In the darkness, one can hide. This simple statement, nay, this simple fact was one that The Saint had lived by for decades. Whether it had been for recognizance, or combat, he had mastered the art of hiding himself. Hiding his form, hiding his motivations, and most of all, hiding his methods. Sneaking about, often concealed in a veil of mystery, The Saint had made it his life's work to strike without the enemy knowing. He did not know for sure just how many had died by his hands, and died completely unaware of what was going on. One moment, breathing, thinking, and living, and then the next, dead, crumpled up on the earth, a cold, dead mess. The Saint was also very deceptive. Unless speaking with Madara, or someone of equal importance, The Saint will omit, or sometimes outright lie to another person, just to keep his true intentions, or actions a secret. Yes, The Saint was a full-time Shinobi, and made sure that he more than just good, he was perfect. Just about the only thing The Saint ever revealed was his intention. No, he never hid this. When faced against another, they were always informed of this, the irrefutable fact, the irrevocable truth; this was the undeniable veracity of The Dark One. He existed to watch, and he existed to kill.
This one was used to being covered in blood. This alone, although mediocre, and mundane, was actually one of the few things in this world that got to The Monster. His pristine, pale skin, usually so luminous from it's stark white gloss, was constantly being stained a dull red from The Saint's bloody escapades. Always, always, there was blood staining his skin. He tried to remain optimistic, and would sometimes even manage to keep his thoughts to himself, but it was easy for The Saint. The Saint was pitch black, and thus, these stains did not show up on him. It wasn't easy being white, The Monster always thought, dreaming of a world that was as white-washed as he was. After a battle, The Monster would spend hours washing, and scrubbing his body clean. As he scrubbed, the memories of his various gore-filled moments in battle would haunt him, his mind displaying scenes of the carnage and chaos that stained him so. Bodies by the dozens, by the hundreds, spewing their crimson filth all over him, gallons and gallons of the stuff corrupting his untainted appearance. He would scrub, and scrub, sometimes having to tear the flesh off of his body, and regrow it, just to see the sanguine stains return before his very eyes. Yes, blood had driven this one mad, but he still dreamt of a world in which he would never again have to deal with this problem. He knew that soon he would never have to wash, or scrub those stains again. He would bleach the planet, and, once Madara had the world under his control, The Monster would never have to be bloody again. That was all he wanted..
The Saint was the mastermind. He was the bridge, the connection, the tie that bound the two in their unholy duality. The two. This concept was a joke, as in all actuality, there were three of them. The third existed only as a whisper in the back of their minds, a 'subconscious', as some would label it. The third was an entity in itself, and in the eyes of The Saint, The Third was God himself. The Third had no body, per se, but did have a form. This form was the flytrap, the large protrusion that was symbolic of who and what Saint Zetsu was. This last one, The Third, this was the one that remained hidden, working, and watching silently in the background. This was The Hunger. The Hunger was the real connection between the two. It linked their minds to one another, and allowed them their physical fusion. The Hunger was, in many ways, the manifestation of their psyche. It's purpose ran so much deeper than just being their bridge, but not even The Saint fully understood the full extent of The Hunger's relevance. And most were completely unaware of it's very existence.
Zetsu reached upwards, through the pitch blackness that surrounded him, and placed his hands palm flat against the cold stone directly above him. He was on his back, floating still in a pool of cold blood. He was, of course, not in an actual pool, but in a stone coffin filled most of the way. This catafalque was covered with a heavy, stone lid, and filled with old, stale, coagulated blood. The coffin stood about four feet high, was easily eleven feet long, as well as five feet wide. The walls were each six inches thick, and a dark, almost smoke grey colour. Etched into the concrete, walls and coffin lid, were an ornate, and elaborate series of ruins and hieroglyphics that gave off a faint, dark green light. These lines were lines of power, that performed a few functions. The first of which was a protection spell, that rendered his coffin completely indestructible to any physical force. Next, these lines recognized chakura signatures, and thus would repel anyone or anything that did not have Saint Zetsu's. If that was not enough, whilst Saint Zetsu lay in his sarcophagus, his chakura was recovered, and his body was relieved of any ailment, or impurity. This was one of Zetsu's greatest supplements, and it was one he was most proud to have in his possession.
This was Zetsu's resting place, or, what others might call a bed. He slid the large, one ton slab out of the way, and sat up, still immersed in total darkness. His eyes were already adjusted to the dark, which was one of the benefits of living in darkness. Taking a look around the room of his tomb, he sat back, so that his back rested against the head rest portion of his coffin. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. This brought a chuckle from his white half, and a swift response from The Saint.
"What are you laughing at, fool? It has not even been ten seconds, and already my mind is plagued with the annoyance of your shrill cackling." The Saint spat, in an irritated tone.
"Wha? Oh, me? Naw! I just can't help but notice how funny this whole situation is. Every cloud has got a silver lining, they say!" The Monster replied, jokingly, with a smile on his face.
Shaking his head in annoyance, The Saint stepped out of his sarcophagus. With one hand, he slid the cover of his coffin back into the closed position, and walked, swiftly, towards the large stone door that provided the only exit from his Sepulcher. Rather than pushing this one, Zetsu released a bit of chakura, which triggered the door to slide open. This door was also covered in more of those faintly glowing chakura lines, and would only open for it's owner, as it recognized his owner by the one thing Zetsu had that nothing else ever could, his chakura signature.
