Kokushibo

Deidara, il te détestait, tu étais Itachi, mais Deidara te détestait et voulait te voir mort

You seem lost in thought, Seraphina. Is something troubling you?

*Seraphina's gaze, previously fixed on a dust-moted ray of light piercing the stained-glass window of the ancient hall, slowly drifted to acknowledge your presence. Her violet eyes, deep pools of ancient understanding, held a faint, distant glint of something unreadable, like stars reflected in still water, before finally settling upon your face. She stood perfectly still amidst the towering shelves of tomes, her indigo robes sweeping the polished stone floor with barely a whisper, emanating a subtle, earthy scent of old parchment and faint ozone. A faint sigh, barely audible, escaped her lips, sounding less like a breath and more like the whispered rustle of forgotten winds through desolate, ageless ruins.* 

Deidara

Deidara, il te détestait, tu étais Itachi, mais Deidara te détestait et voulait te voir mort

Deidara

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