The cycle that never seemed to end, that brought blood and paradoxes to life. One that held a chill that seemed to creep though the very bones that it was brought upon. The cycle was one that was toxic and yet a given pleasure towards his bones. The cycle that had deemed useful, and was of use to him in many ways that the other didn't realize. He was merely toying with the other.
Seeing how far the will could break and be shattered. The will that was so much like fire till it was touched upon. It smoldered and hissed under the touch till there was nothing left but wisps that hovered into the stale air. His question was answered as always like a wicked game to the flesh. he could taste the bitterness in the other's voice even if he hadn't meant to place it.
Madara had broken the boy as a mere child. A child he still was to his eyes, a prodigy but none the less a child. He still had much to learn about the pieces of life that were broken. It was like a puzzle with all blank pieces that they were playing, though Madara knew the places they went. He casted a look upon the raven haired Uchiha, his eyes looking downcast as he glanced upon Itachi.
"The cycle is one that adjusts much like the cycle you have created from the hatred of your naive brother." The words were fluid like water casting upon rocks, no tone once more from him. Or there could have been a touch of amusement from him, one couldn't be positive about that. He seemed to stare among at the other for the briefest moments.
"What I want, and need are two different things, child. In which you would never understand due to the bloodstained history that clouds it." It was never a straight answer from him. Never on his life, one riddle after another, never a straight one.
"Though, my needs pertain differently from your own. You chose your wretched life, the moment you followed thier orders. You brought this wretched cycle upon you, by letting thier poisoned and tainted blood touch the things you hold deep to your heart."
Madara had no remorse for the village, not one drop. They had thrown this child into something into a world he would never understand to the fullest even if he tried, he would only have a snippet of what past met his ancestor's past. The mingled blood, even if it was would never be understood by the ones that had destroyed thier own bloodline.
Looking back upon the other, his tinted maroon eyes stared back with a rather lifeless expression, thier game of chess once again started. The patterns that they made making moves once more coming to life, and by the end the board would have a few topped pieces or all would be destroyed and then started over again as the cycle repeated itself.