avert your eyes.

“I…don’t think that’s how poison immunity works.  You have to microdose it, and it’s harder to do with the actual plants than it is with the extract an– oh, never mind, you don’t care anyway.  I’m not going to plant poison plants in the middle of the apartment complex; let’s just leave it at that.”  

Sylvia stood up and clapped her hands together to brush off the dirt.  She decided to leave the normal comment go as she didn’t have much of a defense.  Her defense would usually be ‘you haven’t seen my other friends’, but she didn’t have them here to out weird her.  Unfortunately, she was going to have to live with being the weird one.

“I’m in the way?  In my own apartment?  I know you have the social skills of the average toddler, but it’s a bit rude to imply people are in the way when they’re existing in their own living space.  I guess Gaia is the slowest of the islands.  There’s not as much stuff here, but I think it’s nice enough.  Why are you looking for somewhere quiet?”  If he thought he could say something like that without her being nosy, he had another thing coming.

“Blue Bell Estate is a nice park if you get there during the day when the kids are in school.  I like kids, but you don’t strike me as the type to think they’re a lot of fun.”  Sylvia bent down to throw her gardening tools back into their bag.  “It’s quiet during the day, but after 3PM it gets pretty loud.  Lavender Love is pretty much always quiet but it, er–, like a couples thing, so you probably wouldn’t like it.”

She was right, he really didn’t care. But it was interesting all the same to listen to her explanation. Maybe he should have been more concerned that she had a confident string of how to’s for building poison immunity in the first place, but that wasn’t the point. 

Propping his elbow on his knee and planting his chin on his hand, he had his eyes travel up. Meeting people’s face when they were talking was polite, or something. But then, how much social etiquette did you have to show to a grave robber? He should probably find a better mental category for Sylvia aside from that but, until he found her, she’d just have to deal with it. 

Her next comment cemented it, and he sighed before leaning back until it looked like he was going to hit the floor. Instead, he lightly floated against the air, crossing his hands behind his head and doing his best to listen to her, complains? Explain? He wasn’t sure. 

At some point, he realized she was done talking and probably waiting for an answer. Sitting cross legged, he slouched all the same, wondering when she had the time to dig up all this pointless information. 

“Children aren’t a problem so long as none are mine.” He didn’t mind them or particularly like them, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to interact with one. They got hurt too easily and didn’t make any sense. But the location suggestions were helpful. 

bittersweet fragrance || Heathcliff & Mithra

@calvariae​

Blue eyes would search around, observing the structure of this building, the Ancestry Shrine. It was apparent that this was a place of worship but he’s never seen anything like it. Many rumours about this place were heard simply in passing, so he wanted to see for himself whilst also getting used to his surroundings. It was difficult, especially with all the worries that ran through his mind, but sitting in his room wouldn’t get him answers.

His hand trails across the edge of decorative structures, feeling that the material was nothing different from the wood, stone, and other structures back home, even if it was shaped differently. It so happened that the palace was open to the public today, so that’s his reason for being out here. Taking a step away, through the few on-goers that passed by, he spotted someone familiar— what was he doing here? Mithra. He was scary, but he was someone he knew, maybe he would have enough mercy to give some answers.

“M-Mithra! Please, wait up!—”

Wishes sounded too close to promises, so he’d brushed off the monks talking about how a dragon of all things could fix this mess. It was interesting, to say the least, observing the way people here did their rites. Maybe buying into the customs here was how he was supposed to earn his lost power back. Not that there was a Great Calamity here to fight, or anyone to fight at all- but it felt like being declawed. 

But perhaps he’d spoken too soon- a voice too familiar was calling out, and he mussed a moment before deciding to heed his call. 

Small talk was irritating, so he cut to the meat of the conversation. 

To be honest, Sylvia didn’t expect him to offer her a serious answer.  If she had been anyone else this would’ve been a very disconcerting conversation, but she was just happy that he offered to help.  She paused for a moment as she contemplated his question.

