[solo] Severance and solutions
Who: Sasori (with bonus sleeping!Deidara)
Where/When: Amegakure, Sasori's house, sometime after midnight on September 25th
Status: Closed, Complete
Style: Third-Person
Warnings: Angst and assorted dark thoughts
Sasori awoke with a start, lifting his head from the low table that was currently acting as a desk, the half-written page of notes he'd been working on smudged by his cheek. His eyes drifted over to where Deidara was curled up in the futon. He'd moved the futon here, to his workroom, so he could watch over Deidara while he was working; this way, if Deidara woke in the middle of the night, it would not be to an empty room.
He'd made little progress in his search for a way to reverse whatever the scroll had done to his partner, and he hated it. He felt so damned helpless. He had not felt like this in decades, since he'd first learned the truth about his parents.
But Sasori wouldn't give in. He wouldn't plead for divine forgiveness, wouldn't bow his head and beg them to fix Deidara. He wouldn't break. He couldn't. What would Deidara think of Sasori then, if he'd showed himself to be so weak-willed?
The gods were trying to exploit his feelings. However, he wouldn't allow himself to be ruled by his emotions, especially emotions that he still didn't really understand.
And yet, he was hunched over this table, as he had been for every waking moment that he had not spent taking care of Deidara, succumbing to frustration and guilt. He'd even exhausted his mind to the point that he'd passed out. He sighed and wiped the ink off his cheek, and moved to slip into the futon beside his partner to get some rest.
Sasori was pouring everything he had into trying to fix Deidara, into making sure Deidara ate, into making sure Deidara slept, into talking to and trying to keep Deidara rooted in reality, rather than drifting off into dull blankness. The hard truth was that emotions had been driving his actions ever since he'd seen Deidara's video on the Hitomi days ago and had realized something was very wrong.
No, even before that. The day before that, when he'd opened himself to his partner in a way that he had never done with anyone else, and made an unspoken promise, and gave in to his desires.
Sasori had loved Sakura with the sort of thoughtless passion that typically led to double suicides in the puppet plays he'd studied as a child; luckily, he'd been sensible enough to sever that false connection before it consumed him and drove him to complete despair over losing it.
Deidara was different. What he felt for Deidara was complex and difficult to articulate beyond feeling something, an irresistible connection, an understanding that reached far more deeply than anything he and Sakura had ever shared. Did he love Deidara? He wasn't sure. It wasn't as simple as it had been with Sakura, perhaps because reality was never as simple as the tragic romantic love of those plays, or the false emotions that had been forced upon him.
It was clear, however, that these feelings were dangerous. He knew emotions were a weakness; bonds like this could be used against him, and were being used against him right now. Why, then, was he trying so hard to fix Deidara, to make him as he was before? What if it was all a futile effort and Deidara would be stuck like this forever?
Really, Sasori wasn't like this at all; he knew better. He was being foolish, wasting his time on trying to decipher this scroll and taking care of Deidara like a damned nursemaid.
Deidara was useless to Sasori like this. He couldn't watch Sasori's back, he couldn't adequately fight or do anything without Sasori's direction, and he needed constant coddling. His partner's spark, his life, was gone.
Sasori turned over in the futon and faced his partner, studying him as he slept, watching Deidara's chest rise and fall peacefully with every breath.
All of this was taking far too much time away from his work; his projects were all languishing while he pursued this hopeless endeavor.
Why was Sasori wasting his time with this when there was a simple enough way to deal with his partner's condition that would also solve his other problems?
With the right combination of resins, Deidara's eyes would gleam brightly again.
With careful shaping, Deidara's lips would be upturned in that cheeky smirk forever.
With the strings attached, Deidara would move with the same life, the same energy, because Sasori had observed his partner for so long, so closely, and so carefully that he was certain that he was capable of duplicating his partner's mannerisms perfectly. He was the greatest puppet master who had ever lived, after all.
Deidara would be highly useful once again in combat, and Sasori was certain he'd be able to unlock the true potential of his partner's art, because Deidara would finally follow his instructions and would no longer be held back by childish philosophical notions.
