The rude awakening
The ground isn’t the most pleasant place to wake up, is it?
Kisame has had his fair share of waking up on the ground after getting the tar beaten out of him, of course. But at least then, he’d usually had a general idea of how he’d wound up there.
Kisame looks around, trying to figure out what the actual fuck is happening.
It reeks like smoke and death and burnt flesh. In the distance he thinks he hears people shouting, and an unholy shrieking. Everything around them looks oddly…organic, like the walls themselves are alive.
None of that matters at the moment, though. As he opens his mouth to call out, there’s only one thing he cares about.
“Itachi-san?!” he yells, though he’s pretty sure it won’t do any good. “Where are you?!”
No answer, though he wasn’t really expecting one.
Looking back at the pod…thing he’s just emerged from, he figures Itachi must be in one of them, too.
He stalks through the rows of pods, peering in each to try to find his companion.
As he does, fuzzy images float through his mind.
Strange tentacled beings, walking amongst rows of pods like the one he’s just been freed from.
Picking up weird, bug-type things from a pool of…something.
Placing one of those things on his cheek, regarding Kisame with an expression of boredom, before departing. Like he were some kind of specimen being examined by a disinterested scientist.
The bug had crawled its way into his eye, while he was paralyzed, unable to do anything to stop it.
As he remembers that, he swears he can feel something squirm within his skull.
That probably isn’t good…
Worry about that later. For now, he needs to find Itachi.
(He isn’t even sure why he’s convinced Itachi must be here, but somehow he just knows.)
The pods that aren’t already opened don’t have anyone he would recognize, so he leaves them alone.
Just when he starts to wonder if his partner hadn’t been taken with him after all- or whether the worst might have happened- he spies a familiar face, still out cold, still trapped in one of those damned pods.
Great. So he wasn’t crazy about whatever had taken them, took them together.
(He’s usually not wrong about things, after all.)
Now, to figure out how to get him out…
(Funny that Itachi is normally such a light sleeper, but now not even an explosion can seem to wake him.)
There’s a panel with some strange writing on it that Kisame can’t read, so finding instructions is right out. And a giant bang and a rumble lets him know that he wouldn’t have time to read it even if he could.
No time to try to find a key or anything, either, so he decides to use a less elegant approach. He punches through the pod with both fists, grabbing onto the hinges and, with a great effort, pries the front off and tosses it aside.
Itachi comes tumbling out unceremoniously, unable to even brace himself as he hits the floor face-first. He groans weakly as Kisame helps him to his feet, giving him a half-hearted glare of indignance.
“Alright, up you get, we gotta get out of here-”
Itachi rubs at his eye and looks around, squinting to try to see through the smoke.
“...Where is here, exactly?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Itachi-san.”
That answer obviously doesn’t satisfy Itachi. Black eyes turn red, and he looks around to try to find some kind of exit.
“Ugh…my head hurts-”
And it must, and quite badly for Itachi to say anything about it.
(Hell, Kisame’s head is throbbing as well.)
“Just bear with it for a bit, alright? We gotta get out of this hellhole and we’ll do something about that.”
“Yeah, sure-”
There’s a circular wall of…flesh? Blocking their path forward, but it opens with a weird squishy sound when they approach.
“I don’t like this-” Itachi mutters.
“Me neither, but we don’t really have a choice, do we?”
They pass what seems to be a lifeless corpse on their way, strapped to a chair with the top of its head removed to expose the brain. Still quivering- the body must be fresh.
“Disgusting…”
They nearly walk right past the corpse without paying it any mind, until, without warning, the brain moves, as if activated by their voices.
It pulsates and quivers, then, strangely- it speaks.
Well- sort of. It’s more like words echo through each of their minds, as if placed directly there, presumably, by the brain itself.
Help us!
Glancing at each other skeptically, it takes a moment before either Itachi or Kisame can speak.
Itachi clears his throat, deciding against his better judgment to answer the thing.
“...What are you?”
A newborn, the brain answers. Born new from this husk. Please help us! Get us out of here! Frightened!
“Frightened of what?”
Of the enemy. So many enemies…
More hesitation. Then, despite his disgust, Itachi leans down and looks over the skull, pondering the bizarre situation.
