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31_days2006-10-02 10:20 pm
ritalion.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-10-02 10:20 pm
[02 Oct. 2006] [Naruto] Beautiful Irony
Title: Beautiful Irony
Day/Theme: October 2nd // hello darkness, my old friend
Series: Naruto
Character/Pairing: Sasori, brief mention of his parents
Rating: PG
Word Count: 209
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers up to ch.275
It’s been a long time since he’s last rested, now that he thinks about it. Perhaps since he was a child…
(—it’s been so long, so long, since he’s actually been able to close his eyes and drift away—)
It’s been even longer since he’s been trapped in this awkward embrace, played out and fake and almost real.
(—he remembers (though he doesn’t want to) craving this embrace so badly as child; he never would have guessed he’d get it when he least wanted it—)
There’s a bitter, beautiful sort of irony to this whole thing. Had he been the person, he would have laughed at the whole situation, but irony’s never really been his thing.
(—it’s almost as if he can feel now; he drifts away slowly, and it’s almost as if he could reach up and feel the warmth of his mother’s face—)
And as he slumps forwards, a tiredness he hasn’t felt in years envelopes him, and all he can think of is how long it’s been since he last slept. And then he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he closes his eyes for a moment, he’ll be able to wake up again and then, perhaps, he’ll be just fine…
--
Feedback is muchly appreciated, especially any critique
Day/Theme: October 2nd // hello darkness, my old friend
Series: Naruto
Character/Pairing: Sasori, brief mention of his parents
Rating: PG
Word Count: 209
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers up to ch.275
It’s been a long time since he’s last rested, now that he thinks about it. Perhaps since he was a child…
(—it’s been so long, so long, since he’s actually been able to close his eyes and drift away—)
It’s been even longer since he’s been trapped in this awkward embrace, played out and fake and almost real.
(—he remembers (though he doesn’t want to) craving this embrace so badly as child; he never would have guessed he’d get it when he least wanted it—)
There’s a bitter, beautiful sort of irony to this whole thing. Had he been the person, he would have laughed at the whole situation, but irony’s never really been his thing.
(—it’s almost as if he can feel now; he drifts away slowly, and it’s almost as if he could reach up and feel the warmth of his mother’s face—)
And as he slumps forwards, a tiredness he hasn’t felt in years envelopes him, and all he can think of is how long it’s been since he last slept. And then he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he closes his eyes for a moment, he’ll be able to wake up again and then, perhaps, he’ll be just fine…
--
Feedback is muchly appreciated, especially any critique