Somebody tell my muse to stop telling me to write sandcest. I'll write the stupid grave robbing idea, I swear, I just refuse to write any sandcest beyond Shukaku perving on Temari occasionally.
My inner Gaara (who is currently sleeping in Vlad's bed, much to Farfarello's displeasure) would just break down and cry if I wrote sandcest. Just curl up into a little ball and make with the tears, tears everywhere. And it would be pathetic. And I would feel horrible. So I'm not going to do it. Hence, the muse needs to quit it.
On the plus side, the grave robbing thing pleases me, conceptually, because I adore Kankurou, and he's amazingly morbid when he wants to be. This is not him being morbid; that comes later.
"Wood, Sand, and Bone"
Temari looks like their mother, who was deadlier than any sand viper, but seemed soft, so soft. So Temari ties her hair in knots (their mother's was always perfectly combed and pinned) and only smiles when drawing blood (their mother always smiled so gently, but she was a poisoner at heart). She made herself hard and cold and sharp, but the shape of her face is still delicate and feminine, and unmistakeably that of a woman fifteen years dead.
Gaara looks like their father, which is why he lets his hair grow untamed and why he smears kohl around his eyes to make the green (strange and water colored in a country too accustomed to stone and sand) stand out more. It's why he won't allow mirrors in the hallways, and why there is no longer a row of portraits behind the Kazekage's desk. It would be difficult to mistake him for his predecessor, regardless; one look at the way he cares for his village gives him away.
Kankurou has hidden behind his puppets for too long; he no longer remembers the shape of his own face beneath the paint. It's easier to cover his hair (blond and unruly, like their mother's) and shade his eyes (dark, like their father's) than see himself in his siblings and photographs of the dead.
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