[ somewhat petulant, she gives him one more smack (avoiding his bad shoulder as she does) before letting him be. ]
For someone so smart, you really are so fucking stupid.
[ she drops the blobfish on her lap, her arms crossing over it. out the corner of her eye, she catches sight of venom swarming his kunai and dragging it away under his bed.
this is her life. why is this her life? ]
God. Okay. Full disclosure, no fucking about.
[ she turns around so she is facing itachi. her countenance would be a little more severe if she was not holding a frowning blobfish. ]
I don't want to kill you. I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want you to hurt yourself because you think I asked you to. I'm not. [ she looks itachi in the eye when she swears, ] I never would.
๏ผ he, too, has an eye on that mobile kunai, but its destination proves ultimately unimportant in the face of what she says.
he has never seen any manner of justice that was not retributive. an eye for a literal eye has always been the way of his world. the uchiha's role in history is written in blood and pain and the curse of hatred that subsumes all but the best of them.
being before someone he has brought to willful harm, and hearing her say that she wants him neither hurt nor dead is dizzying, and for a moment there is nothing else in the room but her, the pinnacle of all attention. he feels cold in a way that has nothing to do with fever and breathing becomes an act of suffocation, tortuous and slow. ice entombs his chest, and it is an act of will by which he very deliberately takes the ends of his sling and reties them, focusing on the deft one-handed knot.
little by little, he steps back into himself. it takes longer than he likes, but it is still a matter of seconds. ๏ผ
Very well.
๏ผ it is said placidly. tolerant. he accepts her verdict because arguing would only hurt her further, and he has made his choice not to be party to that again. ๏ผ
[ 'very well.' maybe he used up the whole of his allotted emotional expression for the day when she tackled him. at this point, nothing can shock her.
jokes aside, she can sense she's reaching the end of her visit (if she hasn't overstayed her welcome already.) wordlessly, she hands off the blobfish— ] Back where you found it. [ —and watches for a moment to make sure the symbiote does as told. it returns to her in the form of a black ribbon, which wraps around her arm and sinks through her sleeve, leaving no sign of itself.
rising off the floor, she moves toward the door before swiveling on her heel and returning to the table and their abandoned tea. ]
This is really good, [ she explains apologetically.
by this point, the tea has cooled so she polishes off what is left and leaves the cup on the table.
at the door, she pauses. ]
I hope you recover quickly. [ she doesn't say she's sorry again, but it's obvious in her tone. her smile is a tiny, tremulous thing, here and gone. ] See you around, Itachi.
๏ผ he does not know how he finds his voice, only that he does. ๏ผ
The person I spoke of. The one I failed to trust. His name is Sasuke.
๏ผ he has not spoken it aloud once, in all his time here. yet, he has nothing else of himself that is worth giving to her but that, the best and brightest part of him, the only thing not lost to the fire. ๏ผ
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
For someone so smart, you really are so fucking stupid.
[ she drops the blobfish on her lap, her arms crossing over it. out the corner of her eye, she catches sight of venom swarming his kunai and dragging it away under his bed.
this is her life. why is this her life? ]
God. Okay. Full disclosure, no fucking about.
[ she turns around so she is facing itachi. her countenance would be a little more severe if she was not holding a frowning blobfish. ]
I don't want to kill you. I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want you to hurt yourself because you think I asked you to. I'm not. [ she looks itachi in the eye when she swears, ] I never would.
no subject
he has never seen any manner of justice that was not retributive. an eye for a literal eye has always been the way of his world. the uchiha's role in history is written in blood and pain and the curse of hatred that subsumes all but the best of them.
being before someone he has brought to willful harm, and hearing her say that she wants him neither hurt nor dead is dizzying, and for a moment there is nothing else in the room but her, the pinnacle of all attention. he feels cold in a way that has nothing to do with fever and breathing becomes an act of suffocation, tortuous and slow. ice entombs his chest, and it is an act of will by which he very deliberately takes the ends of his sling and reties them, focusing on the deft one-handed knot.
little by little, he steps back into himself. it takes longer than he likes, but it is still a matter of seconds. ๏ผ
Very well.
๏ผ it is said placidly. tolerant. he accepts her verdict because arguing would only hurt her further, and he has made his choice not to be party to that again. ๏ผ
no subject
jokes aside, she can sense she's reaching the end of her visit (if she hasn't overstayed her welcome already.) wordlessly, she hands off the blobfish— ] Back where you found it. [ —and watches for a moment to make sure the symbiote does as told. it returns to her in the form of a black ribbon, which wraps around her arm and sinks through her sleeve, leaving no sign of itself.
rising off the floor, she moves toward the door before swiveling on her heel and returning to the table and their abandoned tea. ]
This is really good, [ she explains apologetically.
by this point, the tea has cooled so she polishes off what is left and leaves the cup on the table.
at the door, she pauses. ]
I hope you recover quickly. [ she doesn't say she's sorry again, but it's obvious in her tone. her smile is a tiny, tremulous thing, here and gone. ] See you around, Itachi.
no subject
๏ผ he does not know how he finds his voice, only that he does. ๏ผ
The person I spoke of. The one I failed to trust. His name is Sasuke.
๏ผ he has not spoken it aloud once, in all his time here. yet, he has nothing else of himself that is worth giving to her but that, the best and brightest part of him, the only thing not lost to the fire. ๏ผ
no subject
He must be remarkable.
[ her hand lifts in a little wave, and she steps through the door. it slides shut behind her. ]