it may be more attractive in cases people only have messages on for mutuals?

Or would the hassle be too off-putting to those who currently follow?

Edit: Yes!! All threads would be continued! Just a consideration if the extra hassle would be worth the benefit of having the messaging feature!

[whydoesthecxgedbirdsing]

~X~——; “Ah so he finally graces me with a name.” Neji chuckled sitting back down across from him

“It’s nice to meet you Tsubaki, I am Neji, and now that we have exchanged names, I think we are beyond kidnapper and kidnapee.” He gave the other a kind smile

“Why don’t we start over, on a more friendly note?”

Ah a table, so the other really didn’t have one.

“They are easily built if you have the right wood and tools. I could teach you if you’d like.” He offered, trying to find some common ground.

“I’ve picked up a lot of books on random skills over the years due spending a lot of time healing and in PT. Some like table building I’ve never done, but I understand the concept of it.” Even if the other didn’t have the right tools, Neji was sure he could figure it out somehow.

“Why don’t we improve your home, together?”

[taoreshi-a]

It was the sensation of teetering over a fathomless pit that fell into Tsubaki's stomach. Leap, and there was no promise of what followed. But to stay... Perhaps that choice had evaporated the moment Neji let himself be plucked from the Hyuga cage. There was no leaping into the unknown, Tsubaki was already plummeting. So, naturally, the scavenger gravitated immediately towards a subject he, for once, had a footing in; working with his hands. Lifting his head, Tsubaki pointed to the boat, a humble, but deceptively fine made vessel tailored for the exact needs of his journeys. From river to shallow sea, its weight distribution and buoyancy made it a reliable partner. "It is not beautiful, but its weathered many storms; the boat, that is. I made it. This too." He gestured to the finely sanded pole that one would not be able to catch a splinter, no matter how hard they tried short of snapping it in two. A functional craft, if not remiss for a little bit of... personality. A running theme, it seemed. "Weapons too, I repurpose them. Turn waste into... something you can use again." He said, a little too quickly. A touch excited to share, but entirely too nervous to say with confidence. But it was the thing he spent the majority of his time doing-- taking scraps, restoring them, letting them be used again. Not so glamorous, not a complete picture of 'happiness', but it was still something he held close to his heart.

[kikaichuno]

As Shikamaru moves, Shino remains in the shadows, much like a roach. As it is in his nature, not because he has grown to be filled with hatred, although the night now feeds in his negative energy. Ironic, considering how the Nara clan has always held a certain importance to the art of shadows.

He observes from the treeline as the Nara suddenly stops, surely noticing what he couldn't before. Every insect in the grass, in the forest, and now, himself. The sun starts to set and no one but the criquets answer. A grass hopper jumps from hiding to land on Shikamaru's pants. In a way, also answering the question.

Shino could answer too, he could play on the man's mind again, show himself as a giant insect running to him, but he won't. Not yet. It's been so long since he could explore this area again, breath in air that isn't mukky and ashy. As Shikamaru worries about everything, Shino reminisces of what his existence used to mean to this world.

Unknown to the ancient deity himself, feelings of melancholy are shared with the Nara. Melancholy and loneliness.

It lasts until night comes. He will return. What's better than a man who, for a few hours, believed that the blight had finally left? The shadows have eyes and dreams are a great place for an otherworldly creature to enter.

[taoreshi-a]

One might suppose that no answer at all would have proved over-sensitive nerves to be wrong in their hyper-vigilance, especially when all that came about his nervousness was a grasshopper. A startling one, but just a grasshopper. With a labored sigh, Shikamaru gently shooed the creature from his pants back to the grass below. While there were indeed some that would positively lose their minds over the carapaced critters landing on them, as a steward of the forest, the Nara had come to develop a healthy respect for the role they played. Take the humble grasshopper, for instance. While some viewed as a pest that consumed crops, outside of mass numbers, their benefit to the soil and as a primary food source for many other creatures up the food chain made their role invaluable in maintaining the balance of a healthy ecosystem. And, on occasion, Shikamaru himself had consumed the little critters, on the field when food was scarce. Life was sacred to the Nara, big or small. Taking it was done so with reverence and gratitude. All that considered, Shikamaru needed to calm down. He was jumping at every sound, making decisions off every little impulse. The situation with whatever was lodged in his wrist was dire, but not a reason to behave like a chicken with its head cut off. He would send Ino a message, caution her and his godchildren while he worked on a solution. So, he returned home. He washed himself, cleansing his body and mind with old sutra and water. After some meditation, he retired, practically collapsing into what should have been a dreamless sleep. But before long, he had become restless, muscles twitching and mind wandering in the feverish throws of dreams. Ones of melancholy... ones of solitude. Ones that shifted, darker, and darker yet.

[taoreshi-a]

// the more Orochimaru content and takes I see on my dash is another few paragraphs I put into my self-indulgent fic. Will I probably take Haruka off my muse roster as a result? Yeah. But the dopamine imma get far outweighs it.

(side note, the pleasure I am having writing Orochimaru having 0 fucks about gender is hmm hmm good. God I miss writing this creature )