Gingerly, he reaches his fingers into the small gap between the skull and the brain, then, with a bit of effort, pries the brain loose from its casing. it leaves a string of viscera and cerebrospinal fluid as it comes loose.
His face turns green and he shudders as he does it, but succeeds in the endeavor.
As soon as the brain is free, it seemingly quadruples in size, sprouting a few fleshy tendrils and a pair of stout legs that end in wickedly sharp claws.
It shakes off bloody viscera, then does a small leap for joy.
Friends saved us! Thank you!
“...What are you, though?” Itachi asks, though he feels stupid for asking a second time. “I mean, what should we call you? Do you have a name?”
Us! The brain declares. We are us…
It hops around from one clawed foot to the other, like an excited puppy.
Maybe it would be cute if it weren’t so nauseating.
“...Okay, Us. Do you know where we are?”
Nautiloid! The creature declares. On a nautiloid!
Kisame glances at his partner for a moment; Itachi looks about two seconds away from throwing up.
“ Why are we here, though?”
To know you! To love you! To give you our gift!
Gift…
The strange thing behind their eyes squirms in unison, as if they recognize the thing in front of them.
(If that’s the gift they were talking about… he’s not sure he wants it.)
The creature’s thoughts bump up against theirs, mashing together in that strange voice that seems to echo off the bones in their skulls.
We need to go to the helm! Us chirps. Please, friends, we must go to the helm! At the helm we are needed!”
It scuttles forward, and, having no better ideas, they follow it.
“Helm, huh?” Kisame mutters, putting a hand on Itachi’s shoulder so he doesn’t fall over or something. “This must be a ship then.”
Yes, yes! A very good ship! But we are in danger, so many enemies- we must escape Avernus.
“What’s Avernus?”
The first of the nine hells. We must escape, there are too many enemies near!
The creature shivers in terror.
“Well uh, don’t worry about that,” Kisame says, uncertain what else to say. “We know our way around a fight so we should get there with no trouble.
Hooray! We are going to the helm! My friends and I are going to the helm…
Though neither of them have the foggiest idea of what’s happening, they decide that following is as good a bet as any.
No sooner have they crossed through to what seems like some sort of bridge, that a large, bright red, scaled creature swoops overhead.
From that creature, a figure jumps down, landing right in front of them and brandishing a blade.
A woman- or, at least, someone woman-shaped. Clad in armor, with skin the color of fresh-picked olives, with a texture similar to leather.
She yells something in a language neither of them know, but they can still interpret as a threat.
“Alright, alright- calm your tits lady, we aren’t here to pick a fight!”
The woman doesn’t listen, but as she lunges at them, and Kisame jumps toward her as well, their bodies seize up, like dogs with their leashes suddenly yanked backward.
Images flash through their minds, disconnected, fractured-
Reflections of their own weary faces through this woman's eyes.
Strange places. Strange creatures. Fighting. Explosions. Fire.
So much fire.
The woman’s expression softens a fraction, and she lowers her weapon.
She cocks her head to one side, then the other, eyes narrowed as she ponders the sight in front of her.
“Neither of you are thralls-” she marvels, in a language that they now, somehow, recognize. “Vlaakith blesses me this day- there might still be hope for us.”
“Who-”
“-What are you talking about? Hope?” Kisame demands, putting himself between this woman and Itachi just in case she gets stabby again. “What the actual hell is happening?”
Shaking her head violently, the woman snarls the next words through clenched teeth.
“We’ve been infested by a mind flayer parasite. If we aren’t purified then we will turn into ghaik just like the others…”
She spits the words out with so much disdain it drips off her tongue.
Glancing at each other, Kisame and Itachi decide they’re better off just not arguing.
Kisame makes a broad gesture with his hand, and a little mock bow toward the woman.
“Alright then. Take the lead, since you seem to know what you’re doing.”
“Very well. Do not fall behind.”
“Sure, sure.”
Neither of them have any clue who she is, nor what a ghaik is (other than perhaps the same strange creatures that seem to have brought them here), but she seems to have a better idea, and they figure, based on the ship rattling once again, they can’t be picky about the company they keep.
