I have a technique, unique to me in my world, that permits me to control one's perceptions so absolutely I can make you believe such an event never occurred, or that you have had years to come to terms with it, or that the outcome of the night was different.
๏ผ tsukuyomi is, in this fashion, innately horrifying.
wry: ๏ผ
It is something I do not announce freely, for what I assume you would understand as obvious reasons.
ใ oh. oh, of course. her friend has a terrifying power to alter one's whole person. why not.
she makes a little moue. ใ Just a bit, yeah.
ใ looking away again, gwen is quiet a long moment. her fingers drum against her thigh. ใ
I don't want to forget. Contradictions ahoy, considering I typically avoid reminders like the plague.
ใ there are moments she would love to reach into her own head, and pick out all the ruined sections of her brain. they are passing whims, however. thoughts she would never act upon. to do so…
she killed him in life. she cannot kill him in memory too. ใ
Peter was the person I loved most in the world. And he scared me…like nothing ever has. So much of what happened since, what I am, it all traces back to that night.
That does not mean I could not give you a day when you are older. When it hurts less.
( he could shape a future for her at fifty, when the sharp edge of grief is less likely to tighten in a snarl of thorns around your throat and cut off all oxygen. )
๏ผ it is remarkable, how little strain it puts on his body now to activate tsukuyomi. he does not use the sharingan around her now, so his eyes flicker to red, and then the blades of the mangekyล sharpen to their fine points.
he reaches out and tips her chin so she faces him more fully, and meets her eyes.
the simulation falls away around them, and they're standing in one of the temple sanctuaries of the guardian monks. the great hall is silent save the warm crackle of ever-burning fire, and itachi is standing off to one side in the shadows of a giant buddha statue, dressed in kimono with the uchiha crest emblazoned on its chest panels and back. he looks older as well — streaks of grey at his temples to accentuate the deepening lines on his face. it will be easier for her subconscious to process her own age being more advanced if he appears so as well.
gently, he fills in her mind's perception of history. the details are fuzzy — ultimately, they do not matter and he does it only as a kindness. there is a sense of having succeeded at the ximilia's mission, but no details. only the vindication of having hoped for something better at the end of it.
what he gives her, then, is an amorphous sense of peace. something gentle and soft and absolute. a day without the insistent, pressing pain of a broken heart, but the slow and steady warmth of an ache long laid to rest. she does not wish to change who she is, nor to remove peter from her mind, but he makes the memories softer. farther away. something she can reach for if she chooses to, but they do not clamour at the edges of her conscious mind.
finally — ๏ผ
This is Konoha's largest Fire Temple. The great fire at its heart has burned now for nearly three hundred years.
ใ there is a tilt. like something pinching her around her belly. then she can hardly remember it at all.
venom not only heals, but also helps stave off proof of time. gwen's face is older, no longer twenty-one; ageless, otherwise. her hair has gone fully platinum. it falls against her shoulders in a long, even bob. she runs her fingers through the ends. her hands are gloved—not gloved. her entire body is encased in a black bodysuit, a lilac, partially see-through trench coat over it. the suit continues down her legs, her calves patterned in spider-webs, and wraps around her feet in elevated high-tops, the soles the same color as her coat. all of her clothing lacks buttons, zippers, clasps.
she is aware of itachi's presence, but her attention is on the building. the walls and roof, the carvings, the burning brazier in the middle.
as she steps closer to the fire, her clothing seems to melt. the coat lengthens and wraps around her fully. the color lightens. a cherry blossom tree blooms across her back, the weight of the flowers draping along the sleeve of her kimono. ใ
I was feeling a little underdressed. ใ her voice is subtly different. deeper, more mature. ใ Is this okay?
ใ it is another little piece of what makes itachi. a little more light. though it's less what he says of himself, than his mention of children that pulls a question to her mind.
gwen glances down at herself as if there might be a clue left. nothing, of course. the kimono covers the shape of her body. even without it, how would she know? ใ
Did I ever tell you I have kids? Future kids. Potentially, anyway. Universe-hopping gets weird. ใ an understatement to join his.
weird as that entire visit was… gwen's expression softens with the memory. ใ
Girl and a boy. Charlotte was fourteen. Wanted to be a detective like her grandpa. Max was ten. He… ใ she wrinkles her nose. ใ Well, he really likes to eat. And both of them spider-themed heroes.
