paixaorpg | Art is a BANG! [Complete]

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Art is a BANG! [Complete]

Character(s): Deidara, Sasori, Pride, and Zetsu
Content: Deidara tries out his art while poisoned, passes out, and stumbles upon a partner he thinks is dead, along with a homunculus tag along. ~~Chaos ensues.~~
Setting: I7
Time: afternoon
Warnings: nothing

Deidara had flown for some time, looking for a good place to set off a bomb or two. That and just enjoying the flight. Flying was always relaxing even while it was exciting, and he spent some time just looping and spinning around. Each familiar sensation--wind and clay and the thrill of flight--was accompanied with a host of unfamiliar ones, brought about by the poisoned water. He grinned.

He finally settled on a nice, empty location. He didn't want to attract undue attention; a fight in his condition was still something he wanted to avoid. But a little explosion wouldn't hurt anything, right?

The little clay bird was flying from his hands as soon as it was formed, and Deidara was watching it intently as it circled obediently around him. Just a small one, just to see--

"Katsu!"

The bird expanded out, exploding in a flash of white and a ring of green and blue, with all the sound and heat of his usual explosion. But there was more than that--every bit of heat brought colors and sounds and lights, all the sound brought colors and lights and heat (coldness, actually, which confused him), and the lights, brilliant and blinding, were the most confusing of all, sounds and colors and heat-cold hitting him.

His flying bird jerked sharply as the world swam before him before diving. Deidara's chakra-maintained grip slipped and he tilted and fell off of his mount, plummeting. It was only the bird's landing first in a heap of clay that softened his landing at all, and he lay on the ground, unconscious, overwhelmed by his own explosion.

Still, it had been brilliant.

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It was when the echoing sound had dissipated that Pride flickered back into existence behind Sasori- loud noises, especially ones that bounced from dome to street and back, with bright light and crackling, were not Pride's favorite things.

He blinked around the puppetmaster's arm, watching the small hill of clay that had not been in that large area between buildings before. Some of it was stuck in said clay, but what blonde hair was free fluttered briefly in the breeze of the aftermath. A moment of consideration had him tugging only once on Sasori's sleeve as he looked up at the Akatsuki, then flickering into absence once more.

Only a few moments later, he reappeared like some sort of apparition, next to the lump of clay and the blonde lying in it. He almost voiced who it was he thought had been laying there, but the face was wrong, the clothes wrong, and the arm wrong, as well.

So he pondered for a moment, looked up at Sasori, then back down, and said to the unconscious artist, "Not Edward."

The noise was enough to know.

Explosions sounded similar; they were. Any variation from one to another of the same size was meaningless, under most circumstances, and minor, at most, although now it was all about circumstance. Sasori had heard his partner's 'art' in almost any given situation; explosions over a laugh and exclaimations from Deidara's blast zone in battle, covering the small sounds around an inn they'd left, or breaking any absolute silence encountered. The last seemed to be some special pleasure for Iwa's absent artist, with the noise entirely relative to the silence before it.

These circumstances called for concern; this find, and the manner of it, enforced that thought. A fall was unusual, enough to prompt some surprise beneath the puppeteer's stoicism. He'd seen something like this only once before, the once being heatstroke in Suna, on their first mission there.

That concern would find no external expression, although Sasori approached the ruined bird and blonde immediately. He moved through his seals and raised a hand, stringing his partner into standing and moving free of the wreckage, cloak streaked and smeared in the effort of escape---the clay liked to cling, when it could.

Regarding the unconscious Akatsuki for a moment, Sasori sighed, and almost smiled. He doubted that there would be any answers coming, or any of use; he further doubted that Deidara would harbour any regret for his actions, and knew that that much was only to be expected.

Deidara was not unconscious long, but the disorientation remained, and he found his head throbbed far too much to allow him to open his eyes and look around. He thought he heard a voice--Edward, no, that wasn't his name--but the sound made him want to curl up against the sensations that accompanied it, though his body was still unresponsive as if he was only half awake. Then again, he might have been. His head was killing him. Hopefully whoever it was speaking was not dangerous, or at least had no reason to want to harm him. He was in no condition to fight back.

