#毒蛇 IMMORTAL; the curse is broken (post war)

[dokuhebi]

Plotted Starter.  @raichoose There was a time where winter was a most unpleasant month for the serpent. The cold brought immense discomfort, the chill settling in their bones and making a home there until winters passing. But these days, they could only see the beauty in the frosty season. Nothing had changed temperature wise, only within the serpents home. Only in the sense, that they now shared the winter months with their most cherished family. Where snow simply reminded them of how Mitsuki loved to explore and play in it. How misty glass reminded them of how Rogu idly traced patterns on it as he smoked by the open window. How cold air caressing their body had Kabuto draping a blanket, or his arms, around their smaller figure to keep them warm. A hand rests idly on their stomach now, absentmindedly as they burrow a little deeper in to the blanket nestled around their husbands sleeping figure.  The sun is yet to even rise, midnight painting the bedroom in dark shades of dark blue and black. Orochimaru takes a moment to simply memorize the soft expression on their sleeping partners face. There were nights when his expression would contort in fear and anxiety when he wrangled with nightmares, a condition no shinobi seemed to escape. But as of late, as of the start to their immortal lives together, as a family with two children, almost three, there was an unspoken about peace that had become Orochimaru and Kabuto’s new realties. A lifestyle neither one envisioned for themselves, since peace seemed too idealistic a dream in a shinobi’s life. But Kabuto was no longer a shinobi at all, and neither was Orochimaru. That label was shed years ago. Kabuto is a doctor, Orochimaru a scientist, and more than anything they are parents. The fact they were both dangerous to cross paths with was simply a side trait that no longer linked them to a lifestyle of trained assassination. Orochimaru was more than happy dropping the title, and letting their creation and passion for ninjutsu be just another avenue of their science, rather than any battle prowess. Though that didn’t stop them from being a little playfully truculent at times, nor from dragging Kabuto or their sons outside for some sparring and training.  They should let Kabuto sleep, and they almost consider it, as they lightly brush his hair aside in tender appreciation as he rests. But they are far too cold to get out of bed, and he had said they were to wake him for any want or need at any hour. Not just because of the exciting new arrival, but certainly that added fuel to his passionate care-giver fire.  So they cave, their appetite was usually at an all time low, but be it the taxing nature of motherhood, of the fact it’s bone chillingly cold, they have found themself facing unusual cravings for meals, at potentially unreasonable hours. They lightly shake Kabuto, “love,” their voice never needing to be too loud to rouse him from sleep and gain his full attention. They can’t help kissing his lips when his sleepy gaze looks to them, his expression simply too dear and kissable in that moment, “don’t you want to be a dear and fetch me some castella?” they say, nipping lightly at his neck as further incentive to wake him up, before flashing him a fanged smile, “and if you’re feeling extra generous this early morning, some tea to warm up would be a perfect addition.”

[dokuhebi]

Submission from: @raichoose Kabuto

He lies in their bed, and though he hasn’t quite indicated he’s awoken, he’s certain they can feel his eyes on them. He’s watching them dress - something he might be persuaded to coyly refer to as a favored pastime, with how often he tends to observe them - and as badly as he wishes to get up and go to them, to playfully kiss any patches of pale skin not yet clothed, like he normally would -

For once, he hesitates.

During their time apart, Kabuto had offered his services to Konoha’s hospital, yet primarily remained focused on the orphanage there instead. Science and progress and medicine, near and dear to his heart as they were, hadn’t quite factored into his post-war life. The same cannot be said for Orochimaru, whom he might playfully refer to as a busy bee had he not preferred to reference flowers or snakes.

Truthfully, he missed working beside them in the laboratory - misses, really, he has so much to get caught up on, even though they’ve been able to conduct experiments on their serpent patients together. Nearly two decades might not seem like a lot of time in the face of the immortality Orochimaru has finally achieved, he supposes -

But it’s a lot to me. I’m still … mortal.

“ … Orochimaru.”

His voice breaks through the quiet of the room, and Kabuto reaches out, beckoning for them to come back to bed.

“Let’s stay here for a few more minutes. Karin can check on our patients. Even Suigetsu can, if he proves competent enough to do so.”

A joke, followed by a pause. He doesn’t want to worry them - after all, it’s not as if his health is in decline - but Kabuto can’t help but voice the direction his morning musings have taken him in.

“That is to say - I wish I could stay here. Permanently. I’d miss my brother and the children, of course, but … ” He swallows thickly. “I don’t like the thought of losing time with you. I’ve lost enough already, haven’t I? And it scares me to think that you found your eternity, and I … Honey, I don’t know how much time I have left, and decades won’t feel very long to someone who has all of time at their disposal.”

He’s not sure why his heart is gripped with a foreign hesitancy, then, almost as if Kabuto is proposing to them, in some way, and he’s nervous about what Orochimaru might say.

“ … Back then, the plan was to make me immortal, too, right? Is that still the plan? … Can I have eternity with you?”

