middleofsomewhere | The Waking of Neran

The Waking of Neran

"Good morning Voidtreckers and passengers. Today is day twenty one of the month of Orchestra. We will be arriving in System #78961112094711 later today and the dressing carriage is open for your use."

It is indeed, with thick winter coats, hats, scarves and gloves in all sizes. There are also some bags suitable for carrying food, for anyone who wants to add to the festival food with more food!

They have the morning to prepare before another announcement.

"Shortly arriving in System #78961112094711. The weather is extremely cold, voidtreckers and passengers should wrap up warm and wear their SCA's at all times. Arriving in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."
The train shakes as they leave the void and they will see dark skies with glowing flecks of light falling down around them. It's only a glimpse before there is rock to both sides as they enter the landing area.

The Waking of Neran

... ARRIVAL TO OSIGA

THE VOIDTRECKER EXPRESS PULLS INTO AN OPEN HIGH-STACKED PARKING STATION, FILLED ALREADY BY A VARIETY OF VEHICLES. Darkness and the cold spills into where they pull in, lights and signs around to guide the Voidtreckers who exit the craft where they need to go, elevator and teleporting systems available to choose from.

For those turn their gaze to where the cold comes, they will see a view of the world: a landscape of mountains lit in burning bright blue. Like Christmas and city lights, they can be seen in the far distance, and the sky too glows with a shimmering, falling blue. It looks like a slow rain, while farther up, the twinkling of actual stars can be glimpsed.

This will be their view of the world for three Osiga days - 210 hours, give or take.

The lower floor widens into a train-like station, shuttles ready to take them into Osiga proper in short five minute rides. They just need to figure out they need to scan their SCAs at the turnstiles, which will beep with approval, and send a map to their SCA of the grotto.

With a handy dot to their hotel.

... THE IRUE GROTTO

HOTEL. THE EXTERIOR OF THE HOTEL IS STONY, A WALL OF UNEVEN ROCK WITH SLITS FOR WINDOWS CLIMBING UPWARD. It gives off a sparse, cold impression, but the interior is anything but. Inside the floors are smoother, a carpet in the middle of a lobby, and the walls are decorated with colourful paints and endless rugs and furs. There's seating, a roaring fire in one corner, and lighting set to a cosy mood.

There's stairs that can be taken, but also elevators. The bedrooms are much the same as the lobby, with paints and furs all around - the furs especially covering the beds, along with hand stitched quilts. In the centre is a fire pit, set with heatstones than wood or coal, and extras in a container by a wall with safety instructions of how to move them (with tongs and gloves).

Outside the rest of the grotto can be seen, a mish-mash of layers closer to a labyrinth. There's curtains for privacy, and also a screen to help blot out the sound.

FOOD & SIGHTS.

NOW, THE IRUE GROTTO CAN BE EXPLORED. The grotto is easy to get lost in, with stone stairs and archways doubling as bridges to lead to different levels, but always with something to see. Museums and art galleries fill most of the lower layers down, a few shops between of traditional trinkets and garments for those who come out interested in taking a piece of Osiga back with them. There are also day classes, with candle-making a big one on the first night.

Water runs through constructed streams, small but always in travel. They fall off into small waterfalls, eventually gathering into pools that always ensure drink is around. But there's also drinking spaces around, wall coves where servers mind the drinks, and people gather around on crouched seating. Privacy isn't a big deal in Osiga; visitors welcomed into conversation freely. The drinks favour the strong, spicy and sweet. Their traditional drinks are a fiery whisky and a sweet creamy milk drink flavoured by spices that taste very much like cinnamon and nutmeg. It is strongly alcoholic though there is a non alcoholic version as well. There are other drinks available of course from other planets but visitors are encouraged in a good natured way to try the good stuff.

And let's not forget the food. Most traditional Osigian dishes are spicy yet sweet, fatty, and largely meat. There are also food baskets all over, filled with wrapped snacks free for taking, or to add your own. Never let your neighbour go hungry. What will you find, dipping your hand in: a treat, or a mistake?

