· · · ʜᴀᴢʏ ᴅᴀʏs.

‘ Stop calling me that. ’   Healthy soil thrives in proper care, but it is difficult to give the undivided attention it needs when irritation flares under earthy skin. Wiping his forehead from where he crouches, victim of hours upon hours of sizzling heat, he shoots a quick look up and frowns.  ‘ Why do you insist on it? ’ 

@grayvein.

          Perhaps  boredom  would  draw  the  shinobi  out  of  hiding  for  a  time,  if  only  to  draw  the  ire  and  indignation  of  the  younger  samurai.  Nevertheless,  he  would  crack  a  taunting  smirk  at  his  comrade’s  expense.  He  plucks  the  lollipop  out  of  his  mouth  for  a  moment,  examining  it  imperiously  before  continuing,  evidently  pleased  with  himself.

          ❛   How’d  you  learn  to  sing  like  that?   ❜

          A  pause  follows  his  tirade,  viridian  gaze  traveling  up  and  down  the  stature  of  the  prince.  The  putrid  ideas  of  Nohr  ingrained  into  his  upbringing,  despite  whatever  peaceful  ties  were  held  between  the  two  nations  currently,  it  would  not  be  that  to  influence  his  sharpened  tone.  Truly,  the  mere  existence  of  royalty,  where  one’s  fate  awarded  them  with  reach,  honor,  a  livelihood  was  ensured  based  solely  by  whom  their  blood  belonged  to,  infuriated  him.  Inset  were  prejudices,  enough  to  keep  the  masses  restrained  under  the  fist  of  one  who  surely  did  not  rule  for  them.

          ❛   Let  me  guess  ———  you  need  something  stolen?   ❜

          with how quickly time passes within the deeprealms and how much of the world gurei already knew of, despite his isolationist upbringing, it is safe to assume that he spent several years stealing for food, dirtying his hands for shelter, and getting involved with criminals in order to merely survive.

gurei learning and partaking in hoshidians traditions reserved for females.

gurei  ( albeit with support from close friends. )  going to try on feminine clothing for the first time.

gurei wearing makeup for the first time and realizing how much he hates it, how it feels on his face, and the overall annoyance of it.

MEME  |  ACCEPTING↳   symbol headcanon meme.

♠:  What’s the worst thing your muse has done to someone they loved ?

          To begin with, there are not many whom Gurei could say that he loves, and even fewer for which whom he believes returns those sentiments, if any. Shinobi are to remain detached from their emotions, contrast to basic human nature and the inclinations brought about by such. That way, no matter what action was required for a mission, for the bettering of their nation, it could be completed without any doubt or hesitation.

          The worst thing Gurei has done to his loved ones is reaffirming the oath as the sixth Saizou, to continue the clan’s position of servitude to the Hoshidian royal family. 

          To begin with, the lord and retainer relationship is incredibly harmful on the part of the retainer, of course physically but also mentally. There is an ingrained notion that the royal is worth more than their own life, their own needs or wants, just due to the blood that flows through their veins. Retainers deal with incredible self-worth issues and displacement, given that their entire beings are taught to exist solely for their lord. By continuing the line as the sixth Saizou, he has ensured that his descendants will be forced to undergo this burden as well, something which he originally did not wish to adhere to, looking passed tradition and understanding the gravity of the oath. While the current Hoshidian royals treat their retainers kindly, almost as if equals, even if they were cruel or unnecessary such as with King Garon in Nohr, the retainer is never to question and must sacrifice their morals and mortality to please their lord.

          For Gurei in particular, the reestablishing of the oath meant that he signed his life away to be a mere weapon at the disposal of the royal family, of Prince Shinonome in particular. As such, his life is a mere pawn, and he is subject to death due to his missions at any given point. With this life wrought with crucial decisions and detachment to be made, not to mention the life of secrecy ninja are sworn to, he has guaranteed that he will never have a chance to be an ideal partner for another.

￭:  If one of your muse’s friends was asked to describe them in a handful of words for a profile on a dating site, what would they say ?

          Sarcastic, reliable, and an overall kind person whose baking skills could make the gods’ mouths water.

♛:  If your muse had to die, how would they like to go? And if they could come back as a person or animal, what would it be ?

          As he has foreseen it, as fate has written throughout the centuries and gravestones of his clan, he has resigned his ideal death as what will most likely happen in reality. On a mission in enemy territory, he will slip up and be discovered. By a fault of his own, he will die and receive an unceremonious burial, if any at all. His preferred way of death would have been through old age, dying through sleep with no regrets, but he knows that this will never be if he is to adhere to his station. 

    ❝ ‘ what’s it to me? ’ gurei,  please ——- you aren’t blind.  i know         you see that i am concerned for your safety. stay still and allow         me to heal your wounds. ❞

      a COMMAND thrust forward, penetrating the stillness of the ambiance       ——— but his bark lacked any real volume, any real maliciousness.