The serpent indulges themself in a lazy morning, a rarity if ever there was one for someone like them. They were so often up all night, or at least awakening long before the sun did. But things are a little different now that Kabuto is back in their life. Now that their bed has become a favourite place for the both of them to spend time in. Nights and mornings spent hidden under warm sheets together, talking or fooling around, reassuring one another or merely enjoying the others silence. Suddenly the time allocated in the day for rest is not a burden or nuisance for the Sannin, suddenly they quite enjoy it. So they had allowed Karin to start the day in the laboratory, not yet showing up in their own hideout to lead the project as they usually would. Karin could handle it on her own, and frankly, so could their eldest son Rogu, who would hover about ensuring his parent’s orders were being upheld. They idly unlace their night kimono, about to slip out of the soft fabrics to replace them with a more daytime appropriate garment. A longer kimono, a little warmer in case they had to step outside. But they have not yet shrugged their night kimono off when they hear their partner call their name. Only a slender hand holding together the open front, as the silken ribbon that tied it around their waist now settles over the dresser.  Something is off, they can tell by his voice, even as he jokes, even as he tries to not worry them.  So they return to his side before he even has to beckon for them to, and they find their seat beside him, pale legs catching the candlelight of the room as they hang elegantly off the edge still. They lightly take his chin in their fingers, to ensure he looks them in the eyes, a silent prompt that he needed to say what was on his mind, rather than hide behind any jokes at Suigetsu’s expense. Not because they care for the shark like mans wellbeing of course. They only wish to force their partner’s fears out in to the open. How could they help him if they didn’t know what was wrong after all? And then he voices his concern, the mention of his mortality has their gaze narrowing in shared concern. Wondering if there was something that had him fearing his clock ticking over sooner than expected. But then he finishes. He is still young enough that the immortality technique would preserve and cement him in this world. Why, the Sannin was far older when they cheated death and reversed their clock. Currently looking half Kabuto’s age, when he is actually half their age. But eternal youth is not a game to be played fairly. They abandoned their age like a serpent does a shed skin. Renewed.  A fanged smile greets him, as they lean down to kiss his lips, tenderly, but also a little sternly. As if they chide his question in some playful manner. Drawing back, their golden eyes catch in his midnight pair, and their expression remains most enamored and loving, “I threw an absolute tantrum when you left me the first time my sweet prince,” they tease, another kiss placed to the top of his head this time, as they correct his hair thereafter, and return his glasses from the side table to his face, so he can see their genuine gaze all the more clearly, “what in all the universes made you think I would want to see you leave me again?” Slender fingers caress down the side of his cheek, as they then draw the sheets open so they can tuck themself under them beside their partner. Deciding there was no need to hurry and get dressed after all, deciding they were quite happy to fit their smaller form in the curve his body makes especially for them, “you aren’t going anywhere my love. I told you long ago you would want for nothing, that I would give you all I have to give. Eternity just so happens to be one of the gifts I have to offer. It is yours whenever you want it.”

[dokuhebi]

Submission. // @raichoose

“Mama! Mama!"  Nono runs triumphantly into the laboratory, a nervous Kabuto following behind. He knows there’s nothing dangerous going on in there at the moment - just data analysis, hardly something that could harm a child - but he always was incredibly protective of his little family, even when he didn’t have to be.

Presently, however, Nono isn’t thinking about either of her parents’ work. Instead, she’s searching for Orochimaru, wishing very strongly to show her the makeup Kabuto had helped her with.

"Orochimaru!” Kabuto yells, although he’s certain they’ve already noticed the commotion. “Behind you -" 

Nono has just, of course, finished her journey, bouncing excitedly. Her gold eyes, already looking so much like theirs, are now lined very carefully with purple eye shadow, matching their birth marks, too.

"Look! Papa helped me. I wanted to look just like you because you’re so pretty!”

As Kabuto reaches them, she naturally takes advantage of their closeness, hugging both of her parents, smiling up at them with a child’s pure glee. 

“Aha … She saw a kid’s makeup kit at the store and was very insistent that I buy it so she could ‘look just like Mama.’ You know me, I can’t say no … ” (In other words, Rogu and Mitsuki had gotten something, too.)

Orochimaru doesn’t let the luxury of their husbands attentive help slip past their notice. For the moment they went to their laboratory to do their checks, to complete data analysis that had been abandoned the night before when familial duties were more important, they had heard their daughter and all her exuberance. The sound of their own child would never be a nuisance, but it is a distraction. Kabuto must have recognized that within less than a heartbeats second, for so quickly had the little girl been lured out the house with the promise of a fun day with her father. Allowing for complete peace as the Sannin works.  It allows them to run through their errands in the laboratory seamlessly. It has them getting their workaholic brain stimulated, a much needed outlet of being back to their scientist duties. For as domestic as they may have become, for someone who was a former shinobi and soldier, they can’t truly be content without their research. Something their husband knows well, and never fails to cater for.  But they miss their family when they aren’t around, the sound of their husband humming as he works, not a single song new to the serpent, for how they memorized every favourite of his, some even recreated on the koto. Or the sound of their two sons bantering, for Mitsuki was becoming a stubborn little teenager, and Rogu was becoming an equally stubborn young adult. And last but never least, the sound of their daughter, who’s overall innocence is a testament that she has come to no harm in this world. And why would she ever? When Orochimaru and Kabuto, the most infamous shinobi still alive after the Fourth War, are her devoted parents? The child would never come to harm for so long as the two scientists lived, and how eternal the serpent had ensured their lives as a family would be.

