I do not think that movies are necessarily to my taste.
（ it's not quite a no, but it's certainly not a yes, either. while he cares for them deeply, that does not mean that his social tendency towards spending the majority of his time alone is so easily set aside. one person he can handle, in small doses in close situations — two is another matter entirely, and not one he expects he is terribly well equipped to endure for any length of time.
the kettle starts to chatter, and so he measures out the tea leaves, thus arming the pot before he fills it. ）
I find I do not connect with most of the commonly accepted forms of entertainment the crew of the Ximilia tend to prefer.
（ the music was too loud. the play too chaotic (or maybe the actors were just — not of a calibre he's accustomed to) and movies too... frankly, ridiculous. ）
（ it does not sound like a revelation, surely — there is no sudden shock, no strange looks. but it is, in its own way. living is growth. learning new things — and, yes, broadening one's horizons.
for so long, his survival had been narrowed to the point of a blade. it was a thing done for nothing more than the singular purpose — he had been living to die. he had hoped then, that it would bring sasuke some modicum of peace, some closure on the deaths he has come to see as less and less necessary the longer he has been here.
the uchiha were seditious. that sedition could have easily lead to war. but danzō wanted them dead, and that is, ah — the root of it all. he saw the uchiha in the worst of all possible lights, but ultimately what drove him was a jealous lust for their power.
what a weak man. but fear still kneads at his gut when he thinks of him, of the hollow spark of shisui's chakra in his right eye. perhaps he will always be afraid, but fear would not have stayed his hand.
there are things he has considered here, realized here, experienced here, that his world could never have given him. at times he does not know if it is a good or bad thing — but he has grown. changed, and he hears that word in the echo of blue's deep, wavering voice. ）
Perhaps I will come. An evening. But I would request something in Japanese.
（ what does he know, of entertainment that is not a matter of war? every book he has ever read, every play ever watched runs along that common theme. people, families, lovers torn apart by conflict, or killed by the very same.
there are nearly no happy endings, in the stories of his homeland. not without cause. people write what they know, have seen, have endured. tragedy is the beating heart of konoha. but hope — he thinks of naruto, and of the future he hoped the boy would go on to build, and exhales. ）
I will leave it to you. Surely you are somewhat informed of my preferences by now.
〈 she arches an eyebrow. 〉 Oh, so this is the only way I get a hug from you?
〈 despite her teasing, she takes his hand, rising with an innate (and entirely spider-bite granted) grace. she tips her head to the side in clear now what? gesture. her recently grown-out hair grazes her shoulder. 〉
（ although, she would be correct to suspect he would say no. but he does after a moment wrap an arm around her and draw her in close — resting his cheek comfortably against the crown of her hair. he does not like the proximity, the nearness nor her inherent lethality — this close, she could kill him. the only thing that prevents it is her own nature and the relationship they have built back from betrayal.
the hug is enveloping, but brief. he releases her, and turns back to collect the cups of tea steaming gently on the small formica countertop, and then he hands one to her. ）
〈 —after careful consideration, the council has voted, and she will feel endeared. even if the request only came about because of the orbs. he thought of her, and that is practically a declaration that they're besties.
his awkwardness, in full fairness, is also pulling double-duty. there is something about watching itachi turning into a real boy that tugs at the heartstrings. she accepts her tea with an amused curl at the corner of her mouth. 〉
Thank you for the tea, and thank you for the very early birthday present. 〈 he is excused from getting her a gift in december. 〉
as in she actually does finger guns. someone come collect her, she’s out of control. 〉
Honestly, 〈 she begins in the same tone she might use to talk about an okay show, 〉 it’s a sign of my spectacularly bad luck that even my birth date sucks.
〈 when being born on christmas would have been an improvement. at least then she could crack jokes about being holy. 〉
（ he remembers the school, the way her history had curled in around them like a closing fist. not the same timeframe, he knows — but he can imagine that the difficulties of her life in that period did not abate. ）
〈 she arches an eyebrow. 〉 You're scary sometimes, you know that?
〈 says the girl playing host to spider creature from another solar system. 〉
And no. At least not the way you're thinking. Though my dad turning himself in to protect my secret identity and expose corruption in the force could be considered an issue so…I'll give it to you.
he doesn't comment or correct her — it has always seemed to him that gwen and her father had a strong relationship. the genuine love she's spoken of him with does not suggest direct strife between them beyond the usual sort between parents and children.
(his concept of 'usual sort of strife' may be a bit extreme, however.) ）
Any group tasked with policing another eventually succumbs to corruption. Power is intoxicating. It was brave of him to do that.
（ everything he sees now is done through his father's eyes. they blink briefly closed, and when he opens them again he moves to refill her cup. he would not wish to be a poor host. ）
Supposing we are successful, will you be able to see him on your return to your world?
〈 if anything, she looks more uncomfortable. phrased differently, but she has been turning over that very question for months now. if she is successful, what world will she return to?
she takes the cup again, but does not drink. 〉
Depends on what universe I get back to: mine or the one that branches off mine with the orb’s influence.
Little changes can have big consequences, and we’re talking a pretty big change.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
（ it's not quite a no, but it's certainly not a yes, either. while he cares for them deeply, that does not mean that his social tendency towards spending the majority of his time alone is so easily set aside. one person he can handle, in small doses in close situations — two is another matter entirely, and not one he expects he is terribly well equipped to endure for any length of time.
the kettle starts to chatter, and so he measures out the tea leaves, thus arming the pot before he fills it. ）
I find I do not connect with most of the commonly accepted forms of entertainment the crew of the Ximilia tend to prefer.
