Temari (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dangerouswind) wrote2013-06-14 07:54 pm
dangerouswind) wrote2013-06-14 07:54 pm
|action|
[Community building one. Fourth floor. Early evening. A door slams.
Once. Twice. Three times, each time with a little more force. Finally, a thud and wood cracking; she's punched a wall. There's a crash inside one of the apartments - ceramic against a wall, then falling to the floor. Temari leaves the apartment, leaves the door open, and stalks away.
She's going for a walk.
Just inside her apartment door, a plant lies neglected in a pile of dirt and shattered ceramic.
She spends some time just outside the village, using a tree as a sparring partner. She, at least, has enough sense to not actually connect with the rough bark, but it makes a good enough target to throw a few punches toward. She wants nothing more than to beat something - someone - to a damned pulp, but what is she going to do but live with it?
It's later - hours later - that she makes her way to the Memory Garden. There, physically weary and emotionally strung out, she sits in front of the plants she's tended for so long. Wildflowers are ringed by bright, fiery desert blooms; in front of the small plot is a stone etched with kanji. Beside the stone, she sets one glass bead: a reminder of Kankurou's (second) time in Luceti. The bead will be blown away by the wind, lost to the elements eventually. She knows it; still leaves it there.
That night, she'll go home. Clean up her mess. Start living life again.]
Once. Twice. Three times, each time with a little more force. Finally, a thud and wood cracking; she's punched a wall. There's a crash inside one of the apartments - ceramic against a wall, then falling to the floor. Temari leaves the apartment, leaves the door open, and stalks away.
She's going for a walk.
Just inside her apartment door, a plant lies neglected in a pile of dirt and shattered ceramic.
She spends some time just outside the village, using a tree as a sparring partner. She, at least, has enough sense to not actually connect with the rough bark, but it makes a good enough target to throw a few punches toward. She wants nothing more than to beat something - someone - to a damned pulp, but what is she going to do but live with it?
It's later - hours later - that she makes her way to the Memory Garden. There, physically weary and emotionally strung out, she sits in front of the plants she's tended for so long. Wildflowers are ringed by bright, fiery desert blooms; in front of the small plot is a stone etched with kanji. Beside the stone, she sets one glass bead: a reminder of Kankurou's (second) time in Luceti. The bead will be blown away by the wind, lost to the elements eventually. She knows it; still leaves it there.
That night, she'll go home. Clean up her mess. Start living life again.]
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