[Rook] Uchiha Madara (Naruto)npc_kunOctober 4 2009, 08:57:42 UTC
Screaming, the cries of battle and clash of steel. The scent of blood and scorching fire. It all roared in his ears, war. War and battle and death and this was what being alive was.
Yes.
He dove into the fray. A sharp taloned hawk, striking with a scythe that ran red. Behind him another hawk, equally eager but so much more calm. Twin furies. Twin storms of battle and death.
Yes.
Life gave beneath him, and he yelled to the heavens with the joy of it, for he was alive. He was freedom. His was the fire and the glory of the sun. He flew-And into darkness plummeted.
Choking. Cold. Terrifying. The blackness gripped him until he reached out, clawing, clawing… And opened his eyes to see the dead body of a hawk in his hands, its eyes ripped out, feathers molting.
No.
A keening screech was his mourning cry, but the fire had all gone out and the world had turned its back on him. Cool shady trees covered the graves of the fallen and weapons rusted to nothing, crumbling when he touched them, like he felt himself rusting, crumbling. Useless.
No.
A man beneath a tree played a game of shogi, talking of game pieces while the world slowly froze and he felt his heart freezing with it.
Maddened, he summoned fire to burn it all, to start again.
“You are the Rook.” The man said, as he extinguished the flame. “You are direct. Predictable.”
No.
“You don’t know me. Fire is more cunning then you believe. For an ember can burn unseen long, long before the forest is consumed.”
Burning in his own fire, he hated that face as it smothered him.
Yes.
He dove into the fray. A sharp taloned hawk, striking with a scythe that ran red. Behind him another hawk, equally eager but so much more calm. Twin furies. Twin storms of battle and death.
Yes.
Life gave beneath him, and he yelled to the heavens with the joy of it, for he was alive. He was freedom. His was the fire and the glory of the sun. He flew-And into darkness plummeted.
Choking. Cold. Terrifying. The blackness gripped him until he reached out, clawing, clawing… And opened his eyes to see the dead body of a hawk in his hands, its eyes ripped out, feathers molting.
No.
A keening screech was his mourning cry, but the fire had all gone out and the world had turned its back on him. Cool shady trees covered the graves of the fallen and weapons rusted to nothing, crumbling when he touched them, like he felt himself rusting, crumbling. Useless.
No.
A man beneath a tree played a game of shogi, talking of game pieces while the world slowly froze and he felt his heart freezing with it.
Maddened, he summoned fire to burn it all, to start again.
“You are the Rook.” The man said, as he extinguished the flame. “You are direct. Predictable.”
No.
“You don’t know me. Fire is more cunning then you believe. For an ember can burn unseen long, long before the forest is consumed.”
Burning in his own fire, he hated that face as it smothered him.
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