just here...... tending my plants

[zinit]

[Has it been six months? A year? Three? Qilby thinks it would be depressing to count, so he tries not to; still, the effects of days tick on his mind. The Zinit is busted, as an old piece of metal sometimes Just Does, and with Valerius gone, Qilby can't seem to find the muse to fix it.]

[But he tries: just going through day by day on an awkward momentum, like a top that stubbornly keeps spinning even though it's been put off-balance. He'll find what he's looking for somewhere no, he won't, his sister is dead and she isn't coming back or he'll die trying, with his wakfu back to his Dofus fuck-wherever and his body wilting into these half-dead shores.]

[If someone were to pop in on him, he'd have set up a bit of a camp for himself on the beach, all messy tarps and woven palm leaves. The Zinit towers in the distance, useless for now, next to a pile of failed experiments. He looks tired, but he's still at it, watering his little garden next to the sand.]

[Just a dude, tending his plants. No big.]

Comments

[poisonparadise]

[Time is only occasionally considered an important concept to Valerius. He follows a trail of sin to another buffet no matter what, like the primal being he is. The beast hasn’t forgotten Qilby, exactly--he could never! Sinners were such special little novelties to Valerius that the very idea was laughable. He simply intends to snack on a smaller world, then pop right back in like he had simply gone out to pick up milk from the grocery store.]

[The impact the beast makes on the ravaged world is something between a crash and a sickening squelch. Purple smoke creeps through the woods, and may eventually reach the shore. Valerius is still in a liquid form when he searches for his “good friend”, tendrils reaching out all over to feel a familiar burn, or even just the metal of that mountainous ship. He finds the former, cold from a lack of use, and from there he slithers down to the shore. What he follows is the first and only sign of life that could possibly be sitting on this husk.]

[The disgusting, slorping noises of Valerius’ liquid form fades into footsteps. First, a set of four large paws tromping through the brush. When he finally spots his “darling”, the creature smiles and starts shifting again. First into a slimy purple skeleton, which quickly builds upon itself until he’s fully complete, standing a few feet away. He looks brighter and disturbingly cheerful as he calls out to him.

Eating a couple of worlds does wonders for his disposition.]

Fancy seeing you here again! I thought everything would be dead by now.

[zinit]

[Qilby's first thought is that one of his generators over there has finally congealed into stasis, then blown up. That would make sense, at least - more sense than what he sees next.]

[His instinct is to run, but there are no fauna that big on this planet anymore. Something else is going on. Carefully, slowly, he turns his head to the slurping, sucking mass before him.]

[Qilby knew, of course, that Valerius was going to ditch off someday. Certainly, if he didn't, Qilby was going to ditch off on him someday; that's the nature of beings like them, always desiring Something Else. It doesn't stop the clawing loneliness he'd felt in his gut, creeping more and more up into his chest cavity with each day, nor does it stop the impulse to smack that cheery sing-song tone out of his mouth.]

[Valerius might sense a flash of what feels like relief coming across Qilby's face, followed by a white-hot wave of wrath. Nothing else to it, just wrath. Hopefully that's enough warning for Valerius to move when Qilby launches himself, full-body, off the ground, wild-eyed, glasses falling askew on his face. His fist is lit wakfu-blue and aimed, naturally, at Val's nose.]

[poisonparadise]

[While Valerius attempts to dodge the impending blow, the sheer concentration of wakfu makes it all for naught. Qilby’s fist misses him by an inch, but the energy around it causes the beast’s entire body above his chest explode, erupting in glowing liquid death. It rockets into the sky like a grisly firework, then starts raining down...and all over the Eliatrope.]

[Now, one might recognize the glowing ooze as resembling a certain similar opposing energy from his own world. Any assumption that Val exploded into viscous stasis would not be entirely wrong. The creature embodies death as much as sin, so of course “stillness” would qualify. That, or Val’s chemical makeup shifted in response to Qilby’s memories. He can’t really say, lacking a head and all.]

[Give him some time to pull himself together, and maybe he will. He's kind of a wandering half-corpse at the moment.]

[zinit]

[Swing and a miss. Qilby, having thrown his entire weight into his fist, tumbles forward and tucks into a roll just before his head smacks the ground. For about fifteen feet, he rolls - just a tumbleweed of white hat, bonking its shoulders on the ground and grunting as it goes - until he slows into a stop.]

[His gaze flicks back to where Val was standing - or what he can see of it; he lost his glasses about ten feet back - and he realizes there's stasis on his skin. He feels it burning through his clothes, dripping onto his face (ugh), burning the hairs of his upper lip where he forgot to shave. It won't kill him in the short term, but he will need a bath sooner rather than later.]

[Qilby's torn between laughing so hard he throws his back out and trying for another blow. Maybe he'd stay gone, and maybe Qilby would fool himself into thinking he wanted that. Stretched between these two opposing impulses, he can only roll his eyes.]

[poisonparadise]

[The stumbling half of Valerius’ humanoid shell finally melts into the gleaming puddle after recovering from the shock of becoming half the man he used to be. If Qilby is bothering to pay attention, he may hear a dejected sigh. The echoing voice of the beast carries on like a dead wind, as his viscous remains slither after him down the hill.]

And after all that I went through to find this place again…


[The puddle bubbles and shifts with the words, lifting a sinuous tendril like a serpent head to “look” for his lost ‘companion’. Another one reaches out to collect the Eliatrope’s fallen spectacles as he comes closer. When Valerius reforms just a few feet from Qilby, he’s being considerate enough to wipe the delicate glass off on one of his soft, billowing sleeves. The expression he wears is a commixture of disappointment and mild annoyance. Secretly, the beast is bursting with elation that his absence caused such a surge of emotion in the usually dead-eyed, dead-toned old mage.]