ใ she holds up her hand, and wiggles her fingers. ใ
Turns out spider-powers are inheritable. Can you imagine looking after babies who will crawl out of their cribs and right up walls?
๏ผ as much as he knows about her life and its sundry traumas, it seems right somehow to imagine her with children. she has a temperament well-suited to such a thing, generous and forgiving and sweet. ๏ผ
I believe you are very likely up to the challenge.
๏ผ he steps out of the shadow of the statue, and comes to stand beside her at the crackling fire. it is natural for him to feel drawn to such a thing, given that it is his chakra nature — but even if it were not, he expects he would still find comfort in the warmth and heat and light. he holds one hand out, turns it over and folds his fingers in briefly against his palm. his hand casts long shadows on the walls. ๏ผ
I suppose it is difficult in a world where the majority are not accustomed to such things. There is no guidebook to follow.
ใ without thinking about it, she runs her fingers through the gray hairs at itachiโs temple. ใ
You look very dignified. ใ and more severe than usual. age lent him a graver air. she wonders if he took his cues from his own fatherโs appearance. ใ
๏ผ he stills, when she touches him, but he does not move away. her fingers brush at his temples, and where the pads of her fingers make contact feels like a warm song of electricity, at once alight and arcing. ๏ผ
I look older.
๏ผ he shakes his head, and at length reaches up to take her gently by the wrist, and move her hand aside. ๏ผ
ใ she saw his home, though she did not know it at the time. the scarlet and white fans on either side of his chest catch her eye, and she thinks back to the fan she made for him once. it would have disintegrated to nothing while they were in sedorum.
she lifts a shoulder in a delicate shrug. ใ
Odds are this is the closest I'll get to visiting Konoha. ใ her hand closes around her wrist. it feels strangely naked without the familiar weight of her dimensional travel watch. ใ I'll take a tour.
๏ผ konoha is not exactly a tourist destination — all visitors are registered and watched by anbu, and the barrier seal alerts them to anyone trying to sneak in. but, this is a world he controls in its entirety, and it is a simple thing.
the world shifts, and they are suddenly walking through the northern gate into the city. shinobi stand guard at the entrance, and they wave them through. it is... difficult, to make himself seem welcome here. wistful. but gwen does not need to know what preceded his leaving — knowing he was a criminal is enough.
he takes her through the main street of the village, indicating various shops. the whole place is alive and bustling. smells of cooking food waft out of doorways hung with cloth. people pull carts of wares past them in a hurry to set up somewhere with decent foot traffic. there are groups of shinobi, milling about in their flak vests and headbands, waiting for mission assignments.
the hokage monument can be seen from where they stand, four faces built into the rock.
(he never saw it, after senju tsunade was added.)
there is a level of detail here that mirrors the real thing so exactly that it fools the mind. from the smells to the shadows, the people themselves in their fully realized lives.
he explains places, people. of course, for all that he looks older, the village is very much as it was when he left. he points out the arena, where the chลซnin exams are held, and the forty-forth training grounds where it abuts the village proper.
(he does not call it the 'forest of death', despite its moniker. it's a name chosen to scare genin, and he did not find it difficult to traverse.)
the only place he does not take her to is the uchiha clan territory. the police station can be seen over its compound walls, and there are people there as well, but she has seen the space and he has no wish to go there, to persist in this illusion of better days.
instead, stopping in front of the central office of the hokage, he gestures to the building. ๏ผ
Our village was the first one among all the warring states to be officially formed. Our leader at the time was a man named Senju Hashirama — his desire was to create a place where children could be raised safely, go to school, and be protected from the wars.
ใ points for intent. there is a school. execution otherwise is lacking. none of which she verbalizes. itachi plays his cards close to his chest, but it does not take a telepath to surmise being here would weigh on him. he was still a boy when he left, spent the next half of his life among dangerous elements, died. a short, violent life given over to his village.
