#desertgourd

  It was a night like any other. Nothing special about it, really. Same with the bar. Same with its customers. A hot spot for the young and lonely, both those trying to change and those who wanted to be. One could dive head first into the crowd or get lost in its anonymity, make friends as quickly as part with them again, if so desired, or simply fill one‘s body up with liquor so high that it would drown out the noise and the music and all your demons along with them. It was a perfect place for people watching, too. A group of young women by the entrance were laughing over their cocktails. All but one, that was, who quietly sipped on a glass of soda and seemed a little out of place at their table. Her gaze drifted through the room like a boat lost at sea, never casting anchor. It drifted past the pool table, where a bearded man in his early thirties just raised the bottle of beer in his hand for a grand welcome to an old friend who had just arrived. The newcomer briefly hugged the man with a large smile before wandering off towards the bar to fetch himself something to pour out on the night as well. It did not take long for the bartender to notice him.  Money, a few words and another bottle of beer flew across the counter, and the man returned to his pal who was suddenly in the company of a fairly pretty young blonde, whom he introduced to the other.

  „You sure you want another, Sweetie?“ The bartender cocked her head at the guest sitting at the corner of her corner with some concern. He nodded without looking up, and dropped his hand back on the table in silence. He knew he shouldn‘t. He was already more intoxicated than he had ever planned on being tonight. But his search had been unsuccessful, none of his brief encounters had stuck, and as the evening had stretched on he had kept wandering from place to place, buying something every time just so that his mouth had something to do. His wallet was screaming bloody murder, but he did not hear it. He didn‘t hear anything at this point, except for the dull rumbling of voices all around him.

  A new glass was placed before him with a frown, and he muttered something that vaguely sounded like a thank you. Oh, he was going to regret this tomorrow. But what did it matter? He was going to regret it all either way. The drinks, the day, and his entire miserable existence. Give it a week from now and he would have successfully stuffed them into a box again, abandoning them somewhere deep within the trenches of his soul, and not spare them a second thought until spring. Besides, open wounds were vulnerable to infection, right? With a sigh, Lux lifted the new glass to his lips and emptied it in one go.

  What time was it? He glanced down at his phone, but found that he couldn‘t read the numbers. The world was swimming before his eyes, and so were his demons inside. Maybe he should go home. He was too far gone to still bring the night to a successful ending anyway. Pushing himself off his bar stool proved difficult though. Had the floor always been this far away? The young man slipped his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and attempted to stand. At once, the horizon shifted. He stumbled, lost his balance, and only managed to keep himself from falling head first into another customer by clumsily holding onto the counter beside him. A bright thud and the feeling of something wet and cold suddenly washing over his hand told Lux that he had likely just knocked over the other‘s drink. Brilliant. God was truly turning a blind eye on him today. Could his birthday get any worse?

ㅤThe comparison, unexpected that it was, had Itachi tilting his head in interest. A parallel he'd never considered, and yet it made more sense the more he thought about it. It truly wasn't all that different, was it? 

ㅤ«You may have just given me inspiration for my next visit to the library.» Now to find books on herpetology actually translated to braille, but well. One thing at a time. «Sharingan allows the user to track chakra, yes. Not to the same depth as the Byakugan, but it is enough to easily follow movements even during battle. And the same applies to any attack imbued in chakra. For example - it doesn't allow me to see a shuriken that is simply thrown in my direction. I can evade it based on sound but not on sight. However, if that same shuriken has chakra threads attached to it, then even if I cannot see it, per se, I can track its position.»

Perhaps it was one those things better shown than told?

On the one hand, faking his death fighting Uchiha Sasuke and grabbing the opportunity to get the hell out of the Akatsuki before he actually did get killed had seemed like a very good idea at the time. On the other hand, he'd been injured, low on clay and chakra both, and was lacking any sort of supplies for the kind of long-term flight he'd been attempting. A split second realization that he wasn't making it out of this fight or the group unless he bailed right then had been enough to get him moving, but weeks on the run had taken their toll.

Keep moving, don't stop, don't be recognized, don't let them find you. Akatsuki would do far worse then simply kill him if they caught wind of him surviving and Deidara was always, always going to bet on Leader-sama or Zetsu already knowing before he would put money on actually fooling them. It didn't stop him from trying though, from staging a suicide explosion and letting his cloak burn to ash and his ring be swallowed up by the bomb.

