Art is a BANG! [Complete]

[clayfireworks]

Character(s): Deidara, Sasori, Pride, and Zetsu
Content: Deidara tries out his art while poisoned, passes out, and stumbles upon a partner he thinks is dead, along with a homunculus tag along. Chaos ensues.
Setting: I7
Time: afternoon
Warnings: nothing

Comments

[deadgoldeyes]

It was when the echoing sound had dissipated that Pride flickered back into existence behind Sasori- loud noises, especially ones that bounced from dome to street and back, with bright light and crackling, were not Pride's favorite things.

He blinked around the puppetmaster's arm, watching the small hill of clay that had not been in that large area between buildings before. Some of it was stuck in said clay, but what blonde hair was free fluttered briefly in the breeze of the aftermath. A moment of consideration had him tugging only once on Sasori's sleeve as he looked up at the Akatsuki, then flickering into absence once more.

Only a few moments later, he reappeared like some sort of apparition, next to the lump of clay and the blonde lying in it. He almost voiced who it was he thought had been laying there, but the face was wrong, the clothes wrong, and the arm wrong, as well.

So he pondered for a moment, looked up at Sasori, then back down, and said to the unconscious artist, "Not Edward."

[livemarionette]

The noise was enough to know

[clayfireworks]

Deidara was not unconscious long, but the disorientation remained, and he found his head throbbed far too much to allow him to open his eyes and look around. He thought he heard a voice--Edward, no, that wasn't his name--but the sound made him want to curl up against the sensations that accompanied it, though his body was still unresponsive as if he was only half awake. Then again, he might have been. His head was killing him. Hopefully whoever it was speaking was not dangerous, or at least had no reason to want to harm him. He was in no condition to fight back.

He felt movement, though--his own movement, and that startled him into a more solid consciousness. Who would want to pick him up...? But no, he was walking. Chakra strings came to mind immediately, and his eyes flew open despite his head pounding protest against the light.

There was someone with blond hair he didn't recognize, and then there was a familiar redhead. Deidara blinked, and then he stared.

"Danna...?"

[deadgoldeyes]

Pride didn't know what a 'Danna' was, but he knew, at least, that this person looked interesting, and Sasori seemed to understand what had happened.

The homunculus took the opportunity of Deidara's silent confusion to pick away some of the clay on his sleeve- his robe was like Sasori's, black and red and white cotton balls- and consider his face- soft and almost-scary, and one eye gray-blue like a sleepy Brother-cat.

He raised a hand- the one not occupied with sticky clay fingers, to touch Deidara's bangs, and push them away slightly to reveal the metal-and-glass-and-machine where his other eye should be.

[livemarionette]

The puppet master nodded, allowing the strings he held a little slack. He wasn't sure how steady his partner would be so soon after waking; loose enough to allow some freedom of motion, the strings still maintained support. "Deidara. Are you injured? What happened?"

The first question would be asked in all practicality; an injured partner was something to be taken into account, should trouble arise. Problems were altogether too probable, in a place so strange.

However, it was the second of particular interest; Sasori could not easily imagine a situation which would lead to his partner’s collapse, especially in an environment enclosed and as mild as the city seemed to be. Admittedly, the environment played a small role in Deidara’s flight---the worst winds, blizzards, and storms seemed only to encourage him, and while he did not always fly without incident, he flew without accidents.

Every commotion Deidara caused was undoubtedly deliberate.

On occasion, one would have its own cause.

[clayfireworks]

Deidara was momentarily distracted by Pride, and blinked uneasily as he moved to touch him. Still, Deidara was confused enough that he did not move to stop him. When Sasori spoke, Deidara again regarded the puppet master with clear uncertainty.

"You... You're dead," Deidara said, though he didn't sound sure of himself at all. "Does the poison cause hallucinations, too?"

At the slack, Deidara sagged a bit, and then steadied himself. Feeling a bit silly as he did so, he reached out to touch the sleeve of his partner's cloak. Had he hit his head this hard?