SORS PARKS, OPEN SKIES. THE FARTHER FROM THE HOTELS AND STATION VISITORS GO, THE MORE THE SKY BECOMES VISIBLE, AND WITH IT THE FALLING SNOW. Except this isn't snow, and those who venture out will figure this soon enough. There are sors parks up ahead, hard to miss for how they glow a brilliant blue, tall erratic sculptures shaped like an abstract mess. They're cold, even colder than the rest of the grotto, and near every entrance are wooden racks with coats and scarfs hanging from pegs, a bucket of heatstones to stick in pockets.

Keeping company is better than not. Anyone who goes in alone will find the chill uncomfortable to those who have someone else nearby, SCAs working stronger together. Paths somehow stay free from being covered in the icy mess, and every few yards are grit bins with small bags to put the contents in, instructions as to what to do.

And that's to throw them at the sculptures, into the air, and watch as the hardened ice disperses into a fizzle of lights. The sight is considered beautiful, and especially fun for kids and couples.

... ANAN & THE MINISTRY

It's maybe an hour or so after their arrival when a message comes through the comms on their SCA's.

boop beep boop beep / boop boop boop/ boop boop/ beep//
beep beep / boop beep//
beep beep beep boop/ boop boop boop/ beep beep/ boop beep beep / boop / beep boop beep/ beep/ boop beep boop beep/ boop beep boop/ beep/ beep boop beep/ beep beep beep//

"It didn't close the hack. I think your Voidtrecker Express likes me." Anan sounds almost triumphant. "Glad you all came. I'm at the drinking space next to the Irue Museam of Osigan Art."

For those that wish to go and meet her, they can.

... THE WAKING OF NERAN

NIGHT ONE: REMEMBERING. It's hard to tell when 'night' begins when the world is in darkness and there are more hours in the day then they are perhaps used to. But things begin to wind down a little, the art houses and museums close and the day activities are wrapped up.

People begin making their way to the main streets where the parade will go. Some people may have made candles throughout the day but there are also long candles for sale and 'fire' bearers carrying large torches to light the candles. The main lights are all turned off, plunging the streets into darkness lit only by the candles and the faint distant glow of sors.

The parade itself has large lit floats, literally floating above the ground, the lights are in intricate shapes. There are light dancers- people dressed completely in black to blend in to the night, with ribbons of light doing feats of acrobatics to music- instruments and volcaless voices weaving melodies.

After the parade passes by people move to the streams, where their floating candles that can be lit and sent on their way. There are designated areas for the tall candles to be placed- almost shrine like with areas to pray or think or sing- the helpful guides will assist anyone and are very open to the different ways people from various worlds and cultures may wish to remember their dead.

Afterwards people are encouraged to drink, eat, spend time with the living and swap stories of the dead. Dance and sing. It is upbeat, joyous and the tears are meant to be cathartic.

NIGHT TWO: PERSEVERING. After another day of activities- or resting and recovering from the excess of the night before the grotto again is ready in anticipation. The side of the grotto open to the sky is packed with people, ledges and railings packed with people. Even the buildings on this side of the grotto have opened their doors to allow people up on their roofs to watch the firework display.

Sparklers are sold, as are snacks and drinks and a voice comes through speakers throughout the space.

"NERAN! On this night you fight!" The crowd cheers. "Hear our dedication, return to us! For tonight is a night of COURAGE!"

The crowd cheers again and the fireworks begin. Loud and colourful, beautiful shapes, almost like dances in the sky. It's loud and it's busy but the atmosphere is great, throughout the night within the crowd there are marriage proposals, declarations of new jobs, decisions to travel the void. Bravery and courage abound- helped probably by the strong whisky that is flowing freely.

NIGHT THREE: UNITY. The festival continues, though it's a slightly later start on day three for many who are nursing hangovers, having a well earned sleep in preparation for the final night or just frantically trying to remember what declarations they had made the night before.

But the activities are still happening throughout the grotto- though the guides might advise any obvious voidtravellers that they may wish to nap before 'night' time, especially if they are not used to day/night cycles this long. The final night doesn't stop til sunrise after all and no one wants to miss the sun rising!

