Uchiha Sasuke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eyeforaneye) wrote2010-03-19 06:42 pm
eyeforaneye) wrote2010-03-19 06:42 pm
suigetsu+sasuke, first meeting
[ It’s been weeks now since he’s seen sunlight. How many is a mystery to him; he’d tracked the days successfully up until the second time Kabuto had come to his room, telling him a new injection was ready and that it wouldn’t take long.
That was his first blackout.
But those are preferable to the more insidious after-effects that leave him conscious but disoriented, drifting through longer stretches of time that become compacted into flashes of stone walls and weak flames. All he can do to ground himself is to ask Kabuto for the date; asking Orochimaru ends in mocking questions and a stroke of his cheek. It’s been a while now since he’s bothered. Even something so small feels like a favor, and he doesn’t want any from them.
Sasuke’s quickly becoming more withdrawn than he ever was, aching for human interaction and feeling like the buzz of words and thoughts that he’s having to keep locked up are going to drive him insane faster than the monotony will. Before he could’ve spoken to his team, to his teachers, to his classmates. He thought he’d fully understood all that loneliness could carve out of him but he’d underestimated the simple nonsense chatter that was still a sign of someone hearing him. Here, even a scream just blends in with the others.
And oh how he’s heard them, echoing through cavernous hallways without a shred of insulation to absorb the sounds. They’re how he can time his own next experiments, framed by intense training before and an occasional recovery period afterward. When it’s quiet, he knows it’s his turn.
This time, at least, Kabuto is leading him somewhere new. He’s as quiet as ever as he follows after him, descending somehow deeper into the earth and nearly losing his footing when at the base of winding stairs he steps onto tubing instead. It spiders out over the stone floor, crisscrossed with others both larger and smaller, all connected to the heavy tanks of water that line the walls and surround a more massive one in the center. He forms a question on the tip of his tongue but doesn’t ask it, not when he feels a familiar pale hand alighting on his shoulder to steer him towards an operating table instead. Orochimaru too often likes to be personally present and Sasuke resents it, as both a future vessel and as an individual.
He avoids looking at either of them when he’s laid down and his arm is prepped for an injection, eyes instead focused on the water — the dull glow from the tank is soothing in a way nothing upstairs is, and it distracts him from the first slow crawl of pain through his body once it starts. He’ll choose to be grateful that he loses consciousness as quickly as he does, this time, fighting to stay awake one moment and rousing thanks to gut-wrenching nausea the next.
He’s alone, and his first attempt to push himself up has him knocked back flat on his back again thanks to a dizzying ache and burn in his abdominal muscles; how tense had he been? And then there’s the pull at his arm, slowly turning his head to acknowledge the thin tube still snaked up under the sleeve of his yukata. Is it not over? Sasuke exhales slowly in an attempt to calm his body, staring up at the ceiling. He can hope, at least. ]
That was his first blackout.
But those are preferable to the more insidious after-effects that leave him conscious but disoriented, drifting through longer stretches of time that become compacted into flashes of stone walls and weak flames. All he can do to ground himself is to ask Kabuto for the date; asking Orochimaru ends in mocking questions and a stroke of his cheek. It’s been a while now since he’s bothered. Even something so small feels like a favor, and he doesn’t want any from them.
Sasuke’s quickly becoming more withdrawn than he ever was, aching for human interaction and feeling like the buzz of words and thoughts that he’s having to keep locked up are going to drive him insane faster than the monotony will. Before he could’ve spoken to his team, to his teachers, to his classmates. He thought he’d fully understood all that loneliness could carve out of him but he’d underestimated the simple nonsense chatter that was still a sign of someone hearing him. Here, even a scream just blends in with the others.
And oh how he’s heard them, echoing through cavernous hallways without a shred of insulation to absorb the sounds. They’re how he can time his own next experiments, framed by intense training before and an occasional recovery period afterward. When it’s quiet, he knows it’s his turn.
This time, at least, Kabuto is leading him somewhere new. He’s as quiet as ever as he follows after him, descending somehow deeper into the earth and nearly losing his footing when at the base of winding stairs he steps onto tubing instead. It spiders out over the stone floor, crisscrossed with others both larger and smaller, all connected to the heavy tanks of water that line the walls and surround a more massive one in the center. He forms a question on the tip of his tongue but doesn’t ask it, not when he feels a familiar pale hand alighting on his shoulder to steer him towards an operating table instead. Orochimaru too often likes to be personally present and Sasuke resents it, as both a future vessel and as an individual.
He avoids looking at either of them when he’s laid down and his arm is prepped for an injection, eyes instead focused on the water — the dull glow from the tank is soothing in a way nothing upstairs is, and it distracts him from the first slow crawl of pain through his body once it starts. He’ll choose to be grateful that he loses consciousness as quickly as he does, this time, fighting to stay awake one moment and rousing thanks to gut-wrenching nausea the next.
He’s alone, and his first attempt to push himself up has him knocked back flat on his back again thanks to a dizzying ache and burn in his abdominal muscles; how tense had he been? And then there’s the pull at his arm, slowly turning his head to acknowledge the thin tube still snaked up under the sleeve of his yukata. Is it not over? Sasuke exhales slowly in an attempt to calm his body, staring up at the ceiling. He can hope, at least. ]