He'd made it to Wind Country, hoping to resupply at a little village before he kept pushing. Maybe he'd make it out of the Elemental Nations completely.

Whatever his vague plan, it hadn't come to fruition. He'd been distracted, looking for other tails, exhausted and hurting and drained, and he hadn't caught wind of the Suna ANBU who'd spotted him until they were all but on him. He hadn't dared to use his art for fear of giving himself away to Akatsuki, and he was nearly out of clay anyway, so the fight had been vicious, but... short. His taijutsu wasn't amazing on a good day, let alone when he was worn ragged. They'd knocked him out, and now here he was, stirring awake in a stone cell. No windows, thick bars, wrists cuffed to the wall, and ankles chained together. When he shifts, everything throbs with pain and when he flexes his fingers he finds his hands are encased in metal. Grudgingly, he admires their thoroughness. Not that he has the chakra for even the smallest of figures right now but Suna knows the threat he poses.

He's not demonstrating it very well right now but he can appreciate that they know he's dangerous.

Focusing on that helps take his attention off the fluttering feeling of panic that starts in his chest. They probably can't do worse than Leader and Konan would. Except, of course, that Deidara had been the one to capture their Kazekage, and wouldn't that be just the person to use all their best torture methods on? The chains clink softly as he tries to sit up and pull to feel for any weakness, but white-hot agony in his ribs cuts that attempt short. Dirty, messy blonde hair slides over his shoulders and blocks his face from view as he allows the pain to register on his face. Losing his arms hurt like hell, but he had adrenaline and then medical ninjutsu to deal with them. Now he has nothing and he has to force his breathing even and slow.

From one trap to another, one cage to another. Maybe it's a bit of his own making, but it's also not. Orders were orders, after all.

Footsteps, soft but enough to be heard, and he knows that's deliberate. No shinobi worth their headband would make noise unless they wanted to. Deidara only raises his head enough that his open eye can peer out from the mass of his hair.

The journey had been taxing; it always was for those not quite as used to the harshness of the desert. Sakura had made the trip a few times and still she always found herself annoyed at the sand that got everywhere. She finally made it to the Kazekage tower, however, and instantly felt relief once she was indoors.

Temari greeted her once inside - a friendly face who wouldn't scoff at her request to see the Kazekage personally without much of a reason to. They chatted for a bit before Temari guided Sakura to Gaara's office.

"Kazekage-sama," Sakura greeted respectfully with a bow. "I won't take much of your time. I'm currently travelling without a real destination and will be checking into an inn in Suna for a few days. I wanted to say hello to an old friend while I'm here."

  Peaceful wasn't usually a word associated with a demon but the dragon had always been different. It took a lot to get him riled as he had no interest in hurting anyone, especially his host. But no one was completely immune from losing their temper and neither dragon or jinchūriki wanted to destroy the Sand village.

  Although not as close to the redhead as she was to Temari and Kankuro, Ami could still see each sign easily. A flicker of pain shot across her features as burns started forming on her arms, the result of her fight for control. But she would prefer to get burned, instead of the other more catastrophic result.

@desertgourd sent an ask!! :: ❛ is there a reasons you’re here on your own ? ❜ [Down for any time period with Naruto verse -- or perhaps modern au foster care? Whatever sparks your interest]

FIRST MEETING SENTENCE STARTERS. // Decided to have this take place during the Naruto verse and before Tommy's birth.

The sky is aglow with the bright oranges and reds, as the sun starts it's slow decent towards the ground. The bright oranges and reds can be seen peeking through the leaves of the trees that surround the area. Splotches of light and shadow cascade across the forest floor.

There is a clearing in the forest where the trees have thinned, just enough for one to catch the sun gliding down from the sky. There's a tree stump off to one side and this is where Annaleigh sits, a bag of training gear at her feet and a half drank bottle of water at her side.

Sweat glistens from her forehead and she feels more exhausted than she usually is after training.

Annaleigh's whole body tenses up at the sound of his voice. She can feel the darkness inside her. Those black tendrils threatening to spill out of her shadow as they feel the need to protect her and the tiny life that she doesn't know is growing inside her yet.

She jumps up from her place on the stump, wiping around. Hazel greens spot him immediately, taking in his appearance. That red hair and those eyes ... Has she seen him somewhere before?