He felt movement, though--his own movement, and that startled him into a more solid consciousness. Who would want to pick him up...? But no, he was walking. Chakra strings came to mind immediately, and his eyes flew open despite his head pounding protest against the light.

There was someone with blond hair he didn't recognize, and then there was a familiar redhead. Deidara blinked, and then he stared.

"Danna...?"

Pride didn't know what a 'Danna' was, but he knew, at least, that this person looked interesting, and Sasori seemed to understand what had happened.

The homunculus took the opportunity of Deidara's silent confusion to pick away some of the clay on his sleeve- his robe was like Sasori's, black and red and white cotton balls- and consider his face- soft and almost-scary, and one eye gray-blue like a sleepy Brother-cat.

He raised a hand- the one not occupied with sticky clay fingers, to touch Deidara's bangs, and push them away slightly to reveal the metal-and-glass-and-machine where his other eye should be.

The puppet master nodded, allowing the strings he held a little slack. He wasn't sure how steady his partner would be so soon after waking; loose enough to allow some freedom of motion, the strings still maintained support. "Deidara. Are you injured? What happened?"

The first question would be asked in all practicality; an injured partner was something to be taken into account, should trouble arise. Problems were altogether too probable, in a place so strange.

However, it was the second of particular interest; Sasori could not easily imagine a situation which would lead to his partner’s collapse, especially in an environment enclosed and as mild as the city seemed to be. Admittedly, the environment played a small role in Deidara’s flight---the worst winds, blizzards, and storms seemed only to encourage him, and while he did not always fly without incident, he flew without accidents.

Every commotion Deidara caused was undoubtedly deliberate.

On occasion, one would have its own cause.

Deidara was momentarily distracted by Pride, and blinked uneasily as he moved to touch him. Still, Deidara was confused enough that he did not move to stop him. When Sasori spoke, Deidara again regarded the puppet master with clear uncertainty.

"You... You're dead," Deidara said, though he didn't sound sure of himself at all. "Does the poison cause hallucinations, too?"

At the slack, Deidara sagged a bit, and then steadied himself. Feeling a bit silly as he did so, he reached out to touch the sleeve of his partner's cloak. Had he hit his head this hard?

But Zetsu had mentioned that Paixao could bring people from different times... Even back from the dead. But somehow Deidara was still having trouble grasping it.

Deidara's statement led Pride to stop, cant his head and blink as he pulled his hand away from the bomb-nin's face, then look at Sasori. He didn't look dead. Dead things stopped moving, didn't speak, didn't come back.

Unless, of course, Sasori was like Pride- didn't die. But Pride knew there were only he and Father, and the other homunculi that lived that way.

"Not dead," he offered, and set Deidara with his blank stare.

“I’d have to die, to be dead---and I haven’t.” This said, Sasori allowed some concern and some curiosity expression, although that curiosity expanded into an intent, serious interest at the mention of poison. “You’ve been poisoned? How? Deidara, focus; I need an answer.” He would do whatever he could, though while he was confident in his abilities, information to work with was a necessity.

The puppeteer made no move towards or to avoid his partner’s hand; if the blonde wanted tangible proof, it was present. The fabric was there, thick and cool and smelling faintly of chemicals, having had considerable exposure to any number; the weave matched Deidara’s own. He watched the touch with a patient neutrality, something unspoken about being every bit as real as Akatsuki’s other artist---and entirely animate, if not exactly alive.

Deidara was almost surprised at the feel of the cloak--things would have been easier to comprehend had his hand gone through. But Sasori was there, and alive, and the explosives expert spent a moment just staring, trying to get it through his brain.

"You died... When I'm from," Deidara said simply, in a bit of a subdued tone. That had been some time ago.

