[fanfiction] [the conspiracy] an excerpt from volume four
I know, it's been like months since I've written something. So I hope this simple little scene from my ongoing fanfiction can be enough to satiate my hungry, rabid muses.
title: the conspiracy
summary: Four years ago, she was Uchiha Sakura, wife to the most powerful ruler of Nippon-koku. Under the secrets and lies, the wheels start to turn again when she receives a call from a man that she thought to be dead.
series: Naruto
characters: Sakura, mentions of Sasuke
warnings: it's pretty short, (and I should be calling this a snippet!) since I haven't got anytime to write, lest to correct some of my mistakes. I'll try to check it once in a while, but I just wanted to post a little bit. Apparently, long months of no writing have finally taken its toll on me.
(22:49:51:09)
"You're quite lonely up here."
A worn leather-gloved hand brushes the ice-powder off the lavish marble stone, tracing the grooves with simple reverence.
"You never change, you know that?”
Weary, wiser verdant eyes wanders over the field covered in a pristine, white quilt, dotted with rows of perfectly aligned epitaphs. The restless gale still continues to whistle against her cold ears as she stands over a top of a flat knoll. On the zenith of this quaint mound, his tall marker was distinctly recognized as his name-emblazoned in large platinum character strokes-was faintly discernible from they reflected the eerie luminescence of the snow.
An almost cracked, wry smile forms on her thin lips as she caught a personal joke in this somber sight.
“You really hated to be in a crowd." Her breath rattles, as the chill starts to seep through her threadbare coat. “But you always stood out.”
The glinting ring flickers its weak luster as her stiff fingers idly twiddles it on the base of her neck. "It's really been a long day." She starts in a whisper, and then the maudlin topics that were lingering like an anesthetic on her grieving, wanderlust mind filled the quiet. "And I-"
Her head shakes side to side, thread of thoughts knotting themselves up, unable to be spoken out of her mouth.
So she opts for the safest thing when she is with him.
(talk like nothing happened?)
"I'm a senior intern right now. Well, more of as a clerk. It was lucky that Madame Chiiyo was a resigned Chief Nurse from the nearby centre-"
And every little nuance of her (cold) hands, every glimpse of her (dry) eyes, and every tilt of her (calm) voice is trying its best.
"I got a recommendation, and the country hospital is pretty fine, and I take shifts in the different areas-"
And it is frighteningly easy to pretend.
She already did it for seven years.
"There are small lodgings nearby, just a block away from it. Some poor signal receptions for the radio yet I think it's pretty. I got a nice view of the mountainside-"
She expects the grief, (that guilt) to strike her again, to make the dull, throbbing ache to bleed raw.
"I'm becoming a doctor, maybe it'll take a few years more but at least I can finish-"
That small, round, golden-white ornament
(of a commitment wasted, of a vow forgotten, of a crime committed)
is still heavy against her chest.
(There is no strength left to take it off from its chains.)
"Sasuke."
She tries to remember as she finds the memory of fathomless raven-sky eyes, repressed mirth swirling in them. She reminisces of a night like this, cold winter evenings with lit fireplaces, his head bent over some unfinished paperwork. Something like this, a conversation where he half-listens, a flicker of his gaze to her in a second; and she desperately tries to catch it, like when she tries to capture her unbidden, faded hope that arises and makes her believe that they could just stay like this forev-
So because it almost feels the same, she tries to lie.
"-I'm going to be fine, I promise."
She furiously escapes a tremulous sigh out from her fragile smile, with her never-wavering dark viridian gaze fixed upon that damning engraved name.
"There were no tomatoes. Hope you’re not mad?"
Then she laughs, (at this bitter, bitter irony?) feeling that there is a glare burning through her back in response.
"And you’re still as silent as ever."
The silence was his most poignant words, after all.
(22:52:44:01)
1stdraft|nov2908|1701H|unbetaed
I really suck in writing angst.
Criticisms will be very appreciated.
title: the conspiracy
summary: Four years ago, she was Uchiha Sakura, wife to the most powerful ruler of Nippon-koku. Under the secrets and lies, the wheels start to turn again when she receives a call from a man that she thought to be dead.
series: Naruto
characters: Sakura, mentions of Sasuke
warnings: it's pretty short, (and I should be calling this a snippet!) since I haven't got anytime to write, lest to correct some of my mistakes. I'll try to check it once in a while, but I just wanted to post a little bit. Apparently, long months of no writing have finally taken its toll on me.
(22:49:51:09)
"You're quite lonely up here."
A worn leather-gloved hand brushes the ice-powder off the lavish marble stone, tracing the grooves with simple reverence.
"You never change, you know that?”
Weary, wiser verdant eyes wanders over the field covered in a pristine, white quilt, dotted with rows of perfectly aligned epitaphs. The restless gale still continues to whistle against her cold ears as she stands over a top of a flat knoll. On the zenith of this quaint mound, his tall marker was distinctly recognized as his name-emblazoned in large platinum character strokes-was faintly discernible from they reflected the eerie luminescence of the snow.
An almost cracked, wry smile forms on her thin lips as she caught a personal joke in this somber sight.
“You really hated to be in a crowd." Her breath rattles, as the chill starts to seep through her threadbare coat. “But you always stood out.”
The glinting ring flickers its weak luster as her stiff fingers idly twiddles it on the base of her neck. "It's really been a long day." She starts in a whisper, and then the maudlin topics that were lingering like an anesthetic on her grieving, wanderlust mind filled the quiet. "And I-"
Her head shakes side to side, thread of thoughts knotting themselves up, unable to be spoken out of her mouth.
So she opts for the safest thing when she is with him.
(talk like nothing happened?)
"I'm a senior intern right now. Well, more of as a clerk. It was lucky that Madame Chiiyo was a resigned Chief Nurse from the nearby centre-"
And every little nuance of her (cold) hands, every glimpse of her (dry) eyes, and every tilt of her (calm) voice is trying its best.
"I got a recommendation, and the country hospital is pretty fine, and I take shifts in the different areas-"
And it is frighteningly easy to pretend.
She already did it for seven years.
"There are small lodgings nearby, just a block away from it. Some poor signal receptions for the radio yet I think it's pretty. I got a nice view of the mountainside-"
She expects the grief, (that guilt) to strike her again, to make the dull, throbbing ache to bleed raw.
"I'm becoming a doctor, maybe it'll take a few years more but at least I can finish-"
That small, round, golden-white ornament
(of a commitment wasted, of a vow forgotten, of a crime committed)
is still heavy against her chest.
(There is no strength left to take it off from its chains.)
"Sasuke."
She tries to remember as she finds the memory of fathomless raven-sky eyes, repressed mirth swirling in them. She reminisces of a night like this, cold winter evenings with lit fireplaces, his head bent over some unfinished paperwork. Something like this, a conversation where he half-listens, a flicker of his gaze to her in a second; and she desperately tries to catch it, like when she tries to capture her unbidden, faded hope that arises and makes her believe that they could just stay like this forev-
So because it almost feels the same, she tries to lie.
"-I'm going to be fine, I promise."
She furiously escapes a tremulous sigh out from her fragile smile, with her never-wavering dark viridian gaze fixed upon that damning engraved name.
"There were no tomatoes. Hope you’re not mad?"
Then she laughs, (at this bitter, bitter irony?) feeling that there is a glare burning through her back in response.
"And you’re still as silent as ever."
The silence was his most poignant words, after all.
(22:52:44:01)
1stdraft|nov2908|1701H|unbetaed
I really suck in writing angst.
Criticisms will be very appreciated.