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who-what-when-where-why....am i? ⌠training. open. no killing, please.⌡ Sat Aug 13, 2016 4:49 pm
Gen
D-rank
135it was dark.
for more reasons than one, to be sure, but he couldn't have known that. his eyes were still open, after all. the plip - plip - plip of something behind him. it was most likely water. without being able to make sure of the fact, though, he grasped at the faintest tingling, or per...haps warmth, in his heart. he darted his eyes around, only able to trust in what he felt. most of that, at the moment, was a swimming in his head, the feeling that gravity was tugging him any which way at complete random. yet, he was on the ground, barely even kneeling, some not-quite-sharp things digging into his....yes, his right knee. and the base of his palm, right next to his left wrist. he felt a familiarity with those terms, at least. in relation to his own body, anyhow. now that his thoughts briefly turned to that, directions are first learned in nascence only in respect to where one currently was. maybe that was also the source of this feeling in his chest....no, there was another, lower, in his gut. was it nostalgia, from his days as a child? or perhaps fear that he'd been reduced to a state that seemed all too familiar for it.
he couldn't have known what had happened. the now dull ache in his temples and behind his lower forehead could not compete with the scrapes and bruises that now adorned his body. his lower half was notably more affected by what he could only assume was a tumble. the slope he had woken up resting against, it had no finality to it. the rock definitely extended gradually upward, he could feel that much by sliding his hand alongside it. unlike the earth below him, this was smooth, contrasted by the almost-sharp pebbles and the undulations in the surface below him. this one had yet to move even a meter, at most, from the position he woke up in. his head almost felt like it wanted to wobble off of his neck, for lack of better wording...he could not be bothered with eloquent phrases after whatever happened to him.
now, what was it that could have happened to him. if it was not persisting in his mind by his own intent, it was certainly haunting him by now. he could feel the thin flesh of his lids glide down, or even flutter at times, over those globes that rested inside his sockets. at once, he even made contact with his eye, his finger applying light pressure that, while uncomfortable, was completely normal for this type of behavior. there was no excess pain. there was no explanation. that is, for what was happening to him. his thoughts darted to every conceivable thing he'd heard from those men about the human body. they never actually taught him directly, but for certain it had imparted something.
well, that something was nothing that was important at the moment. at least, nothing he could summon up from the depths of his memory, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clutching his head just enough to lightly pull his hair. something changed when he closed his eyes. it was something other than black. it wasn't dark. he wasn't seeing the back of his eyelids like he often knew.
it was when he opened them that he knew something was quite amiss with those eyes he had just accepted as a part of himself until now. the pain was receding, at least, but there wasn't even darkness any more. if someone had asked him what he was seeing, he could not have began to describe. that, however, made perfect sense: one cannot describe the visual aspect of seeing nothing. at first, he did not know what to think. his thoughts darted around his mind, wracking again what could be happening. after a short pause, nothing those men said mattered. it was fairly simple. my head hurts, i fell, i can't see. he wasn't going to be able to see any more, either; this conclusions both filled him with dread and set in a sense of calm. perhaps it was just that he knew what was happening, now. in a vague sense, anyhow, he could take a tiny bit of solace in having some grasp of the situation. it was better than being left in the proverbial dark, heh heh.
his right eye felt wet on the surface. it loosed a small line of liquid down the side of his face, which was warm yet oddly chilling. his chest rose and fell rapidly, what one might consider a 'chuckle' at his own internal monologuing. it very soon slowed, however, to what could easily be recognized as a 'sob'. he was going to just be a normal person who did odd jobs to get by. that reality faded as quickly as his vision did, and the truth of that was - to mos t- understandably an ordeal to accept. he didn't want this. few, knowing the implications, would say they did. a static-like chill rolled down his spine as the air in wherever-he-was shifted. there was a way out. that is, if he was 'in' anywhere at all.
his breaths were shaky, but he tried to take manual control of his diaphragm, steadying the tempo, at least. when he had convinced himself that he had, at the very minimum, was physically calmed down, he resolved to stand.
that was not a very good decision.
his head pounded as he stood, and he could feel his heart instantly shift into a working pace. his body was not as prepared as his mind was to function as a biped yet. this, of course, meant that his body was not ready at all, as despite his own internal steeling, he knew he really couldn't muster the willpower right now. the pain, save for the somewhat-gooey scrapes he had, was nearly gone. he'd sleep the night - whatever that meant now - and use his rest to get...somewhere.
his eyes closed again to the damp scent of earth, his mouth devoid of any saliva. so even the smell of water makes me thirsty. there it was again. that rise and fall of his chest.
but, he needed his rest. didn't anyone who fell like this? the softest dirt pile he could find, an airy bit of loam, would do his head a nice cushioning.
