#vinodiriso

The Tieflings escape from Elturel had been chaotic. It felt like they had lost as many as they had saved. All the pale haired woman knew was that she was the last of her family name. Everything had been so chaotic, and while she had taken what she could. Memories were Swept Away with this city that she was born in.

Including her mother's grave. The City had then become her father's. But she was among the thankful few who are still alive and trying to get to Baldur's Gate. She was one of the two bars in the group, but she had no need of making that skill known. The lovely Alfira taking it upon herself to entertain the children who had escaped with her songs.

Until her Mentor have been killed that is. It had been from that point forward that Cairistiona took it upon herself to sing little ditties here and there and involve the little ones in games. They had been lucky. They had come across a druid Grove under the watchful eye of the the Druid Halsin. He had given them food and shelter. She was eternally grateful.

The children were safe, and the rest had somewhere to rest their heads for the night. It was their second night in the Grove and it was her turn to help with passing out the meals. It was upon doing her final count that she realized one person was missing. A young man named Roland. They hadn't spoken much, but she respected his abilities as a wizard.

Plus, she could see how deeply he loved his siblings. It was quite apparent that he would go to the Hells and back for them. However it was her task to find the said man to deliver him his stew and bread. And with her own serving in hand she went off in search of him 

And thankfully it didn't take her long to find him. She cleared her throat lightly, not wanting to scare him. "Rolan? I've got dinner, if your hungry that is." a pale hand extended the small tray with the hearty meal out to him.  "And if it's not too much trouble I'd like to sit down with you and eat. I won't be a bother I promise. I just... It's too loud over there."

It didn't seem that long ago when Shikamaru and his classmates graduated from the Academy and divided into their teams as genin. He quietly laments those good days; they were far less complicated than the current state of the world.

Asuma-sensei is gone. Discussions of war increase; the Will of Fire must persevere. As a jounin and ahead of most of his peers, Shikamaru finds himself pulled in various directions mentally and emotionally these days. Though his father offers him sound advice, it doesn't stop the Nara boy from having self-doubts.

"I know you're right; you always are," Shikamaru sighs, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders.

For a moment, he thinks of his teammates, finding comfort in the bond Shikamaru has made with them. But he also thinks of Uzumaki Naruto and the weight of his responsibilities. Perhaps that is the source of Naruto's endurance, the trust in his friends. At the very least, if Naruto can endure all that weight thrust upon his shoulders, why can't Shikamaru?

"I'm far from reaching my limit with them on my side," He says, forming a faint smile.

"I'll take that mission," Kakashi grumbled, though he made no attempt to move from where he was sitting, staring into space. Besides the feeling of unreality brought about by the level of exhaustion Shikaku was referring to, he felt like a torn-apart ragdoll that had been haphazardly re-stuffed and sewn back together. The chakra in his body felt different, like it didn't belong to him, even though he couldn't find any explicit difference. Uncanny valley would be the best way he could have explained it.

At the moment, though, no one cared. He couldn't even get himself to fully care, and obviously, everyone else had better things to worry about, like the fact that the entire village had been turned into a crater. Most inhabitants had died and then been revived. Actually, maybe someone would be able to understand with much explanation.

Kakashi blinked, belatedly snapping back from his wandering thoughts when Shikaku kept talking, and thanked him. "Maa, Shikaku-san... you don't need to thank me for that." He wasn't about to stand idly by and watch his fellow ninja be slaughtered.

He shut up when Shikaku continued, cold dread filling him when he realized what the man was talking about. "Wait a moment..."

He bit his lip under the mask. Danzou had wanted to be Hokage since... well, he didn't really know. He had become aware of the man's thirst for power during his very short stint in ROOT. Remembering what he tried to do to Tenzou (and himself, he hadn't forgotten he'd tried to rip off Obito's sharingan), the last thing Kakashi wanted was to let Danzou be in power.

" both can be true , i suppose , old man. " somehow spoken in a light and airy voice , just like it could be a joke -- but they both know it's not quite a joke. and she doesn't turn to look a geralt , emerald eyes staring ahead. THERE IS A TASK AT HAND THAT SHE FOCUSED ON . that much becomes obvious. that feeling of magic vibrates the air. then ciri is gone.

He   had   always   liked   the   rain.   One   could   chalk   it   up   to   his   natural   melancholy   disposition,   but   he   would   be   inclined   to   say   that   it   was   the   human   part   of   him   that   simply   enjoyed   the   feel   of   rain   upon   his   skin.   His   silver   hair   seemed   to   shimmer   in   the   steady   downpour   while   his   golden   eyes   appeared   just   so.   The   fog   was   rather   thick   by   the   lake   shielding   any   and   all   who   might   dare   approach   'Dracula'   on   a   bad   day.   Of   course,   were   he   anything   by   half   monster,   he   might   have   been   fooled   by   the   quiet   footsteps   or   paid   no   heed   to   the   smell   of   bourbon   as   it   approached   from   behind.   Adrian   dropped   his   gaze   from   the   sky   above   to   the   footsteps   approaching   from   the   rear.   He   was   quick   to   draw   his   sword,   whipping   around   in   the   blink   of   an   eye,   the   blade   pointed   directly   at   the   other's   throat.

Sakura knew it was a long shot, but she didn’t know who else to turn to. Who else knew kenjutsu that could possibly place her on par with a certain Sannin that Sasuke had turned his dreams of vengeance towards. Though she was retired, most weren’t unaware of Yoshino Nara’s prowess with the blade, continuing the legacy of her ancesors that had made names for themselves in Konoha’s formative years under the Nidaime. Though Sakura was a little nervous headed towards the Nara compound, her early days with Ino in the Academy meant she’d had brush-ins with the other Ino-Shika-Cho clans, but it was the first time approaching on her own.

Yet, when an attendant greeted her at the door, Sakura straightened her spine and steeled herself.

@vinodiriso​​ said:

Shikaku's simp urges compel me to say "Flirt"

The Nara have been good to the conservatory, bringing unique specimens from the forest they care for. Shikaku frequently made deliveries of all sorts of things, always useful to their studies.

She grins, at him, coveting the basket of rare herbs he’s just brought. “You know, I think out of all the specimens you bring, you’re my favourite~!”

Meaning he’s the favourite because he is so generous with what he shares but it sounds wrong. It just sort of flowed out her mouth. 

          “This is my favorite, Yoshino-san! Mmm.”   Chouji kicks his legs happily at the Nara kitchen table as he sips on the iced matcha latte she’d made him using soy milk.  “Soy milk is my favorite.”

      Though the beverage was cold, Chouji’s insides were warm with happiness.  When he was told Shikamaru was not home when he came over to play, he expected to be sent home— Not to be invited in for one of his favorite beverages while he waited for Shikamaru to return from the Nara forest with his father.  Chouji was thrilled by the invite; Not only was Shikamaru really nice to him, but his family was, too! He couldn’t wait to tell his dad.

      A few more loud, happy slurps can be heard from Chouji as he continues to drink his favorite beverage quickly.  He’ll take in his surrounding as he does so, and notice that Yoshino had not added matcha powder to her soy milk as she’d done his; It was still pale in color.  Did she not like matcha? Did she not like sweets? He always liked his soy milk a little sweetened. .

           “Ano. . “ He begins shyly, suddenly self-conscious.  “Did you add anything to yours, Yoshino-san?”