Sai | Reserved | part 4fedele_tempestaMarch 1 2011, 05:32:06 UTC
Writing sample:
[ This is a Dream post I wrote for Kannagara a while back ]
Like all his dreams, it starts with a smear of ink. Soundless, aimless, spreading across the canvas with a hasty flavour of impatience. It shifts, forming into a character, then a few, building a word, and he reads 'ROOT' just before it slithers into another disguise, forming a bunch of roots where it rabidly grows into a tree, adeptly ignoring all sensibilities about quantity and proportion. A leaf shudders in the inked tree, withers and falls, right beside his foot.
He takes a step back, bending down to pick up the tattered leaf, which dissolves onto his fingers like black blood. His fingers rub idly against each other as he looks up, now overseeing Konoha, torn apart, ruins sticking out of the ground like broken bones, a skeleton of a city, broken and tired.
He puts a finger on it, black with ink blood and tracing an outline of a house that once sheltered several families. Two dimensional, unmoving, he gives the building eyes in windows, a mouth in a door, screaming open, and there, a touch of a shade, tiled texture, flower patterns in curtains that peek out of the windows.
Then he moves to the next building.
He has drawn out five buildings and some trees when he sees a figure standing in his two dimensional landscape, shaped out of black ink and wearing a crescent smile. It is himself, walking towards him. He marvels the shift of proportion as he strolls closer, just so correct.
"You can't fix it like that," he says.
Sai nods, letting his hand drop to his side as he adopts a smile just as fabricated as the ink him is wearing. "I know."
His hand twitches against his side as the inked figure stops before him. And he thinks that the shading on his throat is a bit off, darker than it should be.
"Are you a root or will you be a leaf?"
He shivers at the question, so soft on the inked lips and spilling out like liquid. He doesn't have the answer, he doesn't know if there is a difference. To be a shinobi is to sacrifice oneself. He frowns, looking down at his ink smeared hands and realizes that there's an inked tanto sticking out from his stomach, quivering in time with his breathing.
His blood is red, redder than any shade of black, grey and white in his dream. Spilling onto his fingers as he reaches for the hilt, pulsing faintly in time with his heart.
"You could bleed, Sai," he says, still smiling. "Maybe that would fix it."
[ This is a Dream post I wrote for Kannagara a while back ]
Like all his dreams, it starts with a smear of ink. Soundless, aimless, spreading across the canvas with a hasty flavour of impatience. It shifts, forming into a character, then a few, building a word, and he reads 'ROOT' just before it slithers into another disguise, forming a bunch of roots where it rabidly grows into a tree, adeptly ignoring all sensibilities about quantity and proportion. A leaf shudders in the inked tree, withers and falls, right beside his foot.
He takes a step back, bending down to pick up the tattered leaf, which dissolves onto his fingers like black blood. His fingers rub idly against each other as he looks up, now overseeing Konoha, torn apart, ruins sticking out of the ground like broken bones, a skeleton of a city, broken and tired.
He puts a finger on it, black with ink blood and tracing an outline of a house that once sheltered several families. Two dimensional, unmoving, he gives the building eyes in windows, a mouth in a door, screaming open, and there, a touch of a shade, tiled texture, flower patterns in curtains that peek out of the windows.
Then he moves to the next building.
He has drawn out five buildings and some trees when he sees a figure standing in his two dimensional landscape, shaped out of black ink and wearing a crescent smile. It is himself, walking towards him. He marvels the shift of proportion as he strolls closer, just so correct.
"You can't fix it like that," he says.
Sai nods, letting his hand drop to his side as he adopts a smile just as fabricated as the ink him is wearing. "I know."
His hand twitches against his side as the inked figure stops before him. And he thinks that the shading on his throat is a bit off, darker than it should be.
"Are you a root or will you be a leaf?"
He shivers at the question, so soft on the inked lips and spilling out like liquid. He doesn't have the answer, he doesn't know if there is a difference. To be a shinobi is to sacrifice oneself. He frowns, looking down at his ink smeared hands and realizes that there's an inked tanto sticking out from his stomach, quivering in time with his breathing.
His blood is red, redder than any shade of black, grey and white in his dream. Spilling onto his fingers as he reaches for the hilt, pulsing faintly in time with his heart.
"You could bleed, Sai," he says, still smiling. "Maybe that would fix it."
Voice sample:
All of this post, especially threads with Kakashi and Sasori
And
basically anything from here.
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