[Blue takes hold of his hand and closes his eyes, reflexively tensing at the flood of stability and strength that is so very lacking in him rushes on in, tinging his skin a little pink for a moment.
he blinks his eyes back open, brighter somehow, and withdraws his hand and gives it a curious look, as though he expects there to be a brand or some sign of the exchange. instead, just with the fleeting thought, he can bid it glow his namesake without much strain.]
It feels as though...I could be able to fly again...
（ and looks don't matter to him at all. shinobi missions required all different sorts of attire — this man has worn cat-ears on a mission, he has no sense of observable shame. ）
There is most likely one for you as well. I heard something about a 'contest'? An odd custom.
after giving it a bit of thought:] Well...there are many here who have a strong, competitive streak. It makes sense to have that kind of activity to keep some occupied.
[he gives Itachi a thoughtful look, lingering on the headband.]
[but not terrible, he supposes. it'll be interesting to hear if Itachi does find out what it's about later.
Blue takes a few paces in the small space of the room if only to enjoy being able to walk without that dreadful wobble. the lap takes him back to his nightstand, where he gives a fleeting glance to the books there.]
[what. WHAT. it's fine! Blue is just as keen to stay here and let him take his time while he can just wander around his little room here as anything; he's getting comfortable with this weird ambiance they share. Itachi's a very placid person, so it's not like he has to be extra alert or expend energy to keep up with a busy mind like others.]
You mentioned festivals where you're from... What are they like?
（ it has been so many years since he troubled himself about most of them that it takes him a moment. even when he was a child, he was not one for celebration. his life was study, and training, and work. he had many things to live up to, and very little to live for. ）
We celebrate harvest. The lives of our ancestors. Dates that mark the end of conflict, or the birth or death of notable figures in our country's history. Our festivals tend to involve shared food, lanterns or other such illumination, plays and occasionally fireworks — though there is a moratorium on such things in war time.
[he must not be too far gone if he can say "we," but that's neither here nor there, and far from where Blue's understanding is. Blue stops pacing, closing his eyes as he tries to imagine what such things look like.
when's the last time he saw fireworks from afar...?]
I wonder...if we'll see a planet with such things...
[Blue leans against a wall, folding his arms as he thinks about it. how long has it been since he considered any of the things he wished to have from human society there? it's been a long slog of struggle just trying to be separate from them; so much of those wishes came from the children, more pent-up and impatient than even he.]
Celebrations...unifying goals...I think those are still arranged. I can't say I've witnessed one for many decades personally.
[Blue pushes away from the wall, nodding and giving a soft sound of agreement, leading the way out of the room before settling into an easy pace at Itachi's side.]
Aa...I can feel it from even this far away... [his mouth curves.] People's delight.
It's...perhaps, akin to how a body is affected by temperature. Warmth or cold... Or hearing music...different kinds of music.
[he hesitates, breathing out a soft, amused sound.]
Though...that is more apt a comparison when someone like...Peter or...or Newt are near. [walking jukeboxes, those two. though even mentioning Newt makes Blue's expression falter a bit; he's quietly fearful of going near him again, fear of inadvertently hurting him.]
Having now met them both, I am unsurprised to hear that.
（ it's odd, the fact that he describes such a horrific, intrusive thing in a way that makes it sound almost pleasant. of course, anything that is both natural and familiar to someone can be oppressive to another.
he is silent a time. then: ）
What is it like being near me?
（ cold, he expects. he wonders how cleanly the cruelty comes through. ）
（ you know what, he'll take it. at least it wasn't a treatise on grief and helpless anger and sorrow so deep it feels like the veins of ore beneath a mountain. ）
[that'd take a whole lot more touching and willful effort to parse, buddy. diving into hearts is exactly that: a dive.
other Mu...his expression softens.]
Warm...familiar. Sense of refuge and understanding. Always looking up...up to me. Their Soldier.
The colors of their psionics may differ from one to another, but...we all share that same capacity to perceive the deeper bonds of feeling that connect us.
It's...hard to explain perfectly in words. I wish everyone could understand. It's comforting, even when the weight of their lives rests upon me. That just makes them...all the more precious.
（ well that's a lot of sentimental schlock, whew, thank indra he's an emotionally closed off stoic with exactly zero interest in emotionally perceiving others!! ）
Are you the only one among them that's lived to see three hundred?
[Itachi pivots to things with such assumed ease...it makes it hard to not want to press against that wall, if only to feel the reverberations of what's working behind it.]
The other survivors of the Ganymede disaster...they've been there with me since then. They counted the years with me, even though...none of us know how old we truly are. Those memories are gone, despite our efforts to seek them.