"There was poison in the water supply, un," Deidara said. "My senses are all scrambled. I'm seeing sounds and hearing colors and stuff." At that, he grinned crookedly. "I had to see what art looked like that way. Zetsu-san made an antidote, un."

An antidote he hadn't taken, of course. But it's not like it would be going anywhere... He would just have to find Zetsu again. Or Sasori could make one--certainly it would be easy enough for him.

Pride looked confused- if his blank gaze and cocked head was any indication.

Sasori was dead but not-dead and he was obviously still here, so the 'when' Deidara spoke of must have been somewhere else, but...

His head canted further, like he was trying to look at the problem- and Deidara- upside down, but it didn't work. So, he set about hugging the bomb-nin, because hugs usually made things better.

His work had been done. Itachi could see, Naruto could tap his own chakra again, and Haku was nothing more than human. He had noticed Konan on the journals before he'd left, had contacted her to report in.... yes, he was definitely starting to feel good about the situation as a whole. As wretched as things had been recently, it was starting to finally pick up again. No poison, no amnesia, no monsters or freakish weather.... It came down to interesting work he was good at, and a good half of his coworkers here with him, including their two superiors, even if some of them had unusual circumstances. What else was there to do then, but track down their missing member to cure?

He'd waited until he left the hotel proper to activate his eyes, to take a good, long look around with a sight that could rival a Hyuuga's. A quick sweep of the area should be sufficient, he couldn't have gone very--there. Target found; Zetsu disappeared without a trace into the earth, and began moving.

A minute or two later, an immense flytrap pushed itself silently into the air, the shinobi it belonged to slipping out after without a ripple to show for it. His leaves parted, and he looked silently on at the situation for a moment--here was Sasori, alive and well as when he'd last seen the man. Here was Deidara, looking.... strangely a bit unsteady, still smeared from the large pile of clay--what was that?--with chakra strings attached.... and a strange young blond he'd never met, giving him a hug. That took a moment to register; he'd never really thought of Deidara as the type to tolerate such things if they were unwanted.

Regardless, there was no point in simply staring. So Zetsu bowed his head and inclined his leaves a bit towards Sasori--the closest anyone would get to a bow from him that wasn't Leader-sama or Konan--by way of greeting, turning a glowing yellow gaze towards Deidara soon after. "We presume your art was satisfactory?" As long as he was content with what he'd managed with whatever bomb he'd set off, then he could give Deidara the last of the antidote so they could be operating at full strength again. He'd have to report Sasori's presence to Konan and Leader-sama.... and Konan's to the two of them, he assumed. Business aside though, he couldn't help be curious about how the explosion had been experienced.....

“I,” couldn’t’ve---I know I’m not perfect, not now---not yet---but I’m supposed to be, eventually, and when I am I’ll be eternal, as art ought to be---“would like to save some of this poison, if it’s still available.” Sasori had allowed only a small hesitation in his speech before bringing his usual façade of neutrality to bear; Deidara wouldn’t lie about his death, but word of it… word of it would take some processing, and with good reason.

What little the other artist had said meant a great many things:
He had died.
He hadn't had a century; he hadn't had half.
To last such a short time; that wasn't art. That wasn't close. That was only an embarrassment, and if he had ended so soon, what could he be worth, as art or as artist? Works as fragile as oil, acrylic, and even watercolor lasted longer---fifty years were next to nothing..
The possibility that his partner was dazed yet or had been dreaming was dismissed out of hand. Deidara always had been quick to wake.

This pause lasted a moment longer, and then the neutrality adjusted---changed to accommodate an amused eyebrow at Deidara’s grin. “Something I’d expect from you. Yourself, Zetsu, and myself---are any of the others here?” He wouldn’t’ve asked anything more, even if Pride hadn’t been present and Zetsu hadn’t arrived. The cannibal was nodded to in return, and Sasori’s attention returned to Akatsuki’s explosives expert, as he allowed the strings to fade away.