As the time comes for the party to start every square and every street is packed, music blares through speakers. Traditional Osigan music mixed with styles and music from other planets in the galexy. The traditional Osigan music has many layers, deep bass instruments that seem to make the ground itself rumble.

There is dancing, led by guides and locals. They are big circle dances, loud energetic and done in unity. There are callers who keep everyone in time and remind them of the steps but it is mostly an exercise in organised chaos.

But very fun organised chaos. There's extra chairs and benches set around for people who would rather watch or need a break from the endless swirl of dancers. There's plenty of water in large barrels for people to help themselves and other drinks are available to buy.

The party goes on for hours but eventually the music stops and there is an announcement that they have an hour left until sunrise. People begin moving out to find the best spots to watch. Up high on the cliffs people spread out rugs and blankets and settle, waiting.

The atmosphere is one of anticipation, people passing around drinks and snacks. Then there is a hush, a cry as for the first time in a month the first ray of light streaks across the sky.

Neran has awoken. The sun has returned once more.

OOC NOTES

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It is his way. That, and he wasn't one to waste words. Which did often make him seem arrogant to some, or holier-than-thou, but Tobirama saw no point in speaking unless there was a worthwhile thing to speak; something he knew about to talk about. It was a rare day that his casual chatter was actually casual.

They stop, he observes the offerings, the choice Yondu makes, the stains on his garment. Making notes, as always. His eyes sweep from the other man, the stands, the people. An exhale.

"Someone mentioned a similar perspective," he recalls the conversation, took some time to think about it but ended the conversation true to... him. Still, he doesn't come from technology. Tobirama figures there's a formula to them but perhaps they're more complicated and more like them than he has given credit. Those thoughts slide away as Yondu speaks more. "I have little experience with these things," he confesses, if it wasn't painfully obvious.

"Tell me about your team."

"Nah, it's alright. I mean... I could give you a long ass explanation to my way of thinkin' there but I don't know if it'd help all that much."

But he does look like for a moment he considered it. Instead he fumbles with straightening the collar of his jacket he wears under his overcoat.

"Well, I told ya about Stakar. He had... I dunno. Always seemed like he new a lot more than he let on, all the time. He had photonic powers an' wore these light sails on his shoulders to challenge 'em. His wife was this buckwild woman named Aletta. Real warrior woman. Then there was Mainframe who was a robot. And this hard... like... golem? Crystal man named Martinex. An eight foot Jovian named Charlie and this fishsnake lookin' man named Krugarr. Talked telepathically 'cause he didn't have a mouth."

And he realizes all of this might be really bizarre to envision. So instead he goes for a more understandable bit. Just a little story of a very average interaction. "I used to bug the shit out of Charlie for bein' so tall, then one day when I was givin' 'im shit over puttin' somethin' up too high he grabbed me and picked me up so I could reach it and I made some sounds I'm sure no species had ever made. So I stopped givin' 'im shit after that."

He grins like he doesn't really regret that it happened though. "We worked well together an' up until I messed up we got along in the best and worst ways. I didn't just get kicked out, they all refused to work together on jobs no more." He doesn't know why. Maybe doing anything reminded them of what he'd done, and they couldn't get the same enjoyment out of each other anymore.

He's coming to see that Yondu is quite the nostalgic man. Plenty of tales from the days of yore; the times before it all changed. The challenges one faces when mistakes are made and particularly large ones at that. Yet its nice to see the memories have not turned sour. They remain deeply influential in the man's life and heart and finds himself entertained by the descriptions and scenario being shared. (It's still bizarre, but he's quickly become used to bizarre)

"They respected you," is the conclusion he comes to. "If one member of a team departs the team is not the same." Hold on, he spots something -- somethings. Stopping by a market stand. A bag, and quite some impressive amounts of what simply looked like paper. Oh-- pen, ink. He'll take that, too.

"I would, too, disband rather than continue forward. Find a different pathing and honor the time that we had."

"I figure they felt guilty, too. I showed up without much of a moral compass an' just had their rules to go by. They had to teach me everything about bein' a person instead of a thing."