Us chatters on about heading to the helm, as cheery as anything.
Up ahead, a few more of the same type of creature scuttle about, though they seem to pay them no mind.
“Ignore the intellect devourers. As long as they think we are thralls, they’ll leave us in peace.”
(Ah. So that’s what they’re called?)
“...Makes sense.”
They walk through unimpeded, the small brain creatures panicking and trying to get… well, to the helm. Wherever that is.
They stumble into a ghastly sight when another one of the gross doors swirls open.
One of the octopus-like creatures lays dead on the floor, unusual creatures with bat-like wings and stubby horns digging in and feasting on its insides.
“Shit-”
The creatures raise their heads from their meal, bristling up and charging toward them with their claws bared.
Instinctively, Kisame reaches for the place on his back where his trusted sword always rests, but his hands come up frustratingly empty.
Oh well. He’ll just have to make due unarmed.
One of the winged freaks lunges at him, but he grabs it by the skinny neck and gives it a good twist.
Whatever it is, it definitely has a spine, because it makes a satisfying crack when it snaps in two. He uses the limp body of the recently dead creature to beat another one until he’s satisfied it’s stopped moving.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Itachi make a few familiar hand signs, and a familiar ball of red-hot fire comes spewing out of his mouth.
The creatures shriek as they’re caught up in it, turning to ash in seconds.
The woman looks mildly impressed, raising an eyebrow at the pair of them.
“It seems I got lucky. You aren’t bad to have around.”
Kisame nods in acknowledgement, then decides that if they’re going to be with her for a while, he wants to try to put a name to that face while Itachi rummages around in the pockets of the dead, looking for something useful.
“Just in case we get killed before we get off this ship- you got a name?”
the woman shrugs a thin shoulder, ponders whether she wants to say for a moment, then speaks.
“Call me Lae’zel.”
“Great. This guy here’s Itachi, and I’m Kisame.”
“Very well. No more dawdling. I will not die here.”
Right.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Itachi slip something into his pocket that he can’t quite make out.
They pass some more empty capsules, following Us along its determined path, climbing over wreckage and dodging fire as they go.
Itachi pauses, however, when a terrified face catches him out of the corner of his eye.
She pounds against the glass and shouts something at him, though it’s muffled and he can’t quite make out what she’s saying.
“We don’t have time for stragglers!” Lae’zel reminds him. But he pretends he doesn’t hear her.
Somehow, he has an idea that the key he’d found on one of the dead thralls would be useful. So, he sticks it in and turns it- to his half-surprise, it’s a perfect fit.
There’s a panel beside the capsule. Something in his mind- he doesn’t know what- recognizes it for what it is.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves the strange object with some runes carved into it, feeling heavier than it should be in his hand.
Somehow, he knows that this thing- whatever it is- should free the captive.
So, not knowing why, he does exactly that.
(He’s learned long ago that when his intuition tells him something is so, it’s better to not ignore it.)
Something in his head squirms and it’s terribly painful. But then, an idea forms in his mind. A single word.
Open.
Somehow, the capsule obeys, releasing the woman inside.
She tumbles out, catching herself before she can collide with the floor, then scrambles to her feet so that they can catch back up with the others.
“I thought that thing would be my coffin,” she breathes. “Thank you.”
Itachi only nods.
“...You keep dangerous company,” she remarks the second she lays eyes on Lae’zel.
“Dangerous company is what you need at a time like this,” Kisame points out, not bothering with further introductions.
The dark-haired woman blinks a few times, then concedes.
“Fair point- lead on.”
At last, they reach an area that gets Us to start chirping excitedly.
The helm! The helm! We made it to the helm!
One of the robed, tentacled creatures seizes another one with horns and leathery wings, crunching into its skull before casting the limp body aside.
Pointing a clawed hand in their direction, the creature speaks in a commanding tone.
“Thralls. Connect the nerves to the transponder, we must escape now.”
Judging by the annoyance emanating from Itachi, he’s not fond of being ordered around- and judging by Lae’zel’s disgusted expression, neither is she. But they can deal with that thing after they’re out of danger.
