[closed] wish there was something real

[anbu]

Who: Itachi Uchiha & various.
When: Throughout Maiuril.
Where: Several locations.
What: Catch-all.
Warnings: Probably some violence in at least one thread, will update as necessary.



[ooc: Feel free to send me a PM if you'd like to plot something! Open to 4th wall characters.]

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[supersoldier]

[Each ringing strike of his katana is deflected in turn, filling the woods with chimes of crossed steel. His nerves burn with pain, his newly-gifted fracture jostling with each strike, but Sephiroth partitions it away somewhere distant, focusing only on Itachi.

He can see it, and feel it, too. Each contact made with his weapon is like carving away at his stamina, layer by layer, until nothing is left. His opponent seems to pale, skin glistening with exertion. In the midst of another strike, he notes the ribbon of blood eking from his nostril, and he knows that it must be only a matter of time before he falls.

As the last strike shatters Itachi’s katana like ash caught in the wind, he wonders — for no real reason other than idle curiosity — what he feels in that moment. There’s no fear in him, hardly anything more shown than exhaustion, and even as he crumples to his knees to utter a concession of defeat, Sephiroth looks down at him and sees dignity in the resignation — his enervated state only throws it into clearer relief.

He lowers his blade, and Itachi’s features are near enough to reflect off the steel. His cat-eyed gaze lowers to meet the other man’s dizzied look.]

...No one has been able to strike me like that in a very long time.

[It’s as much compliment as oddity. A grounding moment, as much as one that his mind has difficulties processing.]

[anbu]

[Eventually, the world stabilizes around him, snapping back into sharp focus after a dangerous swing in consciousness — he doesn't pass out, but it comes near enough that he chastises himself, in his own mind, at allowing the display of brief weakness on his exhausted expression. Itachi closes his eyes; his shoulders relax and the line of his brow smooths.

When he opens them, he's looking up at Sephiroth's height. It towers in their given positions now. A dark gaze lingers on that steel blade, inscrutable.]

I had the advantage of knowing the weaknesses of your form here. That isn't knowledge everyone holds, and wouldn't even apply in your own world. [Body loose, he wipes his hand across his nose to clear the sticky blood from it, smearing it red down to his wrist.] But with practice I could extort it if I chose.

[He rocks up to his feet, frowns, and peels off the cloak around his shoulders. His skin is too feverishly hot for it.]

I'm afraid I don't know healing spells. How severe is the injury?

[supersoldier]

[He watches as cogency finds Itachi again, as if slowly slotting back into place. Sephiroth was never a man to fly to another’s assistance — however, he is not completely uncaring, and he watches him carefully, a quiet assessment in the back of his mind.

It’s a rational reply, of course, and he isn’t surprised to learn that he’s done his research. But regardless of the disadvantages inherent in a harpy’s body, the experience is still unnatural to him, illustrating the foreign nature of this world away from his own. The question, despite himself, causes the corners of his lips to briefly turn upwards.]

It hurts. [It throbs hotly, will probably bruise angrily. Aches like a knife cutting through bone.] But it will heal in a day or two at most. There’s no need for magic.

[Brushing aside concern is equal parts logic (he doesn’t reasonably need it), and the result of a flaring pride (he doesn’t necessarily want it). Instead, he shifts the focus, wondering just how steady the other might remain on his feet. Itachi still looks pale, grimed with sweat, with blood smeared above the lip. Sephiroth's smile fades as quickly as it arrived.]

Are you able to walk? You’ve exerted too much effort.

[anbu]

[With that, he shows no more outward concern for Sephiroth's injury, taking the reply at face value. He knows he would wish for the same, in that position. He has tended to his own wounds and injuries and ailments alone since memory can recall.

As it is now. Itachi shakes his head at the question.]

It's all right, I'm accustomed to this—

[And yet the moment it's said, another dizzy spell strikes him, and Itachi wavers on his feet. Except on the night of the new moons, he hasn't attempted a flurry of magic in such quick succession; the battle itself required a physicality—particularly the final blow he landed on Sephiroth—that is not his usual tactic.

His weight won't stay up. Itachi stumbles, and crashes back down to his knees with a heavy gasp of breath.]

[supersoldier]

[He watches as another dizzy spell overcomes Itachi, carving out room for doubt regarding his claim to be “all right”, and there’s little Sephiroth can do but watch him sink back down to his knees as though he were the one with hollow bones.

He has the option of taking him at his word despite the evidence to the contrary — much like the unquestioning manner in which he accepted the state of his own injury — but it’s hard to do, seeing him in a clearly struggling state. That gasp of breath, proof of the toll his body had taken, is further discouraging, so the choice of leaving him here to recover is dismissed, too. There’s a difference between being trusting of another’s capabilities, and cold callousness. For all of Sephiroth’s reticence, he does not naturally trend towards the latter, despite what many think.

