#because that's the logical thing to do when stumbling upon someone orphaned by war. who could not do shit to harm you

[avatarofwar]

What's the matter, stray? Nothing left to lose?

[dokuhebi]

Shattered-by-Sparks said ➳ // you know I was gonna

Send ➳ and I’ll generate a number between 1-  15 to see what kind of kiss my muse will give yours!   3. A kiss underwater // @shattered-by-sparks When they were young, they recall the contrasting words of their elders. They remember being eight years old, donned in one of Jiraiya’s hakama, since they could hardly afford their own during their days as an orphan. Intending to learn the art of stealth for the day, but being offered a different lesson by the stand-in teacher. They recall the womans disapproving voice when they, still plagued by innocence, squandered their teams success by veering off route. Because they had stumbled upon a small nest they dared not disrupt for the mere sake of training, where the residue of young students learning their abilities would render the small inhabitants homeless, mere collateral damage. A sharp bite of correction; ‘you will be the first to die out there, if you think with your heart not your head boy.’. And so they learnt, to listen to their head, and to never argue with logic. No matter how it conflicted with what little moral code their now deceased mother and father had tried to impart. They would be fourteen when donning one of Tsunade’s furisodes, finally doing well enough on missions to be better off financially, but hardly in the position for luxury items such as pretty clothing. They recall a mans disapproving eyes, when he sees a rag dressed boy had run over to the young serpent. Mistaking their Senju borrowed gown as a sign the raven haired teen was well off. Asking for any spare coin, but being promptly told to leave them alone. Because they had learnt their lesson, to use logic above all else. And there was no clear gain in helping someone, only clear loss of their own money. But from the man who had watched, and given the rag dressed boy something in the serpents stead, they had earned a displeased bite of criticism yet again; ‘I would hope a young lady such as yourself would have more heart than that.’ And so they learnt that they were expected to listen to the organ of confession in their chest as well. That while arguing with logic would end them up dead in this violent world, there was no point surviving if they lost their heart along the way. And it had been a strange balancing act, where they found the most rational middle ground. By the time they reach adulthood, they have obeyed the voice in their head that says caring for their team mates, or for anyone, would end in little but misery and loss. For humans were far too fragile to hold on to. So they let the bonds they had formed over countless years to crack and wither. But there would be no point to make a stone of themself, and so they had given their heart to their work, to their studies, their ambitions. And that had been the easiest way forward for the next sixty years - until they met her. The Sannin finds themself beside Rin at a quaint bar, no where near the stretches of Fire Countries influence, nestled in the borderlands of Sungakure and Kirigakure. A pleasant town, where nobody seemed to know anyone. The gathering of those who wanted nothing but drinks and accommodation. So in a town untouched by external politics, where the name Sannin and Jinchuriki earned little but a blank and ignorant stare, neither one of them has to wear the deceptive guise of henge. Rin had stirred awake a part of them that had been dormant for quite some time, although they have little concept of what that emotion may be. Fondness, was the closest term they held. They had been exchanging conversation in the furthest corner of the bar, neither one interested in mingling with strangers, at least this evening. However despite reputations holding no weight in this town, attention was still offered by those who had come here to seek conversation with unfamiliar faces. Orochimaru has long since mastered the art of a gaze that pierces the confidence of anyone, and a smile that seems to say ‘begone’. So any of those who had boldly stepped up had only made a swifter retreat. After a moment of distraction however, they return their attention to Rin to find a woman had swept up the opportunity of her temporary solitude. Perhaps the woman was being friendly, perhaps the woman was being coy, neither should matter. The thing that should earn the vipers immediate attention after all, is the reaction they feel rise inside of themself. Awfully indifferent by nature, often impossible to get a rise out of, certainly unfazed and disinterested in the antics of people as a whole... so why then, do they feel the ever growing distaste for the womans pushy conversation? A spike of, dare they say it, jealousy. They found they had no time for the womans lipgloss smile, and can only return the gesture she offers them with something ever so judgmentally false. Their smile shows nothing but the baring of fangs, and they resist the urge to say