As if their musings conjured their family back in to their home, their daughters feet pattering along the tiled floors alert them to her arrival first, then comes her little calls of excitement as she races from her father’s arms to her mothers, all but ready to collide in to them. No fear of falling, when she knows the Sannin has never once failed to catch her. And that is precisely what they do, as they hear Kabuto’s concerned voice giving them a heads up to the barreling child. They scoop her small form up the moment she has rushed in to their legs, a seamless and elegant motion proof of their shinobi upbringing, and the reflexes that comes along with it. Once secured in their arms, and on their hip, they offer their daughter a light smile, and a playful correction of her raven hair, “what have we said about running in the lab my dear?” they ask, their smile never faltering, as they kiss the top of her head, softening the blow of a mild scolding. It is then that they notice the makeup lining her eyes, a violet barely a shade off from the birthmarks adorning the serpents own. So exact a colour, that they know full well their husband had picked it out. For how he memorized every detail of them to heart, how that doesn’t escape the serpents notice either, as it serves another reminder for how intimately profound his love for them is.  “Did he now?” they say, guiding her hair aside to get a better look at the designs painting over her eyes, bringing out the gold of her irises. The colour of her eyes may be like the Sannin’s, but these are her father’s eyes for sure. There is a softness there that the Sannin could never hope to carry in their own gaze, “you look beautiful Nono-chan, I dare say it looks better on you than it does on me,” they say, to further boost their little girls pride. They step closer to their husband, hands full with their daughter held securely in their arms, they can only extend their greeting by leaning over to kiss his lips, “I’m going to make the bold assumption a makeup kit isn’t all she haggled from you my love?” they tease, though his inability to be stern with their childrens’ innocent demands was always something they found rather endearing about the ex-criminal. 

[dokuhebi]

Yunno I always wondered. Why didn’t Kabuto get a curse mark.

Impromptu Asks // Anonymous. Tagging and ft: @raichoose

"The curse marks were a means of exchanging power for loyalty. My chakra acted as a measure to bind my subjects to my very existence, both so I could use them as hosts to resurrect from, and so that I could use them as soldiers in the war I was waging. I did not need such a trick to earn Kabuto's loyalty, and he did not need my power to be remarkable." "Simply put, the curse marks were experimental. Either the subject lived and became a worthy ally, or they died, and I was spared the disappointment of trusting someone incapable. Kabuto was a valuable ally from the very moment I met him, there was nothing to be gained from gambling with his life. More over, he was exceptional without my curse mark, he did not need charitable power. Of course, had he wanted one, I would never have denied him the opportunity. But he never did, likely because he was hardworking enough to deem himself capable of aiding me without any handouts."

[dokuhebi]

Everything is theoretically impossible until it’s done.

