（ gwen's instinct is correct — the first text spurs him to action, the second ameliorates it somewhat. still, he pads out to the kitchen like a shadow, lean lines and the worn black of his clothes to take in the sight of her. his eyes narrow faintly — the ghost of failing vision he hasn't quite trained himself out of in the months since his surgery — and she beckons him in.
he steps around the table, and catches sight of the little dragon. like smoke against the night sky, the telepathic projection sinking in against his skin like the chill of dark water. his mind resists, but it is only instinct, before it falls away.
his breath catches in his throat. he freezes as assuredly as if caught in some unbreakable genjutsu by some power much higher than his own, one foot halfly lifted for a step that does not seem to be forthcoming. his focus is narrowed to the point of a knife, the rest of the world too far beyond they three small sparks to pay any mind at all. gwen has seen more of his emotions than most, but even she has never seen him look quite so cracked-open and vulnerable as in that moment.
but it does not last. a handspan of heartbeats, and then his heel settles on the wood, and his expression is shuttered. it is only the softness to the eyes that speaks to anything else at all.
〈 a gentle curl to her lips, a knowing glitter in her blue eyes—the visible sum of gwen's contentment. rarely lacking in a quick reply, but no such follow. a picture is worth a thousand words, and the look on itachi's face was worth a million. she was gifted with a couple stories of tsuchigomo and sasuke. idly, she wonders how many more itachi would have told the bunch of spiders that never left his room.
Venom exists beyond the social construct of gender. she lays one hand gently over the sleeping pseudodragon. though its wings twitch faintly, venom does not wake. in the dream, the sensation manifests as the dazzling display of a nearby shooting star. tsuchigomo and sasuke watch it burn as it skips through the atmosphere of a beautiful blue-green planet.
her eyes are again on venom. for once, she lets the earpiece transmit directly with little eye turned toward filtering her thoughts.
Pretty sure symbiotes don't sleep. her fingers hover over the delicately elongated head, wanting to touch, but unwilling to risk waking it. So every dream it has experienced was mine. Except this one. 〉
（ something catches in his gut, and his mouth quirks downward. the frown is more reflexive than actual sentiment, borne from the imperfect image of sasuke cast in the mind of an alien life. soundlessly, he lifts the nearest chair and sets it down slightly further out from the table so he can slip in and sit. his gaze is arrested on the symbiote, but he does reach out and press his fingers softly against gwen's wrist, there and gone.
Do you think this one will recall the dreams later? he is hardly familiar enough with the creature's inner machinations to guess, but he is happy to defer to gwen's expertise on the matter. ）
〈 “expertise” is doing a lot of heavy lifting. venom knows everything about her; gwen knows less of the symbiote. it lives in her head, a little tenant, riffling through her entire life. though it shares a lot—their relationship has been hard won, initial hate and fear replaced by trust—the balance is inherently unequal. her mind cannot open itself to the entirety of another’s being; it barely has enough capacity for hers.
gwen’s response is less concrete answer than a wish transmitted through the earpiece: I hope it does. I can never remember my dreams, anymore.
maybe it will. if not this dream, then at least what inspired it. memories are consolidated in sleep and dreaming, aren’t they? if venom dreams of the folk tales itachi weaved for it, the stories are part of the symbiote now: small comforts existing separate from its host. 〉
（ 'dream' is a tenuous concept for him. he is rarely asleep long enough, deeply enough, for them to take hold in his mind. when he is, the ones that find him are not kind.
he thinks of the dream into which blue stumbled, over a year ago now. of the firelight reflected off the nakano lake as the uchiha compound burned to ash behind him, how real the heat had felt. the black fire of amaterasu eating everything in its path, vain and gluttonous. it has never bothered him in the strictest sense — malingering dreams are easily the least of all he deserves.
but it is... nice, to imagine that he has inspired something other than nightmares in another little life.
he reaches out again — not for gwen this time, but with a whisper-soft caress down the length of the little dragon's flank.
Do you know why I began telling this one stories? ）
（ there is a very faint smile cutting one corner of his mouth upwards. I told you once that your relationship with Venom reminded me of a similar symbiosis in my world. The Jinchūriki. Living sacrifices, meant to entomb an impossible power within themselves to serve as a cautionary tale against invading the nations to which they belonged. However... it was possible for a vessel to befriend the creature placed within them. Most people dismiss these partnerships as monstrous, and the vessels are treated as pariahs and used — often to their deaths — by those in power.
I have seen the danger firsthand of treating them thusly. I decided that Venom would probably benefit more from kindness than cruelty. ）
〈 Good call, follows immediately, the slight dryness conveyed in the tipping of her head, the slant of her eyes when she looks to itachi. her gaze returns to the symbiote.
