vatheon | You can't change the one you love, you're not supposed to.

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You can't change the one you love, you're not supposed to.

Who: Summoner and Anyone that wants to bug him.
Where: The Island
When: Nownownow
Style: Whatever you want.
Status: Open like my heart~

Dear Signless is he tired lately. Maybe it's all the thinking? It has to be. He can think when he wants to, has to, you know, about the things he knows. Animals, war, he knows those things, has a lot of experience with them, is interested in them. He barely even has to think about them actually, they're just natural for him, but this? This romance bullshit.

Man, you never think you'll have to talk to your dead wife again after you kill her. He was too busy getting himself to deal with what happened, why would he think about what he'd have to say to her later? There wouldn't be a later, there shouldn't've been. But Vatheon just-

Vatheon makes things uncomfortable and dramatic, makes things you'd think about less more intense, more important. So yeah, he's tired lately. You can probably see it in how he flies right now, a kind of dragging pace and low to the ground, wanting to keep out of too many people's sight. Summoner's heading to the elevator now, making his way to the island. The door to the elevator is as small and obstructive as ever but that magic twist it's got does wonders when trying to enter with that rack of his. He's pretty thankful for it actually, magic elevator, hell, doesn't understand the thing but he appreciates it. Lysunder's pretty anxious to get to the island too, when he does, there's nothing better than that deep breath of fresh air. He can already taste the sea.

"Maybe I'll hit the coast, hey fellas?" A sigh to himself, his mind mixing with some seagulls right now, chatting them up a bit before he gets ready to hit the skies again.

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[There's a Stranger flying with the seagulls, disturbing for his strangeness but not exactly doing anything threatening. Flying with them, not in their midst but somewhere off to the side, admiring the shape of their wheeling swoops and climbs in the snowy wind, using the even formation of their feathered bodies as a distraction from the chaotic blowing of white, frozen particles in the salty breeze.

It's something that looks human, wearing a long, white coat, white scarf streaming behind him like a banner, but flying without wings.

Rather, the vehicle of his mobility has everything to do with his skateboard, and for all appearances, he's grinding his way along the path of an invisible gust of wind, in a smooth one-hander, playing along by himself.

Tasting the weather, finding it good. Even a god can soar among the gulls for the simple joy of catching the air.

Both troll and grim reaper are possibly in for a mutual surprise.]

[Well when he gets to the coast he'll see this, but honestly he knows about it already. Some featherbeasts were talking about something getting in the way of their flight patterns and causing some hubbub, nothing serious though. Summoner communed deeper and flew a few of the gulls around, getting a short look at the person before ending the connection to just focus on his own flight.]

[Eventually when he gets there, he doesn't bother the kid, lands a bit away from him on the cold sand. He's wearing a odd looking shrug and a scarf, and just some regular pants and a shirt. He's... pretty cold actually, Summoner doesn't have a proper jacket to fit around his wings so he's dealing. Besides, his blood tends to beat pretty hot anyway so it's not too bad.]

[A light sigh, stretching a bit, his wings flickering behind him before they fold and he moves to step closer to the sea, still moving a bit, a little too warm still to be frozen over. He lets the sounds of it calm him down, closing his eyes to listen to the gulls and the distant sounds of that kid flying about. Kind of peaceful actually. Alone but not alone.]

[There are others here, occupying themselves, and for a moment Kid is reminded (suddenly, powerfully) of watching a child flying a kite, alone outside a city far from here, in the hot, dusty wind of a Nevada dusk, as the sun, dozing, began to sink into the far western horizon, painting the sky in the whole spectrum, hot red to cooling purple.

It's the same distant flutter as his own scarf gives now; the reaper reaches back for it, tucking it deep into the warmer confines of his coat collar to stifle the sound.

