Poultice
Title: Poultice
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Mitarashi Anko
Theme: Paralyzer
"Another one, and make it extra strong this time, dammit!"
As the heavy ceramic mug slid across the polished wood of the counter, one hand leisurely reached out to catch it as it slowed to a stop, fingers wrapping around the vessel and drawing it to the edge of the bar before Anko raised it to her lips, draining half of it in a few gulps.
Setting the mug down with a heavy clank on the counter, she folded her arms on the wood, letting her chin rest on her folded forearms, dark eyes watching the condensation form on the ceramic, tiny rivulets of moisture trickling down the sides of the mug.
Drinking wasn't something Anko necessarily did every day, though she'd have had a hard time arguing the fact that she could be found in a bar more often then not after a mission. But then, that was the norm for plenty of Jounin, especially those who worked closely with the ANBU the way that she and Ibiki did.
Despite that fact, none of them were the sort who preferred to wander around the village shitfaced. It just wasn't very becoming of shinobi of their calibur. Even so, there were just some days that were more difficult than others. Days when she craved, yearned for the numbing paralytic that the alcohol was, sought out it's blindness and deafness and the way it could chase away so many memories that she neither wanted nor -- in her opinion -- needed.
Her childhood as an orphan, growing up in a world that looked down on her simply because she was female, holding her to standards that were perhaps too strict for the girl she'd been. The time she'd spent under Orochimaru, unable to deny that those had been some of her happiest days, believing that she had finally found a true mentor. The anguish and betrayal when that same mentor abandoned her, leaving her behind as no more than an unfit experiment.
More loneliness, nights spent in solitude or wrapped in a blanket of sweat and haze, body entangled with yet another face from the night, all of them blurring together into the darkness of her drunken mind. Meaningless, every single one. A quick thrill and physical pleasure combining to chase away her own memories and loneliness even if only for a second.
Tonight was one of those nights, when she felt the need to drown her memories in the mug, and wait for the first likely candidate to make an offer. It didn't matter, after all. When it came down to it, they were nothing but more paralysis for her mind.
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Mitarashi Anko
Theme: Paralyzer
"Another one, and make it extra strong this time, dammit!"
As the heavy ceramic mug slid across the polished wood of the counter, one hand leisurely reached out to catch it as it slowed to a stop, fingers wrapping around the vessel and drawing it to the edge of the bar before Anko raised it to her lips, draining half of it in a few gulps.
Setting the mug down with a heavy clank on the counter, she folded her arms on the wood, letting her chin rest on her folded forearms, dark eyes watching the condensation form on the ceramic, tiny rivulets of moisture trickling down the sides of the mug.
Drinking wasn't something Anko necessarily did every day, though she'd have had a hard time arguing the fact that she could be found in a bar more often then not after a mission. But then, that was the norm for plenty of Jounin, especially those who worked closely with the ANBU the way that she and Ibiki did.
Despite that fact, none of them were the sort who preferred to wander around the village shitfaced. It just wasn't very becoming of shinobi of their calibur. Even so, there were just some days that were more difficult than others. Days when she craved, yearned for the numbing paralytic that the alcohol was, sought out it's blindness and deafness and the way it could chase away so many memories that she neither wanted nor -- in her opinion -- needed.
Her childhood as an orphan, growing up in a world that looked down on her simply because she was female, holding her to standards that were perhaps too strict for the girl she'd been. The time she'd spent under Orochimaru, unable to deny that those had been some of her happiest days, believing that she had finally found a true mentor. The anguish and betrayal when that same mentor abandoned her, leaving her behind as no more than an unfit experiment.
More loneliness, nights spent in solitude or wrapped in a blanket of sweat and haze, body entangled with yet another face from the night, all of them blurring together into the darkness of her drunken mind. Meaningless, every single one. A quick thrill and physical pleasure combining to chase away her own memories and loneliness even if only for a second.
Tonight was one of those nights, when she felt the need to drown her memories in the mug, and wait for the first likely candidate to make an offer. It didn't matter, after all. When it came down to it, they were nothing but more paralysis for her mind.