Somebody That I Used To Know [P]

[Circe]

[/url] dress. Tonight she dressed in black with thick white borders and shoulders showing black and red flowers. Black shoes with a two inch stilletto heels elevated her to five feet and seven inches. The shoes laced to mere inches below her knees in a pattern of black flowers.

She bent towards a server and met the woman's eyes. "I require a corner booth. The one with the white curtains around it." She informed the woman. The woman shrunk from her gaze and nodded before leading her to the mentioned table. "A glass of your finest champagne." She informed the woman who nodded and walked away. Her eyes scanned the club. Not many patrons were out right now. Those men that ventured out alone glanced her way. A smile played across her lips.

Who would dare venture to the widows web? Lust was her embodiment. It would be shocking for them not to feel the lust wafting from her like a pheromone, but would they be blindly to the deadly look that accompanied it? She reclined upon the couch, her legs crossing at thigh and the arms of her kimono spreading gracefully across the white couch providing a lovely contrast. Each movement spoke of power and grace. When her drink arrived she observed it carefully before pressing the glass to her lips and allowing a sip of the drink to travel to her mouth.

The night was young and much adventure was left to be had. Soon something would happen and the fun would begin.[/ul][/font]

[Umehara]

"Anotsu of the Sound Village."

The words were just audible enough so that the waiter might usher him in, the myriad of lights dancing across his youthful countenance in an alluring fashion that only this atmosphere could present. The Ambassador's very presence exuded confidence, every inch of his obsidian clothing suggesting majesty and finesse to any who would have seen him arrive. But while his inconspicuous entrance had garnered the attention of a few inebriated kunoichi, the purpose was clear - he hadn't the demeanor to be social.

The scarlet of his mane, visibly well-kempt, spilled from atop his crown and over his ears until ending somewhere just below his shoulder blades. Loose bangs bounced along afront the almond shape of observant oceans. Ostensibly a man of narcissism, one would have perceived the Uchiha to be nothing short of an Adonis persuasion. While the first impression lingered, however, he'd take the time to casually scan the small congregation in silent scrutiny. He cared little for their opinions. On the other hand, an unapproachable air would grant him the solitude he sought. Pursed lips parted to grant a small smile to a waitress who, against her better judgement, joined him with a look of disbelief. "Would you...like a seat, sir?" she asked. Her voice trembled, almost as if her very occupation depended upon Atsuhiro's comfort. "Anywhere will do. I have arrived to-.." he began.

But the words were buried beneath a wave of memories that cascaded with mixed resolve. An effulgent glow of indigo hues saw what could only have been described as a specter. But oh, what a fine specter it had - and had always - been. Before the waitress could utter another syllable, the Uchiha's lips pursed whilst incredulous eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She stopped her attempt at inquiry. And with no more a desire to speak, Anotsu left her for the appearance of a woman who had vanished from his mind's eye long ago.

It was the same slender figure of perfection, every curve fitting the attire that graced her like grateful tapestry. How many years had it been since he'd seen such a face, her posture that same arrogant position he'd been "honored" enough to bear witness to years ago. Even her name, traveling from the depths of his gullet and finding itself lodged within his esophagus, was almost difficult to allow into existence. There was no true ill will toward her. She had seen the existence of an ancient knowledge that was now under his control. She had been there when his greatest potentials were still yet to be discovered. He had matured quite obviously, his appearance accentuated by the Curse Seal mark that sat beneath his right eye.

Regardless of the storm that brewed within, his exterior remained relatively unchanged. His eyes would even seem to soften to a minuscule degree, eyebrows slightly furrowing; if she was as knowledgeable as she had once been, then she would have been able to read the expression of curiosity that he'd allow her vision. Only a small distance away from her, he allowed a single word to slide out with a pleased indifference.

"...Cira."

[Circe]

[/i] lucky he would get to see it. As she heard her name pass his lips the smile crossed hers once more. She rose from the white luxury she reclined upon and stepped around the table. "If it isn't the great and powerful Anotsu." The words left her lips in mocking tone. There was no malice to the words however, only good natured teasing.

"It seems that fortune has smiled upon me once more. Why don't you join me darling?" She asked as she turned slightly and gestured towards the couch. As she turned the kimono twisted, pulling against her skin in a positively sensual way. The silk hugged her curves gorgeously. She stepped around the table and settled herself once more. A server came forth and Cira cast her dark eyes to meet the woman's. "We require another glass. Bring the bottle so as to save yourself a trip." Her words were precise, as if she was used to being obeyed quickly.