There are things on that figure's back, but it's not until the second pass around in a wide, lazy loop that he gets a good look and confirms that it is so. Translucent, huge, like an insect's, and--

Third pass. Kid has seen the horns now for what they are, widespread arcs he had almost missed due to distance at first, and this time the wind blows in visible vortexes of white, glissandos of ice and snow, and the reaper is too transfixed to give it notice.

It'll be long moments, yet, before he descends to the cold strand with a spray of frozen sand cresting behind him in his wake.]

[He's not really paying attention to be honest, but through the birds around him he can see what he's doing, staring at him like that. Not sure why, might just be another person that's never seen a troll before. He doesn't really care much, not for a bit anyway. But soon he opens his eyes and pockets his hands, giving a small smile as he turns to look at him, still mostly facing the ocean though. His face is visible right now, managed to finally style his hair a bit, not much though, at least has it slicked back anyway.]

Hey, can I uh, help you with something maybe?

Whatever the seagulls are saying is about to be interrupted by a sudden blur of white something disrupting their formation. Is that-? Yes, it's certainly Dural and she is indeed enjoying herself. With Darkleer's hermit habits these past couple of months, she hasn't had time to really stretch her wings.

If he reaches out a bit more, he'll also be able to get in touch with a certain little pony who is trying to make his way through the snow. Both animals are centered around one thing, however- or rather, one person.

There's an agile robot daring through the clearing and the trees around it, and arrows being fired off. With all the strength and grace that come from centuries of habit, Darkleer fires off at it. With each hit, the arrow disappears back into his strife specibus with a small ringing noise... And, needless to say, the clearing is quite noisy with it.

It seems Summoner wasn't the only one who went up to the island to get some fresh air and stretch his legs out. While previously exhausted and miserable, Darkleer seems to shift into something else as he practices his archery. He's focused, sharp, someone smooth and in control in a way he can't be even with his engineering. At heart, he's still something of an Archeradicator, after all.

Of course, it's entirely up to Summoner if he wants to approach! Darkleer himself might spot him if he doesn't, however...

When he arrives at the beach, Summoner might find that he isn't the only one visiting the water's edge.

Washu had come up here earlier that day to do a little research on the water and surrounding area. So far, she's documented a fair amount of flora despite the snow and was currently checking out the water itself, testing for chemicals and microorganism.

Considering how many tests she's running... she could be here awhile.

It's almost late evening when the highblood wanders onto the island. He's been ruining his sleep schedule again, but it's not like he's got any agenda to keep anyway. He had a brief talk with Redglare about a small project he might look into, but that's about it. Dull, motherfucking dull dullness.

He reaches the beach, unsure why his feet bring him there. It's almost nostalgic, and it stirs something weird in his gut. Regardless of the discomfort, he stays on the beach and slowly trudges along the shore, the cold air barely registering as such to him as he stares at the unrelenting waves that remind him of the wrigglerhood he barely remembers.

Summoner probably won't approach, no, part of him wants to, tells him to, but he doesn't, something feels wrong with him lately. Doesn't seem right bothering Darkleer when his mind's full of spiders lately, so he's been keeping scarce. He knows he shouldn't, hell, probably makes the situation worse for the both of them, but Darkleer knows his situation, right?

Either ways he's keeping away a bit, fly more around rather than over as he heads to a familiar lighthouse. He does keep a commune with Dural though, he likes Dural, and there's something special about communing with lusii.

A life without war when that's all you know seems a lot less dynamic, a lot less colourful, even if the war was terrible and brutal. It's different from this place; war is loud, it takes all your energy and rids you of your breath in more ways than one. Vatheon's strange, unnatural, and it's false calm does more than remind you of your lack of belonging to it, it's eerie and Summoner can't help but be reminded of the lack of respect it has for the dead and life as a whole. People never actually die, and now even the victims are punished for their murders. Everything is-

dull, and lifeless, and wrong.

But he supposes it allows for other things, opportunities, still, nothing.