（ the music was too loud. the play too chaotic (or maybe the actors were just — not of a calibre he's accustomed to) and movies too... frankly, ridiculous. ）
no subject
Like, I have actual opinions on tea now. 〈 her hands open as if forming a rainbow between them. 〉 My horizons keep broadening.
no subject
（ it does not sound like a revelation, surely — there is no sudden shock, no strange looks. but it is, in its own way. living is growth. learning new things — and, yes, broadening one's horizons.
for so long, his survival had been narrowed to the point of a blade. it was a thing done for nothing more than the singular purpose — he had been living to die. he had hoped then, that it would bring sasuke some modicum of peace, some closure on the deaths he has come to see as less and less necessary the longer he has been here.
the uchiha were seditious. that sedition could have easily lead to war. but danzō wanted them dead, and that is, ah — the root of it all. he saw the uchiha in the worst of all possible lights, but ultimately what drove him was a jealous lust for their power.
what a weak man. but fear still kneads at his gut when he thinks of him, of the hollow spark of shisui's chakra in his right eye. perhaps he will always be afraid, but fear would not have stayed his hand.
there are things he has considered here, realized here, experienced here, that his world could never have given him. at times he does not know if it is a good or bad thing — but he has grown. changed, and he hears that word in the echo of blue's deep, wavering voice. ）
Perhaps I will come. An evening. But I would request something in Japanese.
（ he is condemning you to subtitles, gwen. ）
no subject
Any particular genre or dealer's choice?
no subject
there are nearly no happy endings, in the stories of his homeland. not without cause. people write what they know, have seen, have endured. tragedy is the beating heart of konoha. but hope — he thinks of naruto, and of the future he hoped the boy would go on to build, and exhales. ）
I will leave it to you. Surely you are somewhat informed of my preferences by now.
no subject
I accept the challenge.
〈 there will be a spreadsheet. years of illegal streaming about to pay dividends. 〉
Now, where's my tea?
no subject
（ but he does fill the cups. rather than simply hand hers to her, however — ）
My personal goal on this mission is to perform an act of physical affection with three individuals. May I?
（ he holds out a hand to her, clear indication he intends to pull her to her feet. ）
no subject
〈 despite her teasing, she takes his hand, rising with an innate (and entirely spider-bite granted) grace. she tips her head to the side in clear now what? gesture. her recently grown-out hair grazes her shoulder. 〉
no subject
（ although, she would be correct to suspect he would say no. but he does after a moment wrap an arm around her and draw her in close — resting his cheek comfortably against the crown of her hair. he does not like the proximity, the nearness nor her inherent lethality — this close, she could kill him. the only thing that prevents it is her own nature and the relationship they have built back from betrayal.
the hug is enveloping, but brief. he releases her, and turns back to collect the cups of tea steaming gently on the small formica countertop, and then he hands one to her. ）
no subject
his awkwardness, in full fairness, is also pulling double-duty. there is something about watching itachi turning into a real boy that tugs at the heartstrings. she accepts her tea with an amused curl at the corner of her mouth. 〉
Thank you for the tea, and thank you for the very early birthday present. 〈 he is excused from getting her a gift in december. 〉
no subject
（ he will, of course, be doing something rather more thoughtful than this!!
but in the interim, he sits down beside her on the bed, and raises his tea for a drink. ）
no subject
〈 that’s not a flex, gwen. that is emphatically not a flex. 〉
no subject
（ when the b-side killers track mr. genocide over here is reading you for filth.... girl... maybe get some standards. ）
no subject
as in she actually does finger guns. someone come collect her, she’s out of control. 〉
Honestly, 〈 she begins in the same tone she might use to talk about an okay show, 〉 it’s a sign of my spectacularly bad luck that even my birth date sucks.
〈 when being born on christmas would have been an improvement. at least then she could crack jokes about being holy. 〉
no subject
（ he actually has no idea of the specifics. birthdates weren't something he tended to care about — his own, or anyone else's save sasuke's. ）
no subject
Four days before that.
no subject
still wore that ugly sweater tho. ）
I fail to see the correlation. What about the date is terrible?
（ people just don't care about holidays the same way in his world, and birthdays are rarely — if ever — a big deal to anyone. ）
no subject
A lot—especially when your life has gone up in flames during the most wonderful time of the year.
〈 of which the school was all too happy to remind her. 〉
no subject
Issues with your father?
（ a guess, albeit an educated one. ）
no subject
〈 says the girl playing host to spider creature from another solar system. 〉
And no. At least not the way you're thinking. Though my dad turning himself in to protect my secret identity and expose corruption in the force could be considered an issue so…I'll give it to you.
no subject
he doesn't comment or correct her — it has always seemed to him that gwen and her father had a strong relationship. the genuine love she's spoken of him with does not suggest direct strife between them beyond the usual sort between parents and children.
(his concept of 'usual sort of strife' may be a bit extreme, however.) ）
Any group tasked with policing another eventually succumbs to corruption. Power is intoxicating. It was brave of him to do that.
no subject
〈 apple real vocal about the tree.
she exhales a quiet sigh. 〉
I miss him. 〈 which the orb’s schoolhouse of horror readily exploited.
she sets the cup down on the bedside table. her fingers twist together. 〉
no subject
（ everything he sees now is done through his father's eyes. they blink briefly closed, and when he opens them again he moves to refill her cup. he would not wish to be a poor host. ）
Supposing we are successful, will you be able to see him on your return to your world?
no subject
she takes the cup again, but does not drink. 〉
Depends on what universe I get back to: mine or the one that branches off mine with the orb’s influence.
Little changes can have big consequences, and we’re talking a pretty big change.
no subject
（ he sets the pot down in a very exacting manner, precise as all his actions are. ）
Which would you prefer?
（ he knows his own preferences on the matter, but it would only upset her to learn. ）
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
tardío fin.