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

[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?