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 Posted: Sun Aug 12, 2018 3:51 pm
Quietly, the senshi watched has he smirked at her words, and then nodded slowly, listening to his reiteration of what she had said. “That’s about all that I know. Sometimes it takes time to get someone back on their feet but…it’s worth it. I’m not sure if there’s anything else to a purification…except, that the one who’s being helped, the one who’s going through the change—they do have to be willing. It’s not like the Negaverse where…your power just tears through someone no matter if they want it or not…with purification…”
She shrugged, her gaze dropping for a moment as she brushed a few small specks of dirt off of her skirt, before the deep blue orbs met his dark gaze again.
“With purification the party in question has to be willing. They have to want to give up the chaos…or it won’t go. We can’t force someone to leave the Negaverse. It has to be a willing choice…”
Lysithea fell quiet for a moment, then a slow, almost sly smile formed across her face. “…Do…do you eat? My friend, the one I’m going to bring to see you…he’s a great cook. We can have a picnic if you want! We can even go up to my planet, if you’d be interested in that…It’s nice up there. Not that I really go often…but it’s a great picnic spot.”
And it was private. And safe.
And the perfect answer to all of her fears about letting Evan meet Faustite.
She couldn’t believe it had taken so long for her to think of it.
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Posted: Mon Aug 13, 2018 10:41 am
It has to be a choice. How poetic. He remained quiet in the moments afterward, weighing the thought under heavy lashes. Trade slavery for slavery. Try your yoke under a different master. How bleak our prospects if that is the difference.
That and a body made whole out of the sum of human parts. He drew a long breath, one that peppered the air with the scent of copper, and made no word of it to Lysithea. His fingers wove together, dancing restlessly, before they broke apart with the same need for work. Who mastered the knights? Who assigned this new body? Perhaps the ex-youma would know.
When he spoke again, it was to answer a much lighter question in the dim, dank, dreary that was the alley alcove. His gaze tracked, however briefly, to the prone form at her feet. Would she feed him, too. "I eat." He snorted, a wry smile breaking out. "I eat a lot." He tracked a lazy day through his habits — through hours spent before a computer, snacks consumed, wrappers counted, combined foods researched off the internet for their calorie counts, with estimations made of all the tea he drank — and found that four thousand was a fitting number. Four thousand calories and not an ounce of it sat on his bones as excess fat. Four thousand and the pair tasted it on the atmosphere. How much more did that mean for strenuous activity?
Faustite was certain he could eat an entire picnic on his own, given enough time. But a visit with others came with expectations — manners and stock conversations and sentiments exchanged that must match up to Lysithea's preconceived notions. A caged diplomat he was with a sword strung above his head.
A meeting on her planet, like with Castor. What worlds there are, all dead and destitute. All fool's gold waiting for their miners. "I'll go on one condition: I choose the time and place we meet. We'll meet here at 9PM next Wednesday. If I sense more than your energy, you won't find me."
He half turned, his breath catching on the air as a few syllables left his evaporating form — "Don't be late."
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