I hated it at first. Wanted it out of me. I was out of control so it was out of control. Figuring that out was the first step to making peace with it. I thought it was making me do all those things, but I was affecting it just as much as it was me.
she lays a hand along venom's back. it twitches, but does not wake. the dream fades around them as dreams do. a sensation of warmth remains. of safety. gwen hikes the little creature higher. her smile is as soft as early dawn sunlight. 〉
（ he has had so few moments in his life that have felt peaceful he barely recognizes the sensation for what it is at first. awareness of it creeps in, settles like dust in the corners of an abandoned room. his expression stays fond, as soft as her smile. stranger still is that the peace does not feel stolen, simply a thing nurtured.
I do not think you can be blamed for feeling that way about this one at first. And very few people could come to accept its presence as you have. You have a kind heart, 氿恵爓. ）
〈 the characters are easy to recognize even without a translation. they have been on her wall for months. gwen: the tender blazing flame of spring. sometimes, she stares up at it from her bed, the poem that follows her name a comfort. although the wind will always blow…moonlight leaks too. 〉
"Blessed ring." 〈 the apparent non sequitur is spoken quietly. 〉 That's what my name means. Gwendolyn. It comes from Welsh.
〈 in her arms, venom stirs. when a black eye slits open, gwen is unsurprised. she could feel it waking through the strange, distant connection degar's magic left them. with wakefulness, the unguarded telepathy goes the way of the dream. venom's mind is closed to her too. its slender head swivels from gwen to itachi. a wide yawn takes it, the sinuous back arching like a cat stretching. 〉
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no subject
he steps around the table, and catches sight of the little dragon. like smoke against the night sky, the telepathic projection sinking in against his skin like the chill of dark water. his mind resists, but it is only instinct, before it falls away.
his breath catches in his throat. he freezes as assuredly as if caught in some unbreakable genjutsu by some power much higher than his own, one foot halfly lifted for a step that does not seem to be forthcoming. his focus is narrowed to the point of a knife, the rest of the world too far beyond they three small sparks to pay any mind at all. gwen has seen more of his emotions than most, but even she has never seen him look quite so cracked-open and vulnerable as in that moment.
but it does not last. a handspan of heartbeats, and then his heel settles on the wood, and his expression is shuttered. it is only the softness to the eyes that speaks to anything else at all.
He's taken an interesting form, I see. ）
no subject
Venom exists beyond the social construct of gender. she lays one hand gently over the sleeping pseudodragon. though its wings twitch faintly, venom does not wake. in the dream, the sensation manifests as the dazzling display of a nearby shooting star. tsuchigomo and sasuke watch it burn as it skips through the atmosphere of a beautiful blue-green planet.
her eyes are again on venom. for once, she lets the earpiece transmit directly with little eye turned toward filtering her thoughts.
Pretty sure symbiotes don't sleep. her fingers hover over the delicately elongated head, wanting to touch, but unwilling to risk waking it. So every dream it has experienced was mine. Except this one. 〉
no subject
Do you think this one will recall the dreams later? he is hardly familiar enough with the creature's inner machinations to guess, but he is happy to defer to gwen's expertise on the matter. ）
no subject
gwen’s response is less concrete answer than a wish transmitted through the earpiece: I hope it does. I can never remember my dreams, anymore.
maybe it will. if not this dream, then at least what inspired it. memories are consolidated in sleep and dreaming, aren’t they? if venom dreams of the folk tales itachi weaved for it, the stories are part of the symbiote now: small comforts existing separate from its host. 〉
no subject
he thinks of the dream into which blue stumbled, over a year ago now. of the firelight reflected off the nakano lake as the uchiha compound burned to ash behind him, how real the heat had felt. the black fire of amaterasu eating everything in its path, vain and gluttonous. it has never bothered him in the strictest sense — malingering dreams are easily the least of all he deserves.
but it is... nice, to imagine that he has inspired something other than nightmares in another little life.
he reaches out again — not for gwen this time, but with a whisper-soft caress down the length of the little dragon's flank.
Do you know why I began telling this one stories? ）
no subject
no subject
I have seen the danger firsthand of treating them thusly. I decided that Venom would probably benefit more from kindness than cruelty. ）
no subject
I hated it at first. Wanted it out of me. I was out of control so it was out of control. Figuring that out was the first step to making peace with it. I thought it was making me do all those things, but I was affecting it just as much as it was me.
she lays a hand along venom's back. it twitches, but does not wake. the dream fades around them as dreams do. a sensation of warmth remains. of safety. gwen hikes the little creature higher. her smile is as soft as early dawn sunlight. 〉
no subject
I do not think you can be blamed for feeling that way about this one at first. And very few people could come to accept its presence as you have. You have a kind heart, 氿恵爓. ）
no subject
"Blessed ring." 〈 the apparent non sequitur is spoken quietly. 〉 That's what my name means. Gwendolyn. It comes from Welsh.
〈 in her arms, venom stirs. when a black eye slits open, gwen is unsurprised. she could feel it waking through the strange, distant connection degar's magic left them. with wakefulness, the unguarded telepathy goes the way of the dream. venom's mind is closed to her too. its slender head swivels from gwen to itachi. a wide yawn takes it, the sinuous back arching like a cat stretching. 〉