[It's easier to use the journal than to text. Maybe because with the journal there's no expectation of an immediate reply and less feeling of demanding Itachi's attention when he so clearly desires time and space to process. Whatever the case, he's glad for the alternative and he makes it known with how often he uses it. It isn't direct communication either, instead mostly sketches of people and places he's encountered on his journey.
Today's sketch is that of some sort of bird of prey that had landed on the mast for long enough for him to produce a sketch. It looked almost like a falcon, though it's feathers had shone brilliant sapphire blues and emerald greens unlike any falcon he'd ever seen.
He was going to leave it as a black and white inked sketch, but the discovery of a few colored powders means he decides to go big and add the dazzling blues and greens for accuracy. It's still mostly a quick sketch, but he hopes Itachi will enjoy it and perhaps encounter some of the beautiful birds himself.]
๏ผ the journal is kept tucked away in one of his scrolls, for the first few days unused and unremarked on. he is too busy mastering skills that are new to him, and navigating the... embellishments that jake has been making to his backstory. feats of derring-do and childhoods spent in circuses have translated into him being shunted into the high mast work. it's an entirely new vocabulary he's spent little time with — he catches on quickly, because anything else would be remiss of a lifetime's training, but he is caught up in twenty-hour days with little respite, duty on the crow's nest and the mending of sails being only half of it.
plus — he is not so high-ranking aboard the ship that he has any time to himself. battle is a near-constant thing, the captain seeking out those he can easily overcome and capture or kill. and itachi has participated in those fights — though between his own natural skill, and the occasional use of genjutsu, he is able to prevent more harm than what is necessary to take a prize.
it is after one of these prizes, while the crew is rum-drunk and shouting shanties below that he volunteers for watch duty just to have a moment's peace to himself. far atop the deck, beyond the purview of the others, he frees the journal from its scroll.
perhaps it is uncharitable to be surprised that wei ying has been filling it. given the nature of their last conversation and his own request for space, he had considered the man's silence over the comms to be an acquiescence to that. finding instead, that he had been offering a sort of quiet companionship, neither intrusive nor insistent —
— ah.
he flips through the pages, studying each in turn, committing them to memory with the sharingan's perfect recall. when he gets to the brilliantly hued bird, his mouth quirks up faintly at one corner.
in return, then: the man gets a sketch of the view from the crow's nest. the revelry below, the crisp black sky dotted with stars like a landscape of dazzling gems scattered by an unseen hand. each line will appear with unerring precision on wei ying's side of the connected paper, no errors or erasures to be seen. ๏ผ
[He's taken to leaving the journal open when he isn't using it. Not when he's out on the ship fulfilling one duty or another, but when he's below deck fiddling with his talismans or helping with some of the more mundane tasks. He isn't checking it obsessively, but he leaves it open so at least he'll notice if anything is added.
It's why it only takes a few minutes for him to catch sight of the sketch, and he smiles to himself as he pulls the journal into his lap and watches the image of the night sky take form. It isn't so unlike the views from the ship he's on, but it's just different enough to warm him with the knowledge that it's Itachi's view point.
When it seems Itachi is finished, he runs a finger over the sketch and closes his eyes, trying to picture it. It isn't hard to figure out where Itachi is given the angles, and he tamps down on the impulse to go climb up to the crow's nest just to match him. There's the urge to respond in text or to ask him a question, but it has taken days for a response and he doesn't want to push Itachi away.
Instead, after a few minutes he turns a page and begins another drawing. This one is rougher and less refined. It's of a room where various artefacts are kept, and where bookshelves filled to the brim line each wall. This is a ship of discovery after all, and their mission is reflected in the ship itself.
This is what it's like where I am, it says without using words.]
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Journal
Today's sketch is that of some sort of bird of prey that had landed on the mast for long enough for him to produce a sketch. It looked almost like a falcon, though it's feathers had shone brilliant sapphire blues and emerald greens unlike any falcon he'd ever seen.
He was going to leave it as a black and white inked sketch, but the discovery of a few colored powders means he decides to go big and add the dazzling blues and greens for accuracy. It's still mostly a quick sketch, but he hopes Itachi will enjoy it and perhaps encounter some of the beautiful birds himself.]
no subject
plus — he is not so high-ranking aboard the ship that he has any time to himself. battle is a near-constant thing, the captain seeking out those he can easily overcome and capture or kill. and itachi has participated in those fights — though between his own natural skill, and the occasional use of genjutsu, he is able to prevent more harm than what is necessary to take a prize.
it is after one of these prizes, while the crew is rum-drunk and shouting shanties below that he volunteers for watch duty just to have a moment's peace to himself. far atop the deck, beyond the purview of the others, he frees the journal from its scroll.
perhaps it is uncharitable to be surprised that wei ying has been filling it. given the nature of their last conversation and his own request for space, he had considered the man's silence over the comms to be an acquiescence to that. finding instead, that he had been offering a sort of quiet companionship, neither intrusive nor insistent —
— ah.
he flips through the pages, studying each in turn, committing them to memory with the sharingan's perfect recall. when he gets to the brilliantly hued bird, his mouth quirks up faintly at one corner.
in return, then: the man gets a sketch of the view from the crow's nest. the revelry below, the crisp black sky dotted with stars like a landscape of dazzling gems scattered by an unseen hand. each line will appear with unerring precision on wei ying's side of the connected paper, no errors or erasures to be seen. ๏ผ
no subject
It's why it only takes a few minutes for him to catch sight of the sketch, and he smiles to himself as he pulls the journal into his lap and watches the image of the night sky take form. It isn't so unlike the views from the ship he's on, but it's just different enough to warm him with the knowledge that it's Itachi's view point.
When it seems Itachi is finished, he runs a finger over the sketch and closes his eyes, trying to picture it. It isn't hard to figure out where Itachi is given the angles, and he tamps down on the impulse to go climb up to the crow's nest just to match him. There's the urge to respond in text or to ask him a question, but it has taken days for a response and he doesn't want to push Itachi away.
Instead, after a few minutes he turns a page and begins another drawing. This one is rougher and less refined. It's of a room where various artefacts are kept, and where bookshelves filled to the brim line each wall. This is a ship of discovery after all, and their mission is reflected in the ship itself.
This is what it's like where I am, it says without using words.]