Deidara spent a moment just staring at the strange, short blond-haired boy who seemed to think it was okay to hug him. Still, there was something strange about him--the way he acted made Deidara wonder if he was all there--so he only gently pushed the other blond away.

Deidara noted the small pause in Sasori's speech--through years of partnership with the stoic puppeteer he had learned to watch for such things--but did not draw attention to it. It was one thing to use the cues to figure out Sasori's mood and another to bring up a point of uneasiness when there was no need to. And it made sense that Sasori would not be happy to learn of his death. It did go against everything the artist was working toward.

"Zetsu-san probably has some, un," he said as if he hadn't noticed anything at all. "Leader-sama and Itachi-san at least, un."

He grinned a bit wider at Zetsu when the plant-nin mentioned art. "It was brilliant, un. Like a million reactions going off in my head all at once, and it'll never be quite the same again."

Which of course meant he had liked it quite a lot.

(OOC: Pride-mun told me to skip Pride's turn, so....)

"It is." Zetsu offered quietly. "We saved some for you." As if he'd known all along, not only that Sasori was alive, but that he would be there.... And wasn't that what he'd subconsciously believed? That if he deserved to have been brought here, surely such an esteemed master as Sasori would as well? He wasn't the sort to give honors to, to offer fancy titles to spread recognition of prowess and daring. He merely existed, a seed in the wind, a fly on the wall, the drone of crickets in the night as a backdrop of white noise to accentuate the symphony he assisted. "As well as the recipe, and the rest of the work we've done with it." Amateurish, he was sure, compared to Sasori's. But it was better than nothing, far better. "We're not sure whether or not it has passed from the water supply yet."

"Yourself, Deidara-san, ourself, Leader-sama, and Konan-san are here." He supplied. "Itachi-san is as well, though he is 13, and not yet a member." Deidara's enthusiasm was.... warming, somehow. It encouraged something that might have almost been a smile, if it had more enthusiasm to feed it, to creep across Zetsu's face. "We hope you enjoyed it; now that we know that is all the poison will affect you with, it would be easy enough to recreate such an experience." A moment of consideration, thinking about Deidara's peculiar style and artistic sentiments. "As closely as such moments could be recreated, that is. Are you ready?" He withdrew a syringe from his pocket, ready to inject it should Deidara say yes. In the meantime, he took a deep breath, tasting and scenting the air to see what, if anything, he could learn about the strange blond boy through it.

"Excellent." Unwilling to allow another lapse in his stoicism, Sasori turned back to Zetsu with an expression of mild interest. "I appreciate it, and I look forward to seeing what you've done with this. It's intriguing." A moment of consideration, for possible compliments to the synesthesia; the puppeteer was quietly pleased. If it could be made to blend with his vertigo mix, without compromising its or its own quality... "And possessed of impressive possibilities, to judge from the information at hand."

...And as information went, he had an obligation to explain. "This is Pride." There was a gesture towards his temporary traveling companion. "We happened to cross paths while he was lost; I'd returned him to" his keeper? "his usual company, a boy named Edward Elric. This Edward seems to have vanished, but I happened across a different version on the message board... and I ought to be meeting him once it's convenient, to return Pride. He seemed quite concerned, and to have some questions; I have a few of my own I'd like answered."

So, Konan was here, too. Their ranks seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds. There could have been more here, too, that just had not been found yet. That Leader-sama was here meant that Deidara couldn't expect a vacation. Of course, when his work consisted of art, he couldn't complain all that much.

"I might try to improve my art with that," Deidara said in regard to the poison. He could see his art in entirely new ways with it, and an artist should always work toward improving. On that, at least, he and Sasori could agree, even if there improvement was toward opposite ends. "I'm ready, though. I shouldn't risk another fall, un."

He held out his arm for the injection and now looked at Pride again. The boy seemed strange. Very quiet, but willing to hug complete strangers... Odd. He didn't seem dangerous, but appearances could be deceiving.

"We're going to meet him, then?" Deidara asked of Sasori; there was no question regarding where Deidara would be--he would follow his partner, of course.