The creature seized the winged, horned monstrosity that attacks it with tendrils of strange energy, hurling it aside.
While the monsters are busy fighting, the three of them take the chance to creep toward the front of the ship, toward what they assume are the nerves that it referenced. Lae'zel seizes the tendrils and pushes them together, just as they were commanded.
They link together, sparks of electricity sparking between them.
And then-
An explosion.
One of the walls of the ship tears away, igniting as it flies away.
There’s no time to even try to grab onto anything, and they get flung out into the open air.
Blessedly, the force knocks them unconscious as they plunge downward.
When the world comes back to them, they’re flat on the ground.
Alive, though having made an appreciable crater upon impact.
Maybe a few broken ribs. A concussion, perhaps. But, as Kisame spits out a mouthful of grass and dirt and picks himself up, he finds himself in one piece.
Somehow.
“...You still alive, Itachi-san?” he asks, spying his partner hunched over in the mud a few meters off, retching though he doesn’t have anything left in him to vomit.
“...I think so?” he replies, once his stomach has finished its escape attempt.
They seem to be in one piece. So, all things considered it could be worse.
“I wonder what happened to our friend?” Kisame wonders, looking around but not finding Lae’zel anywhere.
“Not sure. If we survived the fall, she must have, too.”
“I would say so. Now uh-”
Kisame observes their surroundings, frowning as he does.
“...Where the actual fuck are we?”
They seem to be surrounded by lush green all around them- not totally unlike back in Konoha, but somehow entirely alien.
A few chunks of wreckage smolder beside them, spewing up black smoke. They hear scattered groaning, see scattered corpses amongst the debris- but nothing familiar.
“Dunno.”
They find the other woman- the pretty, dark haired one- still unconscious, clutching a strange…thing in her hand.
Something in the back of his mind compels Itachi to reach out to take it- like some unseen force was pulling him toward it. But as he does, the woman stirs, so he snatches his hand back and pretends he wasn’t trying to steal it, hoping she doesn’t notice.
“Hmm?” She groans, blinking as the world comes back into focus.
She sees him and jerks backward like he might burn her.
The parasites in their brains cry out in unison, as if calling out for one another.
Through the hum and the images swimming through their brains, they hear a name.
“...Your name is Shadowheart?”
“I-”
The woman looks to Kisame, then Itachi, then over her shoulder.
“-I am. How do you- oh, it doesn’t matter.”
She tucks away the strange object in her hand, stands up, and straightens herself out.
“Thank you, by the way. For saving me. You could have left me in that pod, you could have walked past me. But you didn’t. I won’t forget that.”
Itachi says nothing, merely nodding once before turning his attention back to his partner.
(She is genuinely grateful, he’s pretty sure of that. But he can’t stand to hear that sort of praise.)
Kisame is rummaging around amongst the people who were not fortunate enough to survive the wreck, pulling out any weapons or anything else that might be useful.
“Not a lot here, but I guess it’s better than nothing,” he remarks, deciding on an unimpressive but sturdy battle ax while handing Itachi a sword that’s chipped and a bit rusted about the edges., but still usable, more or less.
“It’ll do.’
Every part of Itachi’s body aches. It’s going to be a long day.
“God- my fuckin’ head-”
Hidan drags himself to his feet, feeling a handful of broken bones knitting themselves back together, and he’s pretty sure something inside him burst- his liver or something.
No big deal, give it an hour and he’ll be good as new. It hurts like a sonuvabitch, but it's nothing he isn't used to.
But that doesn’t fix the problem of what the fuck just happened here…
He hears someone- or some thing- groan and move about somewhere in the distance, so he grabs the nearest sturdy tree branch he can find off the ground, cracking it open so he has something resembling a sharp weapon.
Peering over a chunk of wreckage he sees one of those tentacled bastards, trying to stand back up with a great effort, in a pool of what must be its own blood.
Blood.
Great. Just what he needs.
A rush of elation swells up in his aching chest, knowing something is finally about to go his way.
He crouches down and approaches slowly, holding his breath until he’s within an arm’s reach of the dazed creature and its pool of blood.
