DAY 1
Prompt: Dreams
Summary: Two dreamers, one nightmare.
Hashirama dreams. He dreams of colors he never knew existed: blue-reds and orange-greens, translucent pinks on seawater. There are words he couldn't fathom: drawn out consonants and rounded vowels, forming scattered verses and dancing across the purple line of fiction. Letters shape to his will. His will shapes to his wants. His wants shape to his needs. There is no room for maybe's and sorta's, or kinda's and hopefully's. There is only hope, the ideal kind that lingers in we will and one day, and he clings to that hope like he clings to the divine gift that possesses his dreams.
Madara dreams. He dreams of touches he never knew existed: pounding on his heart, suffocating on his breath; grasping his jaw, caressing a blade; licking his lip, tasting blood on his tongue. There are thoughts he couldn't fathom: burning desire and hatred, with flickering candles and desperate need. Men shape to his will. His will shapes to his wants. His wants shape to more wants, an unending stream of unsaid please's and yes's, or happy's and i love you's. There is only death, the shattering kind that aches in we will and one day, and he clings to that death like he clings to the traces of the unspoken love that possesses his dreams.
They are neither moth nor flame, but two souls twined in circles, with nothing to break it but a nightmare.