He's a person now because they made him one. And considering he fights with what he keeps in his heart, that sentiment is fuel for him. He stops and watches Tobirama pick out paper.

He picks up a piece and sniffs it, which may look strange to someone else, but he's making a wild guess as to what it's made out of.

"Did you mostly go it alone or did your brother'n you ever have that kinda thing together?"

He couldn't imagine what that would be like to be so broken that you lose sense of how to be a person; to be stripped so bare. He's seen it, though. In those that were damaged beyond repair after Root was shut down. Some recovered, others... did not.

A brow rose as Yondu sniffed at the paper. Might as well be Inuzuka, though surely this man had seen paper before all things considering. Given he wrote frequent enough. Still, he'll make the tease knowing full well it wasn't, "first time seeing paper?"

Tobirama paid for the items, storing them away in a pouch he also chose to pick up along the way. A breath was inhaled at the mention of his brother just as they were moving on to another booth, "it is hard to explain," he began, "if he hurt, I bled. We both had our roles to play but bickering aside we worked together in a way I've never felt since."

Yondu was, fortunately, not the first slave to become a Ravager. The Ravagers were so full of damaged people that Stakar had known what to do. But that's why being rejected by him left him with a whole new brand of damage to replace the first.

"I can smell what kinda plant it was made out of. I'm cursed with a good nose and blessed with good eyesight an' occasionally vice versa." And it never struck him for an instant that it might be weird. But he puts the topic aside for Tobirama speaking about his brother.

"People underestimate how useful a little bickerin' can be. Every once in a while you need someone to put you in your place if you trust 'em enough to have a spat and still eat at the same table with 'em." But it is hard, not feeling that... well, working on something alone is definitely not working alongside someone that can just anticipate your every move. It is a lot like what he had with his team.

But also, it's more like what he had with his son. Which he's known for a while but also not really taken the time to consider. He and Peter worked like a well-oiled machine, even if they hollered at each other half the time. Though here, it seems like there's more to it. That there might have been a reason that Mito was side-eyeing the hell out of Tobirama and reserved some pretty harsh judgment for him, even if it was subconscious, and that maybe Tobirama never needed a political marriage because as far as he was concerned he already had a commitment to more than just the dream.

It'd make sense to make people talk. But you know what? None of that's ever getting said. It's a helluva judgment to pass and if it's true then what does it say that he doesn't even care that much about it, outside of knowing a couple of people that likely lived with a lot of hurt? So he wanders somewhere safer with his words.

"Since I'm obliged to compliment ya I'll say I bet you were the better bureaucrat out of the two of ya."

Edited 2022-01-15 08:50 (UTC)

"Don't keep me in suspense then." It wasn't an important detail, probably, but Tobirama was ever curious and more than that he liked to see people's abilities in action even if they were just natural states of being for them. This aside, in typical Tobirama fashion he'd rather near about other people than speak of himself.

"Do they?" He muses, "bickering is often the primary mode of communication not just among my brother and I." When it came to putting one another in their place, though. Oh... they did a lot of that. They balanced one another. It wasn't always easy, with how opposite from each other they could be, but respect and honor was always present. Though its best not to make assumptions, or ask if you're truly curious -- their relationship wasn't anything like that.

He was... prepared to say something further but the last comment took it from him. Lips clamped tight. "You're obliged, are you?" He tips his head as they continue to weave through the crowd. A sigh, his eyes looked forward than out toward the people, "some disagree." He pauses, "my infrastructure and law made Konoha flourish, established it as a primary power, but was that what was necessary? Looking at Naruto now, the Hokage now, I wonder how we would have faired with Hashirama's kindness instead."

"The paper? Right. Somethin' low on green- makes sense considerin' the length of night. Originally had a rough woody pulp, so nothin' that grows real fast." Just an idle, useless observation.

Relationships are hard to judge when you come from a life where you've never been able to count on anyone. Tobirama's brand of intense loyalty feels utterly unfathomable to him, because in his world and experience no one is like that. It's striking. But maybe that's the difference a presence of love could make.

