[CLOSED]
Who: Deidara & Naruto
When: Backdated. Before and after this.
Where: A street, near the church?
Format: Paragraph
What: Naruto is a creepy stalker, folks. Really, he is.
Warnings: Two idiots with potty mouths.
It has become a habit, wandering around aimlessly. One corner of a building, then another, slipping in and out of shadows like an old, weary thought that has no direction or hope to accomplish more than wearing out the same old tracks that have been drawn out out familiarity and nostalgia. It is not just a habit, however, it is a conscious effort to make the city a melancholy routine for himself, knowing the parts of it by scent, having little problem locating himself by sound alone, counting steps, reciting colors - it is the task of a shinobi with a load of doubts upon his shoulders.
It is a quiet evening, flickering moonlight between torn billows of clouds, glow of streetlamps on the cobbled stones, it is a fairy tale and a story of horrors dancing in the shadows. Deidara feels haunted by the shifting shadows, from a lamp to the next, it seems as if there is five of him passing under the warm glow, each of him head taller than the last. It is unnerving, just as is the sound of his shoes on the stoned streets. A problem he needs to work his head around in the near future. It is fucking impossible to move soundlessly.
He hums as he walks, seemingly at ease, even if that couldn't be further from the truth. Someone has been following him for a while, and naturally that puts him in a difficult position. Those damned flickering street lamps...
A sculpture is forming within his palms, a roughly human like figure. He is ready, it is just a matter of timing. In a shadow of a street corner, he will make his move. A ram mounting a dog, chakra released, contained, steps walking in unison until he can slip into a mouth of a door and hide under the deeper shadow while a copy of himself continues to run down the street.
It is all about the timing.
Lamp light dims slightly as he strolls around the next corner, careless as ever.
And then he rolls the dice. Lets see what you got, stranger.
When: Backdated. Before and after this.
Where: A street, near the church?
Format: Paragraph
What: Naruto is a creepy stalker, folks. Really, he is.
Warnings: Two idiots with potty mouths.
It has become a habit, wandering around aimlessly. One corner of a building, then another, slipping in and out of shadows like an old, weary thought that has no direction or hope to accomplish more than wearing out the same old tracks that have been drawn out out familiarity and nostalgia. It is not just a habit, however, it is a conscious effort to make the city a melancholy routine for himself, knowing the parts of it by scent, having little problem locating himself by sound alone, counting steps, reciting colors - it is the task of a shinobi with a load of doubts upon his shoulders.
It is a quiet evening, flickering moonlight between torn billows of clouds, glow of streetlamps on the cobbled stones, it is a fairy tale and a story of horrors dancing in the shadows. Deidara feels haunted by the shifting shadows, from a lamp to the next, it seems as if there is five of him passing under the warm glow, each of him head taller than the last. It is unnerving, just as is the sound of his shoes on the stoned streets. A problem he needs to work his head around in the near future. It is fucking impossible to move soundlessly.
He hums as he walks, seemingly at ease, even if that couldn't be further from the truth. Someone has been following him for a while, and naturally that puts him in a difficult position. Those damned flickering street lamps...
A sculpture is forming within his palms, a roughly human like figure. He is ready, it is just a matter of timing. In a shadow of a street corner, he will make his move. A ram mounting a dog, chakra released, contained, steps walking in unison until he can slip into a mouth of a door and hide under the deeper shadow while a copy of himself continues to run down the street.
It is all about the timing.
Lamp light dims slightly as he strolls around the next corner, careless as ever.
And then he rolls the dice. Lets see what you got, stranger.