something nasty by taking a purposeful sip of their sake. A likely culprit for why they have decided composure can be thrown to the wind, and they can openly offer the woman who burdens their pleasant conversation with Rin a wry expression. They do not offer her any social graces, they do not laugh politely at her jokes, they do not respond immediately if she asks a question, they reject her every offer, be it a drink, an idea, or even a more comfortable seat when it opened up. Because while she keeps up conversation with Rin and Orochimaru, it had not escaped their attention that she had sighted the pretty brunette with her autumn coloured doe eyes, and made a straight line toward her. That had been the reason why they had prompted Rin to down the rest of her drink, as they did their own, before moving location. They would be lying if they said after all their drinks, that they remembered the small details of the evening. Like how they convinced her to leave the bar and promise of more alcohol, or who had the idea to visit the towns main attraction of naturally formed and well maintained hot springs. But they had found their way in to the warm wooden and stone floored room. Where the divided rock pool-like sections of the warm water offer multiple springs to choose from in both the male and female portion of the building. When asked where they would like to sit, they can only toss Rin a playfully confessional gaze, knowing that even drunk or tipsy, she of all people would have read their earlier displeasure like an open book. So they do not stoop so low as to deny what is obvious, instead sticking by their little display of jealousy and guiding her to one of the unoccupied springs. Keeping her quite far from the other woman enjoying the warm water a few meters away, and from the dividing wall where men can be heard not seen in their separate quarter. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I don’t want to share,” they say with a slightly coy tease to their voice, finding their way to rocks designed for sitting. They have their towel drawn around their body to hug their sylphlike figure, tucked neatly under slender arms just as pure white as the towel itself. While they had made quick work of twisting their long dark hair in to a bun, they had next sought to help her. Pale digits in contrast to the umber hair they now begin to lightly coil for her, ever the perfectionist in their antics, they allow some hair to frame her face as they had done for themself. To avoid the fault of gathering too much hair and putting needless strain on the locks. They gracefully move around her to inspect if the bun is centered and comfortable, lightly tipping her jaw up to examine it, before drawing slightly back has them realizing how close they had gotten with all their fussing and perfectionism. Gazes meeting a moment, and lips mere breaths away, they can not tell if they wish to blame alcohol or impulsiveness. For whichever it was, there is no taking back the gesture once they offer it. Logic would tell them that this is a dangerous game with no reward, that they have not acted after proper calculative thought. But they have survived three Great Wars, invented jutsu that could revive the dead, cures and technology that could prevent future deaths and revolutionize shinobi. They had achieved more in their life than nearly any shinobi to date - surely a moment of foolishness, a moment of thoughtless impulse, could be forgiven? They do not internally wrestle with the idea for long, they have allowed their hand to gently graze down from its placement in her hair to caress the side of her face instead. Where they can guide it to the side so they may catch her lips with their own. To earn a reaction they can not hope to try and guess. Would this be seen as overstepping? Would there be distrust when their venomous fangs were so very close to her flesh? Would she return it? They do not know their next step if she returns it. Why, they would perhaps know how to handle disdain at the gesture, more so than acceptance. Yet there is no deterrent strong enough to make them back out. They have shown that even feral and deadly jaws can be remarkably gentle, the kiss lingering like a ghosts might. A mixture of wanting to possess her, yet vanish all at the same time. When they draw away, chatoyant amber eyes seek out a response. But only for a moment, before a somewhat abashed, somewhat amused smile finds its way to their lips. Their hand drawn back to their person to correct the towel around their chest, a mere means to seek distraction, and a reason to pull away before she gives her response. Somehow still confident even in their bashfulness. “Well then,” they say with a soft exhale that could be mistaken for the slight trickle of nerves, only to be banished by the gesture of their self assured smile, even when they continue to subtly fidget by next running a hand through their long midnight fringe, “I do hope that was as well received as it was intended, but if it isn’t, you are more than welcome to offer me a polite lie, and pretend you are too drunk to remember this.”