A lot of this nonsense crosses his mind and has crossed his mind as he sits on that cold beach, sand doing well to rub up into his socks and shoes, though he doesn't seem to notice as he stays still, face to the sky. The Highblood might come to a point where he sees his figure at the shoreline as he walks. His orange wings limp on the ground behind him, a bottle dangling from a hand. He's got a listless look on his face, perhaps bored if misread, but it looks more tired than anything. Honestly, he hadn't even noticed the Highblood, he's not even focusing on his communes right now, his mind is just kind of lost.

Vatheon does that to you, strips away a lot of meaning, makes him wonder what the point is, since his
'point' doesn't exist here.

He has no idea who this is or what she is doing, but colour him a little intrigued. She seems to be doing some research? That's actually something that can help his mind shelve it's problems.

For a bit anyway.

Soon he's landing, sighing as he shivers a bit, wings twitching and hands moving to hide themselves in his pockets. Best he;s really got is a small shrug that sits above his wings and covers his arms, and a thick scarf, otherwise it's cold as ice for him.

"You uh, look pretty busy? Mind the company?" He says as he approaches, putting up a hand in greeting before pocketing it again. His wings shuffle once more, folding in a more neat position behind him as he draws closer at a slow pace.

It's almost scary how similar these two are.

The highblood's focus is also a bit off, too, distracted by the sounds of the waves and his own thundering mind. He isn't tired, though, he's had his own experiences. Definitely better off than any lowblood, but his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of boredom, uselessness... though he does very well to hide this fact.

Vatheon is a useless world and existence. For him, death is both a precious thing and something that just happens- everyday ordinary events that don't fucking matter. The giving away of countless lives to appease the Messiahs is something he's been doing his entire life, and to see it become something utterly useless, a contradiction of his beliefs, well... it can really bring a brother down in the worst of ways.

He does finally notice a small figure in the distance, the silhouette familiar, a faint glow of orange connected to its back, and his ears practically perk up like an excited beast. So, he came back finally, did he? About time.

Without any weapons in hand and without any stealthy tricks up his large sleeves, he merely walks up to the other troll in silence. There's a good amount of space between them though, never really approaching anyone - no matter who it was - too closely.

Goals can be main dividing factor, The Highblood is impressive to him, after all. Trolls are beautiful things. Too bad all that strength and will is being wasted by all that murderous mirth.

Those bored thoughts seem ill placed on a highblood, one would think someone like him would be all right with it with how long his life is. But he was plucked from a warring time, so maybe it's just difficult dealing with such an abrupt change. As for Summoner, this... lull, this boredom, it just helps him remember how he's currently dying. He needs a fast paced life to make him feel alive after all, it's what makes his short lifespan not seem too bad. But sitting here wasting away in these thoughts is torture.

Summoner doesn't say anything, the crunch of sand gives the Highblood away if anything else didn't yet. But he doesn't move at his presence either, instead just lifting the bottle and tipping it to his mouth to pull in a drink of the yellowish liquid.

Normally, he would be OK with a bit of a slow-paced life. It all feels fucking slow-paced to him either way, evens and moments of history spanning over sweeps and sweeps with even more sweeps in between, giving it a seemingly sluggish feel to it all. But without his religion and the core of it being completely contradicted makes his existence feel almost empty. Not quite, but almost.

The way Summoner seems to completely ignore him makes him a little miffed, however. Swiftly, he moves towards him and brings down his fist onto the glass bottle, as if about to smash it. But instead, his hand merely clamps down on it, trying to wrench it from his grasps with an annoyed growl.

"Quiet don't motherfucking suit you none."

Weird.

Considering his religion's a bunch of bullshit.

He let's him take it, not like he's that connected to it anyway. Summoner doesn't much look at him besides a small glance and a slight sigh, breath coming out in a rush. His whole body seems to be steaming in this cold.

"Like a carni knows what suits me."

Wow wow wow.

The bottle rolls lazily in the higblood's hand, liquid spilling out as he handles it carelessly. He tilts his head at him in confusion, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Motherfucking knows enough, heh. Can't even all shut a motherfucker up sometimes."