Not up to faking gratitude today, I take it.

[zinit]

[Qilby is not, in fact, up to faking gratitude. He hasn't been up to faking much of anything, and blessedly, he hasn't had to the past few months - with only ferns and shrubbery to keep him company, he can voice every wild thought he's ever had. It's just not satisfying when only the ferns hear him.]

[He brings himself back to his feet, delicately wiping off his dirty hand on his pants, and breathes once - deep, but impossibly stiff. Just as stiffly, he grinds out, in Draconic that he knows Val likely won't understand:] Then you shouldn't have come back, jackass. [Ask him, and he'll say he just needs to gather the presence of mind to speak in their common language again. To say anything else would require admitting that he didn't want Val to leave, that he's happy he's back.]

[He's feeling a little more light-hearted a few seconds later, but he doesn't sound much happier when he says - and this time in their common language, albeit with his usual accent:] Tell me you at least found something interesting out there. Maybe I'll forgive you for not bringing me a souvenir.

[poisonparadise]

[Valerius may not be familiar with Draconic itself, but Qilby’s tone tells him all he needs to know. The beast’s little experiment was a success. He can practically hear the indignance of being abandoned even if the Eliatrope refuses to convey it in his words. For all the power of his mask of numbness, the old man is almost as vulnerable to loneliness as Valerius is to boredom. Kindred spirits indeed. He wears the most disgusting shit-eating grin during the foreign tirade, then makes a note to pick through memories of such language later.]

[Feeling satisfied, and a bit amorous (he actually missed these little interactions for quite some time.) He tugs Qilby closer to himself by the beard, presses a kiss to his nose, and replaces his glasses for him. I knew you’d miss me. He doesn’t say, and is almost disappointed that they haven’t developed a telepathic connection yet. Perhaps in a few centuries…]

[He replies cheerfully, in that ever-disturbing sing-song tone of his. As he does so, something dripping appears in one of his gesturing hands--revealing a massive lump of stasis-soaked sin.]

Only a plethora of positively purulent planets ripe for the reaping; And not a single one touched by yours truly...except for sample-collecting, of course.

[He's awfully thoughtful for a gluttonous sinbeast, isn't he?]

[zinit]

[They'd better be some fucking good planets--]

[Qilby shoves his hand through a portal at his side, makes a series of rude gestures a few meters away where Val can't see them - and he absolutely does not lean into that kiss on his nose, no way, absolutely not, and it does not fluster him. With his glasses over his eyes once more, he peers over the sin sitting thick in Val's palm.]

How sweet. You sh-- [Pardon him as he sneezes into his sleeve.] You shouldn't have. In fact, next time, don't. [Or do. He doesn't care. He could've fixed the Zinit all on his own and flown off into the stars to go find his sister again, and what would you have done then, buddy? What then???]

[But, you know, since Valerius is here and clearly owes him a favor--]

On the bright side, it shouldn't take more than a bit of sin to get this old bastard [he motions to the Zinit] off the ground.

[poisonparadise]

[Oh, he will. Just with bigger, slimier piles next time. It’s how he shows his…”affection”.]

[Valerius has most likely considered the multiple ways that he himself would be ditched, and planned accordingly. All those samples Qilby’s taken of his chemical make up? He can simply reform from them by following the sin. Any residual stasis? He can merge with that too. It’s all very simple, just as long as Qilby doesn’t regret any of the atrocities he committed…

Which, the Beast has very much realized will remain that way.

Valerius chuckles at the small tells Qilby gives him, allows the sin to disappear into a gash on his hand, and uses the same one to pat the other’s chest]

Well, then it’s fortunate that you’ve plenty in that filthy soul of yours, isn’t it?

[zinit]

[Coyly:] Hm, it could be so defined. [You could also, through a Chuck-e-Cheese-style play-tube setup of mental gymnastics and self-justification, say he did nothing wrong. Qilby tends towards somewhere in the middle, he likes to think. If he regrets anything, it's not getting off that "home" of his sooner.]

[It feels wonderful, he'll admit, to have physical touch again - really, anything but the itch of plants and the metal of the Zinit's innards. Qilby's hand traces up Valerius' arm from his elbow to the tips of his fingers, ending where those claw-like nails press into the gape in his shirt. That's what he missed, more than anything - the conversation, the sniping, and the touch.]

You're one to talk, for "filthy," aren't you? I wonder sometimes if you're capable of anything but hedonism.

[poisonparadise]

[With a malevolent, melodious laugh:] Darling, weren’t you listening all those years ago? [He knows that Qilby hasn’t forgotten] It’s what I do, and who I am: One that revels in the suffering and devours the souls of those unworthy of paradise…

[Without missing a beat, Valerius laces those devious hands with the Eliatrope’s, his smile radiant] Then again, it is a bit too different from your ways to comprehend, isn’t it? I only recall giving you the basics back on that rainy day, as we festered on the decaying corpse of Amoi…

[Placing his other hand to his chest, he continues] I can resume my divine task of judging souls whenever I want and forsake the hedonism in it...The trouble is, it’s terribly dull down in that hell of mine, and by doing so, you’d lose your precious energy source.

[He reaches out and threads fingertips through Qilby’s hair, now showing off a smirk without sharp teeth for once] And neither of us want that, now do we?