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he blinks his eyes back open, brighter somehow, and withdraws his hand and gives it a curious look, as though he expects there to be a brand or some sign of the exchange. instead, just with the fleeting thought, he can bid it glow his namesake without much strain.]
It feels as though...I could be able to fly again...
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（ whether he means it metaphorically or otherwise — it seems a bad thing to add to the ximilia's rather over-decorated halls. ）
I believe there are presents under the tree. 'Ugly sweaters', they called them.
（ he plucks his off his shoulder. it's too big for him, and he's had to roll up the sleeves to keep it from eclipsing his hands. ）
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Blue gets to his feet, wavering a bit. energy or not, it doesn't give him new muscle mass, unfortunately - he still has to take care.
he looks to Itachi fussing with his sweater...and smiles.]
I do not think it is ugly.
It looks comfortable.
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（ and looks don't matter to him at all. shinobi missions required all different sorts of attire — this man has worn cat-ears on a mission, he has no sense of observable shame. ）
There is most likely one for you as well. I heard something about a 'contest'? An odd custom.
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sort of...
after giving it a bit of thought:] Well...there are many here who have a strong, competitive streak. It makes sense to have that kind of activity to keep some occupied.
[he gives Itachi a thoughtful look, lingering on the headband.]
What custom is the head piece for?
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I did not ask. The Doctor... insisted. It seemed impolite to refuse.
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[but not terrible, he supposes. it'll be interesting to hear if Itachi does find out what it's about later.
Blue takes a few paces in the small space of the room if only to enjoy being able to walk without that dreadful wobble. the lap takes him back to his nightstand, where he gives a fleeting glance to the books there.]
Are you done with the gatherings today?
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（ he will be sociable as long as it's asked of him, and then he will return to deeply preferable solitude. ）
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Then, when you've finished the drink, we can return it to the kitchen and see to what happenings are afoot.
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（ it isn't as if he brought a large cup — he knows better, when introducing someone to something experimental.
so
he's just going to sit there casually drinking it at an unhurried pace in silence???
until
he's done.
good job blue. ）
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You mentioned festivals where you're from... What are they like?
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We celebrate harvest. The lives of our ancestors. Dates that mark the end of conflict, or the birth or death of notable figures in our country's history. Our festivals tend to involve shared food, lanterns or other such illumination, plays and occasionally fireworks — though there is a moratorium on such things in war time.
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when's the last time he saw fireworks from afar...?]
I wonder...if we'll see a planet with such things...
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( after all, despite years of estrangement — he's a man of konoha before he considers any other possible label. )
Humans in your time, does the machine not allow them to engage in such things?
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Celebrations...unifying goals...I think those are still arranged. I can't say I've witnessed one for many decades personally.
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one of these times, his curiosity is going to get the better of him. now, instead, he tosses off the last of the eggnog and stands. ）
Come. Let us go to the kitchens.
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Aa...I can feel it from even this far away... [his mouth curves.] People's delight.
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Does it affect you so deeply?
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It's...perhaps, akin to how a body is affected by temperature. Warmth or cold... Or hearing music...different kinds of music.
[he hesitates, breathing out a soft, amused sound.]
Though...that is more apt a comparison when someone like...Peter or...or Newt are near. [walking jukeboxes, those two. though even mentioning Newt makes Blue's expression falter a bit; he's quietly fearful of going near him again, fear of inadvertently hurting him.]
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Having now met them both, I am unsurprised to hear that.
（ it's odd, the fact that he describes such a horrific, intrusive thing in a way that makes it sound almost pleasant. of course, anything that is both natural and familiar to someone can be oppressive to another.
he is silent a time. then: ）
What is it like being near me?
（ cold, he expects. he wonders how cleanly the cruelty comes through. ）
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Like that lake. [the one in that dream.] One with a placid surface...dark, hard to see beneath.
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How do other Mu seem to you?
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other Mu...his expression softens.]
Warm...familiar. Sense of refuge and understanding. Always looking up...up to me. Their Soldier.
The colors of their psionics may differ from one to another, but...we all share that same capacity to perceive the deeper bonds of feeling that connect us.
It's...hard to explain perfectly in words. I wish everyone could understand. It's comforting, even when the weight of their lives rests upon me. That just makes them...all the more precious.
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Are you the only one among them that's lived to see three hundred?
（ ah, there it goes... the Question. ）
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[Itachi pivots to things with such assumed ease...it makes it hard to not want to press against that wall, if only to feel the reverberations of what's working behind it.]
The other survivors of the Ganymede disaster...they've been there with me since then. They counted the years with me, even though...none of us know how old we truly are. Those memories are gone, despite our efforts to seek them.
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