Sasori wouldn't have to feed him, wouldn't have to talk to him, wouldn't have to hold him close at night until he fell asleep. Sasori wouldn't have to worry about Deidara blowing himself up ever again. He wouldn't have to worry about Deidara at all, because Deidara would simply be, forever, and with Sasori always.
It'd be trivial to slip the poison into his partner's food. Deidara was barely aware of his surroundings in this state, and even if he tasted any poison, he'd probably still eat it if Sasori told him to. The mixture wouldn't take long at all to prepare; Sasori had all the materials at his disposal.
Sasori had already prepared the preserving mixtures, in anticipation of the war. He'd planned on setting up a proper work area for the messier aspects of his art, but the bathroom would do well enough in a pinch; the house's clay cistern held more than enough water for washing out all the blood without having to trek back and forth to the river that much. The bathroom needed a good cleaning anyway, so really, it would be all right if he made a bit of a mess.
He was sure he had enough spare buckets to hold the entrails until he could dispose of them.
It wouldn't even hurt, Sasori would make sure of that. Deidara would simply fall asleep, and stay that way for the procedure, until it reached the point where he would never awaken again.
It would be what Deidara would have wanted, Sasori was certain. Even if Deidara had always said he hated the idea of becoming a puppet, he had always wanted to turn himself into art. Surely now that his creative spark was gone he'd be grateful to Sasori for doing what Deidara himself no longer could, for ensuring that his partner became a perfect work of true art in death.
And he would be absolutely perfect, Sasori would ensure that. Sasori would be patient, he'd lavish his partner with the time and care and love that Deidara truly deserved, and shape him into a masterpiece.
Love...
Sasori brushed blond hair aside and lightly caressed his partner's cheek. Deidara responded without waking up, tilting his head into Sasori's gentle touch.
He'd love Deidara then, as he loved all his creations. That was a safe feeling, a clear feeling, one that could be more easily set aside if it became inconvenient or if his work was destroyed. Loving Deidara in that way would be far easier to grasp than the confusing emotions he felt towards his partner now.
Sasori had severed every bond that had ever proved troublesome for him. He'd severed his bond with Chiyo. He'd severed his bonds with his teammates. He'd severed his bond with the Kazekage. He'd severed his bond with Sunagakure.
Severing his bond with Deidara should be trivial. Although, he supposed that he wouldn't really be severing it by killing his partner, he'd merely be transforming it into the bond of master and puppet, artist and creation.
Really, Sasori should be thrilled at the chance to finally create a new work. It had been weeks and weeks since he'd tackled a new project. If all this had happened before he'd come to this world, he would've already done it by now.
Having hollowed out his own body years ago, the feeling of being cold and hollow was always ghosting at the edge of Sasori's consciousness, always reminding him that he was not really human anymore but forever detached. Rather than feeling excitement over the prospect of transforming his partner, the only thing he was experiencing now was that frigid emptiness.
Sasori slipped his arms around Deidara and curled in close, instinctively seeking warmth like his namesake would, because he too didn't generate enough of his own. Being with Deidara had made him feel warm and full and alive again, and Sasori knew he would lose that forever when he took his partner's life, but if he couldn't fix Deidara...
Sasori didn't want to see Deidara like this anymore. Someone so energetic and passionate, reduced to this lifelessness. Someone who was already hollowed out while still being truly alive. Ending his life would be the merciful thing to do.
Deidara stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep and shifting closer. “...Danna...”
And just like that, Sasori's lips tightened, and he found his resolve.
Sasori would do it. He'd kill Deidara.
He'd do it.
He'd do it, but...not just yet. He'd wait a few more days. He'd keep seeking a way to fix Deidara for a little while longer.
Because it was irksome, to be presented with a problem, a challenge, and leaving it unsolved and unmet. Sasori was never one to back down from a challenge, and he had never failed to fix any of the broken things he'd ever put his time into before; he wasn't about to let that change now.
And that, at least, was a reason Sasori's mind could accept, rather than the real one that was making him stay his hand, so he would wait for now. He would pull Deidara a little closer, and sleep, and make his partner's breakfast when he awoke, and rewrite his smudged notes.
