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1 Remembrance [Invite|NK] on Wed Jun 06, 2018 10:22 am

Jet

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A chilling frosty wind blew glittering shards of glass through the night air; a glimmer of a broken past. Souls lost to brimstone reflected along the many mirrors of glass, echoing out their agony. They glittered like stars along the sand; beauty in the most unlikely place, drenched in the light of the moon. Few dared to linger in the night, too many haunted by the glassing. Accounts of wispy ghosts, haunted voices of agony, and burnt corpses turning up kept many away from the ruins of suna. The glassing meant many different things to many different people. Liberation. Freedom. Sorrow. Loss. Destruction. Fear. An end. A beginning. For her...it meant closure.

Her first memories were of shining sun. The harsh shining sun that burned her skin. Sand stung her skin. Her hands were tough from picking through the debris in the slums. Her feet were cut up from running barefoot through the street, fleeing with her stolen goods. She clothed herself in old rags, tarps, and whatever she could steal. She remembered the sweet perfume her mother wore, luring flies with glittering jewels and pockets weighted with coin to her web. She remembered the musky acidic smell of her father. The smell clung to him like he clung to the bottles he drowned himself in after work. She remembered rubbing mud, grease, and dye through her green locks of hair in an attempt to blend in. Or how her mother admonished her for listening to sheep and told her that her hair was like her eyes, sparkling pools of emerald, richer than any noble. She was so smart for her age, smarter than the idiots who chose to roll over and die than live. So many lost their way in the slums. Drugs. Slaves. Prostitution. Theft. So many people were consumed in the darkness of the slums. Their homes were of cloth, mud brick, and leftover metal. The rich slept in white stones and porcelain. Their stomachs went hungry until their bodies ate themselves and left them dry in the sun, only to be looted and consumed by sand. The rich gorged themselves till they were bursting at the seams and any food they threw out were guarded so not even street rats could consume because even that was too good for them. So many women, men, and children went missing, their bodies lost to the trade or turned up raped and mutilated and no one cared. A noble's child skinned his knee and the nearest poor bastard would be whipped for somehow tripping him.

So yes, it was good it all burned. It was because no one cared what happened to the poor that so many were lost. She was lucky to survive and escape. She did not dare return to suna. She knew she would just be made a prison dog, let out only to bite back pest and put in a cage. Or perhaps to be made a plaything and put into one of the brothels with the illusion that she could earn her freedom before dying in a drug-induced haze to a nobleman's ire. No, it was better for her to run, to flee from her memories, into the gates of iwa. Better to work for them or anyone else than for suna.

And yet here she was, sitting along one of the mass gravesites alone with a single rocky mound at her feet. An empty grave for the memory of her mother. She was no longer a child yet she missed her. And for one day, for one night, she will let herself drown in memories. Her hair silver and blue turned green in her memories of a different time.

620~

2 Re: Remembrance [Invite|NK] on Fri Jun 08, 2018 3:20 am

Nova Makato

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Special Jounin
Another night alone... Nova was alone for the evening once again, Izumi out on missions as were her students. As the desert tends to do after the shades of sunset bleed to purple, the air took on a much cooler feel. Refreshing compared to the blaze of the flaming eye that watched the day pass by, Nova smiled a bittersweet smile as she gazed upon a nearly full moon. Often her days had been filled with missions and tasks that had to be accomplished, but this night was a different one. It was the anniversary of her parents death and for the first time she considered walking along their graves, perhaps placing a flower upon the stone. In her youth she had been too afraid and too timid to visit where they lay beneath the earth, but now in the middle of the wreckage that was once her home it felt appropriate. She had known where they were buried as well as what their stones looked like, as she was the only remaining close relative of the pair she was shown the options and made to decide, a cruel fate for one who had been so young to experience such loss. Now however it no longer was a painful thing, she had overcome it and held it as a point of pride that she no longer let it pain her. In her minds eye she saw flashes of another time, a thing she was growing more and more used to as her time with Sasori went on. A brunette haired woman and red-haired man, the adoring faces clearing that of doting parents. That would fade to be replaced with close replica's of the same faces, though clearly with no heart or life behind them. Oh.... I read about this.... the next image would form and it would be the same pair, though now in combat, modifications and weapons whirring. Shaking the slideshow from her mind she would bring herself back to the moment as she strode down the empty dusty street.

Suna had been a hub for crime and wrongdoing even in her youth, though perhaps it was that very same youth that kept her from seeing it that way. Until now she remembered the village she grew up in fondly, memories of those in her clan coming around her upon her families death and help in construction of a workshop of her own. After that she was left to her own devices, something she very much appreciated and grew into her own in solitude. Earlier in the day she had passed by a few significan locations in the village from her youth, starting with the aforementioned workshop, while under the blazing midday sun. Vultures circling above had felt appropriate as she saw the scorched skeleton of the building that she had spent so much time within. Now her tools were constantly bundled together in a kit she stored within her puppets, traveling with her wherever she went. She had no workshop to call her own, only whatever table she would manage to claim for her few hours of work or even more often just crouching over the hulking metal forms of her creations. Sasori's thoughts that normally plagued her seemed to have silenced themselves for the time being, though his presence was still palpable. Sympathy, and more surprisingly empathy, were present in the emotions that occasionally bled from Sasori's fractured presence without him intending such interactions. Shuffling through the charred remains, she looked down to the tattered remains of was once her bed that she had left nicely made in hopes that she would return. Under the corner of the collapsed wooden table that had sat below the window, Nova spotted the charred edges of a leatherbound notebook. Kneeling to pick it up and gingerly opening the pages, she saw the neatly scrawled handwriting of her father. Looking no further at the moment, she would tuck it under her arm and move on.

