[FIN] Snakes. . .Sand . . . Meh. (Nemanja & Kamiseen)

[Uta]

So here he was.

The large, white coated lion had flopped down on the ground, in a small valley on the mountain, and had yet to get up and move. Exactly how long he had been collapsed as a heap was unknowing, but he time was irrelevant for the male. He didn't care to know when and where and how and why. He just was and that was more than enough. Time was exhausting, really, thinking sometimes felt like far too much work.

Thick clouds often rolled over and around him, giving the area of the haven an eerie and foggy sort of appearance. Sometimes it even snowed, but Nemanja paid the elements little notice. He was content to just lie still, to gaze blankly out at the world, and do very little in the grand scheme of living. There was no need to embrace life, because quite frankly, that would mean he actually cared to live. And whether he stayed or went, whether he lived or died, whether he slowly decayed was of no matter to the great beast.

He just . . . was. . . for better and for worse.

Strangely though, life wasn't that monotonous. The nameless serpent that Veri had left him with had, for the most part, stuck around. It was difficult to spot the red and orange snake, but every now and then a ring of color showed up somewhere upon his thick mane. It was strange to see Nemanja sport color, but whether or not he acknowledged or realized the snake lingered was unknown. It didn't matter. If it did it would mean he cared, and caring wasn't something he liked to admit he still could do.

So he let the snake do as it pleased. Being so high up in the mountains and cold meant usually the snake stayed curled up happily in his matted and disheveled mane. Most recently though, there was bits of dead serpent skin stuck in the questionable mass. . . . It could almost be called 'festive' and a new look for the male, a low of hygiene he didn't acknowledge.

Really, someday, somewhen, Nemanja was going to have to be given a bath.

But for now . . . all he did was exist and let the world do what it wished. Today was no different than yesterday or the day before. What would happen would happen, such was the way of things, and Nemanja plum could care less.
 

[mouselet]

Flight was a wonderful thing. It was by far his favorite power to use, above and beyond playing with miniature sandstorms. The cold air of the upper reaches shocked him much as the nighttime air of the desert, but it was a good thing. Different. He angled one wing and spiraled around, noting a heap of black and white below him in a small valley. Intrigued, Kamiseen spiraled down.

As he came near, the heap resolved itself into something much more familiar, and he landed, kicking up dust and sand around him (and onto the heap). Tilting his head to the side, Kamiseen studied his old friend. The general unkept appearance was normal, but there were...flecks of color, in that mane. Very unusual. What had Nemanja been doing, or rather, had been done to him?

The sand-colored god settled himself next to the heap. "You look worse than usual," he commented in a voice dry as the desert.  

[Uta]

There was a subtle change in the air and the surroundings of the cold and frigid valley. While Nemanja stared out numbly at the nothing, he could physically hear the sweeping of wings and could feel a slight change in the aura of the land; there was another god in the area, and one that was strangely familiar.

Though he didn't lift his head or even turn his gaze to study present company, he found there was no need to question who it might be. While it had been many, many years since he last stumbled upon the God of Sandstorms, it was difficult to wonder who else might toss up so much grit and dirt. Not that Nemanja really cared.

"Kamiseen." It seemed to take ages before his voice broke through the quiet, and his voice was without inflection or emotion. He noted the gods presence, but there was neither joy nor irritation at such a thing. He made no movement, nor any sign of interest that the other was close by. He felt no insult or slight when the god took note of his appearance, nor did he have much of anything to say. So, after another long pause and silence, the male finally added, " . . .I am what I am." No more, no less. What else was there to say anyway?
 

[mouselet]

It was an old game between them. And Kamiseen was content to wait until Nemanja was ready to talk. The god of Apathy did nothing quickly - cared for nothing that much. It was just how he was. So the god of Sandstorms waited and watched and - was that mess of a mane moving? Very slightly, but he thought it was.

"That's true enough," he replied. "But since when does your mane have colored bits in it? Nemanja, what have you been doing?"

Probably not how he wanted to really start a conversation with his old friend, but it was easy to get nowhere with the other god, and Kamiseen didn't really have the patience for that at the moment. Not that he had anywhere to be, but one grew tired of waiting long minutes for a response, especially if one was pushing against an aura of meh all through it.

He had more practice at it than most. Which, conversely, seemed to make him more susceptible to it. Damn if he could figure that one out.  

[Uta]

Nemanja'janan said nothing for a long moment, which was absolutely no surprise. His ebony gaze had turned to fix upon the brown furred other, and he watched dully at the sand that fell from his wings. It was almost hypnotic, and just as easy an excuse to stare at the god and not respond, as it would be to pull up the energy to answer.

Still, the black and white lion had always been polite, even if it seemed he might not care to respond. When did the lion ever care to do much of anything? It wasn't often when he did . . . and rarer still were others there to witness such a color of feeling touch the other. While Nemanja tried his damndest to not care, to avoid feeling or considering emotion, he wasn't perfect. He had been granted as colorful a set of emotions as everyone else . . . he just preferred, more often that not, not to.

