#couldn't think of a better way to describe the possible stances on it

[uzumakichcined]

(ask) "Vibe check me, Karin. Do tell me how my chakra feels and smells to you. I would be delighted to know."

Vibe Check

" Lord Orochimaru I. . . . " She pauses, hesitant, and almost scared. Honesty had been something that she had held in high regard when it came to him and the few other selective higher-ranking people in their little village/organization. Yet here, she worried. How would he respond to knowing how it felt to her? Surely she would be a biased perspective as. . . she sighs, her eyes filled with confusion and various other emotions that led her down a questionable path she couldn't quite avoid. Especially with his annunciation on how he'd be delighted to know. It trapped her in a sense.

Bowing her head to him, a show of respect that she held for him, Karin would let out a steady breath.

Normally Karin might need to take a small inhale, a breath to really understand who it was that stood before her but Orochimaru's chakra was familiar to her. Something that she could never forget and always could recall without fail.

Karin stayed quiet, for several moments as she tried to find the right words to use. She knew how to say it, but to say it in such a way that didn't come out as a full admission? That was tricky, she didn't want to simply spill everything especially since her bias would show with how she interpreted his uniqueness.

" Of course. I would describe your chakra's feel as suffocating. Like many of the constrictors you employ in battle, your chakra not only latches on, but strangles everything around it, but it's not in a hold I would consider deadly. Many see the constrictor's hold as violent, brutish, and otherwise savage, the feel I get from you in my biased perspective is a hold. Your chakra and energy holds and keeps everything it comes into contact with close. You, uniquely hold everything around you in your presence, much like you welcomed me and many other children who needed a home, in your chakra to carry this warmth with it and bring us something more than we'd think with it. An opened door, a new possibility, you showed us a path ahead. "

Swallowing, she tries to steady her voice. " Many don't understand this warmth, because it's not the same as an open flame, and it's a warmth many people take for granted. Your Chakra offers a suffocating--- hug, for lack of a better term. There is a comfort, if a bit much for some, but a secure hold that reassures those who accept it that you won't leave. For better or worse. Other places, such as Konoha, take this feeling for granted, they are offered such things in abundance that it becomes offputting when it's displayed in your way, but to those like myself, it shows the connection you have. Not only with your power, but with the life around you, and a willingness to understand and accept it, to accept me. "

Clearing her throat she shifted her stance, clenching her fists ever so slightly. " Your scent is hard to pin down. It reminds me of the more common incense that many would burn at funerals or when remembering the dead, paying respects, and that sort. I would say, combining all of these things, your being is a graveyard. A place many don't wish to go or think about and can hold a terrifying presence, but a welcoming respite for those who are long forgotten by the rest of the living world. So those who are forgotten may, at last, find a home they can forever rest safely and soundly in. "

[rsmrymnt-tea]

a two-way introspection (1/?)

a/n: it’s just dola talking to herself. literally. references to lesson 16, late s2 spoilers. mention of past suicidal thoughts. hints (kind of) of how her immortality works & backstory if you squint? this is just a bit of brainvomit. for context, in her canon, barbatos wasn’t able to make the dead version of herself disappear when he erased the original timeline.

It’s been some time since she last visited her own grave.

A funny thing to tell herself, really. The weakest puff of amusement left her as she neared where her body was laid to rest.

It was somewhere hidden in the forest behind the House of Lamentation, far enough beyond the garden where the rare visitor couldn't possibly encounter it, but close enough that the wards protecting the House still kept curious explorers from coming near.

It didn't take too long for Dolasach to reach the small clearing, a deep breath taken as she walked through the overgrown path to her marker. In the years since her burial, rare varieties of Devildom flora had flourished all on their own, somehow overtaking and killing a few of the surrounding trees. Satan once described it as intriguing, as many of the herbs and wildflowers were apparently species that thrived where there were powerful magic.

Sometime later, they'd all learn just how powerful that magic was.

The last time Dola had visited her grave was around that time, right after Diavolo and Solomon told her about the Ring—a never before encountered phenomenon that promised the end for all three of the realms, slowly destroying not only the three realms but Dola herself from within. It did plenty to make one contemplate the option of becoming the lone body to bury instead of rendering all three realms a graveyard.

After all, death wasn't so bad. Between the three times she had a taste of it, Dola wondered if the version of herself six feet below her was actually having a better time than she was right now.

She shook those thoughts away before they could grow any louder. With a heavy sigh, she knelt down before her grave marker and placed a bouquet of hyacinth and asphodel down.

Death wasn't an option for her anymore, anyway. Not with her immortality. It’s conditional, yes, but that’s all the more reason for her to not linger on any deathwishes and musings.

"Did you miss me?" Dola gave a weak smile to the stone grave marker in front of her. "I'm sorry I haven't come to see you in some years. Things have been pretty busy."

Silence. It wasn’t as if she was expecting a response, considering her company. But then—

"It's alright."

Within a second Dola was on her feet, magic already sparking and pooling between her fingers. Before her was... Herself, standing over the offered bouquet. Her hair was still long, and she still wore what Dola knew she wore on that day: her old favorite paint-stained hoodie and visibly mended jeans. If it weren't for how she wasn't fully opaque, the living Dola would’ve thought she’d come back to life a second time somehow.

The ghostly Dola looked just as shocked as the living Dola did.

"You heard me?" asked the ghost. Her voice seemed so close yet so far, layered and echoing.

"I did," answered the living one. She relaxed her stance and dissipated the magic. There was a heavy silence as she eyed her ghostly self up and down, the reality of her existence slowly twisting her gut with cold fingers. "I... Didn't think you'd still be around."

"Well, I am." She bit back the urge to tell her that she'd always been around, but she knew herself well enough to know that she didn't need to say it.

The shock on the ghost's face slowly morphed to confusion. "Have you always been able to see and hear me?"

Dola shook her head. "No. It's... A recent development," she said. The ghost slowly nodded, oblivious to how the living version of herself wondered how she missed any sign of a ghost's presence on her way here. Perhaps she was just too distracted by her own thoughts?

"I... See. I'm guessing Sol taught you that trick?" The ghost tried to flash the best smile she could muster, but the both of them knew it was hollow.

"It's... a long story."

The ghostly Dola shrugged. "I've got a lot of time to kill."

"I can imagine," Dola said, sighing. "But right now, I just—why are you still here? And why have none of the brothers ever said anything about you being here?"

The ghost mirrored her sigh and sat down on her—on their grave marker.

"Give me a moment to gather myself first,” she said. “I wasn't exactly expecting that you'd visit today, let alone somehow be able to communicate with me."