However, as his mind drifted off into slumber, he acknowledged that he couldn't wait forever.
Where/When: Amegakure, Sasori's house, sometime after midnight on September 25th
Status: Closed, Complete
Style: Third-Person
Warnings: Angst and assorted dark thoughts
Sasori awoke with a start, lifting his head from the low table that was currently acting as a desk, the half-written page of notes he'd been working on smudged by his cheek. His eyes drifted over to where Deidara was curled up in the futon. He'd moved the futon here, to his workroom, so he could watch over Deidara while he was working; this way, if Deidara woke in the middle of the night, it would not be to an empty room.
He'd made little progress in his search for a way to reverse whatever the scroll had done to his partner, and he hated it. He felt so damned helpless. He had not felt like this in decades, since he'd first learned the truth about his parents.
But Sasori wouldn't give in. He wouldn't plead for divine forgiveness, wouldn't bow his head and beg them to fix Deidara. He wouldn't break. He couldn't. What would Deidara think of Sasori then, if he'd showed himself to be so weak-willed?
The gods were trying to exploit his feelings. However, he wouldn't allow himself to be ruled by his emotions, especially emotions that he still didn't really understand.
And yet, he was hunched over this table, as he had been for every waking moment that he had not spent taking care of Deidara, succumbing to frustration and guilt. He'd even exhausted his mind to the point that he'd passed out. He sighed and wiped the ink off his cheek, and moved to slip into the futon beside his partner to get some rest.
Sasori was pouring everything he had into trying to fix Deidara, into making sure Deidara ate, into making sure Deidara slept, into talking to and trying to keep Deidara rooted in reality, rather than drifting off into dull blankness. The hard truth was that emotions had been driving his actions ever since he'd seen Deidara's video on the Hitomi days ago and had realized something was very wrong.
No, even before that. The day before that, when he'd opened himself to his partner in a way that he had never done with anyone else, and made an unspoken promise, and gave in to his desires.
Sasori had loved Sakura with the sort of thoughtless passion that typically led to double suicides in the puppet plays he'd studied as a child; luckily, he'd been sensible enough to sever that false connection before it consumed him and drove him to complete despair over losing it.
Deidara was different. What he felt for Deidara was complex and difficult to articulate beyond feeling something, an irresistible connection, an understanding that reached far more deeply than anything he and Sakura had ever shared. Did he love Deidara? He wasn't sure. It wasn't as simple as it had been with Sakura, perhaps because reality was never as simple as the tragic romantic love of those plays, or the false emotions that had been forced upon him.
It was clear, however, that these feelings were dangerous. He knew emotions were a weakness; bonds like this could be used against him, and were being used against him right now. Why, then, was he trying so hard to fix Deidara, to make him as he was before? What if it was all a futile effort and Deidara would be stuck like this forever?
Really, Sasori wasn't like this at all; he knew better. He was being foolish, wasting his time on trying to decipher this scroll and taking care of Deidara like a damned nursemaid.
Deidara was useless to Sasori like this. He couldn't watch Sasori's back, he couldn't adequately fight or do anything without Sasori's direction, and he needed constant coddling. His partner's spark, his life, was gone.
Sasori turned over in the futon and faced his partner, studying him as he slept, watching Deidara's chest rise and fall peacefully with every breath.
All of this was taking far too much time away from his work; his projects were all languishing while he pursued this hopeless endeavor.
Why was Sasori wasting his time with this when there was a simple enough way to deal with his partner's condition that would also solve his other problems?
With the right combination of resins, Deidara's eyes would gleam brightly again.
With careful shaping, Deidara's lips would be upturned in that cheeky smirk forever.
With the strings attached, Deidara would move with the same life, the same energy, because Sasori had observed his partner for so long, so closely, and so carefully that he was certain that he was capable of duplicating his partner's mannerisms perfectly. He was the greatest puppet master who had ever lived, after all.
Deidara would be highly useful once again in combat, and Sasori was certain he'd be able to unlock the true potential of his partner's art, because Deidara would finally follow his instructions and would no longer be held back by childish philosophical notions.