But Zetsu had mentioned that Paixao could bring people from different times... Even back from the dead. But somehow Deidara was still having trouble grasping it.

[deadgoldeyes]

Deidara's statement led Pride to stop, cant his head and blink as he pulled his hand away from the bomb-nin's face, then look at Sasori. He didn't look dead. Dead things stopped moving, didn't speak, didn't come back.

Unless, of course, Sasori was like Pride- didn't die. But Pride knew there were only he and Father, and the other homunculi that lived that way.

"Not dead," he offered, and set Deidara with his blank stare.

[livemarionette]

“I’d have to die, to be dead---and I haven’t.” This said, Sasori allowed some concern and some curiosity expression, although that curiosity expanded into an intent, serious interest at the mention of poison. “You’ve been poisoned? How? Deidara, focus; I need an answer.” He would do whatever he could, though while he was confident in his abilities, information to work with was a necessity.

The puppeteer made no move towards or to avoid his partner’s hand; if the blonde wanted tangible proof, it was present. The fabric was there, thick and cool and smelling faintly of chemicals, having had considerable exposure to any number; the weave matched Deidara’s own. He watched the touch with a patient neutrality, something unspoken about being every bit as real as Akatsuki’s other artist---and entirely animate, if not exactly alive.

[clayfireworks]

Deidara was almost surprised at the feel of the cloak--things would have been easier to comprehend had his hand gone through. But Sasori was there, and alive, and the explosives expert spent a moment just staring, trying to get it through his brain.

"You died... When I'm from," Deidara said simply, in a bit of a subdued tone. That had been some time ago.

"There was poison in the water supply, un," Deidara said. "My senses are all scrambled. I'm seeing sounds and hearing colors and stuff." At that, he grinned crookedly. "I had to see what art looked like that way. Zetsu-san made an antidote, un."

An antidote he hadn't taken, of course. But it's not like it would be going anywhere... He would just have to find Zetsu again. Or Sasori could make one--certainly it would be easy enough for him.

[deadgoldeyes]

Pride looked confused- if his blank gaze and cocked head was any indication.

Sasori was dead but not-dead and he was obviously still here, so the 'when' Deidara spoke of must have been somewhere else, but...

His head canted further, like he was trying to look at the problem- and Deidara- upside down, but it didn't work. So, he set about hugging the bomb-nin, because hugs usually made things better.

[weeatbodies]

His work had been done. Itachi could see, Naruto could tap his own chakra again, and Haku was nothing more than human. He had noticed Konan on the journals before he'd left, had contacted her to report in.... yes, he was definitely starting to feel good about the situation as a whole. As wretched as things had been recently, it was starting to finally pick up again. No poison, no amnesia, no monsters or freakish weather.... It came down to interesting work he was good at, and a good half of his coworkers here with him, including their two superiors, even if some of them had unusual circumstances. What else was there to do then, but track down their missing member to cure

[livemarionette]

“I,” couldn’t’ve---I know I’m not perfect, not now---not yet---but I’m supposed to be, eventually, and when I am I’ll be eternal, as art ought to be---“would like to save some of this poison, if it’s still available.” Sasori had allowed only a small hesitation in his speech before bringing his usual façade of neutrality to bear; Deidara wouldn’t lie about his death, but word of it… word of it would take some processing, and with good reason.

What little the other artist had said meant a great many things:
He had died.
He hadn't had a century; he hadn't had halfTo last such a short time; that wasn't art. That wasn't close. That was only an embarrassment, and if he had ended so soon, what could he be worth, as art or as artist? Works as fragile as oil, acrylic, and even watercolor lasted longer---fifty years were next to nothing

[clayfireworks]

Deidara spent a moment just staring at the strange, short blond-haired boy who seemed to think it was okay to hug him. Still, there was something strange about him--the way he acted made Deidara wonder if he was all there--so he only gently pushed the other blond away