With a note of mild disapproval—]

Maybe not accustomed to it enough in this world.

[Did he have contingencies back home? People to aid him should his stamina give out like this? The abilities now stolen from him, once able to ensure he avoided this kind of result?

Either way, it’s obvious that none of that currently applies.]

I can carry you back to the city, or at least until you have strength enough to move again.

[anbu]

[There's sense in the offer. Yet Itachi feels the impulse to reject it outright, for his own sake, for the sake of the colored disapproval in the other man's tone. Perhaps he hasn't fully mastered the side effects of excessive magic, but that idea alone is frustrating—it's taking too much time. He already devotes most of his waking hours to its mastery.

Then again, this experience isn't new. He'd once suffered similarly due to illness and the vast amount of chakra most of his abilities required. Still, he knew his own body's limits intimately. Rarely did he rely on Kisame after a battle; he was loath ever to allow that weakness, even in front of the one deemed his 'partner'.

Itachi presses both palms into the cool earth, and tries again to lever himself upright.]

Here. [One hand extends, catching Sephiroth's broad shoulder.] It may be slower, but I will walk, if you allow me to lean my weight on you.

[Better than being carried, which might have caused him to evaporate in shame on the spot.]

[supersoldier]

[Sephiroth would be of a similar mind if their positions were reserved, and maybe that makes him a hypocrite of the highest order for thinking Itachi’s pride might make him decline the offer. As though the SOLDIER himself is not prideful in his own right, in his own way.

But he offers his shoulder — and the crook of his arm, if needed — after Itachi stands and places his weight upon him. An easy enough compromise. The trek will be slow, but at least he’ll be escorted the entire way back.

It’s not as if Sephiroth has anything pressing awaiting his return, anyhow.]

That’s fine, then. Take it steady for now.

[It would be easy to fall into a guiding, military step, but Sephiroth can reel in this tendency for someone else’s sake.]

[anbu]

[It's a reluctant surrender, when he does take that arm and lean into Sephiroth's shoulder. Even knowing the man could more than support his full weight if necessary, this small measure is all he will permit himself. Any more would simply become unbearable.

Somehow, his own loss of their battle is inconsequential compared to asking for such help.

Itachi says nothing else until they reach the city and pass through one of the the Bright Wall's gates. He keeps his mind decidedly blank of thought, concentrated away from Sephiroth at his side. Perhaps he should have told Sephiroth to leave him in the woods; it's too late now.

As soon as they reenter Aefenglom from the area barred off for the moons, he attempts to lean away.] I'll be fine alone from here.

[His bird has followed, and suddenly it swoops down to land on... Sephiroth's shoulder. The very one he'd had his weight placed.] ... Apologies. It has a will of its own. [Itachi reaches out one hand, and the crow hops forward, transferring to his wrist.] Sephiroth. I enjoyed our match, as it's been some time since I've trained against another, and never with magic. I'd be willing to try again in the future, if you're amenable.

[supersoldier]

[The return walk to the city is hemmed in by silence, but Sephiroth doesn’t interpret it as awkward despite its length. A part of him believes that Itachi may not care for an attempt at idle chatter — and he’s disinclined to give it, not adept in the art.

When they reach Aefenglom, he allows the other man to lean away, having no intention to press the matter of aid further, much like he promised. His reply is cut off by the sound of beating wings, a fluttering in his periphery, and a— crow, the one he remembers seeing wheeling in the sky before their spar, landing on his shoulder.

It hops off of him in the next moment, and Sephiroth shakes his head.]

Your friend [pet?] doesn’t offend me. It would be hypocrisy for a Harpy to be put off by a crow.

[To say the least. To the rest, he nods, eyes moving casually from the bird back to Itachi.]

And I would be amenable to another match. Once we’ve both taken the time to recover. The last thing I want is for my skills to grow dull, and if you can promise to challenge them in ways unexpected, I see no reason to decline.

[anbu]

[There's some humor to be found in that, if he were the sort of man to look for it. A Harpy and a crow. Perhaps some strange parallel can be drawn here. However the decisions of their permanent assignments are made, Itachi feels there is no other Monster breed as suitable for him than a Harpy—or perhaps a Vampire, much like his brother. How different would his life be in this place had this role been changed?

No use lingering.]

Magical familiar. In the absence of a Bond, it assuages some of the pressure as a Witch.

[Temporary, which Sephiroth may or may not know, but effective enough in the meantime.]

Very well then. [Dark eyes drop, briefly drawn to the area of the other man's collarbone where earlier he'd swung the full and heavy weight of that sword. Searching for a mark, or some sign of damage—seeing none.] I intend to take advantage of your willingness.

[His own skills must stay sharp, after all. With a nod of his head (and one last, lingering look), Itachi turns away to begin up one of the streets in the direction of the Haven, intending to sleep the rest of this exhaustion away. Perhaps stamina practice will be his next project.]