"Maybe," he doesn't argue with it. "Maybe not. Maybe kindness woulda meant someone found a way to fuck ya over easy. Hard to judge when your in charge of people what learned to kill first and ask questions later." Like he was. But rather than let him get too far gone in thought, he puts his hand on the strap of his bag to slow him down, not touching him directly but going about it in a sideways manner.

And he points up at the high roof of an old building, one that wasn't in the best shape, and one that would have a good view of the second day's festivities. "That's where I'm wantin' to go, by the way. I had been intendin' to get up there alone but if I got a chance for company..."

It's all blocked off and locked up, probably something they'll demolish later, but he doesn't care.

"I think that's what you're supposed to do."

That ability was a lot like his own sensing though in a different way. Very precise details. "This is part due to your connection with nature?"

It's a love, he thinks, that most don't share. He'd never truly been asked about it before Orochimaru released them from the Shinigami's belly but his gripes with the Uchiha aside, Tobirama understood them on a deeper level than most if not everyone knew. He knew that kind of love, the kind that most did not, the kind that you would give your every breath for. The type of love that was common among people, visual attraction, sexual attraction, average enjoyment often for a fleeting amount of time -- he didn't place judgement on it, but it wasn't something he understood.

"That was my thinking," he paused, "but my time, my methods, my structure is old and outdated. No longer necessary." He's not upset about it, he really isn't, and working with the newer generation has been enlightening. A gift. But his thoughts are cut off by the building Yondu pointed to.

"A good thing you have company," he speaks, "its guarded. I surmise to keep people like you out of dangers way." Though that said, Tobirama doesn't really seem to be stopping the other man. Or himself for that matter.

"Yeah. Though my fin and eyes have been more reliable in a fight. Smell's just... I dunno. A comfort or discomfort thing. Another way to take in a new place or new people. No judgin' in it. Makes little differences matter. A weird one is you kinda smell like wet forest soil and a touch of sulfur under all the normal smells. But I figure that's from however ya came back." He remembers Tobirama having mentioned he was dead at one time. It was a reasonable assumption to make.

Yondu at least knows the difference in love and pleasure. And while he'd adore to be able to one day combine the two, and frequently used paying for the latter as a way to fill the void for the former temporarily, he is aware of the differences. Each type of love, familial, friendly, romantic, as excruciating and sharp as the last in its absence.

But that story is told, at least, and Tobirama's been dutifuly warned. The former hokage knows he's an idiot, but the utter ineptitude in this case is through sheer lack of sustenance more than intelligence.

All of that aside, as he described that scent before he's been watching the building. "Well they shouldn't make a day about bein' brave if they wanted to keep people outa danger." He lets go of the strap to his bag then. "Alright well, I need to get the thing, an' then we go get food, an' then we go have a picnic with a view."

Sulfur was an interesting mix but fire was the ignition to life a lot of the time. He can't say he understands how he'd come back without some form of jutsu, though. This is what troubles him. So was there something larger at work?

"Mm," a beat, "our village was temperate in weather and plentiful in trees; wet soil makes sense -- my chakra is most attuned with water." He stops, now quite sure what 'the thing' was but having no real quarrel about either. However he must say, "a picnic atop an abandoned building. You're a strange man, Yondu Udonta."

"I get that from time to time." Normally it would have him wandering off by himself. In fact if he'd left that conversation earlier with Tobirama he probably would have still gone out there on his own with meal, sat up there in an area masked by shadow and watched the fireworks trying to convince himself to not be miserable and failing.

The "thing" was the journal, and it's leather-bound in colors that match the purple in his underjacket, with a tree scorched into the front of the book. Something quite similar to the Tree of Life, but to him it's a reminder of his new abilities and that he needs to keep up with them. Either way he gets that, and more food of the local variety because even if he'd taken the initiative to not smell like he ate a bunch earlier he figures why the fuck not, it's not like Tobirama will care. His part bound up in a little wooden lunchbox to keep it warm.

As he'd been promised there are guards, but they're not the type of guards that guard anything valuable, they're the type of guards that 'didn't want to be here tonight' and are standing around talking about the tourist activity. They don't even really need much of a distraction, though Yondu absolutely did pickpocket someone nearby and leave the wallet on a walkway where one of the bored lot would be able to see it.