Sasori wouldn't have to feed him, wouldn't have to talk to him, wouldn't have to hold him close at night until he fell asleep. Sasori wouldn't have to worry about Deidara blowing himself up ever again. He wouldn't have to worry about Deidara at all, because Deidara would simply be, forever, and with Sasori always.
It'd be trivial to slip the poison into his partner's food. Deidara was barely aware of his surroundings in this state, and even if he tasted any poison, he'd probably still eat it if Sasori told him to. The mixture wouldn't take long at all to prepare; Sasori had all the materials at his disposal.
Sasori had already prepared the preserving mixtures, in anticipation of the war. He'd planned on setting up a proper work area for the messier aspects of his art, but the bathroom would do well enough in a pinch; the house's clay cistern held more than enough water for washing out all the blood without having to trek back and forth to the river that much. The bathroom needed a good cleaning anyway, so really, it would be all right if he made a bit of a mess.
He was sure he had enough spare buckets to hold the entrails until he could dispose of them.
It wouldn't even hurt, Sasori would make sure of that. Deidara would simply fall asleep, and stay that way for the procedure, until it reached the point where he would never awaken again.
It would be what Deidara would have wanted, Sasori was certain. Even if Deidara had always said he hated the idea of becoming a puppet, he had always wanted to turn himself into art. Surely now that his creative spark was gone he'd be grateful to Sasori for doing what Deidara himself no longer could, for ensuring that his partner became a perfect work of true art in death.
And he would be absolutely perfect, Sasori would ensure that. Sasori would be patient, he'd lavish his partner with the time and care and love that Deidara truly deserved, and shape him into a masterpiece.
Love...
Sasori brushed blond hair aside and lightly caressed his partner's cheek. Deidara responded without waking up, tilting his head into Sasori's gentle touch.
He'd love Deidara then, as he loved all his creations. That was a safe feeling, a clear feeling, one that could be more easily set aside if it became inconvenient or if his work was destroyed. Loving Deidara in that way would be far easier to grasp than the confusing emotions he felt towards his partner now.
Sasori had severed every bond that had ever proved troublesome for him. He'd severed his bond with Chiyo. He'd severed his bonds with his teammates. He'd severed his bond with the Kazekage. He'd severed his bond with Sunagakure.
Severing his bond with Deidara should be trivial. Although, he supposed that he wouldn't really be severing it by killing his partner, he'd merely be transforming it into the bond of master and puppet, artist and creation.
Really, Sasori should be thrilled at the chance to finally create a new work. It had been weeks and weeks since he'd tackled a new project. If all this had happened before he'd come to this world, he would've already done it by now.
Having hollowed out his own body years ago, the feeling of being cold and hollow was always ghosting at the edge of Sasori's consciousness, always reminding him that he was not really human anymore but forever detached. Rather than feeling excitement over the prospect of transforming his partner, the only thing he was experiencing now was that frigid emptiness.
Sasori slipped his arms around Deidara and curled in close, instinctively seeking warmth like his namesake would, because he too didn't generate enough of his own. Being with Deidara had made him feel warm and full and alive again, and Sasori knew he would lose that forever when he took his partner's life, but if he couldn't fix Deidara...
Sasori didn't want to see Deidara like this anymore. Someone so energetic and passionate, reduced to this lifelessness. Someone who was already hollowed out while still being truly alive. Ending his life would be the merciful thing to do.
Deidara stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep and shifting closer. “...Danna...”
And just like that, Sasori's lips tightened, and he found his resolve.
Sasori would do it. He'd kill Deidara.
He'd do it.
He'd do it, but...not just yet. He'd wait a few more days. He'd keep seeking a way to fix Deidara for a little while longer.
Because it was irksome, to be presented with a problem, a challenge, and leaving it unsolved and unmet. Sasori was never one to back down from a challenge, and he had never failed to fix any of the broken things he'd ever put his time into before; he wasn't about to let that change now.
And that, at least, was a reason Sasori's mind could accept, rather than the real one that was making him stay his hand, so he would wait for now. He would pull Deidara a little closer, and sleep, and make his partner's breakfast when he awoke, and rewrite his smudged notes.
However, as his mind drifted off into slumber, he acknowledged that he couldn't wait forever.