The blood is still warm, wet and slick against his hand.
Just what he needs.
It tastes different from human blood- sharper, bitter, strange. But it still does exactly what he needs.
He feels the power of his god start coursing through him, just as the creature finally notices that he’s there.
“Alright you fuckin’ freak.”
The creature regards him with its beady eyes, dazed- probably from the force of the impact. It reaches out to him and tries to maybe say something, though it comes out garbled.
Hidan digs his heel into the ground and draws the symbol he knows by heart.
“I’d say sorry,” he says, though he isn’t sure if the creature can understand him, “but honestly you freaks pissed me off, so-”
It takes far too much effort to drive the sharp end of the branch into his gut, but he powers through it until his flesh gives way, opening up a bloody, gaping wound in the creature in front of him.
“Let Lord Jashin take that useless scum you call a soul. I hope he really makes you suffer.”
Really, this is probably overkill, but this monstrosity may as well make itself useful as an offering to Jashin, after everything it and its kin did.
He drops to his knees, groaning at the agony and euphoria of it, as the creature falls back to the ground, face-down in its own gore.
“Lord Jashin, please take this sacrifice. Take it and give me power.”
The branch leaves splinters in his innards as he yanks it out, but his body should sort that out in a few minutes. He allows himself a moment to rest, hoping to catch his breath as he basks in the glow of his god.
Ah, how often even the simplest plans go awry.
“Woah, that’s pretty impressive. Where’d you learn to do something like that?”
Hidan jumps out of his skin in shock, leaping to his feet and whipping his head around.
A man stands in front of him- one with a friendly face and skin the color of freshly-tilled earth. His hair is done up in tight braids in neat rows, strong arms folded neatly in front of him. He offers a friendly smile like he’s relieved, though Hidan does not feel the same way at all.
“Good to see another person. Looks like we got flung pretty far when that thing crashed eh?”
“...I guess. Who wants to know?”
The other man doesn’t answer, apparently having other questions on his mind. He squints one eye, which is around when Hidan notices that one seems to be made of stone.
Maybe he should ask about him, but the man beats him to the questioning.
“So, that magic you cast just now- that prayer you said- aren’t you some kind of cleric?”
“What the fuck’s a cleric?!” Hidan demands, brandishing his stick around to ward off the man approaching. “I serve Lord Jashin, not whatever the fuck bullshit you’re-”
The man laughs, which infuriates him even more.
“A cleric, then. Or a warlock, maybe.”
“Oh shut the fuck up for the love of-”
Hidan has had just about as much as he can stand of this bullshit so he lunges forward, pinning this strange man to a tree by the scruff of his shirt.
“-Just tell me where the fuck I am and what the goddamn fuck those sentient calamari put in my goddamn eye!”
“Hey, hey- calm down a little-”
“How the hell am I supposed to be calm when-”
“-I was on that ship the same as you, remember?! Just let me go and we can talk.”
The other man grabs the weapon and gingerly pushes it away, offering a pacifying half-smile.
“Let’s try this again, eh? Name’s Wyll. What about you?”
Weird. So fucking weird.
Hidan takes a wary step back, squinting at this stranger in front of him.
He seems so…friendly. It’s suspicious.
“Why do you need to know?”
“Might as well, right? Unless you really don’t want to?”
Pondering his predicament, he feels whatever that… thing is squirm through his sinus cavity.
Well, it can’t cause any more harm to introduce himself.
(can it?)
“...Hidan.”
“There we go. We don’t have to kill each other, alright? I think we’re in the same boat.”
“I don’t wanna be in any goddamned boat, I wanna go home!”
Slamming his fist against his forehead, Hidan wracks his brain to try to piece together what the hell had happened.
He was with Kakuzu. He remembers that much.
They were arguing about something he doesn’t remember anymore- as they usually do. Then there was an odd light in the sky neither of them had seen before. He’d stopped to figure out what they were, fascinated by how they looked like stars, but not quite-
-And before Hidan knew what was happening, he was crammed into some kind of capsule, with a strange, tentacled being dropping some kinda bug onto his face that had found its way up into his eye socket.
He lays a hand across his chest, wondering when his heart started racing so badly.
