The Senju does not seem to mind the cold. In ways, it looked to suit him. It almost seemed like he'd belong in a place just like this and he'd managed to find something much like his fur collar at the markets along with a few other items. Now, Tobirama observed the festivities in a deep blue coat with a white fur hood and collar feeling far more comfortable. A slight blue from the brisk cold touched his pale skin.
He finds himself curious about the celebrations and he's come to see that some larger parts of this festival was quite familiar to him. Observing, the Senju feels a deep solace within it all, sending off his candle into the night upon the water surrounded by so many that look like him and don't look like him but all have something, someone, someones to remember. He keeps many people in his mind. Friends, comrades, distant family -- his father. Issuing a quiet few words at the edge of the water, "in the end we were too alike, Butsuma. I wonder now if you find your death as noble as you found your sons."
Night One. The Shrines & After
Tobirama inhaled deeply as he sat on his heels at the shrine. He could honor his brothers, his family, the same way as he could back home but this will make due. Fingers diligently place offering upon the alter, lighting and placing the tall candles around. He's never been one to cry. Not then. Not now. It's been far too long, besides. Not sure if he ever knew how, truth be told, but he does feel that pang in his chest. The sorrow that's never left him. So much so it stained his cheeks as a ritual in remembrance. Every single day.
"Of all the people who came back, who was the last to survive, it should not have been me." It's quiet. Thoughtful. "I'll return to you all soon. The village is in good hands. An Uzumaki. He's grown since we last saw him, Hashirama. You would be proud." There is a long pause as the man let his head dip for but a moment before returning upward. "Sawa, Itama -- I can never forgive myself. I hope, as always, you two found peace. Your hearts were too pure for that world we lived." He spends quite some time there speaking, thinking, reflecting, getting a hold of the swath of emotions that bubble up before rising back to his feet.
One could approach the man as he leaves. He's looking particularly subdued. He may also be approached upon returning to the festivities and while Tobirama is far from the type to let loose, he has an impressive ability to drink and remain just as stone faced as he is sober. The dance and music nevertheless is soothing. Again, so similar to celebrations he knew.
( ooc: More than happy to take a wildcard but chances are I'll be hitting up random top levels bit by bit. Just needed to get this shit out, yanno? LOL. HMU on Disco or PM if you need to! )
Tobirama Senju | Open
The Senju does not seem to mind the cold. In ways, it looked to suit him. It almost seemed like he'd belong in a place just like this and he'd managed to find something much like his fur collar at the markets along with a few other items. Now, Tobirama observed the festivities in a deep blue coat with a white fur hood and collar feeling far more comfortable. A slight blue from the brisk cold touched his pale skin.
He finds himself curious about the celebrations and he's come to see that some larger parts of this festival was quite familiar to him. Observing, the Senju feels a deep solace within it all, sending off his candle into the night upon the water surrounded by so many that look like him and don't look like him but all have something, someone, someones to remember. He keeps many people in his mind. Friends, comrades, distant family -- his father. Issuing a quiet few words at the edge of the water, "in the end we were too alike, Butsuma. I wonder now if you find your death as noble as you found your sons."
Night One. The Shrines & After
Tobirama inhaled deeply as he sat on his heels at the shrine. He could honor his brothers, his family, the same way as he could back home but this will make due. Fingers diligently place offering upon the alter, lighting and placing the tall candles around. He's never been one to cry. Not then. Not now. It's been far too long, besides. Not sure if he ever knew how, truth be told, but he does feel that pang in his chest. The sorrow that's never left him. So much so it stained his cheeks as a ritual in remembrance. Every single day.
"Of all the people who came back, who was the last to survive, it should not have been me." It's quiet. Thoughtful. "I'll return to you all soon. The village is in good hands. An Uzumaki. He's grown since we last saw him, Hashirama. You would be proud." There is a long pause as the man let his head dip for but a moment before returning upward. "Sawa, Itama -- I can never forgive myself. I hope, as always, you two found peace. Your hearts were too pure for that world we lived." He spends quite some time there speaking, thinking, reflecting, getting a hold of the swath of emotions that bubble up before rising back to his feet.
One could approach the man as he leaves. He's looking particularly subdued. He may also be approached upon returning to the festivities and while Tobirama is far from the type to let loose, he has an impressive ability to drink and remain just as stone faced as he is sober. The dance and music nevertheless is soothing. Again, so similar to celebrations he knew.
( ooc: More than happy to take a wildcard but chances are I'll be hitting up random top levels bit by bit. Just needed to get this shit out, yanno? LOL. HMU on Disco or PM if you need to! )