“Ten feet is where they keep the good stuff, but I think we’re more likely to find six.  Maybe.  I really haven’t seen anything that even vaguely looks like a graveyard.  This place is weird.  Where’s the gargoyles?  The fake church grims?  I want to see a weeping Mary standing over the body of some hoity toity rich woman who donated money to the pope personally.”  She whipped around and pointed towards the way she’d come.

“I’ve already searched high and low that way.”  Sylvia turned on her heel and motioned at the direction she had been walking towards.  “So I guess that leaves this way.  Unless you’ve been in one of the other two cardinal directions and seen anything interesting?”  She only stopped for a beat before she started quickly walking off where she had pointed.  No time for dilly dallying!

“In an ideal world I’d find a graveyard that has a lot of fenced in graves, but I bet there’s nothing like that here.  I don’t know if they’ve dealt with grave robbers, you know?  I loved the fenced in graves; they’re so ornate.  Someone put a lot of love and care into a massive grate just to make sure their loved one doesn’t get pulled out of the ground and sold to a medical college.”

“The.. good stuff.” 

He wasn’t even sure what the difference was between something that were ten feet deep versus six feet under. The only thought that came to mind was that someone buried ten feet would have a harder time clawing their way back to the surface. But this girl, she just sounded like she wanted some bones. 

“I wouldn’t suggest disturbing people at rest. It’s cruel to wake up someone that’s sleeping so deeply.” He wasn’t having second thoughts; but he wasn’t sure if he should just leave this girl to do as she wished. -- What was that thing Rutile had said... Something about introductions... 

“Ah, right. Before you go commit a crime, tell me who you are so I know whose face I should look out for when you get thrown in prison. I’m Mithra, by the way.” 

“I don’t know who Mary is or why she’s crying. Or why you would sell a body to a school. The dead don’t learn much, I think.” Mithra decided that she was rather strange, and a little annoying. And talked too much. But amusing all the same. 

Sylvia hadn’t even noticed Mithra come up behind her and consequently nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke.  She placed a gloved hand over her heart and scowled as he snapped a bud off of one of her freshly planted flowers.  “Gardening is relaxing and a nice way to pass the time.”  A small part of her was insulted that he checked for poison, but deep down she knew it was a valid thing to check based off of what little he knew about her.

“I doubt I’d be able to find an awful lot of poisonous plants in a greenhouse around here.”  Sylvia watched him fix the flower he’d just desecrated and nodded in contentment.  “Maybe if I went out to the woods, but I’m not exactly interested in planting poisonous flowers in an area where children play.”  She hummed to herself in the comfortable silence, which was suddenly broken by Mithra’s rather impolite question.

“In the middle of the apartment complex?!  Where everyone can see me?!  Don’t you think I’d at least do it in the middle of the night?  I’m planting flowers because they look nice and I think this garden could use a bit more variety.  Not everything has to be morbid, you know.”  Sylvia was a bit flustered by the accusation, although she did have to say it wasn’t entirely unwarranted.

“What are you doing here anyway?  You don’t live in these apartments.”

So dramatic... 

Watching her jump was like sneaking up to a rabbit. Was that insulting? Rabbits were alright, so it didn’t sound like an insult. But Sylvia wasn’t exactly small either. He wondered if he’d said that out loud. 

Ah, planting poisonous things where children could reach them probably wasn’t a good idea. But then again... “If you did plant something poisonous and someone happened to ingest it, I think it would build immunity.” It sounded like a long term investment. And there may be some sacrifices, but that was a risk he was willing to take. 

“Anyways, I wouldn’t put it past you to try to bury someone here.” Patting the dirt, he shrugged. “I don’t know much about you. And what I do know is that you invite strangers to go tomb raiding. Normal (whatever that meant) didn’t seem like your thing.” 

 HIS patience is limited given their current situation. As much as he’d like to keep collected at least until he knows what his fellow travellers are capable of, he’s confrontational by nature. He marches over to Mithra and his fist bigger than the wizard’s head comes to rest a millimeters from his nose. He wants Mithra to hear the hum coming off it.