. . . .
his eyes flung themselves open. was that some sort of hope...? if it was, it was certainly misplaced. nothing changed. he couldn't even see that once dis-quieting darkness. to think it would now put at ease this fluttering he felt in his stomach almost made him chuckle again. but he froze his breathing for a second. if he laughed again now, it would only turn back....to that. here, with the same pseudo-cold and the same wetness, and an all-too-different nothingness....he couldn't tell how long he slept. the darkness might have receded now, but there was no way to tell.
he had to stand now. there was a welling in his abdomen, something he knew as 'defiance'. there was no one around to defy but himself. perhaps he was the one he needed to contradict in the first place, he mused. i probably could have gotten out of here yesterday. no use in lamenting, he set himself to standing. if he couldn't do that, he'd crawl his way out of here.
he laid his hands on the ground, feeling at that packed dirt below him, definitely hiding some stone. it was exposed, yet it was firmly packed, as it did not yield easily to his touch. it was not quite moist, either, despite the dank-ness that permeated the vicinity. he could feel his knees moving along this earth as well, and shifted to the balls of his feet and his toes. he slowly slit his hands backwards, towards his own body, as his weight rebalanced onto his legs. his legs slowly straightened - as much as they could while still being comfortable - to a bipedal position. good. he was standing. now, he wondered, for how long can i walk...
the response to the at query wasn't very clear. he couldn't see where he was going, or how far, for that matter. the subjective answer: six steps. he kept going until he found a wall, or something to lean against. he assumed it was either a wall of a building or the side of....some earthen formation. it was vertical, relatively smooth, with slight grooves in its surface.
walking was becoming easier, at least with a guide like this. he had a bit more time to think. how'd he get down here? why the hell did this come to be? well, he at least remembered their faces. it didn't mean much at this point. then again, neither did whatever they did. a fall like this wasn't the product of malice from those of his age. they didn't hate anyone enough to do this. yes, he remembered, it was his own fault. he would have to deal with that fact from now on. it was a small modicum of solace that he had no one to blame but himself. it meant he had no one to go after, no one to make atone. that was the stuff of stories, not what real life should be.
walk, walk, walk. at least he could still do that.
for more reasons than one, to be sure, but he couldn't have known that. his eyes were still open, after all. the plip - plip - plip of something behind him. it was most likely water. without being able to make sure of the fact, though, he grasped at the faintest tingling, or per...haps warmth, in his heart. he darted his eyes around, only able to trust in what he felt. most of that, at the moment, was a swimming in his head, the feeling that gravity was tugging him any which way at complete random. yet, he was on the ground, barely even kneeling, some not-quite-sharp things digging into his....yes, his right knee. and the base of his palm, right next to his left wrist. he felt a familiarity with those terms, at least. in relation to his own body, anyhow. now that his thoughts briefly turned to that, directions are first learned in nascence only in respect to where one currently was. maybe that was also the source of this feeling in his chest....no, there was another, lower, in his gut. was it nostalgia, from his days as a child? or perhaps fear that he'd been reduced to a state that seemed all too familiar for it.
he couldn't have known what had happened. the now dull ache in his temples and behind his lower forehead could not compete with the scrapes and bruises that now adorned his body. his lower half was notably more affected by what he could only assume was a tumble. the slope he had woken up resting against, it had no finality to it. the rock definitely extended gradually upward, he could feel that much by sliding his hand alongside it. unlike the earth below him, this was smooth, contrasted by the almost-sharp pebbles and the undulations in the surface below him. this one had yet to move even a meter, at most, from the position he woke up in. his head almost felt like it wanted to wobble off of his neck, for lack of better wording...he could not be bothered with eloquent phrases after whatever happened to him.
now, what was it that could have happened to him. if it was not persisting in his mind by his own intent, it was certainly haunting him by now. he could feel the thin flesh of his lids glide down, or even flutter at times, over those globes that rested inside his sockets. at once, he even made contact with his eye, his finger applying light pressure that, while uncomfortable, was completely normal for this type of behavior. there was no excess pain. there was no explanation. that is, for what was happening to him. his thoughts darted to every conceivable thing he'd heard from those men about the human body. they never actually taught him directly, but for certain it had imparted something.
well, that something was nothing that was important at the moment. at least, nothing he could summon up from the depths of his memory, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clutching his head just enough to lightly pull his hair. something changed when he closed his eyes. it was something other than black. it wasn't dark. he wasn't seeing the back of his eyelids like he often knew.