"Guess so, heh." Shakes his head a little, leaning back on a hand, though, he's regretting it now. considering how cold the ground is.

"I uh, I don't really have much to say to you though, chucklefuck."

And she likes talking with him! There aren't a lot of people in Vatheon who really understand intelligent alien birds. Darkleer tries! Bless him, Dural knows he tries, and it's usually pretty close, they have worked together for a very long time. But Darkleer was raised by a hoofbeast, so there's really no way for him to understand a bird completely.

But Summoner can! So she takes full opportunity of it, slowing down her teasing of the other birds to just let herself be lifted by the cool winter air. She's content to chatter with him, telling him everything about what has been happening at the hive lately. She'll be getting a nest soon! A tree all her own. Their entire nest will be growing bigger and she won't have to sleep in Darkleer's room anymore. Although all these horses...

Eventually, however, she dives down only to pull up sharply, landing daintily to land on Darkleer's shoulder. Lowering his bow, he starts to pet her slightly.

He's been preening for you! she mentions, even while shamelessly enjoying the way Darkleer scratches at her chest feathers.

OK. This is getting a little weird and frustrating. He tosses the bottle into the sand, starting to circle around him in a wide circle, his usual weird habit of pacing while he talks.

"And why the fuck not? What, motherfucking getting your hibernation on for a month all up and filled your skull with motherfucking brown sludge, impaired your most basic of sass and smarmy bullshit, motherfucker?"

Summoner chats her up like always, something about him is always so much lighter when speaking to animals, so much more carefree. He openly laughs while speaking to her, chatting like a hen and asking about her new nest and tree, about the changes on the hive, if she's made any new feathery friends, how the colder weather has been treating her. Asks about the horses and how she's fairing with them, tells her a little about what he knows of them, things they've said. There aren't a lot of pauses in the conversation until she mentions 'he' and then Summoner quiets down.

He has, huh...?

Man, he was gonna drink the rest of that apple juice. Jerk.

Lysunder just lets him, his wings have been shivering, but now they move to not get in the way of the other's pacing. he lets out a sigh, cocking his head back a little and closing his eyes for a moment before he stares directly upwards. He can tell the Highblood's getting a little pissed, like a furbeast not getting enough attention. Cute in a way, ya know, if he wasn't such a piece of shit.

"Uh, two months, and still have all the sass, just- none of it's for you. Not interested." He says as he takes out another bottle of applejuice and twists the cap off.

Ugh, and yet the shitstain still came prepared with another bottle. He's gonna shake those things out of him, he swears to the holy motherfucking Messiahs.

The Summoner's lack of interest in him right now is really getting under his skin. His pacing is getting quicker, as he kicks up a little bit of sand and rocks in his steps, growling a little in the back of his throat. He's literally like a furbeast not getting enough attention. He thrived on attention, at least when he demands it.

"The fuck is that even all supposed to mean?" He's tempted to take a swing at him, but he keeps his fists balled up tight for a mean time. After he finds out what the fuck is even going on.

All questions she is glad to answer! More than glad to answer. It's a bit too noisy sometimes to rest in her nest, but she is working on it, it will be the best nest on Alternia. Or Vatheon. Or both. As for the horses, the little one bugs her- look at him, trying to steal Darkleer's attention from her!- but the other is fairly nice. It's the question on Darkleer that makes her give a little shake. Completely unaware to the conversation going on mentally, Darkleer chuckles a bit and rests his nose against her.

Oh yes. He talks with one of the pretty little chicklings and comes back to watch his reflection for ages. Putting his hair all sorts of ways, trying on new clothes- he asks those silly hoofed things for advice and never me! This is the part where you feel such pity for her Summoner, everyone knows she has the better feathers. What do horses do? Nothing, she says. Huff.

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You can't change the one you love, you're not supposed to.

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