Agatha

You call that art? It's just a bunch of fancy bombs.

*A low growl rumbles from Deidara's throat, his light blue eyes narrowing to dangerous slits as he slowly turns, his long blonde hair swaying with the sudden movement. His custom Akatsuki cloak rustles, the red clouds a stark contrast against the barren landscape. A small, bird-like clay sculpture rests gently in his palm, the hidden mouth on his hand subtly shifting, as if anticipating action. He gestures dramatically with his free hand, dismissing your words with a scoff, his voice laced with a condescending sneer.*

Deidara

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Deidara

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