After seeing her more recent loss, she even stopped by the ground that was flattened long before the destruction of Suna itself; The plot of land the home of her youth once stood upon. Though melancholy it was a stop she needed to make. This was where she had lost her family as well as her left leg, both crippling afflictions to happen to once so young. Far away from here was where she had matured however, leaving all her memories here tainted with the lense of nostalgia. It was a sign of honor to the deceased pair, the plot had been left bare though at one point flowers and candles had been placed there as a memorial, now all that was left was flattened dirt, bare even of debris. Sighing deeply, she would turn on her heel and walk away, not letting her long past pain fester and both figuratively and literally moving on.

One last stop remained, the day having flown by faster than she would have expected and the moon hanging high in the sky. A stop by the ajacent graves of her parents. The tombstones that had been placed were unique, though placed next to eachother seemed to belong, one with mechanical carvings and sharp edges, the other with curves and flowers etches on its surface. Though the memory of the image lingered in her mind, Nova had never seen them placed, never having visted the grave sites. As she walked toward it with a blank face, she notes the organized stones of the graveyard to her left and makeshift mass graves to her right. Piles of stones both large and small dotted the landscape, extending so far that it made Nova's stomach turn to think the number of bodies the earth here must contain. It appeared the graveyard had been for the most part untouched but for the empty corners that were now overfilled, though the side opposite was clearly made in a rush and with little care to appearance. Further off, Nova thought she spotted a slender form perched on a rock facing away from her. Normally an unknown shape in the ruins of Suna would cause Nova to turn to the defensive, but for some reason the presence did not feel threatening. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Nova barely could perceive her but for seeing her. Perhaps it was a trick of her eyes, but it seemed that the locks of hair on the figure would shift from silver and blue to a more emerald hue. Pushing her lavender hair back over her shoulders, Nova would stride forward towards the form, raising a hand as if to indicate she meant to harm as she approached.

[1127 WC]


____

Nova Makato|Jutsu|Locker
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"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,
regardless of time, place, or circumstance.
The thread may stretch or tangle,
but it will never break."


3 Re: Remembrance [Invite|NK] on Thu Jun 14, 2018 6:51 pm

Jet

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Forced out of the memories, she felt herself freeze feeling eyes on her. Typically her lack of presence made her unremarkable and her years of espionage allowed her to blend seamlessly into the background. She hated being the center of attention or rather any attention she did manipulate and want to have. Usually, she would never leave herself out in the open unless she needed an alibi. Tonight she picked a spot out of the way on the outskirts of the mass graves and some charred buildings. It was around one or two in the morning so typical stragglers would have been gone. The random impulse decision grave she made whilst in a mess of anxiety and tears after the initial panic attack of returning to the hellhole suna was once her team of anbu made it past the border was now proving to be a dumb decision. Just as the tears streaking her cheeks stopped, her heart began to pound and pound like a drum of a thunderous war. Making decisions whilst distressed? Shitty idea for a shitty place for a shitty person like her who has a lot of people happy to take off her head. And when she felt herself go dizzy with fear with her breath escaping her, the various screaming voices in her head stilled and she felt herself go on autopilot. Doing just as the genjutsu using manipulative fucking...breathe..just as the doctor said to calm down, asses, and worry about shit latter. She took the moment to manipulate her chakra and disappear using the coveted ability of the Yuurei, Art of the Unseen, to completely blend with her surroundings and disappear. In this state, she was practically undetectable. She already made no sound with her movements, left no footprints, had no shadow and now her chakra and appearance seemed to no longer exist. It...it would be so easy to just turn around kill whoever was out there watching her. To erase any trace of her. She can easily hide the body with the nifty perks of being an ANBU and just as easy to find somebody to sell the person to, alive or dead in whole or pieces. It was just as easy to run, flee as if she was merely a figment of the imagination. But....fuck it she doesn't feel like taking off heads right now. So she simply turned around and dashed right behind the figure. Close but not too close only being a meter away. She had her X gloves on and if the person turned out to be hostile, a term she is inclined to use very loosely, she could just snap their neck and be done with it. She made her voice monotone but not hostile then spoke "Who are you? If you just visiting, then we have no quarrel as I am doing the same"....and just for added measure "If you are here to grave rob, however...you'll be joining the rest here as a new member"

1126~

Jutsu Used:
Chakra: 200/210

Name: Ghost Style: Art of the Unseen
Rank: B
Type: Supplementary
Element: -
Range: Personal
Specialty: -
Duration: -10 per post
Cooldown: 4 posts
Description: This is the signature move of the Yuurei and the final effect of the experiments conducted on their bodies. It offers them the ability to bend the light around them in order to turn themselves and the items they hold invisible to the naked eye. They camouflage perfectly with the background along with the items they hold and the jutsu they produce. This ability, along with the others, does not diminish or improve with rank. However, the person using this technique can be seen one post before they perform another jutsu or before using weaponry or taijutsu. In other words, they are visible while preparing for an attack.

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