SCIENCE SUNDAY SENTENCE STARTERS // @peepingtoad . Ouroboros Verse. ‘ Everything is theoretically impossible until it’s done. ’ Those were his words when they said the illness was terminal, that it was impossible to survive. Those were his words signifying his trust in the serpents abilities. To nurse the young orphan back to health, to find a way to prevail over an illness that was deemed fatal in this era of war torn poverty - one that in the serpents real time and era, was cured over a decade ago. They visit the child, fevered yet trembling, red hair sticking to his even paler skin, seeking comfort from Jiraiya’s constant attendance. Orochimaru however, is in such a different spirit altogether. Here was their chance, to let the boy die. It wouldn’t be by their hand. Yes, they hadn’t intervened and assisted with his care when they rightfully could, yes it was their tampering with time that had rendered the boy coming in to contact with something he likely never would have had time run its natural course... but there is no blade in their hand, nor blood on it. A passive assassination at worst. And yet. It is more than the fact that Jiraiya places trust in their skills as a medic to nurse the boy back to health, it is more than the fact that they can physically feel the ache of his heart when the boy splutters or coughs, or whimpers or cries. It is because when their golden gaze lands on the small trembling body bundled under so many bedsheets, his pain somehow becomes theirs. They see Mitsuki, when he had first feebly been released from his tank, or when his emotions compromised his physical health, or when he was rushed home for them to doctor, because he had pushed too hard too fast and was in dire need of their aid. They see a child. A small life. A fragile existence. Violet eyes looking to them with the most primal instinct of youth, looking at them, the adult, the replacement guardian in his orphaned life, to banish cruelties he is too young to face on his own. And so they take the duty Jiraiya asked them to, and they formulate on borrowed time, the medication that would give his body the tools needed to start conquering the internal battle. Little by little, day by day. The more he gains his strength however, the more the serpent loses their nerve, the more they see Jiraiya’s killer. A moment of emotional weakness, listening to the their heart - what if it cost them everything? The rain is volatile on this evening, banging aggressively at the roof and windows, threatening to tear the slatted top right off their cabin home. Managing to damage enough wiring that the house only gains light from various candles. Jiraiya is tucking Konan and Yahiko in to bed, while the serpent is left unattended in the lounge, young Nagato given the separate bed of their and Jiraiya’s room. For it had seemed more urgent at the time that he had a private space, away from the other children, while still resting in the most comfortable location possible. The couch and a sleeping bag had served fine for the two Sannin. Accustomed to more dire sleeping arrangements. And it is with this nauseating feeling that they had made a terrible mistake, that they go to see Nagato, as quiet as a housecat. Quieter still, when slender fingers coil around the vial of medication, and hide it in their kimono. Taking back what good they had done, rolling back time in some sense, once more. They are ever careful to not awaken him, and to return to their place in the kitchen to feign they had been tidying up all along. So very easy a task, when everyone under this roof trusts them. They offer Jiraiya a smile when he exits the childrens’ bedroom, and as they watch him move from one duty to the next. Going to check on Nagato they know, for it would be time for his medication soon. They hear his question about where the medication is, they answer with a masterfully quick and confident lie, “check the dresser, where it always is,” It is only when Konan emerges, evidently woken by the rain after Jiraiya had left her slumbering form, that the serpent abandons the task of dishes and lying. “It’s terribly loud, isn’t it dear?” they reassure, moving to guide her back in to the room after gently scooping up a candle on a porcelain saucer, their other hand lightly placed on her shoulder. They set it next to her bed, before urging her to try to sleep despite the noise, despite her obvious worries. Shuffling aside paper origami to make room for the candle, and to clear anything flammable from the candles temporary spot. Now it is their turn to sit with the girl until she has found it within herself to sleep. Not before convincing her of course, that her dear friend would be fine. Not before she, in her ever childlike innocence, in her trust in Jiraiya, and her misplaced trust in the serpent, says she is glad they came back. The more restless movement from the next room is what finally prompts them to leave her side, a brief moment spared to check she is correctly tucked in, before arriving in Nagato’s room. Before watching as Jiraiya, without quite giving away whether he was under any stress - for how he always made attempts to not worry them - mentions the missing medication. For weeks they had told themself their conscience would rest easier if these three children were erased. For weeks they waited, sought, an opportunity to rid this world of their beloved’s killer. But it is one moment, the very moment that they had long awaited for, that they realize something had changed, “I’ll help you look, it has to be here somewhere” they say quietly, a final lie, a far more forgivable one, as they move to place the medication within the room with effortless stealth. So fluid in movement, so trained in hidden and secretive tasks. They then feign a little bit of searching, before letting Jiraiya himself scope the part of the room where the medication would now be seated. When his midnight eyes move to theirs with bottle in hand, their gaze illuminated and reflecting the rooms single candlelight, that they offer him a reserved smile, and a nod of their head to confirm they had been right. “See, there it is. If it had been a snake, it would have bitten you, hm?”

[dokuhebi]

If you ever wanted to have your portrait taken, which snake would you have in the picture with you?

Impromptu Asks @heartofswords​

“I would have my personal summon with me, though that would be more her choice than mine. I’m rather sure she would eat the competition if not given a rightful place up front after all. Perhaps dear Manda would have been a potential choice, but Sasuke was adamant about destroying that possibility.”

[dokuhebi]

Kabuto  @xmedicus​ /. starter

The moon can not penetrate the thick clouds that dust the midnight skies, mitigating its glow and casting the forest in the blackest of cloaks. While the chill to this moonless night is proving most unpleasant, the allure of the dark to hide their figure compels them to take full advantage. They can not be seen, heard, acknowledged. So easy would it be to decide the serpent had overstayed their welcome once more, to seal them away, to cast them out as an enemy of all the nations, to try and execute them. More effort than it was worth, that is perhaps one of the only reasons they still breathe this crisp air. For while the viper knows full well that they are being kept by Konoha like some war dog at the end of leash, too ferocious to trust, but useful in times of necessary bloodshed, they also know that it is a mercy no matter how degrading. That they can exist within the boundaries set for them, and as they are right now, cross those boundaries when the parole holding that proverbial leash failed to see how much freedom had been taken by the serpents own hand.  While a spiteful part of them likes to believe that they are good enough, skilled enough, for bypassing parole without notice, they know this isn’t the case. They would not take this risk unnecessarily. The price for not compromising their freedom and very life would be compromising the freedom and life of their youngest son. A boy they had made, their flesh cast over his bones, their blood in his veins, their golden eyes peering back at them reflectively, weakening, ailing, waiting for his parent to offer him some mercy. A cure to the disease they made him with.  Years were spent dedicating themself to the task of fixing the errors in the code they gave his body, but years are proving fleeting. They are borrowing time, and they have but one last glimmer of hope. Hope existing in the capabilities and gaze of an old friend. Friend? Could they dare call him that? Were those years of companionship, unconditional trust and mutual admiration for one another not just a relic of the past? He had his choice, in that very bitter war, at that very bitter end, and he had turned his back to walk a path that would rule out the possibility of staying with the Sannin. He had chosen to not have them around, he had chosen to discard what may have been rekindled after a journey wrought with loss and confusion. They couldn’t blame him for that, but it does put a seed of doubt in their mind. Growing like circling vines around their thoughts, choking out any reassurance they may have once felt in his presence. 

