I would rather be outside in the sun, instead of this hole in the earth, with its interlocking cave tunnels and shared room and bathroom for a pair. I pull off my soiled cloak and let it drop with a sickening squelch then remove the rest of my clothes. The cloak lies there in its mess of brown covering the usually bright crimson clouds inlaid in its black. "Hafta to pick that up before Kakuzu bitches, old bastard," I mutter as I begin turning the dials in the shower and clean off most of the gunk before my bath.
I wish that I was outside with the sun shining but this will do. Most think I'd prefer the night when darkness purges all the light and brings forth shadows and monsters. The kind that makes mortals pray to their 'gods' for protection. NO! I'd rather be in the sunlight away from everyone with only my thoughts and books.
That's why I love taking a bath that's practically boiling it's the only time, time that I feel cocooned in the same constant warmth. Even though I wish to be out on an open field where the sounds of the wildlife are all around, a cool breeze the only interruption felt but this will do; a bath with artificial light beaming down. But fuck this the only time I feel like myself, purified of everything especially the cold. Jashin I fucking hate it. That's not to say I rather it be sweltering hot if I did I'd just relocate to Suna with fire-crotch. Fuck that.
I'd rather have the fall and spring with their vindictive winds and sudden chills. For Jashin I would suffer pain, cold, burning, and yes even this hole in the ground doesn't mean I'll love it. I get out of the tub and drain the water, I push my hair out of my eyes, the silver strands darkened and dripping. I glance at my distorted image covered faint mist. Before and after a shower are the only time Kakuzu, never yells, sure he still grumbles about saving money if I just died already, other than that nothing else.
The base is filled with a tranquil silence, with a peace, I hardly feel anymore, so I try to enjoy it when I can. Everyone is silent and still as I walk to the kitchen as if an emptiness and a brief oblivion brought upon us, no one speaks in fear it will shatter; it never lasts.
The first time it happened, no one had said anything until the door had banged open and Deidara had raced past with a storm chasing his tail, he gave the room an unnerved glance, "What the fuck is wrong with y'all, hm," he inquest after attempting to grab a seat on the couch.
Subsequently causing everyone to talk, some throwing angry glances around. No one seemed to notice that I'm the most enraged of them all yet unspeaking. I rise from my sprawl on the floor and trample past Deidara. My shoulder 'innocently' collides with his, stopping his tirade at Sasori, "Don't any of you know how to shut the fuck up!" I holler as I slam the door to my room. Dumb fucks. Yeah, not many wanted to disrupt it.
On missions, I'll climb the highest trees, on the topmost limb and lay down across it absorbing the sun's rays. I guess the plant and I share something in common. Deidara fancy's thunderstorms, he said ' that they fill the empty silence quieting all sounds but its own and brings a transient feeling like no other and always distinct.' I can see the appeal when it's only warm rain showers on a hot spring day, with its flashes of light but other than that it seems cold and unforgiving.
Seemingly like warriors in battle, it isn't as bad as the monstrosity that is winter. Even when the rain ceases it shades the sun leaving it a gray glimmer of itself. It's even worse when it fills the whole day, strangely enough, Deidara disappears on those days. When he returns with a crazed demeanor his eyes blank but aware. As if Jashin had opened his eyes, I would believe that if he wasn't such a fucking heathen.
I can see why he enjoys his storms but I would still rather have my sunny days. I look away from the mirror, my magenta eyes in clear view instead of misted, my hair semi-dry and finally untangled.
I walk past Kakuzu and hear him mumble, "Took you long enough", as I shrug my way past in favor food. I don't say anything even when Deidara walks past me when the first rumbles of a storm begin. I let him enjoy his storms just as long he doesn't disturb my warmth. I only hum, in content when he returns a few hours later.
His hair up in a towel still dripping water down his back. He sits there in silence molding his clay even though silence has long since shattered and everyone has gone on with their lives. So who am I stop him from loving his storms? When he lets me enjoy the little bits of warmth and quiet I can get; it never lasts. Yeah, these fuckers sure are heathens. I think with a smile.
I promise the next will have more writing, this just test a new style hopefully the next one is a little better.