Surely it can’t be because he’s scared-
Wyll offers a hand, which Hidan pointedly ignores
“Come on, then. I’m sure we can find a way to get you back home soon enough, once this mess gets sorted out.”
Right. Hidan basically has to believe that so he doesn’t freak out, so he just nods.
“Alright then, stranger. I’d say it’s about time we get the hells out of here, huh? In case there’s more mind flayers about.”
“Mind wha- nevermind. Yeah. Whatever.”
Whatever’s in his head writhes about uncomfortably. And Hidan wonders if maybe he’s dreaming- or tripping on something very, very potent.
(He should find out soon enough…)
Of all the unpleasant wake-up calls Orochimaru has gotten in his life, this may be in the running for the worst.
He feels like he’s been bashed upside the head a couple dozen times, his body hurting all over and feeling like it’s full of lead.
Aside from the wreckage all around him, the surroundings are pleasantly green- though the smell of smoke clings to everything around him. In the distance he can hear a few birds chirping as they go about their business, as though nothing had just happened.
“...Well then.” He says to himself, realizing that he doesn’t recognize anything around him.
Before this, he had been on his way to retrieve something or other, right around dusk- he can’t remember anymore. A strange series of lights had appeared in the sky above, and he’d stopped to ponder them.
And now he’s here.
Curious. Very curious.
Not knowing what else to do, he follows the trail of wreckage to see if anyone else is around.
He’s pretty sure he wasn’t the only one on board that thing, after all. Maybe he’s not the only one to survive, either.
He turns back to the shattered remains of the pod he’d been trapped in, scratching the side of his head in puzzlement.d
Right around the time he starts to wonder if he should call out for any survivors, he feels an arm wrap around him, and the telltale feeling of a knife against the back of his neck.
“Move an inch and I’ll gut you.”
If this were in another circumstance, Orochimaru might laugh.
“It’s not often someone gets the drop on me like that,” he remarks. “You must be light on your feet.”
He doesn’t get a response, but this new arrival tightens his grip in warning.
“Come on, now. Is this how you people say hello around here?”
When he doesn’t get a response quickly enough, Orochimaru decides he’s had about enough of being captive. He throws an elbow backward, catching the stranger in the ribs and sending him staggering backward.
He whirls around, fully intent on punching this new arrival in the face, but of course things don’t quite work out the way he planned. Instead, clearly miffed, the stranger tackles him to the ground and shoves the dagger up against his throat, snarling in indignation.
“That really hurt, you know,” he hisses at Orochimaru, having the gall to sound offended.
The sharp edge of the knife bites into the skin of his throat- just enough to draw a bit of blood. But still Orochimaru just smiles up at this man, despite his dire threats.
(He’s been in this position far too frequently for it to scare him anymore.
“Alright, enough games. Tell me what you and those tentacled freaks did to me!”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about- I’m not with those monstrosities.”
A nice looking man, for sure. Ash-white hair with a gentle curl to it- cropped short and, despite the massive fall they've just taken, immaculately styled. Milk white skin as well, and snowy white eyebrows with equally pale eyelashes.
In fact, all of him has an unearthly pallor to it- it’s like someone’s sucked all of the color from the man- all except for bright crimson eyes that glare down at him, fully intending to kill him.
“You know,” Orochimaru says, casual as anything- as if he didn’t have a knife against his neck. “-Normally when good looking men get on top of me, they’ve had the good manners to buy me a drink first.”
Red eyes blink a few times, taken aback. Then, he laughs, pulling the knife away and standing back up.
“Right. That was awfully rude of me, wasn’t it?”
Orochimaru gets back onto his feet, and the pair start walking in circles while examining each other warily.
When the man turns his head a bit, he notices a pair of scars on the side of his neck. Poorly healed, ragged, and painful-looking.
They're jarring, out of place amongst his immaculate finery and delicate features. But he can ask about those later.
If there is a later.
“Good to know you’re not one of those things’ thralls. What are you doing here, exactly?”
“Could ask you the same.”
The strange, pale-haired man shrugs, gesturing off into the distance with a flourish and a scoff.