Yet here they are, miles from the safety and permitted borders of Otogakure, standing outside the orphanage door. A rather nostalgic place perhaps, for second beginnings. Yet they have learnt quickly in their life to not get their hopes set too high for sentimentalities sake. There is no luxury of entering the abode politely, there is no hope of avoiding the eyes of others if they seek ordinary means of accessing Kabuto’s new residence. So breaking in, ever so quietly, is the simplest course of action. If not a rather poor first approach when trying to convince anyone they truly weren’t up to something sinister.  Taking the form of a small alabaster serpent, Orochimaru manages to seamlessly slip inside the building undetected. Ventilation and open woodwork inaccessible to any human, but an easy fit for a lithe reptile. They return to their human self once inside, a ghost of a figure as they saunter between dark rooms to find him, wondering if perhaps, having known their tricks, he may be the only resident here aware they were inside. Quiet as a housecat, the svelte shinobi meanders through the orphanage without stirring a single sleeping child, careful to not disturb the at rest abode.  Until golden eyes that could pierce through any darkness finally lands on the medic. Amicable greetings feeling false, when they haven’t truly a good idea of whether this man still has any semblance of care to offer them. So to avoid blundering in to something that may seem foolishly optimistic regarding his opinion of them, they try and clear the air of their intentions, and offer him a glimpse in to their motive. “You know I would never interrupt your new life, unless it were important.”

[dokuhebi]

Do you like rattlesnakes, Orochimaru? Or are they lower on your list of favorite snakes?

Impromptu Asks Anon

“They are a part of the Viperidae family, a particularly intelligent and sophisticated group. Key biological characteristics prove them to be advanced in their evolution, impressive in their pursuits and marvelously adaptable. What is to disapprove of?”

[dokuhebi]

Have you ever been bitten by your snakes? If so, do they tend to latch on and not let go? How do you get them to release?

Impromptu Asks Anon

“Whether a snake latches on or delivers a bite-and-release is dependent on the species. Those with venom have no reason to hold on, those who are constrictors do. My own summons rarely if ever turn on me, even by accident. They are after all, highly intelligent companions, many capable of human speech, all capable of higher thinking than the average wild animal. Given I am not the only shinobi to summon those from Ryūchidō however, I have been bitten by other summoners’ snakes. Either way, it is within that summons best interest to let go of me, my blood can become the harshest poison the moment I desire it to be.” “Why dear? Having trouble with getting bit lately? If you’re looking for advice on remedying a fixed bite, my strongest piece would be to stop aggravating them, and to leave them well enough alone. Prevention is better than cure hm?”

[dokuhebi]

Jovanni @pibrequirem​ / starter. 

Being independent by nature, and having lived predominantly on their own from childhood up until now, the serpent was well in the habit of not asking for help. It is why, by the time Jovanni returns to his abode where he had generously offered the serpent refuge, he would find them stubbornly trying to cater to their own needs. Despite being far from capable with their current health. Bandages firmly wrapped around their left arm and wrist - a makeshift cast and support they put on themself no doubt - and their svelte form visibly tense and sensitive looking.  When the serpent merely tries to reach in to one of the overhanging cabinets to obtain a cup, an attempt to make themself tea, their independent streak is thwarted rather swiftly. They only notice the man behind them after they had been trying to reach up in a futile effort to get the cup themself. The pull on broken ribs and a shaky body vivid. They give up only when they notice he has spotted their own inadequate attempt.  “Unless you wish to see me break every item of porcelain in your cupboard dear, I suggest you lend me a hand.”

[dokuhebi]

Do you sometimes feed snakes to your snakes?

Impromptu Asks Anonymous 

“No, my summons are not domestic pets needing to be catered to. If I am offering them anything, it would mostly be humans. Particularly the sorts who waste my time with pesky questions.”

[dokuhebi]

You are your own Valentine?

Impromptu Asks Anonymous

“That’s a suggestive question, wouldn’t you agree? In fact, it seems as if you worked the answer you assume in to its every word. Why dear, hoping to ask me yourself?”

[dokuhebi]

“Hi, honey,” Kabuto says, pressing kisses onto Orochimaru’s lips and cheeks in between his usual morning nuzzles. “Would you come for a walk down to the botany lab with me? I want to show you something I put together for Valentine’s Day.”

For Kabuto’s adoration of Orochimaru is endless, and on a day spent celebrating love, he wants to make sure that every little detail is perfect for them. 

Within the lab, they will find a wisteria plant, carefully selected and maintained so as to be the best of its kind; a new katana, its sheath decorated with depictions of cherry blossoms and a white serpent to symbolize their marriage; the best sake and the best whiskey that money can buy; a set of koto picks, patterned with wisteria petals; and a handmade card on which he’s drawn four snakes, one white, one silver, and two pale blue.

“Do you like it?” Kabuto says, biting his bottom lip for a moment, because he’s bubbling with excitement. “I wanted to give you a nice arrangement, because I love and adore you and our boys so much. You’ve made my whole world. ”

(Not that this is all of it, either - when Orochimaru is relaxing later that night, Kabuto plans to serenade them with a song he wrote himself.) 