Cue guy yelling about where the hell his ID went, a fresh-faced guard trying to hell down from an overhang, "It's there! It's over there! Not that left, your other left!" and making a whole shitload of noise which works out better than planned to cover the faint clattering of an old grate being moved. Then once a hidden route up is exposed, its his turn to do the careful observing, taking in the silent climbing skills and noting in the back of his mind how it's no fucking wonder humans evolved from little tree-dwelling scamblers.

Its the simple things, but the use of distraction and deception is such an incredibly important tool that so often goes uncredited. There's always going to be someone who is stronger, faster, better. If you deceive them well this strength does not matter. Not that this was what was happening at the time but you know...

While Yondu played his tricks to distract the guards who clearly did not want to be there in the first place, Tobirama seemed to walk right through them. Not literally, of course, but with the speed that the Niidaime had it was nearly impossible to detect. Light on his feet, barely a blip in someone's view. All the way to a passage closer to where the Centaurian could get.

Up the building he went. It seemed, he didn't particularly need to hold on or grapple. No, Tobirama just ran all the way up the damn building. Though with decreased speed given his chakra was now being spent more on keeping on the surface he was climbing. Up he'd hoisted himself, standing at the edge and looking down to where Yondu had nearly finished as well. An amused look on his face.

"You enjoy using distraction, I gather." A hand reaches out. "It seems natural to you."

He watches him go up the building with an expression of wat and mutters something quiet about monkeys. But when he gets up there he takes his hand and finishes pulling himself up, along with the stock of whatever he'd accumulated and their meal.

"It works out for me most of the time." Most of it, anyway. Be a distraction, use a distraction, whichever. If it meets the endgoal, it's done its job.

It's up here that he can better see the day two light show against the dark sky. That he can see bright spots of the strange snow stuff still landing softly, soft spots of illumination before they disappear. And he realizes that he might have played himself once again, because through no particular effort of his own Tobirama looks beautiful right now. That snow hitting pale hair and fur lining, that lining also catching light from the fireworks and at the right angle haloing him. Those red eyes near his own shade, but somehow much less raw on that face in his opinion.

A marble statue sculpted to look soft. You could look at it, but not touch it.

Oh right, he has food. "Alright, let me get us set up here and figure out whose food is whose."

It was beautiful up here, too, and that was not beyond him. Once he'd helped to pull the other man up to their feet those similarly red eyes looked outward to the scene below. The way the snow glistened through the darkness was really something he'd never quite seen before. Sparkling blue cascading over the view below among the warmth of candle lights, rising up from the sounds of music and laughter. In the quiet moment, he looked over the people below and couldn't help thinking of home. It was Hashirama who so frequently visited the edge of that cliff. He'd always been one to be among them, on the ground, hands busied with work.

Though every now and then, alone, he'd travel up to that cliffs edge and so easily saw why it was there that Hashirama and Madara chose to build the village. So ensconced in these thoughts he hadn't noticed anything out of order though his arms crossed and eyes slipped over to Yondu. "It's a valuable skill," he comments belatedly with a nod toward the comment of food. He's in no rush for it. Thinking for a moment, he... decides to share the tale.

"My home, before it had become the village it was there was this cliff edge. It lead dropped into a valley showered in trees, forest on every side but the cliff's wall. It was a favored place of my brother's. There at that height was where he and Madara spoke at length of the village; of the place that had become home."

Yondu brushes away the collected frozen dampness in puffs of blue light, clearing a spot to sit as he turns his attention from the pretty view that's Tobirama to the pretty view that's the setting below them, or the occasional lights sparking off in the sky. Jovial sounds carry softly up, the shrillness filtered out of them by distance so all that's left are the hints of joy (okay, and that one guard swearing 'Fine, I'll get it myself!').

