[VIDEO] Week 8, Day 1
[ The screen goes on in a tumble, something bright and red smearing across the upper left corner. It drops onto the ground and rolls, once, twice, then stops, flecks of dirt and dust obscuring the camera. This feed continues on for quite some time. An hour passes with only the sound of waves and labored breathing that eventually even out and dissipate into silence, obscured by the ebb and flow of the ocean.
For reasons unknown, the feed keeps going.
Eventually, slender fingers covered in rusted blood flakes and dust wrap around the the Hitomi and it lifts and turns around. Madara is cast in shadow, the sun bright behind him, forming a halo around the wild tangle of his hair, which is windswept. But even with shadows cutting across his face, the blood is unmistakable. Dark patches of rust cake under his eyes, running down the sides of his face. His clothing has been reduced to shreds, his cloak tattering about him like broken wings of a crow in midflight when the wind catches it in a gust and sends it billowing up around him.
He does not launch into his usual fiery rage-driven monologue immediately, but there is a focus in his gaze, a look filled with killing, red and black and swirling into the endless eternity of the Mangekyo Sharingan. ]
It would appear the gods have decided to return me back from one hell into another.
[ His tone would sound bitter if not for how hoarse his voice is. ]
For reasons unknown, the feed keeps going.
Eventually, slender fingers covered in rusted blood flakes and dust wrap around the the Hitomi and it lifts and turns around. Madara is cast in shadow, the sun bright behind him, forming a halo around the wild tangle of his hair, which is windswept. But even with shadows cutting across his face, the blood is unmistakable. Dark patches of rust cake under his eyes, running down the sides of his face. His clothing has been reduced to shreds, his cloak tattering about him like broken wings of a crow in midflight when the wind catches it in a gust and sends it billowing up around him.
He does not launch into his usual fiery rage-driven monologue immediately, but there is a focus in his gaze, a look filled with killing, red and black and swirling into the endless eternity of the Mangekyo Sharingan. ]
It would appear the gods have decided to return me back from one hell into another.
[ His tone would sound bitter if not for how hoarse his voice is. ]