It is unusual for the serpent to be the second one to wake up, rarely ever giving themself proper time to rest. Things had started to shift with their routines when they got married however. Amid loving him, and wanting to ensure he was faced with as little stress as possible, basic health care they had always skipped during the day was suddenly becoming a part of life. Not for themself, not because he was right, that they did feel better when they ate and slept more, but because there was a certain happiness in his night sky eyes when he  saw that under his watch, they were doing better, feeling better. And so, because he wanted to give them the best, and they wanted to give him the best, they had somehow found themself living a more thoughtful and conscious lifestyle. No longer quite as harsh to their own body as they used to be, far more willing to be just a little kinder to it, rather than using it as a stepping stone in their pursuits of advancing in their own self made evolution.  So as innocent a gesture as it is, waking up second, it is the first bit of proof what their love actually symbolized. The first bit of evidence of how good he had been for the viper. The kiss is returned, even if they are half asleep. A tired smile rising to their lips, as they shift closer to him in the bed to nuzzle that much closer, “morning dear,” a quiet and content sound, rare as ever, such tenderness only ever offered to their close family, Kabuto and their sons.  Golden eyes brighten a little when he mentions his surprise, and they chuckle softly before sitting up, only to lean back down to place another kiss to his lips, “the fact you couldn’t give it to me in our room makes me think you may have gone overboard with gifts this year darling,” they quip lightly, before sitting for a moment to comb their fingers through their long black hair. Tossing on something more appropriate than a night kimono, they follow their husband to his botany lab. Until finally they have arrived at his surprise. How golden eyes leap to the weapon ornate with cherry blossoms and serpents dancing.  Proof he knows them far too well, as he has littered the table in items that depict their very nature. Chocolates and roses simply wouldn’t do for them. Instead of the rose symbolizing love, they get their favourite flower, the poisonous wisteria with its beautiful violet petals. Instead of traditional chocolates, a strong brew of sake and whiskey. Instead of some trinket of jewelry, something the serpent did fancy, but not nearly as much as what he offers instead, a weapon of elegance. A stunning katana posed elegantly amid the arrangement, and the rather endearingly crafted card, and the tease to his next present with the koto picks.  

They step toward the array of presents, running their fingertips over the sheathed blade, before grasping sheath and hilt to pull the two a part and see the weapons lithe and elegant body. The sharpness of metal shimmering in the botanical laboratories lights. They place the sheath down carefully, a natural ability to wield the blade as if it were a part of their own body. They run their hand over the cool metal, a shimmer of mischief in their eyes as they glance toward their husband, a seamless step to be at his side, so they can steady the blade at theirs when they lean up and forward to kiss his lips. Their free hand caressing his cheek. “I will take the liberty of assuming this sword and those drinks mean I am also promised a sparring match and a round of sake together later this evening?” they ask, wrapping their free hand around his neck so they can draw themself up to place another kiss to his lips, this time nipping lightly at the lower one he had just bitten himself in excitement. Their gaze softens, enamored by him and taking a few seconds just to memorize every detail. “Of course I love it, they’re all wonderful,” they say, golden eyes tracing his, “you’re wonderful.”

[dokuhebi]

© - put a hand on my muse’s back to steer them somewhere // Kabuto

Manhandling symbol starters © - put a hand on my muse’s back to steer them somewhere // @raichoose “You could be helping me dress in to a tablecloth for all I know, and I would be none the wiser.” Their comment is offered dryly, golden eyes that had long since lost their usual brightness in replacement for a paler yellow. Courtesy of the virus they had just barely survived, and permanent damage they were yet to fix. It wasn’t complete blackness as it had once been, their eye sight was slowly recovering, at a pace that someone with a normal lifespan would likely never live long enough to see. Shapes all blurred in to one, leaving nothing but scattered colours merging in to one another. They could not rely on their eyes to make sense of a room, usually, their eyes only confused them with the unclear images.  But they had promised their youngest son they would attend the parent and child day festival, and Orochimaru had in turn dragged Kabuto with for the event. Partly because they refused to let him out of their reach again, partly because he had been a father to Mitsuki ever since the two met. Rogu had helped the Sannin find something suitable to wear, a wisteria decorated hanfu, elegant and refined. Beautiful, but horrendously complicated. They can no longer dress quite as easily by themself when it comes to such intricate fabrics and gowns. Luckily, they don’t have to ask Kabuto for his help to earn it. Staring at the mirror and seeing nothing but a mixture of black, white and lavender in the reflection. Unable to even tell the mirror from the wall, or their reflection from the mirror. But the fabrics were soft, as was his handling of their slender figure as he helps layer each pretty ribbon of long fabric, “I trust you will tell me if I look a mess,” they say, unable to tell if it suited them, whether they looked presentable or a mess. Their hands instantly seek him out, briefly dancing over his arm to detect it is him before leaning in to his taller form, their slim arm winding around his more toned one for guidance out the room. As it would turn out, to no surprise, they would be able to trust he would let them know how they looked. But perhaps not in the more straightforward way. More so, it would be impossible to feel anything but beautiful, with his dedicated affections. With how he so swiftly places a hand to their back when the crowd of other festive guests surrounds them too much in the lantern decorated streets. How he steers them away from being uncomfortable and without an easy escape route, where they take to simply tucking themself in under his arm and against his chest. How he speaks to them, what he says to them, how he refers to them. How he touches them - how they miss seeing the way he looked at them. 