               ❝ ——- you’re more than just a mere SOLDIER. i hope you know that. ❞

          ❛   You’re concerned about things you don’t have to be —   ❜

          The authoritative action takes precedence, his being now subject to whatever the prince would wish. In this case, receiving treatment for wounds that were able to have been nursed by himself. A mere retainer, a subject, he has no place uttering his opinion within palace walls — yet, his father’s temperamental nature takes effect.

@grayvein:

there’s a crash.  and one prince shinonome running away from the scene of the crime as fast as possible to avoid the servants’ scolding.  listen, he knows full well he isn’t supposed to steal from the kitchen, but is it really such a crime to take eight small dumplings and shove an entire chicken into his clothes?  and honestly, whoever’s in charge of dishes should really get to it because the stack shinonome so ungraciously ran into was very nearly as tall as he was.  …well, it’s safe to say there aren’t as many dishes as there once was, but hey, he’s not responsible, alright? - ow!  who in the world just ran into - “gurei?”

perfect.  just the man he wants to run into.  ignoring the jut of chicken inside his clothes, he throws an arm around the other’s shoulders.  “hey!  great timing!  you want to go eat an entire chicken with me?  sure, you do.  okay, good, let’s get out of here.  now!”

          For a shinobi, even a listless day to himself entailed an eternity’s worth of chores and duties he was beholden to. Through the grace of the gods, and perhaps the aid of a few whom he could call friends, they would be complete before the moon hung too high in the darkened sky. Prior to his journey to the kitchen finding its destination, a forcible meeting with the prince was to halt his plan of making sweets. Muttering curses and rubbing the side of which Shinonome’s jutting self had struck, the mention of his name elicits a quick response in the from of a grunted sigh. 

          Before insults could leave his lips, the royal sought to make his presence known, as well as the offense committed by that same noble.  (  Perhaps by blood, but never by demeanor.  )  Still, while common sense screamed for rejection, the rushing of servants towards the scene pushed his inclinations towards elsewhere. 

@grayvein

Exasperation has a name and it’s her fellow comrade — and friend, if she’s to clarify. Sighing, she continues her work at sewing as she stares at him, disapproval at his messed up attire, doesn’t he understand the army has an etiquette?

          Clear as a sunrise but as foreboding as thunderstorm clouds, her testing expression is merely one met by a raised eyebrow. Surely the scraped garments, tainted by blemishes of mud and blood, were the answer. Yet, a traitorous voice within him advises him to challenge the waters.

suffocation isn’t his intent, but if it catches the other’s attention, then the prince will do what he can.  and for once, ( it’s not once, but it certainly feels that way sometimes ), gurei replies to him with voice soft and gaze warm unlike the cold grey he is accustomed to.  shinonome halts for a moment as if he’s reluctant to let go of the scarf, to let go of him, but gurei doesn’t leave.  instead, he listens and stays.  “a-ah, um,” he interjects before gently pulling the ninja towards him, enveloping him in his warm embrace.  “if that’s the case, we can’t both leave the post so … we could settle for this.”  it’s a stupid idea and he’s probably ruined the moment and gurei’s going to leave to get the blankets after all and then one of them’s going to get ambushed and it’s just all going to go to - he shakes his head.  

“this isn’t that weird, is it?”

          Perhaps the dismantling of his defenses was a decision made in folly, if the vulnerability of his current state was any indication. Thoughts bluntly put, it was not as if shinobi were used to friendship, to touches beyond the grab of an arm, the slice of an enemy shuriken. Still, his lord made an effort to make him feel as if human ( as if his crimson blood and softened heart were not signs of such already, boy honed as a blade and nothing more. ) and that much was to be appreciated. Though nothing could have prepared him for Shino’s own moving forward, for the close sensation of warmth from another. His breath hitches and a dagger mouth readies curses to fly free. 

          Yet, nothing arises and instead, the shinobi finds his arms simply limp to the touch of his lord. Rather than breaking free of this embrace, a foreign entity to his very person, he swallows before resting his head upon the shoulder of his friend. ❛   I suppose... if you just keep your eyes peeled and watch my back and I do the same for you, we’ll still be completing our duties.   ❜ 

      soles GINGERLY step forward, absentmindedly     desecrating EDEN ! utopian       fantasy of both offspring and parents living in       PARADISE, in PEACE, was a       reverie not  of his own. tragedy befell the land, and he’d no shame in admitting       CHILDREN    were      apart     of      thoughts     buried DEEP. nonetheless, now       UNWILLINGLY                    exhumed, he knew naught of responsibility, he knew       not how to act or speak ———— his               tombstone has long since been       written, INSCRIBED with the words that       defined HIM : ( ‘ LOVING FATHER ’       ABSENT. ) 

      ❝ how’s …. uh ——–                           how’s YOUR MOM?            she still workin’ the old gig, or … ❞   

          For mention of that whom owned his childhood, for the woman who was half his blood, a familiar pit launches itself into his stomach. Never could he find pride laced within the filthy roots of his upbringing, a spoiled seed sowed into soil never meant to house children. Yet, all he owed, from the breathes escaping his lungs as he just kept running and running, to the blood spilled when steel carved through his flesh, was to her. Nary a single condolence could be afforded to his other half, this new moon leaving the midnight sky darkened, with no way forward.