As Kamiseen questioned the color in his mane, the large lion gave a small sigh and the slightest twitch of an ear. ". . . it's a snake." There, that answered the question properly, didn't it? ". . and I have been lying here for many a day. That is all." Well, it was true. He wasn't lying nor avoiding answering the question. Unfortunately for Kamiseen, he hadn't been particularly specific in his question.
 

[mouselet]

Kamiseen was patient. He couldn't be otherwise and consider Nemanja a friend. So it didn't surprise him in the least when the other god took a decently long time to respond.

He was, however, surprised by the response he did get. The sandy god took a closer look at other male's mane and, among the mess, he was able to discern a bit of movement and, once, the twinkle of scales moving.

"So I see," Kamiseen replied. He considered asking for more detail about where the snake came from but decided that it might be better not to. It was also possible that someone had put the snake on him. Or that the snake had just decided to make its home there. With Nemanja, it was all possible and equally likely.

"You, my friend, are quite accomodating," he said in the end.  

[Uta]

Nemanja'janan did nothing, even as the brown coated lion investigated his mane. The large snake that was hidden among the tangles and the matted fur seemed to be comfortable, and had yet to leave or make any real objection. Sometimes it curled around his horns, other times it left (presumably to hunt), but it always returned. Which was good, as Nemanja wasn't inclined to chase after it or care what happened to it.

Well, rather, he was doing his best to try to not care. Veri had asked him a favor, had requested he care for her serpent. He felt no reason to care or watch over the thing, but . . . at the same rate . . . it had been a request from Veri. And no matter how he tried not to care, no matter how hard he shroud himself in apathy, he had agreed. And he would not go back on his word, or cause her disappointment. . . . at least such was his intention. Nemanja had feelings, subtle as they might be. It seemed being reunited with his old cubhood friend had caused some of those feelings to stir and flutter to life.

Thankfully, it had been a quiet moment between Veri and him. The rest of the world hadn't been witness, and no one had to know Nemanja's shroud had been removed for the briefest of instants.

". . . .I am what I am." Was his response to Kamiseen. Accommodating was one word, careless was another. Either way it was the same. He didn't care enough to move away when someone crawled upon him, or lay near. He didn't care enough to attack when another stole his prey, or teased and provoked. Instead of adjusting for the world, the world seemed to adjust around him.
 

[mouselet]

Kamiseen shook his head with a soft chuckle. Times changed, oceans rose and fell, mountains grew and shrank, and still Nemanja remained unchanged. Perhaps he should be called the God of Stability...but then again, there was the fact that the black and white god never put forth much effort to do anything. Still, it was an amusing thought for the God of Sandstorms.

"You certaintly are that," he agreed at last. "Perhaps I should find you a mate - or maybe just a mortal! - to groom you every now and then." It was more a jest than anything else, since the sandy god doubted Nemanja would ever actually agree to anything like that. Nor did Kamiseen have any real interest in "setting up" his friend or visiting the mortal world.

He pushed aside thoughts of what he'd have to do if his friend actually took him up on the thoughtless offer.  

[Uta]

Nemanja was aware of his physical state. He knew he looked quite the wreck with tangled fur and molten wings. But it was just a shell, a husk. Like most everything in the world, it was completely and utterly unimportant. Nemanja didn't care enough to keep himself well groomed, and he certainly didn't care how offensive his appearance might be to some.

Kamiseen, thankfully, didn't seem to care one way or the other. The God of Sandstorms was one of the few individuals that seemed to find humor and amusement in Apathy. Not many hung around him, but Nemanja didn't care. Unsurprising, of course. Still, if he had any sort of 'best' friends, it would have to Blood and Sandstorms. . . a strange mix, of course, but they were one of the few constants in his life. They had history, even if it wasn't much and only dotted throughout time -- that was more than the rest of the world could say.

As Kamiseen teased him about his appearance, Nemanja gave a slight wing twitch. Mortals and he didn't get along, if only because they frequently wound up dead not far from where he sat. If they lingered too long, they became too apathetic to eat, to drink, to tend to themselves, and death took advantage of such easy prey. As for another god. . .

"Do what you wish." It was neither objection nor encouragement. Completely neutral in the matter, Nemanja's lack of care absolutely oozed out of his every cell. It didn't matter to him what Kamiseen wished to do - and if playing 'set up' was something he wanted, than so be it. Nemanja didn't care if he was groomed by a stranger, just as he didn't care if he began to rot.
 

[mouselet]

The brown god shook his head silently. There was just no budging Nemanja when he didn't want to budge. The god of Apathy tended towards just that and Kamiseen had no power over his friend. He was used to that, however. They'd been friends for quite some time and while he'd been able to nudge the black and white god a few times in the past, there were just as many times Nemanja had refused to go one way or the other.

"Oh very well," he replied, still fairly cheerful. After all, because the other god hadn't risen to his bait, he didn't have to find Nemanja a mortal or mate! So everyone won in this respect.

"I'll see you again sometime," Kamiseen promised before backing off a few lengths. Once he was clear of Nemanja's immediate vicinity, the sandy god spread his wings and took off. His friend might not care for his appearance at all, but Kamiseen didn't want to add "windblown" and "sandy" to Nemanja's general mess. The other god deserved that much courtesy, and not just for their friendship.