(without the fullness of the truth, she is both angry and sad on his behalf. with it…it is like to be only anger.) ใ
It's a good desire. I hope it continues coming to fruition. ใ and that, maybe, the ages for graduating and doing ninja shit are increased by at least five.
gwen looks over the squat, red, circular building, then up to the faces carved on the mountainside. ใ
Senju Hashirama, Senju Tobirama, Sarutobi Hiruzen, Namikaze Minato. The last of them was killed when I was a boy, and the Third took over the position again afterwards.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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๏ผ tsukuyomi is, in this fashion, innately horrifying.
wry: ๏ผ
It is something I do not announce freely, for what I assume you would understand as obvious reasons.
no subject
she makes a little moue. ใ Just a bit, yeah.
ใ looking away again, gwen is quiet a long moment. her fingers drum against her thigh. ใ
I don't want to forget. Contradictions ahoy, considering I typically avoid reminders like the plague.
ใ there are moments she would love to reach into her own head, and pick out all the ruined sections of her brain. they are passing whims, however. thoughts she would never act upon. to do so…
she killed him in life. she cannot kill him in memory too. ใ
Peter was the person I loved most in the world. And he scared me…like nothing ever has. So much of what happened since, what I am, it all traces back to that night.
ใ gwen smiles wanly at itachi. ใ
To erase Peter, you'd erase me too.
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( he could shape a future for her at fifty, when the sharp edge of grief is less likely to tighten in a snarl of thorns around your throat and cut off all oxygen. )
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her stomach is flipping like she is in free-fall. her heart squeezes tight. ใ
What do I have to do?
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( it feels... strange, to use it for this purpose. but he had given blue months in paradise, and this is small by comparison. )
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Okay. I trust you.
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he reaches out and tips her chin so she faces him more fully, and meets her eyes.
the simulation falls away around them, and they're standing in one of the temple sanctuaries of the guardian monks. the great hall is silent save the warm crackle of ever-burning fire, and itachi is standing off to one side in the shadows of a giant buddha statue, dressed in kimono with the uchiha crest emblazoned on its chest panels and back. he looks older as well — streaks of grey at his temples to accentuate the deepening lines on his face. it will be easier for her subconscious to process her own age being more advanced if he appears so as well.
gently, he fills in her mind's perception of history. the details are fuzzy — ultimately, they do not matter and he does it only as a kindness. there is a sense of having succeeded at the ximilia's mission, but no details. only the vindication of having hoped for something better at the end of it.
what he gives her, then, is an amorphous sense of peace. something gentle and soft and absolute. a day without the insistent, pressing pain of a broken heart, but the slow and steady warmth of an ache long laid to rest. she does not wish to change who she is, nor to remove peter from her mind, but he makes the memories softer. farther away. something she can reach for if she chooses to, but they do not clamour at the edges of her conscious mind.
finally — ๏ผ
This is Konoha's largest Fire Temple. The great fire at its heart has burned now for nearly three hundred years.
no subject
venom not only heals, but also helps stave off proof of time. gwen's face is older, no longer twenty-one; ageless, otherwise. her hair has gone fully platinum. it falls against her shoulders in a long, even bob. she runs her fingers through the ends. her hands are gloved—not gloved. her entire body is encased in a black bodysuit, a lilac, partially see-through trench coat over it. the suit continues down her legs, her calves patterned in spider-webs, and wraps around her feet in elevated high-tops, the soles the same color as her coat. all of her clothing lacks buttons, zippers, clasps.
she is aware of itachi's presence, but her attention is on the building. the walls and roof, the carvings, the burning brazier in the middle.
as she steps closer to the fire, her clothing seems to melt. the coat lengthens and wraps around her fully. the color lightens. a cherry blossom tree blooms across her back, the weight of the flowers draping along the sleeve of her kimono. ใ
I was feeling a little underdressed. ใ her voice is subtly different. deeper, more mature. ใ Is this okay?
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It suits you.
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ใ she could bring up the teeny-tiny smile, too, but. maybe later. ๐
her eyes return to the fire. its light flickers across her cheeks. ใ
Is someone tasked with keeping it burning or is this a "has been burning longer than it should" type of miracle?
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( he does not believe in miracles, as it happens. )
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ใ the fire is older than the united states. ใ
Did you used to come here often?
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( he looks up at the statue looming over him, and then shakes his head faintly. )
The guardians are formidable shinobi. They protect the Daimyo in times of war, when the bulk of shinobi forces are otherwise engaged.
