Itachi ЖЖ 002
Who: Uchiha Itachi, Hatake Kakashi
Where: Espoir
Style: Third
Status: Closed. Backdated to March 15th, following after this log, and after this dream.
The red began to fade behind Itachi's eyes, the vision of Sasuke--eyes glazed and body limp--breaking away to dim grey shadows.
He couldn't see, his eyes not focused enough, but the heaviness of his head tilted backwards was pressure enough to make him lift it off the back of the chair he was bound to. His wrists hurt, the harsh material tied too tightly, his shoulder muscles being stretched as they were pulled backwards, then together at the base of the seat. His ankles were also tethered tightly to the back legs of the chair, putting them at stressful angles. A large, thick rope, was wrapped thrice around his waist, stiff and rough against his skin through his shirt--tight and unforgiving, constricting his ribs in a way that was undeniably on purpose. He could feel the pulsing, almost as it the rope had a heartbeat of its own, the currents pushing against him and keeping him subjugated.
The ropes were fortified with chakra--the Yondaime's.
Itachi's neck was sore...no doubt from the pressure point that had sent him into the oblivion of unconsciousness. He slid his eyes to the side, seeing the dull lighting of the room was from the lack of the lights being on--the small amount of sun being allowed in through the cracks in the shutters of the windows. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the low light, and he could see that he was what probably one of the small huts that had been littered around the area.
And he was not alone. He could feel another in the room, and as his eyes further dilated to accommodate the amount of light provided, he could now make out the form of another person sitting across from him, but far enough away into the shadows that he could not see that clearly. Was is the Yondaime? Had he finally decided to take his "questioning" to the next level? Given the blond's reluctance to physically harm him previously, Itachi was not sure, and yet he also knew that as the Yellow Flash, he was undoubtedly capable of great ruthlessness, when he felt it necessary.
Taking in the bound feet of the other individual, as his eyes moved upwards, he knew he was mistaken. The person was tied up very much like himself, ankles to the back legs of the chair, arms trapped behind him, and rope strengthened by chakra securely locking every limb into place. His eyes grew more used to the light, and the clothing of the person was clear to him, the black stiff cloth tight around the calves that loosens and the thick rope that holds everything into place. The open shirt with bandages wrapped around a pale chest lead up to a slender neck shadowed by a lowered head of full dark hair that spiked straight into the air.
It didn't make sense. Why would he be here--bound to a chair just as Itachi?
Where: Espoir
Style: Third
Status: Closed. Backdated to March 15th, following after this log, and after this dream.
The red began to fade behind Itachi's eyes, the vision of Sasuke--eyes glazed and body limp--breaking away to dim grey shadows.
He couldn't see, his eyes not focused enough, but the heaviness of his head tilted backwards was pressure enough to make him lift it off the back of the chair he was bound to. His wrists hurt, the harsh material tied too tightly, his shoulder muscles being stretched as they were pulled backwards, then together at the base of the seat. His ankles were also tethered tightly to the back legs of the chair, putting them at stressful angles. A large, thick rope, was wrapped thrice around his waist, stiff and rough against his skin through his shirt--tight and unforgiving, constricting his ribs in a way that was undeniably on purpose. He could feel the pulsing, almost as it the rope had a heartbeat of its own, the currents pushing against him and keeping him subjugated.
The ropes were fortified with chakra--the Yondaime's.
Itachi's neck was sore...no doubt from the pressure point that had sent him into the oblivion of unconsciousness. He slid his eyes to the side, seeing the dull lighting of the room was from the lack of the lights being on--the small amount of sun being allowed in through the cracks in the shutters of the windows. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the low light, and he could see that he was what probably one of the small huts that had been littered around the area.
And he was not alone. He could feel another in the room, and as his eyes further dilated to accommodate the amount of light provided, he could now make out the form of another person sitting across from him, but far enough away into the shadows that he could not see that clearly. Was is the Yondaime? Had he finally decided to take his "questioning" to the next level? Given the blond's reluctance to physically harm him previously, Itachi was not sure, and yet he also knew that as the Yellow Flash, he was undoubtedly capable of great ruthlessness, when he felt it necessary.
Taking in the bound feet of the other individual, as his eyes moved upwards, he knew he was mistaken. The person was tied up very much like himself, ankles to the back legs of the chair, arms trapped behind him, and rope strengthened by chakra securely locking every limb into place. His eyes grew more used to the light, and the clothing of the person was clear to him, the black stiff cloth tight around the calves that loosens and the thick rope that holds everything into place. The open shirt with bandages wrapped around a pale chest lead up to a slender neck shadowed by a lowered head of full dark hair that spiked straight into the air.
It didn't make sense. Why would he be here--bound to a chair just as Itachi?