(no subject)
[A cough jars the feed, starting it up in a careless, long swooping panoramic view of the area. It records at Sasuke's wrist and catches whatever it's facing when he lifts an arm to scrub back through his hair. Bandages trail the edge of the feed. Sasuke's arms are bound from fingers to elbow, both of them, and bleeding through in places from some mysterious injury.
The video's caught them mid-conversation. Both Itachi and Sasuke look like death warmed over, sweaty and exhausted and fried out from manual labor and exposure to either flames, or enough ash to paint a thousand charcoal murals. Between the brothers is a decently sized bottle, the label too soot-blackened to read, and in front is the gutted out skeletal remains of a collapsed house. Or what had once been a house. There's a wall skewering up through debris here and there, the frame of a window with shockingly intact - if blackened - glass, half of a doorframe, and a pile of lumber and tools pristine and waiting to be used for repairs.
If the doubtful expressions mirrored on Itachi and Sasuke's faces are any indicator of how successful repair attempts would be, that pile won't last long. It'll either be returned, or used soon to try and fix the mess.]
- don't really think it's wise to stay much longer.
[Itachi's voice. He speaks very softly, very carefully inflecting his words. Sasuke snickers and leans harder into his side, sending the older brother swaying.
Both of them have apparently been a little liberal with that bottle. Sasuke lifts it to his mouth and clicks his teeth against the opening.]
... 's still nicer'n Orochimaru's last hide-out.
[Itachi blinks slowly, then nods even slower, like he's really considering Sasuke's words with true gravity and thought. He leans further into Sasuke and turns his face so his forehead rests on the muscle-cap of his little brother's shoulder, mostly obscured by his hair.]
Aa. An underground cave is better suited to gophers than serpents. Or Uchiha. [Another long pause, then lightly-]
We should think about perhaps moving on.
[Sasuke grunts and lifts the bottle in a tired salute to their old, poor, guttered-out place.] Yeah ... can you stand?
[A coughing sound that might be a laugh.
Sasuke ducks his face and echoes it, one hand coming up to rub into his forehead. It stays there, the heel of his palm propped between his eyes and his elbow on his knees as he slumps wearily. Eventually the feed times out.]
The video's caught them mid-conversation. Both Itachi and Sasuke look like death warmed over, sweaty and exhausted and fried out from manual labor and exposure to either flames, or enough ash to paint a thousand charcoal murals. Between the brothers is a decently sized bottle, the label too soot-blackened to read, and in front is the gutted out skeletal remains of a collapsed house. Or what had once been a house. There's a wall skewering up through debris here and there, the frame of a window with shockingly intact - if blackened - glass, half of a doorframe, and a pile of lumber and tools pristine and waiting to be used for repairs.
If the doubtful expressions mirrored on Itachi and Sasuke's faces are any indicator of how successful repair attempts would be, that pile won't last long. It'll either be returned, or used soon to try and fix the mess.]
- don't really think it's wise to stay much longer.
[Itachi's voice. He speaks very softly, very carefully inflecting his words. Sasuke snickers and leans harder into his side, sending the older brother swaying.
Both of them have apparently been a little liberal with that bottle. Sasuke lifts it to his mouth and clicks his teeth against the opening.]
... 's still nicer'n Orochimaru's last hide-out.
[Itachi blinks slowly, then nods even slower, like he's really considering Sasuke's words with true gravity and thought. He leans further into Sasuke and turns his face so his forehead rests on the muscle-cap of his little brother's shoulder, mostly obscured by his hair.]
Aa. An underground cave is better suited to gophers than serpents. Or Uchiha. [Another long pause, then lightly-]
We should think about perhaps moving on.
[Sasuke grunts and lifts the bottle in a tired salute to their old, poor, guttered-out place.] Yeah ... can you stand?
[A coughing sound that might be a laugh.
Sasuke ducks his face and echoes it, one hand coming up to rub into his forehead. It stays there, the heel of his palm propped between his eyes and his elbow on his knees as he slumps wearily. Eventually the feed times out.]