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Is that something you ever wanted to be?
ใ uchiha itachi, guardian monk. catchy. she'd watch that show. ใ
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๏ผ she knows more than most, where his history is concerned. the rest is his alone, and he has no plans of sharing it. ๏ผ
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gwen glances down at herself as if there might be a clue left. nothing, of course. the kimono covers the shape of her body. even without it, how would she know? ใ
Did I ever tell you I have kids? Future kids. Potentially, anyway. Universe-hopping gets weird. ใ an understatement to join his.
weird as that entire visit was… gwen's expression softens with the memory. ใ
Girl and a boy. Charlotte was fourteen. Wanted to be a detective like her grandpa. Max was ten. He… ใ she wrinkles her nose. ใ Well, he really likes to eat. And both of them spider-themed heroes.
ใ she holds up her hand, and wiggles her fingers. ใ
Turns out spider-powers are inheritable. Can you imagine looking after babies who will crawl out of their cribs and right up walls?
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I believe you are very likely up to the challenge.
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ใ and considering miles is capable of them and probably passed them along… gwen's life is getting shocked by infants. ใ
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I suppose it is difficult in a world where the majority are not accustomed to such things. There is no guidebook to follow.
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ใ without thinking about it, she runs her fingers through the gray hairs at itachiโs temple. ใ
You look very dignified. ใ and more severe than usual. age lent him a graver air. she wonders if he took his cues from his own fatherโs appearance. ใ
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I look older.
๏ผ he shakes his head, and at length reaches up to take her gently by the wrist, and move her hand aside. ๏ผ
Is there anything else you would like to see?
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ใ she saw his home, though she did not know it at the time. the scarlet and white fans on either side of his chest catch her eye, and she thinks back to the fan she made for him once. it would have disintegrated to nothing while they were in sedorum.
she lifts a shoulder in a delicate shrug. ใ
Odds are this is the closest I'll get to visiting Konoha. ใ her hand closes around her wrist. it feels strangely naked without the familiar weight of her dimensional travel watch. ใ I'll take a tour.
no subject
the world shifts, and they are suddenly walking through the northern gate into the city. shinobi stand guard at the entrance, and they wave them through. it is... difficult, to make himself seem welcome here. wistful. but gwen does not need to know what preceded his leaving — knowing he was a criminal is enough.
he takes her through the main street of the village, indicating various shops. the whole place is alive and bustling. smells of cooking food waft out of doorways hung with cloth. people pull carts of wares past them in a hurry to set up somewhere with decent foot traffic. there are groups of shinobi, milling about in their flak vests and headbands, waiting for mission assignments.
the hokage monument can be seen from where they stand, four faces built into the rock.
(he never saw it, after senju tsunade was added.)
there is a level of detail here that mirrors the real thing so exactly that it fools the mind. from the smells to the shadows, the people themselves in their fully realized lives.
he explains places, people. of course, for all that he looks older, the village is very much as it was when he left. he points out the arena, where the chลซnin exams are held, and the forty-forth training grounds where it abuts the village proper.
(he does not call it the 'forest of death', despite its moniker. it's a name chosen to scare genin, and he did not find it difficult to traverse.)
the only place he does not take her to is the uchiha clan territory. the police station can be seen over its compound walls, and there are people there as well, but she has seen the space and he has no wish to go there, to persist in this illusion of better days.
instead, stopping in front of the central office of the hokage, he gestures to the building. ๏ผ
Our village was the first one among all the warring states to be officially formed. Our leader at the time was a man named Senju Hashirama — his desire was to create a place where children could be raised safely, go to school, and be protected from the wars.
no subject
(without the fullness of the truth, she is both angry and sad on his behalf. with it…it is like to be only anger.) ใ
It's a good desire. I hope it continues coming to fruition. ใ and that, maybe, the ages for graduating and doing ninja shit are increased by at least five.
gwen looks over the squat, red, circular building, then up to the faces carved on the mountainside. ใ
That him on the left?
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๏ผ he gestures at each of the faces in turn. ๏ผ
Senju Hashirama, Senju Tobirama, Sarutobi Hiruzen, Namikaze Minato. The last of them was killed when I was a boy, and the Third took over the position again afterwards.
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