"Sounds real nice. Like a place a lot like where I was born. Lookin' at somewhere an' dreamin' about a future is a feat bigger than most I met can pull. You could tell me every trick he could pull and I'd believe your brother was a strong man for just bein' able to do that alone." Because Yondu can only see the now in a place. He can love it for the now. He can love a person for their now. But a future? Might as well promise him a visit from the tooth fairy.

Hashirama had some kind of skill that felt nigh on impossible, he'd seen very few accomplish it. He knows that it was something Stakar was capable of. He knows it was something Peter was capable of. Yondu best existed as support.

"How often did you go up there?"

"He had an abundance of hope in the face of nothing but hostility," Tobirama crossed his arms and slipped his eyes from the other man to out beyond once more. "It was both his greatest strength and greatest weakness." Though he still thought his brother far better a Hokage than he had been. Tobirama could lead fine, but he best lead from a place in the shadows and preferred to work as a support. Even in ANBU, while technically its founder he still worked for and beneath the Hokage. That ultimate position on high really wasn't where someone like him belonged.

But, the second question shook something loose from the man. A breath leaving him. "Not as often as I should have." The Senju even turns, now, toward the other. Considers for a moment or two whether divulging was... appropriate, but. Why not? "This," a hand waved over the crowd, "is uncomfortable to me. This peace. I worked tirelessly to achieve it, bring prosperity and harmony to our village, but I worked."

There was a storm that resided in his veins, there always had been. Feet step from Yondu toward the edge. "I figured that peace could not be obtained, only maintained. I never took the time to really see our village. Not as much as I should have."

Yondu sits in the cleared spot (still affording a good view, just close enough to the edge without much view being blocked) and settles his elbows on his knees to watch Tobirama's pondering. "Was workin' how you found your own peace?" 'Cause he couldn't tell if Tobirama had, to be honest. Maybe he did a little in keepin' busy? He was a foggy man that way. Yondu'd never found his peace, probably never fully would even in the best environment, but it did seem like there was a little bit of war in Tobirama he just couldn't shake.

Maybe that was a hard question though in such a beautifully peaceful setting. He thinks in his case that it's just nice to feel the vibes other people put off and sit back and observe it.

"Did your brother wear facepaint too? Or is that all yours?" He motions to his own face where the red streaks would be.

Seen through as if he was made of glass. With a quiet exhale, Tobirama settled in not all too far from the other man. All correct observations. So much so it gets a small chuckle from him, "some part of it, yes."

He's always been at his best when he works to help someone achieve their dreams. Tobirama was never the leader who leads all type. A leader, yes, in some measure. A brilliant tactician and strategist. A figurehead required more than that, though. It was something Madara never understood. It may well be the reason that he himself failed.

But the follow up took him for surprise, eyes meandering over to Yondu again. People don't... "I have never been asked that." It's not defensive, but just, surprised actually. In all his years not one person has ever asked him about his markings. "But no, they're mine alone."

"Well... I reckon 'cause askin' someone why they're dolled up's got a 50/50 chance of gettin' ya a handprint across the face. I dunno, seemed like there was somethin' ceremonial to it. I noticed the once when it was fresh. I hadn't known ya all that long, so I couldn't tell what level of casual you were bein'." That time he'd greeted him formally, as random as that was. But now he knows him a little bit better, and at this point those lines could be permanent fixtures in his face.

He'd almost asked him then, but got wrapped up in discussing the inner workings of the train. "Sometimes I outright tell what my scars are. 'Cause I hate bein' in places where people jump to conclusions."

Yondu pulls off a glove by the fingers rather than at the wrist so he can get it back on more easily later. It's for handling the food without fumbling or getting it all over them. "I won't tell nobody or nothin'. I'll even not sniff ya to see what it's made out of." Yeah, he'll just fun at himself.

It was neither here nor there regarding whether he cared that people asked him. It was just that no one ever had and it struck him, after all this time, that finally someone did. He thinks, though Hashirama had also never asked, that his elder brother knew. Others, he suspected, because it may have been considered invasive. As Yondu mentioned.

"Let them jump to conclusions," he observes the other for a moment. Adjusts the fur collar around him as the wind picked up for but a moment. Fingers kept their grip there a little while longer before they returned from whence they came: his arms surprisingly not crossed over his chest for once but laying comfortably in his lap. "your actions will speak loudly enough. Besides, people will always talk whether you inform them otherwise or not."