it was when he opened them that he knew something was quite amiss with those eyes he had just accepted as a part of himself until now. the pain was receding, at least, but there wasn't even darkness any more. if someone had asked him what he was seeing, he could not have began to describe. that, however, made perfect sense: one cannot describe the visual aspect of seeing nothing. at first, he did not know what to think. his thoughts darted around his mind, wracking again what could be happening. after a short pause, nothing those men said mattered. it was fairly simple. my head hurts, i fell, i can't see. he wasn't going to be able to see any more, either; this conclusions both filled him with dread and set in a sense of calm. perhaps it was just that he knew what was happening, now. in a vague sense, anyhow, he could take a tiny bit of solace in having some grasp of the situation. it was better than being left in the proverbial dark, heh heh.
his right eye felt wet on the surface. it loosed a small line of liquid down the side of his face, which was warm yet oddly chilling. his chest rose and fell rapidly, what one might consider a 'chuckle' at his own internal monologuing. it very soon slowed, however, to what could easily be recognized as a 'sob'. he was going to just be a normal person who did odd jobs to get by. that reality faded as quickly as his vision did, and the truth of that was - to mos t- understandably an ordeal to accept. he didn't want this. few, knowing the implications, would say they did. a static-like chill rolled down his spine as the air in wherever-he-was shifted. there was a way out. that is, if he was 'in' anywhere at all.
his breaths were shaky, but he tried to take manual control of his diaphragm, steadying the tempo, at least. when he had convinced himself that he had, at the very minimum, was physically calmed down, he resolved to stand.
that was not a very good decision.
his head pounded as he stood, and he could feel his heart instantly shift into a working pace. his body was not as prepared as his mind was to function as a biped yet. this, of course, meant that his body was not ready at all, as despite his own internal steeling, he knew he really couldn't muster the willpower right now. the pain, save for the somewhat-gooey scrapes he had, was nearly gone. he'd sleep the night - whatever that meant now - and use his rest to get...somewhere.
his eyes closed again to the damp scent of earth, his mouth devoid of any saliva. so even the smell of water makes me thirsty. there it was again. that rise and fall of his chest.
but, he needed his rest. didn't anyone who fell like this? the softest dirt pile he could find, an airy bit of loam, would do his head a nice cushioning.
. . . .
his eyes flung themselves open. was that some sort of hope...? if it was, it was certainly misplaced. nothing changed. he couldn't even see that once dis-quieting darkness. to think it would now put at ease this fluttering he felt in his stomach almost made him chuckle again. but he froze his breathing for a second. if he laughed again now, it would only turn back....to that. here, with the same pseudo-cold and the same wetness, and an all-too-different nothingness....he couldn't tell how long he slept. the darkness might have receded now, but there was no way to tell.
he had to stand now. there was a welling in his abdomen, something he knew as 'defiance'. there was no one around to defy but himself. perhaps he was the one he needed to contradict in the first place, he mused. i probably could have gotten out of here yesterday. no use in lamenting, he set himself to standing. if he couldn't do that, he'd crawl his way out of here.
he laid his hands on the ground, feeling at that packed dirt below him, definitely hiding some stone. it was exposed, yet it was firmly packed, as it did not yield easily to his touch. it was not quite moist, either, despite the dank-ness that permeated the vicinity. he could feel his knees moving along this earth as well, and shifted to the balls of his feet and his toes. he slowly slit his hands backwards, towards his own body, as his weight rebalanced onto his legs. his legs slowly straightened - as much as they could while still being comfortable - to a bipedal position. good. he was standing. now, he wondered, for how long can i walk...
the response to the at query wasn't very clear. he couldn't see where he was going, or how far, for that matter. the subjective answer: six steps. he kept going until he found a wall, or something to lean against. he assumed it was either a wall of a building or the side of....some earthen formation. it was vertical, relatively smooth, with slight grooves in its surface.
walking was becoming easier, at least with a guide like this. he had a bit more time to think. how'd he get down here? why the hell did this come to be? well, he at least remembered their faces. it didn't mean much at this point. then again, neither did whatever they did. a fall like this wasn't the product of malice from those of his age. they didn't hate anyone enough to do this. yes, he remembered, it was his own fault. he would have to deal with that fact from now on. it was a small modicum of solace that he had no one to blame but himself. it meant he had no one to go after, no one to make atone. that was the stuff of stories, not what real life should be.
walk, walk, walk. at least he could still do that.
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 