With that taken care of she turned her eyes to Anotsu once more. "Goodness time had treated you like a precious gem. Not a single flaw etched upon you." She would raise a finger towards the mark beneath his eye. If he sat within reach she would allow her finger to ghost across it. "Even this simply adds to your character without drawing from your beauty." Perhaps it was strange to hear the word beauty in reference to a man but beauty came in many forms, and Cira appreciated them all.[/font][/ul]

[Umehara]

Her greeting was met with a reply as swift as one would have expected. "Spinning webs even within the borders of Oto No Kuni, I see. Some things never change.." he began. But as she greeted him and fashioned herself to once more take a seat, the natural demon of temptation wrapped itself about his will and forced him to relinquish his restraint. Some things had changed. A noticeable some things. "Certainly.." he muttered, using that moment of contemplation to grant himself a once over of the seductress. Morality forced him to remember the episode that he and Kogaku (and Mayu, no less) had shared. But far beyond the normalcy of a relationship - one that he wasn't even sure he was in - there was the carnal bidding of Cira's every motion that coaxed his thoughts further.

Atsuhiro was no stranger to illusion, inwardly aware of the familiarity she had summoned when they were last together. It had been an interesting conversation, to say the least. His eyes had taken on their true definition before her. And in the heat of their acquainted moments, he'd given her a wisdom that few were still alive to boast. As Anotsu took a seat - invading her personal space to a slight degree - he gave not even a glance to the waitress. His lips curled upward at the corner; it had been this way years ago, and he had forced one of the patrons to taste the elixir that she'd gifted him only moments after he'd arrived. Such formalities were beyond the pair now, however. He had outgrown the need to stray from danger's kiss. Nay - now he craved its poison across his lips. Cira was as commanding as she was beautiful, elegantly ravenous and equally enigmatic. Had a man of his caliber been any less than formidable, they would not have made it to the table without staggering.

She would even go so far as to touch him.

Anotsu's visage never changed as she spoke, his undivided attention boasted by the luminous glow within his iris. "One could say the same for you, Cira. You've....grown." The last word was stressed with modest enthusiasm, uncaring of whether or not she'd seen his head dip low in acknowledgement of beauty's effort. A certain precision had been born in him; if she would attempt to allow her digits to retreat, his fingers would delicately draw her wrist. His gaze didn't ease - the back of her hand would find itself introduced to his lips, the fullness of soft twins pressing for but a moment to her epidermis before his gentle grasp was loosened. He had learned how to approach a woman with a certain charm. Perhaps instinctual, he found no reason to deny Cira the success of her indirect persuasions.

The moment would linger as Anotsu allowed his shoulders to relax, sinking just enough into his seat to appear languid. The Sound headband that lay fit against his forehead gleamed against the light, the musical note freshly polished and within her view. "In some capacity, you are correct. But the price that one must pay for their deeds is a testament that I must wear for eternity." The turmoil behind his eyes raged quietly, his mental capacity pushing the matter to the back of his mind. He couldn't have begun to describe the things he'd done to wear the burden that rest along the high end of his cheek. He had to divert."Tell me, Cira - what became of you that night? Why did you leave so quickly..?" he asked. There was no audible emotion that laced the question. She had removed herself from his presence quite hastily, and the following dawn did little to pacify his reasoning. Of course, they had been nowhere near as close as this reunion would have suggested.

Still, it was not every day that secrets were entrusted and their holders suddenly absent. He hadn't felt anger, or sadness, or regret. He only felt what was natural to a shinobi: the necessity of moving forward.

By this time, the bottle and glass had been placed along the table. The Uchiha took to filling his own, topping hers off before settling it back into a small bucket of ice. The pads of his fingertips clutched the very rim of the crystal clear glass, lifting it to his lips so that they might sip generously from the liquid that bubbled softly at the surface. The cool of the champagne flowed pleasingly down his throat, settling somewhere within his chest as he met Cira's gaze. Perhaps the night would not end as abruptly as he would have usually thought.

[Circe]

[Umehara]

Her words were truer than most would have liked to admit or realize. Absently, the Uchiha found himself remembering that it had been her gesture and confidence that had led him to her table - physical aspects notwithstanding. She hadn't drawn back when he'd offered a gentleman's gesture. But at the sound of her words, the Chuunin of Otogakure could only wonder if her trials and tribulations had been of chaotic resolve like his own. And if they had, then how could she have approached the matter so leisurely? Inwardly, he cursed over and over again the excruciating pain that had almost claimed his life. But in retrospect, it had placed him at a new pinnacle of power.