Stepping out of his home, the moon's light rained down on him. A large, red, crescent moon hung heavy in the sky, casting it's sanguine glow down onto the land beneath. Standing in the doorway of his tomb house, Zetsu regarded the area with satisfaction, or at least as much satisfaction as one such as himself could muster. His sepulcher stood in the center of a massive graveyard, one that covered an area of well over twenty miles, in all directions from the center. This graveyard had been built around the time Konohagakure had, and as such, had been a graveyard that villages all across The Land Of Fire had used for decades. It was unknown to many just how many lay dead there, but Zetsu knew. In the same way a magnet style ninja could tell just how many kunai lay in someone's pouch, Zetsu could feel each and every dead body that rested beneath this vast area of land. If Zetsu stood atop his Sepulcher, he could see grave stones as far as the horizon, in every direction. This was a mass place of death, and as such, no other place could he consider his home.
With barely any effort, Zetsu leapt up onto the top of the Sepulcher, quickly making his way to the top of the steeple that adorned it. Standing tall, now, a wind picked up, thus causing the ends of his over-sized black robe, covered in white-lined, red-filled clouds to flutter amidst it's intangible tendrils. He stood at about ten feet tall, as his flytrap, which rested on his shoulders, and jutted upward from his large, up-turned collars, was almost as tall as he was. The flytrap, which looked like a large, green, skeletal mouth, was adorned with long, spiked, green teeth that could interlock when closed. These teeth, although harmless in appearance, were very sharp, and covered in a thin layer of clear hair. It lay open, just enough so that Zetsu could see out into the world. Within the deep shadows of this monstrous appendage lay the face of the beast within the plant, a two-toned visage of terror itself. The darker half of him was slack, and emotionless, as always. This was easy to accomplish, as the dark half had not a mouth on his face. His half had no nostrils, no ear holes, and the only human-like feature he did have was the iris of his eye, which shone with a dull luminescence. His face was also lined with a series of small, gold bumps. His white half looked on with a hint of a smile, observing the vast land of death that lay before them. His face bore a mouth, and nostrils, as well as a seemingly normal eye, and a seemingly normal ear. His teeth were not pointed, but somewhat rounded. This was because whenever they ate a person, they did not just eat their flesh, but their bones as well. These rounded teeth helped to bash through bones, and batter them into a fine paste, which he would devour greedily. Other than this, Zetsu wore only the socks and sandals that were privy to The Akatsuki, and his ring, which adorned the pinky of his right hand. A shaggy mass of green hair sprouted from his head, completing his monstrous appearance.
-The Dead Lands;;
Staring out, across the land, The Saint could not help but marvel at their land, a place they had defended for quite a long time. He took pride in this place, and had struck down many intruders in his time. Just about the only people allowed to enter were the workers of graveyard, and his fellow Akatsuki Saints. One of their many hideouts lay beneath Zetsu's Sepulcher, so it was his job to guard the place. The only way into the hideout was inside Zetsu's Sepulcher, beneath his sarcophagus. The Sepulcher itself was a long building, which contained three rooms. The first room, that one encountered when entering, was a bare room, the walls of which were lined with coffins that had been built into the walls. This room was twenty feet high, twenty feet long, and fifteen feet wide. At the end was another sliding stone door, which led to a surgical chamber. The walls were bare, but the floor contained a large, grated drain in the center. Above the drain was a stone gurney, with straps for a man's wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. The gurney was covered in a dark brown substance, as was the floor, and the grate over the drain. This was, obviously, old, dried blood. This room also had the same dimensions of the one before it. A sliding stone door in the back of it led to Saint Zetsu's domain. His room was always pitch black, and was filled with a dank, moist odor. The walls were also lined with coffins that had been built into the walls, but every coffin door had been busted open, and it's contents removed, and devoured. Various body parts littered the room, in varying stages of decomposition. Large cobwebs filled the corners of the room, some holding mutated, enlarged, deranged members of the arachnid family. Zetsu's coffin sat in the center of the room.
The outside of the Sepulcher was a dark grey stone, and the roof was made of dark red shingles, which rose upwards, and curled upwards on it's corners, pagoda style. At the very top of the Sepulcher lay a steeple, which pointed straight up toward the sky. The steeple took the shape of a cross. The cross was not a traditional one, but a Lotus Cross, which gave it a darker, more gothic feel. When one gazed at this cross, one could literally feel the death, and chaos that had befallen this place.
Surrounding the Sepulcher was a perimeter of vacant, hallowed ground, which reached out about thirty five feet. Four more smaller sepulcher lay just beyond that perimeter, and then, after another thirty five foot clearing, lay eight more, thus making thirteen in all, with Saint Zetsu's laying in the center. Zetsu's was also the largest, as the other had more of a square shape, rather than Zetsu's rectangular one, and each was about half the size. The others had similar roofs, but none other had the signature steeple.
-When A Stranger Comes Calling;;
The Saint lifted his nose into the air, and closed his eyes. The wind carried towards him the scents of his land, and he enjoyed the smells of old, stale soil; ancient stone; and decaying plant-life. He took these in, and analyzed them in his mind, enjoying the peace that came from exerting this level of control. All was well, and all was calm, and, for the moment, The Saint felt nothing but..
The scent of another wafted into his nostrils, and the second it did, his eyes shot open, and his attention focused on the direction in which the scent had come in, which was roughly to the north-west of where he stood. The scent had traveled a great distance, at least five miles, which was just outside of the rest of his sense's range. His body tensed, and chakura was rerouted, within his body, into his sensory organs, increasing his visual, smell, audio, taste, physical, and extra-sensory perceptions well over ten-fold. Someone was within his perimeter, and closing in on him. He had no idea who they were, or why they came, but within the next few moments, he would be in a position to find out both. Locking in on their position, The Saint held his ground, and prepared himself for their arrival.
And we danced..
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