“Hells if I know. I was just out and about, minding my own bloody business- next thing I know I’m up in that- thing with some little monster crawling its way into my skull!”
“Hm. Funny- that’s about the same as what happened to me-”
They make eye contact for the briefest moment.
In that moment, however, a horrible, sharp pain pierces Orochimaru’s skull as that… thing that’s crawled inside him squirms around in his gray matter..
He sees flashes of a place he’s never been. A man he’s never seen.
A shiny silver blade, sharp and coated in blood.
A cold, uncaring smile.
A white-hot, miserable agony and a resigned hopelessness seeming to spring up from the depths of his very soul.
Amongst all of that, he hears a cold, wicked, uncaring voice cut through the fog.
“Why the sad face, little star?”
Whatever just happened, it passes as quickly as it came.
If his unexpected companion looked bloodless before, he looks absolutely wretched now.
He shakes his head like a dog with its fur full of water, stumbling backward and looking horrified.
“The hells was that-”
Evidently, whatever just happened, happened to the both of them.
What it was that other man saw, however, he isn’t sure. And how exactly this had happened-
Well, he hasn’t the faintest clue.
“...Now that that’s out of the way,” the man says, sounding thoroughly uncomfortable and desperate to change the subject, “how about an introduction?”
“If it matters any, I’m Orochimaru.”
“Hm. Can’t say it rings a bell- considering that odd name of yours, I take it you’re not from around here, are you?”
No sense lying. Not here, in this bizarre landscape, with this bizarre companion.
“You’d be right.”
“Then I suppose I won’t be familiar to you, either. I’m Astarion- apologies for the poor first impression.”
Poor first impression is putting it lightly.
“Alright, then, Astarion. Do you mind telling me where we are, then?”
(The name rolls off his tongue nicely. A lovely name for a lovely man, he supposes.)
“Well, my friend,” Astarion replies, running his tongue along the edge of his bloodied dagger, “you’re in Faerun. A good bit away from Baldur’s Gate it seems, which is where I was before I got snatched up.”
So, basically, Orochimaru has fuckall idea where he is.
“I’m a long way from home, then.”
“And where would home be, exactly?”
“That is entirely none of your business.”
Astarion waves it off, though he has an air of annoyance about him as he does.
“Fine, fine. We’ve got bigger things to worry about, at any rate.”
“What’s this we business?” Orochimaru asks, with a raised eyebrow.
Astarion taps his forehead, wincing as he does so- maybe having disturbed his unwelcome guest.
“I assume you want to get rid of your little beast the same as I do. And you seem useful to know. Unless you want to strike off on your own in a strange realm- in which case, be my guest.”
Fair point. Orochimaru has fuckall idea where he’s wound up- better to stick with someone that at least knows their way around.
Astarion stares up at the cloudless sky, brow knit in confusion, like he’s expecting something bad to happen.
He looks down at his hand, back up at the sky, then frowns as though the sun is puzzling him.
“Something the matter?” Orochimaru asks.
“Hm? No, nothing,” Astarion replies, clearly lying through those perfect teeth of his. “I’m alright- come on, we shouldn’t linger here for long, there could be more of those tentacled freaks.”
He smiles, but it’s the same sort of smile Orochimaru often sees on Kabuto’s face. A totally joyless, ice cold sort of smile with no life behind the eyes. A smile that tells him that he’s astoundingly, breathtakingly full of shit.
He’s hiding something , that much is obvious. But that dangerous tone tells him that trying into the matter might not be the best idea at the moment.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” Orochimaru answers, rolling his eyes. “What do you suggest, then?”
“Perhaps there were others that survived the crash. It may not be a bad idea to stick with the herd for the time being, don’t you think?”
He’s not wrong. Even if he isn’t exactly fond of the idea. And even if this is rather odd company.
Part of him wonders if perhaps this is some sort of bizarre dream. But even so, he should be rational. At least a little bit.
They can hear voices up ahead, just over a shallow hill- a couple of which seem quite familiar, as a matter of fact.
So they should probably link up with the others. Figure out more about what’s happening. And how to fix it.
He can deal with the rest of it as it comes.
After all, he’s always been good at improvisation.