This was something new. Someone new, too. Different colors, and a lot of people had green, but not like this, and not so big, so tall above their heads.

'Zetsu,' this person was. And 'Deidara,' was Not-Edward.

Pride stepped closer to the plant-man, and reached up, intent on touching his strange face, under yellow eyes and green-like-grass-hair.

"To find Edward," he agreed, quizzically tilting his head at Zetsu.

Zetsu nodded, and offered Sasori a nondescript grey scroll case; inside was the scroll he'd worked with, writing down his observations and recipe, among other things, and three small vials of the poison, looking much like water save for the faint opalescent shine. "Your information is incomplete." Zetsu corrected mildly. "The symptoms produced in each victim are unique to their own genetic structure, and seemingly random from person to person, though they don't change from one dose to the next for the same person."

"We look forward to seeing any improvements made based on this." He nodded to Deidara, administering the antidote soon thereafter. "There may be some pain, but it would be brief." He advised, training his eyes attentively onto Deidara to watch the antidote work; he was curious to see what patterns the chakra would unravel from, to produce such strange mixed sensations. There was potential there, that he could definitely see; possibly there was a way to create a jutsu to simulate these effects? It certainly would throw people off-guard, and that, in a battle, was absolutely crucial....

Zetsu raised an eyebrow at the explanation, curious; it sounded convoluted, and to be a worthwhile meeting in terms of information exchange; perhaps he'd attend to hear what he could hear. But he was more interested in the scents he was picking up as the strange boy moved closer. Pride smelled of dust and darkness, and old, long-dried blood. He smelled cold and damp, faintly mildewed, like a weather-beaten cabin left locked and abandoned in the forest. He didn't, as a matter of fact, smell very human at all. It was intriguing, and not altogether an unpleasant effect; he brushed aside the thought of pressing his nose against Pride's hair.

His leaves twitched with some surprise as Pride didn't stop, but continued past the point where most others would surely have been backed away from, if not lashed out at, past the point where he could have easily ducked away from the flytrap's jaws. In fact, he didn't seem to be conscious of the danger at all, was reaching right inside, and.... touching him? He was like.... like some sort of cub, freshly wandered away from his mother and ready to experience the world, to explore and question, to learn.... Innocent. The thought lent a strange, unaccustomed softness to his features; he hadn't really felt the impulse to nurture another human being--or whatever Pride was--other than with Tobi....

And so he let him. He ignored (as opposed to indulged, as he normally would have) the darker half of himself, even as it whispered of the ease of turning his head to catch Pride's hand in his teeth and rip it off entirely. He let one hand come up to gently cover the one Pride had placed on his own face, the other moving to mimic the touch on Pride's face. After all, that was what you were supposed to do with cubs, weren't you? You accepted and encouraged. You mirrored, you approved, you adapted to their level and helped them rise and learn what they needed to know. "Bring you back." He confirmed.

“As it is, he’s volunteered to meet us, once we’ve an idea where we’re going.” A small shrug; the senior artist regarded the other with quiet interest; the health of his teammate was an important factor for strategy in any situation, especially one so uncertain as meeting with a stranger in a strange city. There were problems and possible threats to consider, and it was paramount to account for his partner’s state with accuracy: Akasuna no Sasori needed to know the implications, to better manipulate the outcomes. “As I’m unfamiliar with the city, yet, I’m open to suggestions.”

Additional information was welcome, and if anyone other than his agents could be trusted for an accurate report, it would be the other Akatsuki. The scroll case and correction were accepted with a nod of appreciation, and all due consideration. “…Strange, that. Still, I look forward to running tests, and finding things to incorporate such a mix into.”

Expression back to it usual neutral, he followed Pride’s movements, feeling some surprise, though his features stayed still. Their…ward (he supposed,) was something other than ordinary; Edward would be answered honestly, where applicable, but Sasori had every intention of asking after Pride, as well.