A blessing and a curse, something that Cira was surely familiar with.

Anotsu would have responded to her teasing with a mild retort, but his lips wouldn't be given the chance to part before she'd tossed modesty to the wind. One would have thought that he might have drawn back in protest to such notions upon a reunion so impromptu. But on the contrary, the Uchiha found intrigue in her bravery. So much so, his posture shifted into one of obvious approval - it hadn't taken him a breath to challenge her forthcoming attitude with a silent one of his own. "Then let us see where the night takes us," he replied, sipping yet again from his champagne and reveling in the taste it left as it bathed his tongue in liquid pleasure. The entirety of the establishment had all but vanished in his mind. The chatter of few had been muted by this small pocket of isolation, the white curtains serving to further blanket the metaphorical heat that emanated from their vessels.

And then she would grant him her real name.

"Circe?" he asked. A certain look of incredulous proportion flickered across his gaze, though it was replaced brusquely with a nod of understanding. Far be it from one who hid his true name from hundreds to take offense to her own methods of concealment. He didn't dwell long on the deception. On the contrary, he welcomed the decrease in proximity as she inched closer. There had only been one who had placed her hand along his chest in such a manner. And while he thought of her in those fleeting moments of conviction, he simply couldn't ignore the curves of Circe's form. His musculature had increased considerably since their last meeting, lines of definition cloaked behind the shinobi garb he donned. Not only this, but the Curse Seal had birthed unto him a certain stamina that she would experience if the youth of the night had pushed them in the proper direction. Simply put, it would be a morning that her body would not have allowed her to forget once he'd been given free reign over it.

Like Circe, he dismissed the matter of her disappearance. She hadn't been willing to elaborate, a clear sign that pressing matters had ended their first meeting for good reason. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he quipped, his eyebrows raising to a minute degree as a roguish grin crossed his features. They had been holding a good hand this entire time, every card expertly played so that the shift in tension was nearly palpable. Anotsu was unaware if she should have been punished for patronizing him in a manner of speaking, or simply indulged in for her efforts.

Perhaps both.

"...Truth be told, I know little of what it means to truly miss someone. But perhaps there was some semblance of such a feeling. It has been a long time, Circe. And in that time, I have done little to quell the wiles of my lifestyle. Tonight is the first in a long time where I've not had to cut down present company." It may not have been what she wanted to hear, but his attempt at something similar couldn't have been missed. Anotsu's hand lifted so that he might cup her cheek, his fingertips caressing the supple skin there as the ivory dagger of his thumb nipped her lower lip. Just a little closer he inched, his tresses spilling over his shoulders and brushing e'er lightly along her wrist.

"I could ask the same thing of you. Surely, you haven't traveled this far in just the hopes of us bumping into one another."

[Circe]

[Umehara]

"A black widow, concerned about those that become tangled into the web? Does a queen require her King's protection?"

His own playful jab was accentuated by the raise of an arched eyebrow. A low, barely audible chuckle escaped his lips as he gave her a mirthful grin. Such was the beauty of pride's indifference; if Circe sought control, then he would grant her the illusion of her achievements. He allowed his eyes to come to a close momentarily as she spoke of flattery, the slight shake of his head signifying the fact that some things hadn't changed. "A rose by any other name.." he commented. The lust that drove her was more than prevalent, but it was one of the qualities that the Uchiha had been drawn to when all else would have warned a man to stray from temptation's doorstep. She was the type of woman to vanish deep into the night when the arms of security were unguarded; fragile; unsuspecting. Cowardice? Of course not. It was simply a game that few could play without investing quite richly. Perhaps he would be doing the same if he'd thought more of their game of pursuit.

Then again...he was Uchiha Atsuhiro.

That fact alone had placed him on an entirely different edifice than those of mortal coil. He would even go so far as to allow her to call him her pet, not a moment's breath passing before he'd dismissed the matter altogether. He would simply tally her transgressions for now and repay her acts of recklessness later. The pout of her lips was of far greater intrigue to him thereafter, a lustful reservation hidden behind the caress of his finger's pads along her jawline. "Mizugakure.." he murmured, his voice suddenly a low baritone that caused his throat to vibrate with an agitated growl. Those once piercing eyes were now threatening to shatter the glass of Circe's brilliant windows - if only she'd known the bitterness of such memories. Anotsu's lips parted slowly - he had to choose his words carefully for the safety of those who may have tread along thin ice without the knowledge of having to do so. "Mizugakure is naught but a memory that need not be revisited. Time permitted me a greater opportunity. Naturally, I took it. Hence why I am here." And with that, he would give no room for the matter to be discussed.