And it isn’t long before they have requested some space from the noise, when Mitsuki has run off with friends and it is only the Sannin and the doctor. They let him lead them to the outskirts of the village, and once there, they have their bearings a bit more. Blind as a bat perhaps, but having traversed this world for a near century, this village particularly. They ask for one or two details about the street they are on, before taking his hand and guiding him for a change. Until they reach a staircase which is a bit trickier to navigate with all the decorations of lanterns and plants, to which they find themself picked up, arms laced around his neck as by habit, as he carries them up. Eventually however, they have lead him just beyond the cemetery, where only a few graves seep out. A small park like clearing that houses a few cherry blossom saplings, and one fully grown tree boasting pink petals. That is where they finally stop, to find a seat near one of the unmarked graves that placed the two directly beneath the beautiful tree, as the leaves flutter down. They take their seat beside him, hearing the booming sound of fireworks and bracing for a moment, realizing then that they could only hear the unpleasant sounds, and were unable to see the beauty that made all the racket worth it. Lights that look dim and faded, not even entirely able to make them out. Until their hands gently caress Kabuto’s form, starting with his arm, running up to his collar and chest, then gently navigating his neck, jaw and face. Until taking his glasses, and putting them on themself to try and see if there would be any difference. They aren’t gifted perfect clarity, but then, his eyes were not quite as poor as theirs - something they never thought they would be saying about someone as impaired visually as their companion. But it does offer some aid, and that in itself allows them to pick up on the fireworks, to notice something fuzzily pink in his hair, moving a hand to gently remove the cherry blossom leaf from silver strands, before pausing and offering him a light smile as they finally gather in some of his appearance. Blurry, but visible, “you’ve been describing how beautiful the festival is to me all night, but forgot to mention just how handsome you looked yourself hm?” they tease lightly, before returning the glasses to their owner, “that better not be your perceived self worth talking again, you know I won’t tolerate such deprecating views any more. You deserve better.”

[dokuhebi]

