Authoress' notes: So yeah, I took a break from writing 'Teenagers are Aliens' because a bunch of story idead popped into my head and I have to write them down on a piece of paper so I wont lose them. So yeah, that's it.

The Nymph-Warrior

Deidara's view of art was pretty much known to everyone he has ever encountered and even the people he hadn't even met yet. It was explosive, startling, big and blinding. It was loud, booming, fast and quick. Art was a moment and always will be in his view.

Although, unknown to many, the blonde Akatsuki had once been open to another form of art. Once his hands were open to canvasses of pretty much every color, of capturing moments; painting them to steal from time on a piece of paper. Though, once it was done, out comes the lighter or whatever he had at the moment that causes fire and turn the paintings into ashes only to be blown by the wind.

Now, inside a room in their base underground somewhere in Kumo, the cerulean eyed male took in the blankness of the paper in front of him and willed himself to draw something he had not witness.

Death of his partner was something he hadn't expected, oh yes, he expected that he'll probably die too (cause nobody's immortal and with that body of his that he called art, no wonder he died so soon) but he hadn't expected it to be in the hands of an old aging woman and a fifteen year old girl.

It was a 'what-must've' kind of painting, the old woman must've controlled the girl, yes, the girl must've been scared, yes, the girl must've been the one who made the craters, yes, yes, yes.

And his hands moved swiftly, gracefully, his hand-mouths for once weren't moving, (yes, yes, yes) and soon the old woman vanished in the picture or maybe she wasn't really there in the first place, along with his master and at the end of the painting, the only one standing, the only one he painted, was the cherry pink haired girl her back facing him.

The craters were large and her hair was short and he could not bring himself to make her face him, he cannot paint green fire in her eyes or the glow on her cheeks that reminds him of pie and small houses.

Deidara can only draw the warrior not the nymph and so the artwork burns into ashes.

End note: Yes, a bit vague but I'm sleepy and I like reviews.