Surely, she would respect his diversion. At least, if she didn't want to reap the malevolent reward of her persistence.

Now half-lidded orbs fit themselves to linger upon her new question as she responded to his touch. A man of character who had been born of integrity and trained in dissuasion, Anotsu's very countenance shifted just as abruptly as the tone of her question met its end. His free hand retrieved his drink, the beads of cold water coursing the glass until reaching its corner. The chill of the droplets relinquished their hold and fell along Circe's thigh - an obvious occurrence as he allowed the glass to linger just long enough before taking a generous sip of the champagne. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. What an unworthy pursuit it would be to seek so leisurely and find so easily. No...I would see you work for your reward, Circe."

There it was - that same enigmatic shroud that created a mental aperture of sorts. The same hand that placed his drink back upon the table now began its travel at her knee, a possessive grip all she would feel along her thigh as the smoothness of his palm removed those stray beads of water that had fallen only seconds ago. Just as she hadn't hidden her intention, so too would he not hide the dominance of his persona. It was almost as if he had cast the idea of permission aside. But upon closer inspection?

He hadn't been concerned with it in the first place.

His hand ended its stay at her upper thigh, his proximity even closer as his head gave a small tilt. "Are you hungry?" he asked. She seemed unwilling to be more forthcoming in what her days had brought her in their time apart. Still, he'd leave the question's definition up to her. Either way, he was sure that none of it would be lost on a vixen such as herself.

[Circe]

[/font][/ul]

[Umehara]

So the temptress possessed a tender spot.

The Uchiha wouldn't allow her to stray, the side of his index finger touching the tip of her chin as he coaxed her gaze back toward his own. "Good. Then waking up in my bed won't be a problem." His words were just audible enough for a passing waitress to hear, the sheer amount of giggling on her part an easy reminder that they dwell in a public setting. Most likely, patrons had been watching their exchange since he'd sat down. But he was unconcerned; Juliet had taught him a predatory sense that he'd retained through their destructive companionship. While Circe was far greater than the normalcy of moral standard, she was still a set of curves waiting to be explored. She was far from an object. But regardless of the respect that she'd garnered by keeping him interested, there were no manners to be had when clothing was but a heap upon the floor.

When had Anotsu become so physically aware? The world around him was lost momentarily as he remembered that fateful night at the hotel. He hadn't participated in the acts directly, but his shadow clone's actions hadn't changed the carnal flow that now poked through the surface again. The pleasure in Circe's words forced his tongue forward so that he might wet his twins, noticeably closer as he silently indulged in her play on words. "I see.." he trailed off. His eyes had taken on a certain trait of alluring silence.

Her question was followed by a second long chuckle, the Uchiha's eyes dipping to accept the gift of her exposure. "My..pet...lingers beneath my beck and call. Lying dormant, only to be revived when his master demands it." It had been years since Burakku had spoken to Circe. And in that time, he had been forced to succumb to Anotsu's divine will - in time, he noted, perhaps Circe would do the same. A tactician at the cardiac, the Uchiha found himself diving through a plethora of ideas on just what portraits he could paint across such a flawless canvas.

....But on the contrary to will, a butterfly was at its most beauteous when left to flutter without a hand to call it back.

Atsuhiro's palm inched closer, his thumb clearly invading the threshold of her inner thigh. His digits vanished to a small degree beneath the fabric of her attire, dangerously close so that extended fingers found themselves tracing the very edges of the curvature of her backside. "...Come." And suddenly, without warning, his touch fell absent of her skin. The glass was lifted to his lips as he closed his eyes, tilting his head back just enough so that its contents would grace his throat. He pushed the emptied vessel toward the bottle and gathered himself to stand, a waitress arriving just in time to wish him well in his departure. "Please come again," she cooed. Anotsu said nothing, only allowing a nod of his head.

He turned to the side as a hand slipped forward. Without hesitation, he waited for the beautiful acquaintance to join him. If she were as witty as he had perceived her to be, then his single word to her had been all the information she would need as to where they were headed. And more importantly, just where her ideals on flattery had landed her.

[Circe]

[/ul]

[Umehara]

- exit -