❛ kings die, realms fall, but magic endures. ❜

THE WITCHER 3 PROMPTS // @snakereign Everything in this world is different to them. From the wood making up tables, bookshelves and furnishings, to the materials making blankets, clothing and curtains. Born from bushes, trees and animals the serpent has simply never seen before. But despite how foreign everything here is, it is they themself who remains the exotic and misplaced one. The outlander. If they had felt hunted in their old world - and how constantly tracked down like a witch they were - this new realm offered countless more enemies to contend with. Fools who wanted them for power, spare parts in wizard like potions, or zoology. While being formidable and immortal certainly aids them in staying safe, they know better than to take on a world of enemies. They had done it once before, and although they ought to consider themself lucky to have come out alive of that war, they had learnt some hard lessons. One was never too powerful to need friends. It was their luck that they had found the company of someone with similar interests and passions, someone who did not shy away from their more ferocious side, but did not treat them like some animal either. A man who could see them for what they were, a mixture of many, a multifaceted leviathan who could bring harm or fortune to those smart enough to use them wisely. And how Voldemort proved to be smart enough, perhaps even too smart for their liking. It was rare they had to stay on guard, yet be too sweet-talked and ensnared to remind themself of that. He knew how to offer them enough information to keep them around, but never so much that he outlived his use to them. He kept himself a few steps ahead, and they are both aware and complacent with this. He’s made too compelling an argument with that silver tongue of his, to ever have them drifting or losing interest. So they wait for him, even when he disappears on his own agenda. Knowing better than to ask him where he has been when he returns. Had he wanted them to know, surely they would have been granted the right to accompany him. After all, even the most vicious dogs swore loyalty to those who kept them well fed. And the young man knew precisely how to sate their appetite. The doors quiet groan is what alerts them to the fact that he has returned. As the sun starts to sink low enough to be engulfed by the horizon. Vanishing in brilliant oranges and reds, painting the room in vivid saffrons. Such colours catch upon the vipers porcelain skin, flesh white as snow now used as a canvas under the suns fleeting rays. Warm hues faintly reflected where their night kimono slips lazily down their shoulder. Ivory arms, collar and legs bared to gentle but flame like colours panting their figure. Perched on the stone window arch, gazing down from their godlike view at the forests hundreds of feet below. Not timid of the fall, but admiring the height. Admiring the newness, truly reborn in this moment, when they gaze at things they have never seen before. Their fingers had been idly combing through raven black hair, until eager eyes move instead to the sound of his return. He is greeted instantly by their light smile, one that so quickly loses its tenderness when the edges of fangs can be seen. They slip gracefully from the windowsill they had been seated at, to meet him at his side. To scan his eyes and body for anything that may signal trouble. Whether he had run in to any, they don’t know. They do know however, that if he had, he had handled it as usual, and returned to them unscathed. “I did as you asked,” they say, a tome left upon the desk. What knowledge lies within the weighted book they do not know, they can not decipher its meaning despite being fully capable of reading it. Too inexperienced in this world to understand the gibberish of spells, foreign creatures, lands and names. But he had asked for it, so they had provided. In full anticipation to have their efforts rewarded, and having exercised all the patience they had within themself simply waiting for his return, “will you show it me then? One of the forbidden curses those lesser wizards keep muttering about?” They live for these lessons, thrive under his instruction, his tutoring. Magic is a power that is not within their veins, much like the muggles of this world. Yet unlike those muggles, they are not completely without something special, the chakra they harbor enabling them to produce attacks monstrous in its own regards, something so very similar to witchcraft. They follow him to the small coffee table, finding their seat beside him on the couch, listening to each word from his mouth and watching the artifact he draws out. A wand. And they watch next as the little demonstration begins, as his simple command has the summoned snake, courtesy of Orochimaru, suddenly wrapped under mind control. It is so effortless, so tasteful, so immediate. While the conjured snake is a loyal companion to Orochimaru, and would do their bidding without question, it now has lost all ability to do just that. Imperio. Far more sophisticated than the mind control those in the vipers realm are capable of. They are in awe instantly, enamored by the demonstrated power, enamored by how he makes it look second nature. How within a moment of his attention, with a single breathed command, this venomous and lethal summon is his new play thing. Golden eyes shift to the man when he speaks, inquisitive eyes following his every movement. “Magic... I imagine such a word is interchangeable with power, is it not?” they reply, leaning against him now, giving in to their tactile nature. They watch the snake innocently obey each command, as they rest their head against Tom’s shoulder. Too comfortable perhaps, around the charming man. A man who has even lulled the infamously distrustful serpent in to deeming him their home, their place of refuge. Not because they mistake his power as anything less than it is, but because they are hellbent on surrounding themself with any and all power - if not from their own sylphlike body, then instead they would content themself being beside his. They draw their hand lightly down to run their fingertips over his wand, to feel the texture curiously, an elegant motion before their hand brushes over his arm a moment to be gathered back to their person, “... the magic of this world, can it be mine?” With their summon finally having its free will returned, the reptile makes its way over to the two humans. Ever so complacent with what had happened, seeing no difference in the requested duty of killing on command, or being puppeted a moment. A bronze body lazily slips away from the small table it had been perched on, sliding instead to creep up the coach and languidly lace itself around and over the laps of the wizard and shinobi. Their hand moves to brush over its scaled body next, “there are those born without magic in this realm, I have seen them. Have none ever tried to get it regardless? Have any ever succeeded?” A more cunning smile replaces their previous one now, as they lift their head from his shoulder ever so slightly, to instead correct a tassel of dark brown hair, “you shall mark the first king to never die, and be the founder of a realm indomitable,” they say, golden eyes meeting his umber pair, ensnared instantly by the intelligence so clearly living there, their gaze against his the contrast of the pale yellow moon meeting the midnight sky, “for as long as I am permitted at your side,  I will make it so, and you will want for nothing my dear Lord,” they place a hand to his shoulder now to get to their feet, to saunter across the room and fix them both a drink, even the alcohol a rather differing taste here for them. They lean on the table a moment to watch him, to inspect his reactions before offering him his drink and a more tamed smile.  “I do hope I have sworn myself to a generous king.”

[dokuhebi]

Evie /. starter @sleepywitchevie​

The forest is a second home to the viper, a place they have spent hiding amid for years. Its comforts are lost on the serpent tonight however. With such grim news held secretly in their chest, with such an explained yet incurable condition plaguing their youngest. This may be the first point in time, where the very naive human part of themself, wonders if playing god had caused this cruel divine intervention. He should be healthy. They should be good enough to fix him.  But Mitsuki continues to grow weaker, he continues to suffer worse migraines, more vivid nightmares, more murmured pleas for his parent to solve the riddle. To fix the mess that they made him, when the terrible combination of arrogance and love merged, to have the serpent birthing their two precious sons. Was it selfish? Had they been little more than a vain and egotistical madman in their laboratory thinking they could get this right? The rumors of this woman are faint and small, but it is enough for the serpent to cling to. Because every maternal instinct in the Sannin’s body is driving them forward, desperation giving life to hope.  By the time they have located her, their svelte form is donned in a dark cloak that blankets their slender body. The hood drawn to cover the ex criminals face, until they look up through curtains of midnight hair to seek the woman out with their golden gaze. Eyes so bright, they may put the full moon to shame on this cool evening.

There is a moment of silence at first, a moment to consider their choice of words. They do not wait to see if she recognizes them. Whether she knows the Sannin almost a century old may appear before her looking a young adult. Perhaps that inconsistency would aid in their cover, perhaps she is one of the few to believe the rogue may have found their immortality, and connect the dots. None of it is important. They can only hope she has a price, and one they can pay. Finally, they draw their hood down, so they can extend the barest amount of etiquette in the form of minor transparency.  “I heard you were a healer.”