[In the enduring time between point A and point B, Sasuke's mind confronts the screaming question — where he is that Kakashi and Itachi would both be present, and chiefly beside that, what is he sensing in peripheral awareness that is not chakra? The halls closed around him feel inimical, cold and alien, and it is as he crosses one threshold into the room of another that the technology in his ear chirps to life, mechanically listing off explanations at odds with his concept of the larger world. Purpose. Meaning. Regret. Sasuke comes to a full halt, heart drumming in his head; he listens until impatience rears alive and it doesn't matter what he's being told. Right hand lifted, the delicate piece of technology is snatched loose and tucked into a pocket to be dealt with later. He doesn't want anything interfering with this. It's too important.
So Sasuke arrives, half-briefed, in the doorway of his brother's room, silhouette in stark relief against the bright white light at his back. He's frozen by momentary, inexplicit indecision: mismatched eyes scour the interior for signs of proof that this is Itachi, and not some cruel trick, sensitive to any flags in his surroundings that might suggest otherwise. But even then he can tell the Sharingan, and the Rinnegan, are not wholly reliable. It is as though someone has wrapped gauze around his sensory perception; some element of where they are is dampening the depth of keener insight.
The last place his gaze falls is on his brother's eyes. And here, his look narrows, confidently undeterred despite the strangeness he senses, a discolored thread woven into the stitch of his brother's chakra signature. What is that?]
Good. You aren't running away. [It seems each time they've met in the years after his childhood's violent end, Itachi was always going away. Always leaving him behind. I would have followed you if you did are the words he does not say now, but they're promised to himself.] The information I received about this place suggests that I am not dead, but if that's the case, I don't know why you would be here too. Is that something you can tell me?
[The door is shut at his back, and if there is a lock or a latch, his sole hand is fastening it securely. One more barrier between interruption. Kakashi should be wiser than to intrude; he won't take chances, nonetheless. His own aura is darker, shedding its usual chill due to an emotional intensity that is difficult to dilute — anyone with sensitivity would know better than to approach this room.]
Is this where you've been staying?
[Unlike his older brother's solemn stoicism, a silent pillar across from him, Sasuke paces the perimeter of four walls, scanning every item, every feature, every possession held within them. The scent of ink, tea, and acetone is a distracting combination. He studies the bookshelf, the desk, the closet — but he does not go as far as to begin opening drawers.]
no subject
So Sasuke arrives, half-briefed, in the doorway of his brother's room, silhouette in stark relief against the bright white light at his back. He's frozen by momentary, inexplicit indecision: mismatched eyes scour the interior for signs of proof that this is Itachi, and not some cruel trick, sensitive to any flags in his surroundings that might suggest otherwise. But even then he can tell the Sharingan, and the Rinnegan, are not wholly reliable. It is as though someone has wrapped gauze around his sensory perception; some element of where they are is dampening the depth of keener insight.
The last place his gaze falls is on his brother's eyes. And here, his look narrows, confidently undeterred despite the strangeness he senses, a discolored thread woven into the stitch of his brother's chakra signature. What is that?]
Good. You aren't running away. [It seems each time they've met in the years after his childhood's violent end, Itachi was always going away. Always leaving him behind. I would have followed you if you did are the words he does not say now, but they're promised to himself.] The information I received about this place suggests that I am not dead, but if that's the case, I don't know why you would be here too. Is that something you can tell me?
[The door is shut at his back, and if there is a lock or a latch, his sole hand is fastening it securely. One more barrier between interruption. Kakashi should be wiser than to intrude; he won't take chances, nonetheless. His own aura is darker, shedding its usual chill due to an emotional intensity that is difficult to dilute — anyone with sensitivity would know better than to approach this room.]
Is this where you've been staying?
[Unlike his older brother's solemn stoicism, a silent pillar across from him, Sasuke paces the perimeter of four walls, scanning every item, every feature, every possession held within them. The scent of ink, tea, and acetone is a distracting combination. He studies the bookshelf, the desk, the closet — but he does not go as far as to begin opening drawers.]