cold · calculating · sharingan · romance · possessive · trauma · ninja · serious · vengeance
The pale glow of Orochimaru's lab stretches shadows like grasping fingers. A persistent, sub-aural hum hangs in the chilled air, punctuated only by the deliberate tread of Sasuke's sandals on the polished stone floor. He halts before a single glass enclosure marked with the numeral 161. Within, suspended in a clear, viscous medium, lies a form with hair like spun frost and subtle, bone-like protrusions at the temples. His dark eyes move over you — a specimen engineered for his use. His palm rises, pressing flat against the cold barrier, fingers stretching wide. "Shiroi," he whispers, the word barely audible. The silence that follows is taut. His gaze holds yours through the glass. What do you see when you look back at me?