Who: Deidara, OPEN to anyone!
When: 21-12-07
Where: 123 You Got Served Boulevard.
Rating: Oh, let's say PG-13 for now... seriously subject to change, however.
Warnings: Language. Misuse of the term 'art' and the belief that if it blows up, it's beautiful. Which it so is! A touch of emo. A pinch of Deidaratude. A dash of love-hating Medea.
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He chuckled to himself for a moment, a little unsure of what to make of Schuldig. He seemed interesting... and not at all like one of the people here that tried to oppress and fashion 'friends' out of the really twisted folk who had come to Purgatorium. Miwako, for instance... Deidara shuddered just thinking of her. Schuldig seemed sensible. At least, for the most part. Deidara had to wonder as he watched the subtle movements Schuldig was making... if this guy really thought mundane weapons would be enough to take him out. Not that Deidara knew what Schuldig was packing... but either way. He'd blown himself up before, and he'd lost limbs without breaking much of a sweat. Pain was just... part of the game.
"It's not magic, un..." said Deidara with a snort. "It's called a jutsu... and it's very special, limited to just me, un." Eyeing the figure once more, Deidara smirked and stuffed it into his pouch carefully. He'd use it another time, he supposed. It would never harm Schuldig if used - unless Schuldig was in the area the bomb was detonated in - but it was pretty damn amusing to be carrying one around that looked like him.
"As for blowing up more buildings... I might. But not around here, un. I think I'll hit the ones furthest from the city." It would be less satisfying, but it was better than having Medea rip out his insides again while he was still alive.
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