Onyx [drabble]
Title: Onyx
Characters: Hidan, Kakuzu
Words: 415
Summary: Character study. All the knowledge that is only supposed and a pragmatic world view.
The cut was clean before its edges -somewhere half-way down the back of his hand- began to fray, the injury superficial, tendon and muscle and threat intact. A scratch, merely, something Kakuzu wasn’t even sure he had attained in the skirmish or during the forerun chase through the forest.
He observed the blood ooze from it, let a drop or two fall on the log he was sitting on, watched how the fluid seeped into the muscle-like structure of decaying wood made slick by the damp weather.
Fog lay thick in the valleys these days, he was sure of that.
“Got you, didn’t they, the persistent, little ants.” He met the younger man’s gaze with utter calamity.
“It would seem.” Impassive.
Hidan’s laugh was slow and deep, segueing into a drawl with fluid grace. Jagged transition. “You’re going to die, old man. One day, simply and silently breathe your last. All of you are.”
“Yes, all of us.” he said and wondered if his partner would one day wrap his mind around what he was implying. He looked forward to it, the expression the man would wear when he realized his god had -finally- left him.
In the end, so he contemplated, the whole pitiful history of the world unfolded itself in things becoming what they are. Expectations, hopes, memories both glorified and faded squeezed through the eye of a needle that was reality until everything became just another limited now. Manageable and boring, unbidden but unquestionably there. An ever-the-same, pathetic story.
He lived like that. Took step by step. Pragmatism.
“Simply going to peg out, just like that.”
A snort, unveiled disdain. Breathing mockery.
“What’s so funny.” the other man asked, enraged, things that swelled within him, hatred and ire ready to lash out.
Standing up, Kakuzu brushed with his other hand over the gash, smeared the blood, revealed the already forming scab underneath.
Ultimately he was an observer, a battered mess of intertwined ages, forever entangled like the cords enclosing his organs, the deepest parts of him carefully cradled in black threat. His mind steady with the kind of hubris that came with knowing.
Between the many beaded moments that formed the annals of the years from whatever start to time there had been up to this second and ever-on there was no room for armies conquering the blue sky.
He realized this, truly understood, while his partner’s comprehension of that fact was limited to some abstract, rather indifferent consideration.
After all there he was, world-weary, because he assumed he would never get to escape it.
“Nothing” he said. “It is nothing.”
Characters: Hidan, Kakuzu
Words: 415
Summary: Character study. All the knowledge that is only supposed and a pragmatic world view.
The cut was clean before its edges -somewhere half-way down the back of his hand- began to fray, the injury superficial, tendon and muscle and threat intact. A scratch, merely, something Kakuzu wasn’t even sure he had attained in the skirmish or during the forerun chase through the forest.
He observed the blood ooze from it, let a drop or two fall on the log he was sitting on, watched how the fluid seeped into the muscle-like structure of decaying wood made slick by the damp weather.
Fog lay thick in the valleys these days, he was sure of that.
“Got you, didn’t they, the persistent, little ants.” He met the younger man’s gaze with utter calamity.
“It would seem.” Impassive.
Hidan’s laugh was slow and deep, segueing into a drawl with fluid grace. Jagged transition. “You’re going to die, old man. One day, simply and silently breathe your last. All of you are.”
“Yes, all of us.” he said and wondered if his partner would one day wrap his mind around what he was implying. He looked forward to it, the expression the man would wear when he realized his god had -finally- left him.
In the end, so he contemplated, the whole pitiful history of the world unfolded itself in things becoming what they are. Expectations, hopes, memories both glorified and faded squeezed through the eye of a needle that was reality until everything became just another limited now. Manageable and boring, unbidden but unquestionably there. An ever-the-same, pathetic story.
He lived like that. Took step by step. Pragmatism.
“Simply going to peg out, just like that.”
A snort, unveiled disdain. Breathing mockery.
“What’s so funny.” the other man asked, enraged, things that swelled within him, hatred and ire ready to lash out.
Standing up, Kakuzu brushed with his other hand over the gash, smeared the blood, revealed the already forming scab underneath.
Ultimately he was an observer, a battered mess of intertwined ages, forever entangled like the cords enclosing his organs, the deepest parts of him carefully cradled in black threat. His mind steady with the kind of hubris that came with knowing.
Between the many beaded moments that formed the annals of the years from whatever start to time there had been up to this second and ever-on there was no room for armies conquering the blue sky.
He realized this, truly understood, while his partner’s comprehension of that fact was limited to some abstract, rather indifferent consideration.
After all there he was, world-weary, because he assumed he would never get to escape it.
“Nothing” he said. “It is nothing.”