For a moment nothing happened, and then Deidara's senses flared up all at once. It wasn't as intense as the explosion had been, but still he swayed and groped for something to hold onto as his balance gave way.

It was painful, but not any sort of noticeable thing; he'd lived through worse. It was the lack of balance that bothered him most, and the inability to distinguish his senses. They all blended together into one point of sound and light and color and sensation that his brain struggled to process.

And then his senses all turned off for a split second, as if resetting themselves, and went back to normal again. He blinked uncertainly.

Pride looked up at Zetsu, gold eyes like his own, but brighter, almost opalescent behind the big green leaves, and carefully, as Sasori spoke about something different, something strange, Pride watched the tips of his own fingers trace the line that split the plant-nin down the center, brushed over his two-tone skin, examined carefully by touch the curve of his face.

Just as soon as he had finished, though, the Not-Edward swayed, and caught Pride's attention; his fingers fled from Zetsu's skin, and he cocked his head at the strange behavior, like the other blonde had bit hit too many times and the world was spinning- Pride remembered something like that. But then there was nothing, and Pride returned the blink, then looked at Sasori, too.

He'd said something before- something about Edward, and Edward should have been right where they'd left him, shouldn't he? Because even though he was gone just then, if he'd come back, then he'd come back to the same place, and now Pride wasn't there, and what if Edward thought he was lost, just like Pride had been?

His hand brushed the sleeve of Zetsu's cloak- just like Sasori's- and Pride simply abandoned his observations, instead going to the redhead, to take the sleeve in his hand, and look up at him. "Edward. Trains to find Alphonse. Café."

Zetsu stood still as Pride gently traced his fingers over his face, the plant-nin's own hands mimicking the movements. And he remained still, even as the smell of forgotten blood filled his nose and the rush and thump of a heartbeat and pumping blood filled his ears, as the taste of flesh graced his lips while Pride's fingers glided over them. His darker half made insistent comments about freakery and disgust, about exploitation, prejudice, and betrayal, about revenge.... about how incredibly easy it would be to catch Pride's hand in his teeth and tear it right off then and there.... All were ignored or pushed aside.

He watched the course of the antidote's progress, sidestepping and shifting so that his arm was there for Deidara to brace and support himself with. He'd make sure Deidara kept his balance, though not as intently as he had in the hotel room earlier; that was private medical treatment, after all, and he doubted such behavior would be necessary or appreciated outside of it. Besides, Deidara seemed to be fine soon after.... Though the way his chakra had reacted was indeed interesting.

"We have a room at a hotel, not too far from here. It would be simple enough to share the room or rent another in addition for the night; he could meet us in the morning?" Zetsu offered to Sasori, once he was sure Deidara wasn't in any serious danger. Naturally, 'not too far' was going by ninjas' judgment of distances; they were perhaps.... what, six miles away? Somewhere around there. And the sun was starting to set, after all.... "We hope you'll be able to make good use of it." More than hope; he was certain that would be the case. This was Sasori they were talking about, after all.... How could he go wrong with poison testing?

Sasori paid little mind to the hold on his robe, having dismissed Pride as a threat some time ago. He nodded to the homunculus, content that his partner didn't have to have his attention at the time. "We'll be meeting Edward somewhere else, but we will be meeting him, yes. I don't believe Alphonse will be there, but that may change by the time we meet... You'll be back to Edward soon." 'Soon', from someone with such a distaste for waiting, when it would likely be overnight... ironic, but not inaccurate; by Akatsuki's standards, it would be reasonably soon, and ideas of a long while, or a short while, and the points of division varied wildly. A great deal of it depended on just what one spoke of, and as Pride was tolerable company, overnight did not seem to be overmuch.

"Meeting in the morning sounds fair; once we're there, I'll arrange something to that end."

He nodded to Zetsu, regarding the others for a moment, in silence. "I suppose we should move, then... Shall we?" For the small time he'd been about the city, it had proven itself above 'interesting'; a solid night's sleep could contribute a good deal to the days to come.

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Art is a BANG! [Complete]

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