This is how he operates, at least. "But these?" A pinky pointed toward them, "there is ceremony to it. I've thought of making them permanent many times, but." And it would make sense that he would. A pragmatic and dutiful person like him having time to put this on and take it off every single day? "but the ritual gives me time to remember why."

A beat, and a snort. "You really would blend well with the Inuzuka clan but unfortunately its just ink." Ink that holds fast given he's a water user, lmao. "but they are scars of remembrance." He'll point to each one as he speaks, "for my brother Kawarama," one cheek, "and Itama," the other cheek, "and the life I took in recompense," chin.

"Sometimes I don't like it 'cause it lets the people what did it get away with too much." Though he's never voiced that before, never really thought of why it bothered him. Just always knew that he hated when people assumed it was from a fight and not from the Kree. But that was the problem, wasn't it? It meant the Kree got away with yet another atrocity, even if it was only one victim. And at that point, outside of what they made him do, he had been innocent.

It's just a beat of thoughtfulness he's shaken out of when he notices that Tobirama's posture is less guarded, for a moment? "I guess it says somethin' that the life you took mattered to you, too." Enough to wear on his face along with his brothers. Whatever way it was memorializing, whether it conquest or regret (unlikely, that seemed) or a debt paid it had mattered enough to note. Not just another dead body on a pile of dead bodies. Often a thing that kind of happens with people taught to kill real young.

"I know it was a long time ago and it don't matter much, but I'm sorry about your brothers. I haven't known many blood families that cared that much about each other."

Were the topic not so somber he'd tell him that obviously the Inuzuka clan must be the most handsome one with Senjus taking up a close second or something, but he's busy taking that information given to him to heart.

"More than a fair reason," he nods. Giving voice to a truth was important when the injustice was so grave, and while he understood that they themselves worked in the ubiquitous shadows and places that treaded finely on that line between right and wrong (some more than others), there was a line. A time for clarity. An importance to communication and knowledge.

The thing was... most of the lives he had taken were... "We must divorce ourselves from our emotions on the battlefield. This was how I thought. Through law, rationality, critical thinking, we can achieve peace. As if I could organize something like freedom." He almost chuckled to himself.

He'd never... been so honest with someone. Nor open. Not since Hashirama, really. And sometimes there wasn't a need for words exchanged between them. He understood Tobirama in a way no one else did. Reasonably, he supposed, they grew up with one another. "In those warring times, more often I worked as spy and infiltrator. Still, lives were taken. An unavoidable event. But on that day I was hungry." He sighed. "I knew the rift it would cause. That it was Madara's brother, his last brother left alive, but I didn't care."

Now actually hungry in a less metaphorical sense. What is this food? He'll pick at it a little, eyes avoiding the other man for a moment as words continued. "In the end, it did nothing for my grief. Caused more problems than it solved, but it's a debt that was paid. So I remember it."

What feels like a lifetime ago, but was only five months for him, Yondu met a raccoon. A little bastard animal embued by illicit science with the ability to talk, and this pent up old man, having carried the weight of the world in the absence of a like mind, unraveled right in front of him. He's practically done so in front of Tobirama as well.

So as far as Yondu sees it, maybe giving him that hunk of his past, that collection of sins to redistribute the weight of their relationship to something less tilted, has paid off. Tobirama's opening up to him, and he's kept the friend that he so desperately wanted.

As Tobirama talks the sharp-toothed alien gnaws into a piece of the fried blubber. Death out of love is something they've both indulged in a great length. Yondu's was both vengeful and preventative. He wonders if killing Madara's brother might have been the same, along with being a moment of rage.

"I always said that to my boy, to be hard on the inside. But I wasn't bein' honest with how I fought for a long time. I shoulda been."

Nevermind that, though.

"A lotta lessons and memories in one little streak of ink." Dripping down his chin from his mouth, like a trickle of Terran blood from too fierce a bite.

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The Waking of Neran

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Keep editing shit just ignore me

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