❝ Come on then. Allow me to give you that closer insight into what I’m made of that you so badly desire. ❞

Had he still had his powers, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would have tried retaliating. But he had tried before, and knew attack magic just did not work. It was infuriating. 

More irritated over that, he narrowed his eyes at the gust of wind carried along by the strike that never hit. Tilting his head to see past Star Platinum’s fist, he sulked. 

“Maybe if you’d actually hit me I would have been able to knock out for a few hours. That was selfish of you, you know.” 

     ❝ THEN I’d much prefer your asking questions to being examined like this. ❞

He growls upon turning to face the wizard. His gaze is much more intense this way, medusa-esque in the way it can freeze others with fear. The hair moving as if come to life doesn’t help.

❝ At least introduce yourself. ❞

*:・ﾟ☆

“True.. Asking questions would be much faster than trying to puzzle you out myself.” 

The way he’s being stared down spelled d-a-n-g-e-r, but he wasn’t much of an academic. It almost made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but he got too distracted by the way individual whisps of hair were moving on their own accord. He wanted to reach out and grab one to see if they were actually sentient. 

But that wasn’t very polite. 

So instead, he circled around as if he was in front of a statue, holding off on answering the second demand. 

“You’re no man. And you don’t seem like a beast either.” Maybe he could touch him? “A ghost..? Or did you just get hit by a bucket of paint.” 

Finishing his circle, he blinked back up at that piercing expression with an empty one himself. 

“Judging you isn’t my job. Though... it’s been a long while since I’ve ferried someone across a lake. When the time comes, how about I help take you to rest. Remember to have your fare then, yes?” 

There was something charming about the way the light played off the empty cans littered around the little green man. He looked troubled. But Mithra wasn’t about to let that ruin his day. 

However, someone had once told him that staring was rude, no matter how obtuse the subject in question was. So he did the next best thing; sitting rights across from him. Scholar’s Walk looked like a place people came to relax and unwind, maybe throw bread crumbs at the ducks. But this guy stuck out like a sore thumb. 

“If you were older looking, I would have thought you were trying to drink yourself to death.” Pressing a can he’d ‘liberated’ from a vending machine against the stranger’s forehead, he turned his nose against the scent radiating off the brightly colored energy drinks. 

Realizing he wasn’t getting a response, he set the cold drink down, rolling his eyes when he saw that he’s been talking to someone sleeping sitting up. Well this was odd. 

Potential grave digging to gardening in her spare time- Sylvia felt like watching someone put a different mask on and off every time you blinked. Plants like this didn’t grown in the snow up north, but he knew enough from traveling around that these were just for show. If they could be used as part of a spell or curse, a cure or some other, that would make sense. Kneeling on the cobbled garden floor next to Sylvia, he examined the piles of dirt she’d been digging  up. 

Poking at a flower like it had personally insulted him, he snapped the bud from the stem. “For what purpose do you take care of these things. I don’t even think you can use this one for a potion.” Twirling the quickly wilting plant, he placed the end against his tongue and frowned on contact. 

“Not even poison.” But even as he was insulting it, he carefully aligned the broken bit in his hand with the stem he’d taken it from, pressing his fingers together and letting go once the flower was healed. 

“But I guess if it makes you happy, that’s purpose enough to exist.” 

...

Now this was a problem. All travel and no rest was wearing him thin, and he didn’t have a mind to figure out where “home” was. The key in his pocket that he’d been told to so carefully guard had been misplaced ages ago. And the ID winking back at him didn’t give him a single clue as to what to do. 

Sulking, (not that you could tell with his usual expression), he sighed loud enough to disturb some bird, causing it to leap from its perch and into the air. Or so it thought- as he unceremoniously snapped it into his hand mid-flight, ignoring the angry chirps. 

That little commotion was enough to draw another set of eyes on him, and Mithra turned his head to give an unimpressed one over at the onlooker. 

okay yeah!!! starter call, no brim!!!! smash that like button and lets see how many starters I can crank out without crying!!!!